What is in Kelvin's Head?

Always the Inkeeper – a sermon for Christmas Day 2018

25/12/2018

In the name of God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.

I, was always the innkeeper.

I’m not sure how many times I was in a nativity. Nor am I sure how it happened. But somehow, I was always the innkeeper.

And the innkeeper doesn’t get the best of lines.

“I’m sorry, there is no room at the inn”

Of course, there’s no actual innkeeper in the Bible. Just that line which says that Mary laid him in a manger because there was no room in the inn.

From the lack of room in the inn there is presumed to be an innkeeper.

And the innkeeper must therefore turn the holy couple away. Not for them the comforts of the inn.

But how to play the innkeeper – stern and uncompromising as he shakes his head at the holy couple. Or kind and compassionate finding them a corner round the back with the animals because you can’t just let a woman give birth on the street?

I’m not sure that my knowledge of theatre was all that developed in those days but there was still clearly a choice to be made.

If you’ve only got one line, you’ve got to make it count.

I never got to play the part of Joseph – concerned, compassionate, gentle and strong.

I never got to play a shepherd shivering on the hillside nor a king come from the East to worship the Christchild.

I never got to spit like a camel or baa like a sheep. Nor was I to ever become any of the whole host of angels who came to sing peace to God’s people on earth.

I always knew that I’d have made a fabulous Gabriel, all sparkles and glitter, even if the world was not at that time ready for me to play the Blessed Virgin Mary.

But it was never to be.

I was always the innkeeper.

Carrying my lamp (I always had a lamp) it was my solemn duty to tell Mary and Joseph that there was no room for them in the inn.

So far as I can tell the inns of Great Western Road, do not seem to come with adjacent stables these days. The memory of the cow byers in the West End where animals were stabled after being brought into town for market lingers in the name of Byers Road. But generally speaking, for most of us the idea of a stable is a bit foreign.

But it was to such a place that the innkeeper showed the holy family and in such a place as that, the Lord of heaven and earth first laid his head, all wrapped in swaddling bands.

Perhaps the modern equivalent is a garage around the back.

I wonder whether those of you who played a part in nativity scenes in your youth have found the character that you played has played out in your later life. Is there still an angel in you – announcing news whenever there’s great news to tell? Are you still searching like one of the Magi? Are you someone who still looks after the sheep.?

I find myself wondering whether constantly saying “There is no room at the inn” in my childhood Christmases somehow contributed to wanting to preside over a congregation which is trying to be open, inclusive and welcoming and trying to say, yes, there’s always room for more around the crib at Christmas and around the altar where God is alive to us the rest of the year too.

Maybe I am rebelling against my old Christmas script. No more will I proclaim no room at the inn. There’s room for everyone here.

It may be because it was my part to play that I’ve tended to think that the church has neglected the innkeeper somewhat. There’s no carols about the innkeeper. No icons of the innkeeper. No relics of the innkeeper to visit. No shrine.

Once he has delivered his line in the nativity play, the innkeeper fades away.

Well, he fades away from view but somehow we each get the chance to play his part and not just at Christmas. Whom will we welcome? Who precisely will we make room for.

For there must be room for the wandering and the lost. There must be food for the hungry. There must be shelter for the homeless. There must be refuge for the refugee.

And the vocation of all of us innkeepers is to work out how to welcome just one more.

And the Christmas story is at its weakest if we locate it only in Bethlehem and only in a time long, long ago.

Like all the best stories it comes to life when we find ourselves acting the parts of the characters not simply in childhood but when we can see and influence the same drama as it plays out in our lives.

The Christmas story is not simply that God came once and laid his head in straw and that was that.

The Christmas story is that Glasgow is the holy city in which God is born. The Christmas story is that people still discover that same God in the most unexpected ones. The true Christmas story is that there’s always room for one more beloved child.

And the true Christmas story is not that God loved the world so much 2000 years ago that he came and for the blinking of a lifetime was part of it.

It is that God loves the world so much because God loves you.

And that love doesn’t happen then or there, but here and now.

God loves you, here and now.

This place is Bethlehem. And unto us a child is born.

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

7 responses to “The BA Cross Story”

Tim

25/11/2006

Hmmm. You’re the first person I’ve seen to view it this way around.

