• 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 “Sermon for Christ the King 2014”

  1. Julie Mansfield Avatar
    Julie Mansfield

    Kelvin, I follow your blog and I often find your conversations on facebook a lot of fun. But often, too, I don’t really understand what you are saying – such as your last paragraph there; ‘Like love. Like compassion. Like truth. Like hope. Like justice. Like joy. Like peace. Like the Way. Like the very essence of life itself.’ It sounds wonderful but what does it actually mean? Are you saying that the word, ‘God’ is a synonym for other worthwhile words which already have meanings I do understand?

    1. Kelvin Avatar

      What a good question.

      No, I’m not saying that, or at least not quite. I would say that we can’t describe what God is like in language, but one of the closest ways we can come near to talking about God is to talk by analogy – to talk about what God is like.

      The bible is full of times when people use analogy and metaphor to describe the reality of God which we can never completely comprehend.

      In this sermon I’m saying that whilst God may be like a king, God is also like a lot of things that one doesn’t immediately associate with kingship and monarchy. That string of words that you picked out in the sermon are all ways that the bible uses to speak of God. I was using them to do the same.

      Does any metaphor contain or enclose or sum up what we can say or know of God. The answer is always no.

  2. Joy Jones Avatar
    Joy Jones

    I loved your sermon. And have subscribed to your blog.

    No, I have not met the Queen, but I have met the King! And continue to get to know Him more and more every day. His love, peace joy, truth, etc.

    Our priest in North Carolina, said on Sunday, that
    it was hard to tell the difference between sheep and goats.
    Since you live in Scotland, you see a lot of sheep and goats….why did Jesus picked those animals?

    1. Kelvin Avatar

      Thanks for your comments, Joy.

      Actually, I don’t see that many sheep and goats in Great Western Road in the middle of Glasgow. I do see sheep when I drive in the countryside but very rarely goats.

      I think that it is the case that in the Middle East, sheep and goats are pastured together and do sometimes need sorting out. Here in Scotland, sheep and goats (especially wild goats) look very different. However I think in the Middle East, that’s less true.

  3. Julie Mansfield Avatar
    Julie Mansfield

    Kelvin, I’ve only just found your reply! Thanks so much for bothering. I really mean it. I thought you must have just ignored it. Yes, I see what you are saying but… I would say that all those meaningful words in the Bible about what God is like only make sense in the context of understanding who God is. ( i.e. that He came into being as the personification of the worldview of the marginalised Hebrew people, later taken up by Jesus, just as all of the other communities of the ancient Near East had gods representing their worldviews. I study with this bloke here http://www.bibleincartoons.co.uk. ) What I am trying – !! – to say is that God obviously cannot be everyone’s ‘truth’, ‘joy’, ‘justice’ etc because in society there are contradictory ideas about what these things are.

    1. Kelvin Avatar

      Are there contradictory ideas about truth, joy and justice?

      I’m not so sure. Surely we can still speak of these things as though they had some commonly understood meanings.

      1. Julie Mansfield Avatar
        Julie Mansfield

        oh absolutely there are, Kelvin. Just one of many examples: these immigrants in the Mediterranean Sea. Their truth and joy and justice is to be allowed to come and live here. Many folk here get their truth, joy and justice in seeking to put in controls. Whose truth, joy and justice is right? As I see it, the god of the marginalised Hebrews would side with the immigrants but I’m not sure about the Church…

        1. Kelvin Avatar

          I was speaking about God, not ethics. That’s not to say that there isn’t a lot that is interesting to say about the two, but they are quite different I think.

          The fact that people disagree about how to show love. does not, to me at least, negate the assertion that God is love.

      2. Julie Mansfield Avatar
        Julie Mansfield

        Oh absolutely there are contradictory ideas, Kelvin. Just one of many examples; these immigrants in the Mediterranean Sea. Their truth and joy and justice is to be allowed a place to live and thrive. For many folk here, their truth and joy and justice depends on keeping out as many immigrants as possible because they affect housing, medical care, schools etc. As I see it, the Biblical god of the marginalised Hebrews is on the side of the immigrants…

        1. Julie Mansfield Avatar
          Julie Mansfield

          sorry I didn’t see your reply! My difficulty is that you use words as if they have a universal meaning. E.g. love is not a neutral word. there are many different types of love such as conservative paternalistic love or socialist love or non-marginalising love. They are all love. How can God be them all?

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