• Sermon – post referendum

    Here’s what I had to say today in the pulpit following this week’s political turmoil after the recent referendum.


    Video: https://vimeo.com/172288986

     

    “Lord do you want us to command fire to come down from heaven and consume them?”

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

    And Jesus says no.

    Do you want us to call down from heaven on them?

    And Jesus says no. He rebukes them and turns and went elsewhere.

    And that is the gospel for today. That really is the essence of the sermon for today.

    There seems to be rather a lot of us-ing and them-ing about at the moment.

    And they asked him whether to call down fire from heaven and he turns and goes another way.

    Like a lot of things in modern life, Jesus never had to face the consequences of a referendum or any kind of political vote. He knew absolutely nothing about democracy and we much always beware of lifting words from the bible and plonking them down in our own day as though they will sort out all our ills.

    But it seems that Jesus did live in a world where he knew about rage.

    We tend to think of the Samaritans as being a jolly good thing because we’ve got that parable of the good Samaritan and the wonderful listening charity of the same name.

    But the whole point of the Good Samaritan story is that everyone in Jesus’s immediate company believed the Samaritans to be downright bad. And we have a taste of that in this morning’s gospel.

    Jesus was heading to Jerusalem – his holy mountain. And that put him at odds with the Samaritan villagers of the place that he wanted to pass through who would have been looking towards Mt Gerazim rather than Jerusalem as the location where God’s salvation history would all be played out.

    Do you want us to call down fire from heaven on them?

    And Jesus turned away.

    I’m very conscious of reading this story in Glasgow in the weeks leading up to 12 July when the marching season is going full pelt.

    I recently was in the company of a prominent Roman Catholic member of the clergy when an Orange Walk was going on locally.

    I said to him that I was sorry to hear the noise of the those drumbeats still on our city streets.

    His reply was one of the saddest things I’ve heard, “oh,” he said, “it is just something we get used to”.

    And I made a mental note never to get used to it. Never to hear the beat of angry drums without remembering the look on that person’s face. Never to hear the beat of angry drums without remembering his sad words. And never to hear the beat of angry drums without asking myself what one step I can take to make peace, build peace and call people into loving respect for one another.

    I’m also conscious of reading this story in a part of the world which is still reeling from two referendums which have each in very different ways divided friends and split families and been fought with a passion that has sometimes spilled over into something much darker.

    Our political situation has put us right in the middle of various overlapping identity wars. And it is a confusing situation too. One brand of identity division doesn’t necessarily map onto another.

    I tend not to preach my politics directly from the pulpit though you don’t have to go far to find out what I think. I was, after all, a candidate for political office on two occasions as well as standing to be the Rector of one of Glasgow’s illustrious academic institutions a couple of years ago.

    I tend not to preach my politics from the pulpit not least because of my phenomenal lack of success in actually winning the elections I find myself standing in out of personal conviction, or maybe out of personal wanton stupidity and hubris.

    Indeed, sometimes when I’m asked to list my hobbies I’m tempted to put “losing elections” down as my principle pastime.

    But I think I would preach from the pulpit that each of us must stand up for what we believe in.

    And I think I would preach from the pulpit that each of us needs to be formed by the scripture that we read week by week and allow the Godly values that we find there to seep so deep into us that we are changed so that we can change the world.

    And I think I must preach from the pulpit this day the fruit of the Spirit: Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. For this is our birthright, this is our dna, this is who we really are.

    While the identity wars rage around us, we are already beloved of God and the fruit of the spirit is our manifesto – the agenda that we pursue, the identity we preach.

    This evening three members of this congregation will be confirmed by Bishop Gregor. As they identify with our faith in prayer and in being anointed by the bishop, we pray that the Spirit will come upon them. And that fruit of the Spirit that we heard of in this morning’s second reading is the life we shout from the rooftops belongs to them and to whosoever seeks it and is the identity they tonight claim for themselves.

    This place is a place where the congregation that worships here is very politically active and whatever party any of us align ourselves with, whatever movement, whatever side of whatever referendum we find ourselves on, I hope that the manifesto of the spirit drives us and compels us to act and listen in God’s name wherever we find ourselves.

    A great deal of people don’t feel listened to at the moment.

    A great deal of people with little power feel unheard by a great deal of people with power and influence.

    And that’s my learning point in the middle of this particular turbulence.

