• Dedication Sunday Sermon – Responding to Antisemitism

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

    Religion changes over time.

    How to run a congregation changes over time.

    The things that you need to do change over time.

    As I flicked through the readings for this morning, I found myself thinking first about Jacob dreaming of a ladder and the angels of God ascending and descending up and down it.

    And I found myself wondering why Jacob didn’t seem to dream about whether the angels of God had successfully completed their Working At Height and Using a Ladder Safely training.

    That may not have been what Jacob dreamed about, but it is the kind of thing that can appear in the dreams of someone leading a congregation these days, of that, I can assure you.

    And then I read of him taking up the stone that he had been resting his head against and setting it up for a pillar and pouring oil on it.

    And I found myself thinking, well Jacob, sunshine, you are not going to get away with that without writing to the Dean of the Diocese and filling in a Canon 35 application and finding out whether or not the congregation mind exactly where you’ve put the pillar.

    Canon 35 being the stuff not of Jacob’s dream but of property conveners’ nightmares.

    And then Jesus in the gospel is asked to tell them plainly whether or not he is the Messiah and he says, “I have told you but you do not believe because you do not belong to my sheep”.

    And I find myself wondering whether the Lord of Heaven and Earth was very cleverly prophesying the GDPR regulations which ensure that we don’t send emails to anyone who doesn’t want them.

    It seems to me very likely that he was.

    Things change.

    Religion changes.

    We’ve changed.

    As a congregation, we’ve changed a very great deal.

    Another thing occurs to me as we read the story of Jacob’s ladder and that it a foundational story not simply for Christians celebrating their own identity in a Feast of Dedication.

    This is a Jewish story. The idea that you can set up somewhere to worship wherever you wander being foundational to being Jewish.

    This week I went to a conversation about anti-Semitism organised by the local branch of the Council for Christians and Jews.

    I listened to Jewish people from this city speaking of being frightened to live here. I heard talk of people thinking of leaving Glasgow and leaving this country because hatred of their community and identity, is growing again.

    I have a number of complex responses to this.

    Firstly, to affirm that the hatred (or even the suspicion) of Jewish people is always and forever wrong. There are no political or religious excuses. In a time where objective truth is under threat, let us be known as a people who know right from wrong and can say whenever we encounter prejudice that it is wrong, no matter on whose lips it is uttered.

    Secondly, to try not to make assumptions that anti-Semitism) is what other people do whilst we are free of it..

    It is always easy to blame others for the ills of society. The person accused of sending bombs to people on the American political left this week was exposed on many occasions to rallies where cruel words carved out a space where violence might seem legitimate. And it is right to call that out.

    And the vile attack on a Jewish synagogue yesterday was the worst and most violent expression of the oldest prejudice. And I condemn it as it will be condemned in pulpits around the world today.

    But the truth is, there are people in this city who are frightened of being Jewish. Frightened not just of thugs putting bricks through their windows or someone turning up with a gun on the Sabbath but are frightened of the way Christians (that’s us) think and speak and preach. Frightened of our discourse about Israel. Frightened about the way we use Scripture, which, let’s face it is not wholly ours. For words shape the space wherein actions can occur.

    And that situation must call us to reflect about who we are and where all of that begins.

    And thirdly, my response to religiou people feeling frightened in this city (and this will take us back to our Dedication Festival) is to remember that to some extent we’ve been there.

    It happens to be the case that we’ve needed police protection and been guarded whilst we worship on several occasions recently. Going back into our past history there were times when even the civil authorities were not on our side and we had much to fear not just from mob violence but from civil society itself.

    That is part of our story. People used to be frightened to be Episcopalians in Glasgow. (And for good reasons). We were turfed out of the Medieval Cathedral by men with pikes. We worshipped here and there in this city in varying states of fear.

    A wandering Aramean was our father. We share solidarity with all who are afraid to worship freely.

    We share in celebration with all who celebrate. And we weep with all those who weep.

    Today we happen to be celebrating those who kept the faith through hard times and ended up coming to this place to put down foundations and build.

    Today we celebrate those who caught a vision they believed in and contributed to making it happen.

    Today we celebrate not just that we are still here but that we are flourishing and alive and having fun being the people of God who worship in this way at this time.

    As we do so let us pray and work for the same safety and confidence for all God’s children.

    Things have changed for us.

    Our usual mode these days is not fear but joy. That’s what we do here.

