What is in Kelvin's Head?

  • That Damn Magnificat

    A sermon preached in St Mary’s Cathedral on Good Friday 2022

    There’s something about spending these three hours in a church dedicated to Mary.

    Through the year, we often get particular joy from keeping the Marian festivals. We’ve got more music in the choir library about her than about any of the others who accompanied Jesus in this life.

    We sing with her the Magnificat every Sunday at evensong. We share her joy. We share her hopes for a world turned upside down. Where the mighty would what they deserve. At last.

    In a church dedicated to Mary, because we pay attention to her, we get a unique insight into her Son Jesus. Because she was there. There at the beginning when he was born. There when he taught the learned teachers in the temple. There sometimes when he was teaching the rather more thick disciples and the adoring crowds. There when he performed the the first miracle – water into wine.

    What did she think when that one happened?

    Go my son. That’s the world we want. A world put right. A world where God breaks in and joy breaks out.

    But the trouble for us is that having accompanied her through all of this, we now find ourselves in his company again.

    Mary stands at the foot of the cross. It is almost unimaginable that she was able to stay. But presumably unimaginable for her to leave until it is over.

    And a few other women comfort her and stand beside her in her agony.

    And John, the beloved. He’s there too. Ready to take her in.

    We enter into Mary’s experience when the going is good. How on earth do we enter into her experience today.

    Can we see this day through her eyes or is it entirely beyond what we can bear to think of?

    It is common in newsgathering to tell the story of disasters through the tears of parents weeping for their children. Mothers particularly.

    A whole war may be too much to take in. A whole nation invaded is expressed in arrows on a map, nothing more. A whole cities get bombed and we struggle to know one from another. It happens over there.

    But a mother’s tears at a crucifixion…

    Harder to ignore. Harder to walk on by.

    Theological concepts are broken by the crucifixion.

    Theories of how we are reconciled to God circle the crucifixion scene like vultures.

    They are too big to grasp. And they offer no comfort to a mother weeping either.

    What does she think as she stands there?

    Can she think? Can she process this?

    Raw. Present. The pain. The agony. The tears.

    Three hours is long enough to think. This is a cruel death for those being crucified. This is a cruel death for those watching.

    I’ve been haunted by a question this year as I try to keep company with Mary at the cross.

    Did she hold fast to what she had believed about God – all the things that she had taught him?

    Or did it all break down on that day?

    One of the things that I love about Mary is that her spirituality seems to be about two things which she ties together.

    The world being put right is one of her themes.

    And the joy of singing God’s praises is another.

    Now you can find plenty of other saints who loved those things. But Mary uniquely brings them together.

    My soul magnifies the Lord. And my spirit rejoices in God my saviour.

    He has shown the strength of his arm. And the proud and the mighty and the rich have got their comeuppance at last.

    It is joyful spirituality. Full of cheek and full of fun.

    And oh, how often when I hear Jesus giving clever answers that bring God right into the lives of people who need God most, or when I see him turning over the tables of those who are corrupt, I think, I bet he got that from her.

    But as she stands at the cross, what on earth goes through her head.

    What questions does this hell scene raise for her.

    Does she keep repeating to herself again and again, “The mighty will be brought low. The mighty will be brought low. The mighty will be brought low”.

    Or is it worse than that.

    Does she loose faith with it all today?

    As she looks on and smells death all around her does she call on God.

    We have no words from Mary on Good Friday. Nothing is recorded from her.

    I don’t know what she said.

    But I guess that had it been me, I wouldn’t be singing of the goodness of God nor of a world put right.

    I’d be thinking, “Shit! The bastards have won. I wish I’d never brought him up the way I did. What could I have done differently? I should have taught him to keep his mouth shut more.

    That damn Magnificat. Look where it has got him.

    I sang, God has filled the hungry with good things.

    But I’ve not eaten in hours and I never want to eat again. My stomach is in knots as he twists and turns in agony.

    I sang, from this day all generations will call me blessed.

    But from this day all generations will call me cursed.

    I sang about God sending the rich and the mighty and the powerful away empty.

    But they’ve won. They’ve won. They’ve beaten him.

     

    `I sang, He has come to the help of his servant Israel.

    But God hasn’t come to his aid. He hasn’t turned up at all.

    I sang about the promises that God had made to our forebears to Abraham and his children forever.

    But he has forgotten me today.

    It is finished.

    My song is finished.

    And I’ll never sing again.

