What is in Kelvin's Head?

Sermon preached at Midnight Mass

25/12/2016

Inevitably I think the end of 2016 will be thought about the end of all kinds of things. Post Brexit. Post Trump. Post truth.

It is as though we have reached the end of something and don’t know what’s coming next.

Time in the secular world stretches straight out in front of us. Time in the spiritual realm bends always towards justice.

But time in the liturgy just keeps on going round and round.

And so the liturgy reminds us of truths that we would otherwise miss.

Post referendum. Post US election. Post facts. And post certainty.

But in the beginning was the Word.

The liturgy brings us right round to what comes at the beginning, that which is foundational for us, that which cannot be argued with because it has always been so and always will be so.

In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God.

A very great deal has been written about the effect of Jesus’s life and of course his death. People have debated, argued, even warred with one another about quite what difference it made that he came and lived and died.

But before that, is something that we should not simply pass us by just because we hear it on a dark, cold wintery night.

In the beginning. Before disagreement, before war, before strife, there was God.

And God looked at this world and loved it and wanted to be part of it.

Before the world began, this much was true – that God was there and God had compassion and God was love.

Before the world began, before not only our present darkness but before all darknesses, God was there and God brought life and light and truth.

Every year I wonder how to see something new to preach on for Christmas. Every year I wonder how to see something fresh in the story itself.

This year a friend told me a few months ago that his mother (whom I don’t know) was knitting me something.

Not a Christmas jumper or a Christmas hat. But the Christmas story itself.

I was presented with a whole crib scene made of knitting figures for the church. A knitted Mary, a knitted Joseph, knitted Magi and shepherds and sheep. And yes, a knitted Jesus.

It is a work of art, and I’ve no doubt a work of love too. You don’t put that kind of work into something like that for someone you don’t know without a lot of kindness in your heart.

And they sit here in church this year with an invitation to the children and everyone who is young at heart, to meet the characters afresh (even the sheep). I’m encouraging the children (and whoever wants to) to take up the characters and to think about what is represented there.

To take up Mary and ponder what it mean to bring to birth the creator of the universe who already loved us.

To take up Joseph and wonder what was going through his head as he stood by Mary. The love of the one who already loved us is known through such human kindness.

To take up the shepherds and encounter those whom the world might least expect to receive a revelation from an angel. Whom do you encounter whom you find it difficult to believe God would be bothered with. Trust me on this one, God is way ahead of you whoever it is. For God has already loved them since before forever.

To take up the strange Magi, knitted robes and knitted beards and knitted gifts and all and reflect on the fact that God’s love seems to extend to the kosher and non kosher worshippers alike. And to know that those outside our own definitions of belonging are already known and loved by God anyway.

To take up and cradle in the palm of your hand the Christ child who once cradled the dawn of time in his.

For in the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God.

Every year I wonder how to say something new about the Christmas story.

Every year, I eventually come to the conclusion that the only thing to do is to let the original story stand on its own two feet.

For in the beginning God was. In the beginning God came. In the beginning God loved.

And we are who we are because of it.

The Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.

Not post glory. Not post grace. Not post truth.

The real thing.

Born amongst us. Born this night. Born in our hearts.

And with us, God with us, as time began.

And with us, God with us, as a baby was born.

And with us, God with us, right here and right now.

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.

Amen.

post-truth

5 responses to “Sermon – 27 July 2008 Leah's Lovely Eyes”

chris

27/07/2008

Father, I confess. I have watched Gok Wan, and there is no health in me. 😉

Reply
Stewart

27/07/2008

Kelvin – You must have a Tardis, or the Cathedral Website is in a different timezone as it infer you preached the sermon on 26 July.

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Kenny

28/07/2008

Can I sook up to YOU Kelvin, by saying that was one of the most powerful sermons I’ve heard for a long time? It put into words, in a way I’ve been unable to, how I feel about the whole Lambeth thing, and the, now (for me), tiresome, issues of sexuality. Yes, let us deal wth these issues, and punt Paul’s bit in Romans to all who feel marginalised. That is the Gospel. Our Bishops need to listen!

But your take on the average Anglican was wonderful. Wot I’ve been trying to say, unsuccessfully, for weeks.

The average mother in Dumbarton’s “worst bits”, is concerned tonight for her teenage child who will, again, come home with needlepoint pupils and another brush with authority under their belt. The house will be damp and nobody in the family will be employed. Addiction, poverty, lack of self-worth, hopelessness, helplessness…

And, here, like everywhere, it doesn’t help us when a single issue is punted by the press as the only thing we’re interested in as Anglicans.

Show the world our best bits? Aye, but sometimes it’s hard to, because the people have already made their decision.

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gail

29/07/2008

Hear, hear, Kenny. An astonishing sermon that astounds again and again on re-hearing or reading.

God’s Truth, simply stated, clearly and succinctly delivered.

I’m all for emphasizing the good bits – so long as we DON’T ‘wear vestments on the beach’ – and that we DO actually deal effectively with the ‘less than good’ bits, so that these can be seen – without embarrassment – when appropriate – and seen as of little importance to the Central Truth.

Dear Leah.

Thank you, Kelvin, for once again bringing new and highly relevant light and insight. I hope Leah’s lovely eyes continue to look over our shoulders, bring Light into dark days and scrutinize doubtful corners……..

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irishpisky

29/07/2008

I have always looked forward to the Sermon time in any Service.

If it proves un-interesting to me, I can spend the time contemplating the great scheme of things, untrammelled by the diversions of life. If, however, it catches my imagination, my spiritual switch is ‘turned-on’ and little flashes of revelation can turn into a flood of light.

Especially, the latest group of sermons has proved to be of the latter kind…all different, with a different approach, theme and presentation, but yet all pointing us in one direction…think outside the’box’.

Because, almost by definition, our Episcopal congregations come for a variety of backgrounds with different viewpoints, so perhaps it is not surprising the those meeting just now have varying opinions.

Perhaps Lambeth may not be notable for what it does, or does not ‘achieve’, but by the fact alone that we all as individuals have been forced to evaluate our view of things.

We know that we will never all agree on everything, but we can sit together happily Sunday by Sunday, and be prepared to have our bigotry and self-centredness questioned.

Perhaps if more Bishops came and sat in St Mary’s congregation they might learn a great lesson…’now we see through a glass darkly, but we are seeing a bit more clearly every day’.

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