• Easter Sermon 2014

    What a joy to be in this place today celebrating the resurrection. We began on a high last Sunday and have made our way though this Holy Week. People sometimes call that a journey, a waymarked path, a pilgrimage.

    But for me, that doesn’t begin to describe it. For me it is more like being on a rollercoaster of emotions.

    • The glory of processing on Palm Sunday. Local pipes and drums somehow taking us right into the holy city of Jerusalem here in the West End itself.
    • The intimacy of washing feet on Thursday Night – an exercise that somehow always confirms for me a deep theological truth which is that I have the ugliest feet in all of Christendom.
    • The brutal reality of the stripping of the altar – somehow as all the beautiful things are violently removed from the church we find ourselves taking part in the arrest and trial of Jesus.
    • The stark reality of a bare church on Good Friday –the one day when the Scottish Episcopal Church somehow turns Free Presbyterian and likes it.
    • And the spruce and polish yesterday when we try to make sense of the awful things we have seen and get ready.

    And through it all – people and stories from the passion of Christ 2000 years ago interweaving with the people and stories of right here and right now.

    Every year I learn something new about the story.

    I remember one year I was working in a church which had just appointed a new sacristan before Easter – that’s the person who looks after all the kit in a church.

    This person was a great support. And like so many people at this time of year, very keen to help.

    At this particular place the stripping of the church was particularly effective. Just like here, everything that could be moved was hauled out of the church. Here we drag out the choir pews, steal the cross from the altar and remove everything that shines and glitters.

    Doing it in any church results in two things – firstly a church just right for Good Friday. Stark and plain. The bitter, stark reality of the cross represented by a plain undecorated building. Shocking. Moving. Bewildering. You want the whole church on Good Friday to feel empty. To be still.

    Secondly, the stripping of the altar results in a sacristy absolutely full of the rubble of the night before. Carpets and pews and silverware and statues and goodness knows what all upended in a hurry into a small room. And there it stays to keep the church plain and pure for the devotions.

    On this particular year, I remember getting a phone call from the new sacristan at 9 am on Good Friday when we had a service at 10 am.

    She came on the phone and told me that she’d been in church since 7.30 am. I have to admit that I was pleased and awed by her devotion. Sitting praying in a plain church all that time is surely commendable.

    Until she said the words that no priest wants to hear on Good Friday – “Don’t worry Rector, I’ve been into the sacristy and the church and managed to get all the stuff back. The church is looking lovely.”

    That year the church was stripped twice and I pulled muscles I never knew could be pulled.

    There is a truth there though – Jesus won’t stay dead.

    By the time I get to the end of Good Friday – one service after another where we go through the agony of the crucifixion I find myself at the last service of the day hoping that if we crucify him properly then maybe this time he’ll stay dead.

    But of course…

    But of course, he won’t stay dead. And our message today is very much that nothing will keep him in the grave.

    Death has been vanquished. The grave has lost its sting.

    Christ the Lord is risen from the dead not simply long, long ago but here and now and in our lives and in our world.

    What we celebrate today is that the seed of hope grows in the human heart.

    What we celebrate today is that the grave – the place of destruction, violence, decay, boredom and pain is ultimately empty.

    What we celebrate today is that life is stronger, yes stronger than death.

    Our God has conquered. For love, true love will always win.

    I stand here because I believe goodness is always stronger than evil. Because love is stronger than hate. Because the joy of resurrection power is the new life that belongs to us to share with all people of goodwill.

    You don’t have to go far to find Good Friday.

    But love wins out in the end.

    I remain in Good Friday though if I accept that violence is the best way to solve differences.

    I remain in Good Friday if I do not challenge prejudice when it comes from any man, woman or archbishop in the street.

    I remain in Good Friday if I do not share my belief that a better world than this is not only possible but essential.

    This week there has been yet more sickening violence and terrorism in Nigeria and in other places around the world.

