What is in Kelvin's Head?

That Damn Magnificat

16/04/2022

A sermon preached in St Mary’s Cathedral on Good Friday 2022

There’s something about spending these three hours in a church dedicated to Mary.

Through the year, we often get particular joy from keeping the Marian festivals. We’ve got more music in the choir library about her than about any of the others who accompanied Jesus in this life.

We sing with her the Magnificat every Sunday at evensong. We share her joy. We share her hopes for a world turned upside down. Where the mighty would what they deserve. At last.

In a church dedicated to Mary, because we pay attention to her, we get a unique insight into her Son Jesus. Because she was there. There at the beginning when he was born. There when he taught the learned teachers in the temple. There sometimes when he was teaching the rather more thick disciples and the adoring crowds. There when he performed the the first miracle – water into wine.

What did she think when that one happened?

Go my son. That’s the world we want. A world put right. A world where God breaks in and joy breaks out.

But the trouble for us is that having accompanied her through all of this, we now find ourselves in his company again.

Mary stands at the foot of the cross. It is almost unimaginable that she was able to stay. But presumably unimaginable for her to leave until it is over.

And a few other women comfort her and stand beside her in her agony.

And John, the beloved. He’s there too. Ready to take her in.

We enter into Mary’s experience when the going is good. How on earth do we enter into her experience today.

Can we see this day through her eyes or is it entirely beyond what we can bear to think of?

It is common in newsgathering to tell the story of disasters through the tears of parents weeping for their children. Mothers particularly.

A whole war may be too much to take in. A whole nation invaded is expressed in arrows on a map, nothing more. A whole cities get bombed and we struggle to know one from another. It happens over there.

But a mother’s tears at a crucifixion…

Harder to ignore. Harder to walk on by.

Theological concepts are broken by the crucifixion.

Theories of how we are reconciled to God circle the crucifixion scene like vultures.

They are too big to grasp. And they offer no comfort to a mother weeping either.

What does she think as she stands there?

Can she think? Can she process this?

Raw. Present. The pain. The agony. The tears.

Three hours is long enough to think. This is a cruel death for those being crucified. This is a cruel death for those watching.

I’ve been haunted by a question this year as I try to keep company with Mary at the cross.

Did she hold fast to what she had believed about God – all the things that she had taught him?

Or did it all break down on that day?

One of the things that I love about Mary is that her spirituality seems to be about two things which she ties together.

The world being put right is one of her themes.

And the joy of singing God’s praises is another.

Now you can find plenty of other saints who loved those things. But Mary uniquely brings them together.

My soul magnifies the Lord. And my spirit rejoices in God my saviour.

He has shown the strength of his arm. And the proud and the mighty and the rich have got their comeuppance at last.

It is joyful spirituality. Full of cheek and full of fun.

And oh, how often when I hear Jesus giving clever answers that bring God right into the lives of people who need God most, or when I see him turning over the tables of those who are corrupt, I think, I bet he got that from her.

But as she stands at the cross, what on earth goes through her head.

What questions does this hell scene raise for her.

Does she keep repeating to herself again and again, “The mighty will be brought low. The mighty will be brought low. The mighty will be brought low”.

Or is it worse than that.

Does she loose faith with it all today?

As she looks on and smells death all around her does she call on God.

We have no words from Mary on Good Friday. Nothing is recorded from her.

I don’t know what she said.

But I guess that had it been me, I wouldn’t be singing of the goodness of God nor of a world put right.

I’d be thinking, “Shit! The bastards have won. I wish I’d never brought him up the way I did. What could I have done differently? I should have taught him to keep his mouth shut more.

That damn Magnificat. Look where it has got him.

I sang, God has filled the hungry with good things.

But I’ve not eaten in hours and I never want to eat again. My stomach is in knots as he twists and turns in agony.

I sang, from this day all generations will call me blessed.

But from this day all generations will call me cursed.

I sang about God sending the rich and the mighty and the powerful away empty.

But they’ve won. They’ve won. They’ve beaten him.

`I sang, He has come to the help of his servant Israel.

But God hasn’t come to his aid. He hasn’t turned up at all.

I sang about the promises that God had made to our forebears to Abraham and his children forever.

But he has forgotten me today.

It is finished.

My song is finished.

And I’ll never sing again.

27 responses to “A Response to the Prime Minister”

Patsy

20/12/2011

Dear Kelv

You make some interesting points. But do you have to be so rude? All the “Dave” stuff is a bit juvenile. If you want to have a serious debate surely you can show a bit of respect? Also maybe a little charity – was it really necessary to be quite so snide (I almost said “nasty”) about the PM’s rather hesitant comments on his own faith?

Reply
1. william
  
  21/12/2011
  
  Well said and well put – Patsy.
  Sadly ‘revisionists’ don’t seem to recognise ‘rudeness’, lack of ‘charity’, ‘unattractiveness’ in what they say and do within the church, although they believe they recognise them and see them in others.
  It could be that blindness to all of this is because of the paucity of grace in their mindset; Pelagians don’t feel the need for grace or atonement as much as the rest of us.
  They seem to assume God is always smiling on them, and is always pleased with the worship they present to Him, whatever its content or assumptions. Even in whatever behaviour they engage in, even boast of.
  In Jeremiah’s day, in contrast, the religious were warned frequently with words like: peace, peace – when there was no peace. But most did not have ears to hear such warnings.
  Maybe your wisdom will strike a chord of caution.
  
