What is in Kelvin's Head?

On being Proud

14/07/2012

Yesterday morning, an envelope slipped through the letter box. It felt like an invitation to something and on the back were the intriguing words “10 Downing Street”.

It turned out to be an invitation from the Prime Minister to a reception to celebrate the LGBT community in the United Kingdom.

Will I be going? You bet I will.

Receiving that invitation made me realise in some small part why I’ll be marching in today’s Glasgow Pride march.

Now, Pride is an emotion that Christians tend to be a little wary of. After all, didn’t our Lady have something to say about scattering the proud in the imagination of their hearts? Surely she wouldn’t be found dead on a gay pride march?

Well, think again. Our Lady will be marching today in the form of a group of folk from St Mary’s, Cathedral. (Notre Dame de Glasgow indeed).

The word “pride” covers a number of things in English these days – some negative and some positive. The proud hearts that Mary was wanting to send on their way were surely those of the haughty and the disdainful. Rather a different crew to those marching from Kelvingrove into town today.

The pride that is celebrated today is a sense of delight in the well-being of one’s self and others. Entirely a different thing, I think.

I’ll go to the Prime Minister’s reception full of pride in many people.

I’m proud of my congregation for continuing to believe that God’s welcome extends not just to people but to all people. I’m proud of the fact that they took a risk and took me on six years ago. I’m proud of the fact that they have lived up to the “open, inclusive welcome” that we advertise, rather audaciously on everything we print. I’m proud that our heritage in this area is built on the achievements of others of long, long ago. I’m proud of the refuge we gave in secret to Gay Switchboard many years ago when their premises were threatened. I’m proud of the fact that when we started to bless gay couples in church a few years ago, every member of the Vestry individually wrote to me supporting that move. I’m proud of having a diverse team of colleagues from the UK, the US and Nigeria. I’m proud of the intense way that people listen to the sermons in St Mary’s – absolutely convinced as a congregation that there is ever more to know. I’m proud of the Vestry’s response to the govenment on the Equal Marriage consultation. Far more nuanced and balanced and hopeful than anything produced by the national Scottish Episcopal Church.

I’m proud too of those who campaign for equality, wellbeing and justice. Proud of the Equality Network, Stonewall, Pride organisers, Gay Men’s Health and all the rest. I’m proud of those who write into the letters pages of the newspapers and those who tweet and blog for a better world. I’m proud of those who work on HIV/AIDS issues including all those represented at World AIDS Day in St Mary’s each year. I’m proud of those who work on refugee and migration issues in my own congregation and far beyond.

I’m intensely proud of the way the Equal Marriage campaign has become mainstream just a few years after my good-hearted friends told me I was wasting my time because it would never happen in my lifetime.

I’m proud when straight friends and allies walk beside me.

I’m particularly proud of my sisters in the clergy who, by and large, have found it easier to walk beside me in these struggles than most of my straight male friends. The goodness of my sisters reminds me that their own struggle is not over; that justice is indivisible. Reminds me of the common goal, that one day, we will walk in a world free from discrimination and prejudice of any kind.

I’m proud of my gay brothers and sisters in other denominations – from the highest of the high to the wee-est of the Frees. I’m proud of Scott Rennie and of Affirmation Scotland who have supported him and so many others in the Church of Scotland. I’m proud of my gay brothers in the Roman Catholic clergy, some of whom I was with recently. We met in secret for fear of the Church. We prayed for a time when all closet doors would be smashed to pieces, starting with those in the Vatican and we prayed for all those who sit in discomfort on ecclesiastical thrones throughout the world. For those whose struggle is secret – know that it is valuable, and true and holy and that I am proud of you.

And yes, I’m proud to receive the Prime Minister’s invitation to 10 Downing Street. When one brings up LGBT issues in the church one is more likely to be rewarded with a deep sigh rather than anything else. It is nice that someone has noticed the things I do and the people I work with enough to want to include me in that party.

When I was growing up, I was the only gay person in the world. In my younger years, 10 Downing Street was occupied by a Tory Prime Minister who did all she could to keep me isolated, ill-informed and miserable. Together with others, she promoted the iniquitous Clause 28, maintained inequalities in the age of consent and seemed to do everything possible to keep a lid on those working for equality and justice. These days, instead of the law forbidding teachers from giving advice to gay kids in school, many of them come out in school and expect and receive support and respect that my generation couldn’t even dream of.