    Well we as God’s people believe in a better way and are committed to a better world. We stand against the tyrant, the bomber and the bully.

    And, this week, the Archbishop of Canterbury has once again tried to link in the public mind the action of terrorists in Africa with the acceptance of gay and lesbian people in the West.

    Such careless disregard for gay lives has the stench of Good Friday all over it.

    Love wins in the end. And love will win an end to discrimination in the church just as we’ve been winning it in the life of the state.

    And this week, the Prime Minister has been courting Christian opinion by speaking about his own faith.

    I’m pleased that Mr Cameron can speak of his own connections with church life.

    But, Mr Cameron – if you want to court Christian opinion and make Christian people think better of you then help this country build a society far, far away, a resurrection world away, from the food-bank Britain we currently seem to find ourselves living in.

    I believe in love. I believe in compassion. I believe in resurrection. And I believe we can build a better world than this.

    Jesus won’t stay in the grave. Beauty won’t stay locked away in a sacristy for long.

    Jesus won’t stay buried in the tomb. Justice won’t be subdued by violence but will leap up and dance and cry to the heavens for change.

    Jesus won’t stay buried in the tomb.

    For love wins. New life wins. Joy wins out.

    And Jesus Christ is risen from the dead.

    For if Christ were not risen, we would not be gathered here.

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

11 responses to “The Pink List”

  1. Ryan Avatar
    Ryan

    Ooh, you’re in some illustrious company – there are worse places to be than beneath John Barrowman!

    Congratulations 🙂

    1. kelvin Avatar

      He and I are almost the same age, Ryan. It is why we look so alike.

      1. Ryan Avatar
        Ryan

        Made more impressive by the fact that the praepostorial look is presumably, unlike Mr Barrowman’s, all-natural 😉

        1. kelvin Avatar

          Mostly natural.

  2. Rosemary Hannah Avatar
    Rosemary Hannah

    Yes, I’d quite like to be under … sorry, got lost in thought there. Well done, Kelvin, and yes, more church people, please. As long as they spell your name right, that is all that maters ….

  3. Revd Ross Kennedy Avatar
    Revd Ross Kennedy

    I don’t think the paper got it wrong at all. St Mary’s is Glasgow’s Cathedral (that is if we ignore the chapel by the Clyde). The C of S place was a cathedral but not any more – it hasn’t had a cathedra for hundreds of years and so is merely a parish church now (nothing wrong with that). The C of E has done away with provosts (they were the head of the cathedrals which also functioned as parish churches). The boss priest in all the
    C of E cathedrals is now called the Dean. And so it should be in SEC because the title ‘provost’ is the designation accorded to the head of toon cooncils.
    Yes I know we have deans in the SEC dioceses but they could be retitled as archdeacons which is what (I think) is their function.

    As to the pink list…how times have changed….. years ago it would have been called the black list! (sorry!)

    1. kelvin Avatar

      Times have indeed changed, Ross. Something which is to be celebrated.

      I’ve no desire to be a Dean. Deans in Scotland do something quite different to what I do, and Provost described me nicely. The title of Dean is also used in secular life now too, in education, as is the term Rector.

      There are four cathedrals in Glasgow. St Mungo’s, St Luke’s, St Andrew’s and St Mary’s, each no doubt dearly loved by their people.

  4. Ryan Avatar
    Ryan

    Archdeacon is a great title tho, suggesting to the layperson that it involves deacons raising one eyebrow and making drily witty comments.

  5. chris Avatar

    I’d’a thunk you might have been a ‘national treasure’ by now…maybe next year. 🙂

    1. kelvin Avatar

      I’m a National Treasure round about this blog. That’ll do for now.

  6. Uncle Al Avatar

    I seem to recall that at Coates Hall back in the very early 1970s the student charged with providing services at the Mission Church in Dean Village was known [tongue very firmly in cheek] as the Archdeacon of the Water of Leith. A resounding title but no gaiters came with it.

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