• 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.

8 responses to “Still snuffling”

  1. ryan Avatar
    ryan

    Kelvin, it sounds like you have the far more serious man-flu, not just a mere man-cold.

  2. Vicky Gunn Avatar
    Vicky Gunn

    Kelvin
    Apologies for keeping you at arm’s length in Church – just got over a dose of lesbian man-cold a few weeks ago, which I generously passed to all my colleagues at work. Having been persona non grata for that I thought I just shouldn’t risk it. Service last night was beautiful.

  3. Andrew Avatar
    Andrew

    Kelvin,
    The hardest thing to accept, when you’re not well, is that you really are ill. The best thing to do is to keep away from other people and stay in bed with a hot water bottle, and preferably with a hot toddy laced with plenty of whisky. It won’t do you any good, but it might make you feel better.
    Get better soon. Andrew

  4. Erp Avatar
    Erp

    Wrap yourself up in a warm bed with a comfort book and perhaps some comfort music (and this time of year allows carol singing as comfort music). I would suggest hot chicken soup (hot and sour Chinese style chicken soup maybe) instead of a hot toddy with whiskey.

  5. Stewart Avatar

    Considered opinion on Sunday is that is was not man-flu, but provost-flu 😉

  6. David |Dah • veed| Avatar
    David |Dah • veed|

    ‘Tis the season. I have had it for two weeks now. The first week I was a good muchacho and just used cold pills to relieve the symptoms, caldo de pollo con chili (it really opens the sinuses) and té del limón con tequila. Because I know that colds and flu are caused by viruses, I did not do the Mexican thing and go buy an antibiotic.

    But then the fluids turned green and yellow, which is the sign of a secondary bacterial infection, so I am taking amoxicilina con acido clavulanico, and slowly getting better.

  7. ChickPea Avatar
    ChickPea

    Was good to see we had the Precious Provostorial Presence in our midst last night – tissues and all. And even better to see the digits getting some exercise today – suggests there’s maybe been a slight turn for the better, despite missing out on a most medicinal port – do try port as a remedy, David – MUCH more effective than trying dreadful things with my poor chooks, who are trembling on their perches at the thought of erp’s suggestions…….

  8. Rev Ruth Avatar

    Are you languishing on your chaise longue with a blood-stained handkerchief held limply in your outstretched pale hand? If so, I fear it may be consumption.

    But no listening to Christmas carols, mind.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Previous Posts

  • Isn’t it time to stop teaching sport to children?

    Isn’t it time to stop teaching children sport? It is drug-addled, corrupt, nationalistic, sectarian, sexist, homophobic and brings out the very worst in people. Why on earth do we presume it is something suitable for children to participate in? From time to time I am asked to comment on calls from one secularist group or…

  • Sermon preached on 8 November 2015

    We stood at the top of the top of the hill looking down the Clyde looking past Bowling and on towards Dumbarton. No ships. No boats. The slight eeriness of the empty estuary. “And that’s where the fire was” she said. “The VE day fire”. And over there – behind the house, that must be…

  • All Souls

    All Souls Day is a rehearsal for my own funeral. I realised this a few years ago when someone commented that the All Souls Requiem at St Mary’s seemed to be a particularly important time of the year and was appealing to more people than it used to. When I sat and thought about it,…

  • The speech Bishop Rachel Treweek might have made

    This is the speech that I would have liked the Rt Rev Rachel Treweek to have made this week on entering the House of Lords. My Lords – I am overwhelmed by your generosity in welcoming me to this house. Your warm and unprecedented applause as I was introduced to this house contrasted so strongly…