18 responses to “To the synod office”

  1. Robin Avatar
    Robin

    > Would it be out of the question, Robin, for Ms Goldie to become the new Bishop of Glasgow and Galloway?

    As far as I know, it would be OK, since she’s baptised and over 30! And Glasgow & Galloway has had a Bishop Goldie before, so there’s precedent!

    Reply
  2. kelvin Avatar
    kelvin

    Robin – we are in the process of removing the 30 year lower age limit for bishops this year. If Ms Goldie turns out to be younger than we think, she is still in with a shout.

    David – thanks for your post. It is similar to what’s been said to me in synod. To be honest, as someone whose formative years were mainly in a part of the country where the dominant industry was coal, the idea that the farming/rural economy has been particularly ill treated by either European or national government thinking has always seemed very puzzling.

    There are many things which bring town and country together. Clergy complain of the same degrees of isolation in town and country, for example. People also often complain about the ability of young people in the country to find affordable housing locally. However, to someone who has lived succesively in Perth, Bridge of Allan and the West End of Glasgow, that complaint again seems to unite rather than divide us.

    As for field sports, I feel less strongly about the sports themselves than I did when I was younger. However, I feel more strongly than ever that all of us, whatever sector of society we live in can only muddle along by a common respect for the law and it has sometimes been difficult for someone like me to perceive such a respect in those advocating certain field sports.

    I don’t think field sports are a human rights issue. And I don’t think that civil disobedience (ie lawbreaking) is an appropriate or proportionate response to the banning of hunting with hounds.

    Reply
  3. Robin Avatar
    Robin

    > Robin – we are in the process of removing the 30 year lower age limit for bishops this year.

    Is this to remedy the understandable confusion potentially caused among electors by your being eminently ‘episcopabile’ while you still look as if you’re well under 30?

    Reply
  4. kelvin Avatar
    kelvin

    I’m ridiculously flattered on all counts. But no – I’m 42.

    Lower age limits are being removed from ordination canons because of the risk of it being seen as age discrimination.

    (Well, actually, because it was clear age discrimination).

    Reply
  5. Robin Avatar
    Robin

    > But no – I’m 42.

    So you *are* the answer to the riddle of the Universe!

    I’d have imagined there would have been an exemption for such things. An 18yo Bishop would be a bit ridiculous, to say nothing of the risk of being stuck with her/him if she/he proved a bad choice. However, I don’t expect it will make any practical difference. Even under the existing Canon, did we ever have a Bishop as young as 30? The youngest I can think of was my own mentor, Bishop George Sessford, who was 42 when he was consecrated . . .

    Reply
  6. Robin Avatar
    Robin

    I meant to write,

    “being stuck with her/him for half a century if….”

    Reply
  7. David Bayne Avatar
    David Bayne

    “Annabelle, our Bishop” has a certain something, don’t you think?

    The age restrictions on Ordination that we are in process of removing did have a point. They were introduced across most post-Reformation denominations (I’m not sure about the RCC) to prevent beardless youths being presented to (with!) prosperous and influential livings by well-connected parents. My favourite Scottish example is Alexander Stewart, the illegitimate son of James IV who was made Archbishop of St. Andrews in 1504 at the age of 14 – or, possibly, 11. The archdiocese didn’t have to cope with a half-century episcopate, though: he died fighting beside his father at Flodden.

    Being of a slightly earlier vintage than The Provost, it’s the moving of the upper limit that has me exercised. Combined with the hole in the pension fund, it hints at a return to “ad vitam aut culpam” By the time people are worried about me having done 50 years in CD, I’ll be 97………..

    Reply
  8. Andrew Avatar
    Andrew

    I think that it is nearer to the mark to describe ‘The Scottish Field’ (or was when we lived in Bromley and it was the most exciting post of the month) as ‘Unionist’
    The Editor in the 1950’s lived about 2 miles away in South London so The Scottish Field kept us in touch with Jimmy Shand, John Buchan, The Edinburgh Tattoo and The Fortingall Yew Tree. And those sherry party photographs to commemorate Law Firm anniversaries. We couldn’t recognise anyone but they looked nicer than the people who came to our own parties. So we grew in ignorance monthly as we happily anticipated another 3 weeks in Pitlochry.
    However in 2009, Old SF’s appearing in Room 1 must herald the employment of a dentist in Forbes House, or a gentle reminder of ‘The Homecoming’. I believe they provide the ‘Peoples Friend’ at 121 George Street, but I could be wrong.

    Reply

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