  Reply
  1. kelvin
    
    21/12/2011
    
    >They seem to assume God is always smiling on them
    
    Oh yes! Oh yes!
    
    Reply
  2. Ryan
    
    21/12/2011
    
    William, you and Pasty know (or should) that ‘Dave’ is a popular phrase quite widely used to refer to Cameron’s ‘couch sofa’ style Blairist governing style and his attempts to *present himself* as a man of the people rather than a privleged OE. Dare one say that calling a David ‘Dave’ is , in terms of rudeness, not exactly up there with demonising gay people, nor implying that someone who disagrees with an opinion *on* a theological matter is somehow ignorant *of* theology?
    
    Can you cite a ‘non’ revisionist expression of church that offers worship that would please the God of Jeremiah, William? Personally I think the sort of glorious Eucharists that St.Mary’s feature hit closer to the mark than either (say) Shine Jesus Shine style worship songs or the glum langours of (e.g.) ‘biblical’ presbyterianism, but YMMV….
    
    Also, given that this is the same David Cameron who appeared in gay mag Attitude suggesting that the C of E could take lead from the now (relatively) gay-friendly tory party and giving it the sackcloth-and-ashes in regard to Section 28, I do have to laugh at self-styled fundamentalists accusing beastly Kelvin of being so mean about Cameron’s in-no-way-largely-for-political-gain theological musings.
    
    Reply
william

21/12/2011

Ryan – have a happy christmas – William!

Reply
1. Ryan
  
  21/12/2011
  
  Ah, robust and scrupulous engagement with comments as always William! 😉
  
  And also, as they say, to you.
  
  Reply
Rosemary Hannah

22/12/2011

“It could be that blindness to all of this is because of the paucity of grace in their mindset; Pelagians donâ€™t feel the need for grace or atonement as much as the rest of us.
They seem to assume God is always smiling on them, and is always pleased with the worship they present to Him, whatever its content or assumptions. ”

This is not merely inaccurate but terrible theology.
1-Nobody is more scrupulous about worship than Kelvin. The content of Episcopal worship is (unlike that of denominations less heavily influenced by the Catholic tradition) carefully prescribed.
2 – Grace, in the Reformed sense is, in fact, a frequent theme of his sermons.
3 – The real trouble with Pelagians is that they assume they have to EARN the favour of God – and that he is not very likely to be induced to smile on them. It is Athanasians who believe that God comes to them, and despite their inability to get things right, smiles on them. You have reversed the two. Allow me to suggest that Kelvin’s theology, which as one who has listened to him and read him, I think I understand, is such that he knows he is beloved by God even if he sometimes gets things wrong. Whereas you write as though you think you have to get your theology and other assorted beliefs right to be loved by God. But it is not so. Even people who make the most astonishing mistakes God are still his children, loved and carried in his heart.

Reply
1. kelvin
  
  22/12/2011
  
  Right on all counts, Rosemary. There is nothing I can do to make God love me more. I’m already utterly loved. Morality, ethics, grace and love are all predicated on that love being entirely unwavering. There is nothing that I can do (even less believe) that would make God love me more.
  
  I would add that I have been to a place which claims to be the tomb of Athanasius.
  
  (It was a little smelly).
  
  Reply
  1. william
    
    22/12/2011
    
    How profound, and yet how gloriously true – “There is nothing I can do to make God love me more.”
    Thatâ€™s the whole biblical meta narrative – God does everything, even recreates us in the image of His Son by His Spirit – as Paul said, we are ‘new creation’.
    And our heavenly Father has done all this for us that He might have children bearing the family likeness – not that our obedience will make Him love us more.
    But disobedience to what He has spoken will surely lead to fatherly chastisement.
    So in that regard there is always more we can do, as opposed to “There is nothing that I can do”. Good fathers do not smile on their children’s disobedience, even though they do not love them less.
    Sadly Pelagius pursued and taught the route of meritorious good works to please the Father [and the heresy is still vigorously alive today] – he was blind enough to think he might even be able to do this.
    Augustinians pursue grace â€“ but increasingly their lives are being conformed to the likeness of Christ as Jesus said, by their fruits you will know them.
    Righteousness by faith is not a legal fiction!
    
    Reply
Rosemary Hannah

22/12/2011

There appears no way of liking Kelvin’s comment ‘oh yes,oh yes,’ but consider it very heavily liked.

Somebody tell william that getting me going on Jeremiah might not be wise. Oh, I know, tell him to read http://lovebloomsbright.wordpress.com/2011/12/13/with-justice-and-with-righteousness/

Reply
1. william
  
  22/12/2011
  
  Rosemary – I did read it and found it intensely moving.
  Probing the intensity of the Father’s yearnings over His ancient people is only matched [fulfilled is maybe a better word]by His Son’s brokenness for us at Gethsemane and beyond.
  Yet that’s the way – the only way – for us ever to have His smile upon us.
  Have you done a reading on Isaiah 5?
  
  Reply
  1. Rosemary Hannah
    
    22/12/2011
    
    That is very sweet of you william- and actually Is 5 is an excellent suggestion for one of my pieces.
    I would say that, essentially, the yearning of the father and the brokenness of the son are contiguous aspects of one phenomena.
    
    Reply
David Baker

29/12/2011

So we have a Prime Minister defending the Bible, and an Episcopalian provost attacking it?

Reply
1. kelvin
  
  29/12/2011
  
  No, David Baker.
  
  I love the Bible and delight in it.
  
  Reply