• 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.

10 responses to “Liturgical Notes – as given to the servers this morning”

  1. Moyra Avatar
    Moyra

    So what really happened?
    you can’t leave me in suspense like that…. Did any of it go according to plan?

  2.  Avatar
    Anonymous

    What really happened

    Well, Fr Bishop did not really turn up with enough time to spare to be accorded the offer to celebrate. He did make it into the pulpit in time for the sermon. Just.

    So, we had a Presiding Minister and Sub-deacon. Not quite a High Mass, more Gas Mark 5.

    Excellent control of the thurible.

    No amount of bowing to the offertory procession or censing them would make them go away. Perhaps someone was supposed to do something else to them, but I sure don’t know what they were waiting for. Perhaps someone will tell me in the week.

    Offertory elements arrived nearer verse 4 of the hymn than verse 1.

    Presiding Muggins ended up flitting out with the vessels to St Anne’s chapel.

    And a good time was had by all. 

     

     

  3. Pamela Avatar
    Pamela

    I wish I’d been able to get out my bed in time for yesterdays service – I love it when the incense is used.

  4. Vicky Avatar
    Vicky

    chaos what chaos?
    apart from the late Bish and the sneaky switching on of his mike, I was blissfully unaware of the chaos at the altar……isn’t it always like that?  Just think yourselves lucky you don’t have to accurately time the ringing of bells and the ‘donging’ of dongs which, if inappropriately done, can throw transubstantiation into reversal…..

  5. Brannon Hancock Avatar
    Brannon Hancock

    didn’t notice
    I didn’t notice a thing. (Well, except the tardy homilist.) ‘course, sitting out w/ the congregation, my eye misses a lot of that I’d probably notice were I with the choir in our normal place. For instance, with the Bishop at the “big pulpit,” I couldn’t see him at all from where I was sitting. In fact, it took me about 25 seconds to figure out where the strange disembodied voice was coming from…

  6.  Avatar
    Anonymous

    Servers and Sight Lines

    Oh, there was no chaos at the altar – the servers served impeccably. It is the mark of good serving that no-one should know that things were not quite going to plan.

    As for seeing the Bishop – one of the things I’ve been giving a lot of thought to is the sightlines in the Cathedral which are pretty terrible. There is no perfect place to preach from or to celebrate at which will enable everyone in the pews to see. At one time in the life of the church people were charged pew rents – higher rent for seats you could see from.

  7. Elizabeth Anderson Avatar
    Elizabeth Anderson

    sight lines
    True enough re sightlines. As someone who regularly sits in south side pews – I’ve figured out exactly where to sit in the pew so that the offending pillar is between altar and eagle – so I could see preacher and celebrant. Which is extremely selfish becuase it means whoever else is in the pew (usually James) can’t see.

    I thought the preaching from the centre, in front of the altar – most visible – and not so far away from congregation as ‘voice from the sky’pulpit – is best option so far.

    As for incense – not a wiff reached said south aisle. But I suppose for it to permeate to back of church would involve overwhelming those front and centre.

  8.  Avatar
    Anonymous

    Sight Lines from the North Aisle
    As a someone who regularly sits in the North Aisle, I can see most of what goes on except when the pulpit is being used. On those occaisions, moving tot he other end of the pew gives me a view of the pulpit around the north side of the organ console.

  9. Elizabeth Anderson Avatar
    Elizabeth Anderson

    Hmmmm
    I feel like great amusement could be had by all with coloured yarn connecting various bits of the Cathedral. Green for the pulpit, red for the altar, blue for the lectern – stretching around the pillars, organ console . . .

  10. Mysterious stranger Avatar
    Mysterious stranger

    Mystery to me
    As someone who has just about mastered morning prayers the above just remains a complete mystery to me.I like the idea of the yarn though.

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