• Sermon preached on 15 July 2018 (Pride Weekend)


    Is this the word of the Lord?

    Is this the gospel?

    “What should I ask for” said Herodias.

    “The head of the Baptist” said her mother.

    And it was so.

    And where is the good news in any of that?

    It is one of the worst, most barbaric and miserable stories in all of scripture.

    Herodias whom we know by the name of Salome in popular culture danced before the tyrant and demanded the head of the one who had stood up to Herod as he rode roughshod over the law.

    (David on the other hand, danced through the streets for joy in the first reading and distributed food for everyone – but we’ll get to him later).

    What about Salome? Why do we read this sorry and sordid tale?

    This is not some saucy burlesque after all but a dance of death.

    Where is the good news to be found?

    This story comes around quite a lot – we get rather a lot about the Baptist in the lectionary. We get this story on this Sunday and we also get it for the day we remember John the Baptist’s death too.

    This is not a story which ends with all the boys being brought safely from the dark and frightening cave. It is the story that ends with John’s state sponsored arbitrary execution.

    Every time I read it, someone asks why.

    If I’m honest, I sometimes feel the same when I am reading it too.

    People will know that I rather like the theatre.

    Going to the theatre is what I do when I have time off.

    I am apt to get myself to places where there are lots of shows on and just book things that I fancy on the off chance that they might be that great night out that you will remember forever.

    (Which is how I once booked myself tickets for the Tempest and spent the first few lines thinking that I didn’t remember the sailors in the storm being Russian sailors and got a full five minutes into what is, to say the least a long and complex night out before realising that the whole thing was going to be in Russian).

    And I did the same with a production by a famous theatre producer of a play by the famously witty Oscar Wilde and glued to my seat in horror when I realised that Salome, the title of the play was not the story of some saucy socialite but just a retelling of the horror story that I’ve just read from the bible.

    To put it bluntly – there are no jokes here.

    But when people ask why we read it in church my answer is always the same.

    We read it because it is true. We read it because brothers and sisters are suffering. We read it because John the Baptists who stand up to power still end up in prison cells. We read it because conniving plotters like Herodias and her ma still send good people to needless and pointless deaths. We read it because people still suffer under Herods.

    We read it in short because tyrants still exist. And it is fear of similar tyranny that brought people out onto George Square in protest on Friday evening.

    We stories like this it because notwithstanding the good news that Jesus came to share, he came to share good news so that we could share it with those who need it most.

    We read it because it is true. And we’ll keep on reading it until it is true no more.

    For standing up to abuses of power is surely a part of who we are and what we do.

    Yesterday, I stood for hours, literally hours, in Kelvingrove Park listening to people talk about their experiences of faith and of the church.

    It is a shock for people to see someone in a dog collar at a Pride celebration (or an anti-Trump protest come to that) and dozens of people wanted to chat.

    And I spoke to people who wanted to change the world like John the Baptist and speak truth to power – not least yesterday, those leading the campaign for Inclusive Education in Scotland – their time has come.

    Scotland’s children need them to win what they asking for.

    And over the last 28 hours, I’ve spoken to people who were dressed a little differently to most of you here this morning. People who, like John the Baptist like to dress in things that wouldn’t look so respectable in Byers Road. There were not so many hair shirts on display yesterday but there were one of two leather girdles a bit like John used to wear.

    But my predominant memory is of speaking to one John the Baptist after another who are trapped in caves of despair. And who think that the church is the evil empire and that Herod is in fact one of us – for people who look like me look all too much like the oppressor to them.

    A particular memory of yesterday is of speaking to dozens of heart-broken Roman Catholics who feel lost and abandoned by their faith.

    We never talk about that kind of thing in ecumenical conversations, which is why so many ecumenical conversations are so utterly futile and why the ecumenical age is all but over.

    There will be no new ecumenical spring until we can talk about the difficult things like heartbroken Roman Catholics at Pride and about the way our streets in the summer are taken over by those claiming to be protestants banging drums of hatred.

    There was different drumming on our streets yesterday.

    The Scottish Episcopalians at Pride were just in front of the Co-Op brass band who encouraged us around town and up Blythswood Hill to a small selection of well-known disco hits.

    As the road became steep they broke out into Abba songs of years ago.

    “Do I look like a Dancing Queen?” I wondered as they blasted it out behind us before deciding that I probably did and that the only way to keep going was to shimmy.

    Which brings us to David dancing for joy before the Ark of the Covenant.

    The murder of the Baptist by Herod with the connivance of Herodias and her wicked mother is one of my least favourite readings in the bible. But we read it because it is true.

    The story of David dancing through the city in a linen kilt to the scandal of those who thought they knew better including his wife, is one of my absolute favourites.

    We read that story because it is true too.

    We dance when we’re in love.

    We dance because we are happy and full of joy.

    And we dance because God is good.

    David dances as though no-one is watching, even when he knows they are.

    And if ever there was an example from scripture to emulate, I want to dance like David before the Lord.

    The things we read in scripture are true – all of them. The horrors as well as the loves.

    The Lord gives us choices.

    To walk the way of the tyrant. Or to protest and shout for justice from the earth.

    To dance the dance of death with Herodias. Or to dance the dance of life with David.

    Choose life – and all the earth will be fed.

    Choose life – and dance through the streets for joy like no-one is watching.

    Choose life – for what other choice is worth making.

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

7 responses to “The BA Cross Story”

  1. Tim Avatar

    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.

  2. kelvin Avatar
    kelvin

    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.

  3.  Avatar
    Anonymous

    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

  4. Alex Avatar
    Alex

    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.

  5. Ali Avatar
    Ali

    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.

  6. Alex Avatar
    Alex

    “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.

  7. Mysterious stranger Avatar
    Mysterious stranger

    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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