Different, and I agree about “witnessing to the passengers” (I don’t particularly want proselytising, least of all on a plane) but I’m not sure I agree with your conclusion.
A cross need not be particularly outlandish; many people wear them, some of whom don’t even regard themselves as christian (heirloom, etc), and who’s going to ask their motives before declaring it still a religious symbol?

It’s unfortunate that this has come about with someone who sees the cross as her witness, but if this stands, companies will be allowed to have discriminatory uniform policies, and it doesn’t matter who the parties are, it’s just discrimination whichever way I cut it; all the more so when it leads to *a society* in which one hides from others rather than embracing them.

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kelvin

25/11/2006

As I understand it, the BA uniform policy has applied to all jewelry hanging around someone’s neck. It would not be fun to get one’s Cross, Crescent, Star of David or string of pearls caught in the check-in machinery.

It is interesting that the principle sign of Christian membership in most parts of the various churches is essentially ephemeral – baptism by its very nature is invisible in material form once performed.

When I was in Egypt, I was quite impressed with the tattoos that many Christians had done in order to identify themselves to one another. At more than one Christian gathering I went to, the locals were vetted at the door by showing their tattoos – the presumption being that no member of any group that the Church people were frightened of would ever have a cross tattooed on their skin.

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Anonymous

26/11/2006

Yes, you’re quite right. A uniform is a uniform. If one absolutely wanted to wear something other than a uniform at work, then joining the Army mightn’t be the best place for me.

Similarly, if joining the BA ranks implies wearing a uniform, and I insist on wearing some additional contraption, then , patently, possibly a position without a uniform would be better. Possibly as a clergy person?! That is if I were a compulsive proselytiser.

Anent compulsive proselytising. There is this church building on the facade of which a sign threatens one and all with everlasting hell fire. No doubt those of that congregation consider it to be their loving duty so to do. However, to my mind, it is a most egregious assault on the urban landscape … and myself, every time I have cause to walk by.

Yes. Yours is a most refreshing viewpoint. All the more so as it comes from within the ranks of the clergy. Possibly a reason why I’ve kept on coming back to this your blog…

All the very best,

Clyde Lad

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Alex

26/11/2006

The real problem is that BA’s policy is inconsistent: turbans are allowed, hijabs are allowed and apparently Hindu bangles are allowed.

For a uniform policy to be reasonable I think it either has to allow all, or allow none. I’m not fussed which they choose, but consistency is important.

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Ali

26/11/2006

I think the difference between turbans, hajibs and bangles are the difference between a requirement of following a particular faith (or, rather, a conservative branch of a particular faith as with the hajob and the bangle), or a desire because of one’s faith. A cross is worn out of choice, rather than a requirement of orthodoxy.

I talked a little about this in the sermon this morning – on a day where the church celebrates the feast of Christ the King, surely a greater sign of being a member of that Kingdom, or a follower of Christ, is the way in which we treat this planet given into our care and all who inhabit it, rather than becoming sidetracked in petty bickering about which poppy is the most Christian or the “right” to wear a cross at work regardless of uniform policy.

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Alex

26/11/2006

“A cross is worn out of choice, rather than a requirement of orthodoxy.”

I’m not sure that this is a difference that removes the inconsistency from BA’s uniform policy. Whether or not the turban, hijab or bangle is perceived as a ‘requirement’ of membership of a faith, it is still my choice whether or not to observe it.

This is not to say that I think Ms Ewelda has taken the best course of action. My personal view is that she has made a mistake – instead of a greater witness, she has contributed to the perception of Christians as petty and whinging. I may have my differences with Paul(!) but I think his “Greek to the Greek, Jew to the Jew” approach has a lot to be said for it.

But our disagreement with her position on how crucial to the Christian life is the wearing of the cross doesn’t change the fact that the policy applied treats her differently from members of other faiths.

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Mysterious stranger

27/11/2006

I am with you on this one.I do not like all the badges,ribbons,bands etc with uniforms.I also felt extremely uncomfortable with yesterdays interview.She has been offered the right to wear the cross on her lapel not round her neck.She can wear it inside her uniform and go with the lapel badge.

Her fundamentalism grated.Sorry.

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