So, yes Mr Cameron, I’ll accept your invitation. When I turn up to your party, I’ll turn up knowing that the sexuality battles are not over and justice has not yet been won. I’ll also take every chance to remind you and those with whom you work of the many other social justice issues which burn on the hearts of people of goodwill of every faith and none and which I won’t let go of until God’s kingdom comes.

But, I’ll also turn up knowing that for gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgendered folk these days, things have changed and things are changing for the better.

And that’s why I’ll be marching today in Glasgow.

And that’s why I’m proud.

David Cameron, Glasgow, LGBT, pride

9 responses to “The Episcopal Way of Death”

Rosemary Hannah

02/11/2017

The greatest privilege I have ever had in the service of the people of the church was to be the person who received the coffin the night before the funeral and led Compline then. The church was on an island, and the coffins those of people I loved and honoured. It was deeply moving for everybody there. I hope one day that will be done for me and mine.

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Sr Alison Joy

02/11/2017

I have prayed washed and dressed Sisters who have died and it helped me to see that death is not scary. I have lined a number of Sisters graves with flowers around the inner edge from the inside, also helpful. The body was received at Vespers in Chapel the day before, Solemn Requiem was the next day complete with asperges and incense. We returned from the graveside and when in Chapel sung a very joyful favorite hymn for the Sister we had just buried. It was always a sad, happy, remembering occasion I hope that I will be able to have most of this too.

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Sarah Lawton

02/11/2017

This is beautifully said.

When my parents died in a car crash, we knew our Episcopal church would be too small to accommodate all the mourners; but the local Roman Catholic congregation saw our need and graciously offered the use of their space for our Episcopal funeral (including Eucharist led by two Episcopal bishops). They also offered their pall for the second coffin as we had only one. All the churches and the synagogue in town offered choir members and/or food for the feast after the service. An ecumenical, indeed, interfaith foretaste of heaven!

We placed the two bodies in closed coffins in our Episcopal church the night before; we prayed Evensong and Compline, and received a long line of visitors; and then parishioners kept vigil with the bodies all night. In the morning we prayed over the bodies before beginning the procession to the larger RC church where the (Episcopal) funeral was to be held. In this sad, glorious service sang many, many Easter hymns, and I learned that it’s possible to sing and sing even through tears. I’m told that people reconciled that day who had not spoken in years – I’ve heard it from both parties (one now a bishop).

All of which is to say: our Episcopal Way of Death can be a profound grace if we let it. It can be profound too when it’s a simple, small, quiet service for a person who has lived a long life and died of old age (unlike my parents). It’s the same words, the same truth of loss – all of us pass through this life but for a moment – the same mystery, the same words of affirmation and hope at the grave: alleluia, alleluia, alleluia.

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1. Kelvin
  
  02/11/2017
  
  Thank you for posting that – bearing witness to exactly what I was trying to say.
  
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2. Michael Povey
  
  04/11/2017
  
  Thanks Sarah. (Other readers, Sarah is a friend. I was at the Funeral and heard her offer the most profound Gospel Centred and Honest Grief eulogy I have ever heard)
  
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  1. Sarah Lawton
    
    29/11/2017
    
    Dear Michael, thank you for saying that. Your presence that day was a blessing to our family. That gathering, for all the shock and sadness, really did feel like a foretaste of heaven, didn’t it? A great cloud of witnesses singing with us.
    
    Reply
Ronnie Smith

02/11/2017

Having attended a few funerals in our parish recently – one of them for our Vicar, who died on Easter Eve – and being nearer to the grave myself (at 85 and still active as a priest) I appreciate, Father Kelvin, the care you take over this special subject. The Church can be so close to families at this special time – giving them a taste of ‘The great love of God as revealed in the Son’ – precious at this time.

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Tony Whatmough

04/11/2017

There are sometimes good reasons for having the cremation first, as there was for my brother yesterday especially with people traveling and wanting to be able to bury the ashes on the same day. They key is to talk with the family about what they are looking for and how it can be done.

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1. Kelvin
  
  04/11/2017
  
  Dear Tony, I’m sorry to hear that you’ve lost your brother. May be rest in peace and rise in glory.
  
  There are always reasons why people want to have a cremation first and people always believe that they are good reasons. Every single time there are reasons. My contention is that I’m unpersuaded that any of them justify changing what we believe. (What we do and what we believe being utterly bound up with one another in such circumstances).
  
  My point about funerals is very precisely that the wishes of the family are important but that no tradition will survive if we simply abandon what we believe for reasons of convenience.
  
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