    We’ve kept the faith, hung unto hope and we share the joy of being who we are supposed to be.

    Religion changes. This congregation has changed. All kinds of things change for the people of God as their story unfolds.

    But the love of God changes never. And isn’t part of our story – it is our story.

    As we keep dedication Sunday today, I ask you to give thanks for those who have made what we have here today possible. Those who have taught the faith, kept the faith and yes, funded the provided for the sharing of faith with us.

    As we celebrate our story, we proclaim the simple truth as we’ve done before and will continue to do – whoever you are, God loves you. God loves you more than all the reasons you can come up with why God’s might not love you.

    Loves you yesterday, today and forever.

    Amen.

9 responses to “Turning Up and Being Counted”

  1. Lesley-Ann craddock Avatar
    Lesley-Ann craddock

    Thank you Kelvin
    What a read, I really enjoyed it, all of it. You have touched on the 3 things that I too have been wrestling with.
    Liturgy , turning up to be counted, and being open and real with our peers and counterparts.
    Hmmm I wonder if those aspects of being church in this post pandemic implosion of society will somehow be a catalyst to become braver clergy and have proper discussions about what matters to Gods church in its own context. Can we be diverse and not divided, can we lock into our heritage and yet be able to change too. Can Branson pickle save us. X

  2. Christine McIntosh Avatar
    Christine McIntosh

    Great stuff, Kelvin!

  3. Robert MacDonald Avatar
    Robert MacDonald

    Good points well made. We find some church members, who organise a community lunch on a Wednesday, then regularly say ‘we won’t make it on Sunday’. Seems the wrong way round – attendance on a Sunday should come first.

  4. Peggy Brewer Avatar
    Peggy Brewer

    Reading this made my day and contributes to my celebration of the season! Thank you!

  5. Calum Wyllie Avatar
    Calum Wyllie

    Reading this, I feel like it could have been written about me. I couldn’t have been more deeply involved with my church (felt deeply rooted in the weekly liturgy, sat on the PCC, led on diversity and inclusion, set up online streaming for the first time during lockdown), yet I haven’t been back in two years. There is definitely an element of that link of continuity having been broken, and it’s up to me to make the effort to reforge it again. But the anger is also real, and hard to pin down. When somewhere no longer feels like home, when you feel excluded (even when that person was responsible for leading on inclusion!), how do you find the courage to return? When the link with spirituality feels more present in other places (even when I used to absolutely value liturgy, the Eucharist, the community), how do you find a way forward? Too much thinking, and not enough getting on and doing, perhaps…

  6. Meg Rosenfeld Avatar
    Meg Rosenfeld

    Wow–this article is not only thought-provoking, and, to someone who’s a church-goer, extremely easy to identify with, but also entertaining and therefore all the more memorable. As one whose parish church (in San Francisco’s notorious Haight Ashbury neighborhood) nowadays gets about 15 people in the congregation on a “good” day, I do often wonder whether we’re ever going to bounce back from this expletive-deleted pandemic. Personally, I have no choice: I am, on the aforementioned good day, 50% of the alto section, and on other days, 100% thereof. All you folks out there don’t know what you’re missing–except, of course, those of you who are watching on your home computers.

  7. Father Ron Smith Avatar

    Well said, Kelvin Perhaps we clergy don’t stress enough the fact that the Host at our worship is not the clergy, but the Incarnate Son of God; who empowers us to the extent that we are willing to be empowered for daily life and work. I still think of that lovely phrase “Turn towards HIM and be radiant”. What a thrill!

  8. Kennedy fraser Avatar
    Kennedy fraser

    Yes,I still wonder if we have counted all those spiritual communions

  9. John Davies Avatar
    John Davies

    My church (suburban, evangelical Anglican in Birmingham, UK) took a long time to really recover from the lockdown and subsequent fears, but seems to be close to its pre-shutdown numbers again. What my wife and I noticed was that for quite some time the congregation was largely made up of its elderly members – ie those who are not perhaps so nifty with the electronic gadgetry of our age and, also, those who most wanted company. Younger families took a lot longer to return, but are now coming out of the woodwork again.
    One interesting point is that my old church reported a big increase in deaf people watching their zoom or youtube services, because one of the congregation provided signage at the front. Their new found audience felt greatly enabled to join in when they may otherwise never have done so. Is this something worth thinking more about?

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