    The prosperity and wellbeing of the many is the pathway to peace.

    The various fruit of the spirit may act as our stepping stones to get to a place of greater calm than we currently possess.

    This is a time of some turmoil. It feels as though everything is being thrown up in the air and none of us know quite where things will land.

    Let the fruit of the spirit be written on our hearts as we each take our part in finding answers.

    Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness and self control.

    And remember.

    There will never be a referendum on the love of God.

    That decision was made long ago, once and for all and is eternal.

    God’s love is for everyone. In-ers, Out-ers. Voters. Non-voters. For the wise. For the foolish. For the foolish who don’t know they are wise. And for the wise who don’t realise they are foolish.

    And one day love will triumph and there will be no us and them at all.

    Just those who are beloved of God.

    Always and forever.

    Amen.

4 responses to “The Privatization of Public Space and the Commonwealth Games”

  1. Christine McIntosh Avatar

    We were there yesterday as well – you should use Swarm and I might have known! But we left after the first gate for the same reasons as you’re complaining here – that feeling of being in school, or a prison, perhaps. Not a good move, Glasgow!

  2. Robin Avatar
    Robin

    > More troubling to me is that people on the Green were apparently being told to cover up YES badges indicating their support for Scottish Independence.

    What about people with NO badges? Or was no-one wearing one?!

    Seriously, a good post and I agree with it.

  3. Matthew Pemble Avatar
    Matthew Pemble

    I was not only frisked each way walking from Douglas St to “The Hub” (back of the Science Centre) but, on the way back when I was actually going to stop in the BBC’s carnival to buy some (in the end, over-priced and under-nice) lunch, the security weasel suggested that I might like to opt out of walking through a public right of way and go some 500m elsewhere so I wasn’t an inconvenience to her and her colleagues.

    A. She wasn’t a volunteer.
    B. The restriction of individual liberty is the first and most desired recourse of petty British officialdom.
    C. Unlike petty French officialdom, whose first and most desires recourse is Madam Guillotine.

  4. Alan McManus Avatar

    After a PR blunder involving a local Guru of ethnic minority (technically the majority) Herod was anxious to be seen to be benevolent. “5K” had a historical precedent; the concept was simple, marketable and had obvious corporate tie-ins with opportunities for merchandising. The Vizier sourced another Guru, a cousin of the dead one but with better ratings and demographics (and a lot more camera-friendly). Generic ads (CARING/ SHARING/ WEALTH CREATION) went viral on social media, the venue was booked and tickets (£15) sold online.
    Jesus proved difficult from the start. He wanted it free and couldn’t see the need to fence the Table. He couldn’t even see the need for the Table. “Okay” said the Vizier (whose eyes kept glazing over as Security patched in on his Link-Up) “we love you, we love the robes and sandals, we love the concept – yeah? Let’s just keep the synergy flowing and focus on half-full, blue skies – sorry – Mike? Yeah PR here, how’s that bulldozing going? Yeah? Flat. And can you schmooze the protesters off-camera? Yeah. We’ll need the whole space for carparking. Sorry – so, Jesus, right? Cool. Just some Health & Safety details to go over:
    • Bread ‘n Fishes shrinkwrapped 5K pax must remain in the corporate cooler till distribution by authorised personnel only – all in Hi Viz.
    • No healing or blessing, it’s just too big a crowd and we don’t want a crush at the barriers (also healing kinda spins our plucky human interest stories outta line).
    Your slot is 3 mins max, Jesus, we’ve drafted your mission statement, here. Any vocab issues? We want the tone local, down with the Palestinian people, not too obviously Roman. Let’s just go over it:
    1. Render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s (we don’t do God)
    2. Yes you can! (can you avoid the whole structural poverty rant? it comes across as patronising and we want to emphasise equal opportunity)
    3. The parable of the talents (just as it is)
    Cool.”
    Everything went smoothly on the day. The whole area had been cleared of undesirables and Herod’s helicopters, horseguards and hounds kept the peace in the huge crowd packed between the steel barriers, happily clutching their tokens for Bread ‘n Fishes; tasteful woven willow miniature food baskets (blessed ones £5 extra) and leaflets for voluntourism. Alternating muzak and plucky soundbites on the massive LED screens kept the crowd amused while they waited for the main act.
    Which never came. Jesus had slipped through the crowds and walked away.

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