• Sermon preached at Midnight Mass

    Inevitably I think the end of 2016 will be thought about the end of all kinds of things. Post Brexit. Post Trump. Post truth.

    It is as though we have reached the end of something and don’t know what’s coming next.

    Time in the secular world stretches straight out in front of us. Time in the spiritual realm bends always towards justice.

    But time in the liturgy just keeps on going round and round.

    And so the liturgy reminds us of truths that we would otherwise miss.

    Post referendum. Post US election. Post facts. And post certainty.

    But in the beginning was the Word.

    The liturgy brings us right round to what comes at the beginning, that which is foundational for us, that which cannot be argued with because it has always been so and always will be so.

    In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God.

    A very great deal has been written about the effect of Jesus’s life and of course his death. People have debated, argued, even warred with one another about quite what difference it made that he came and lived and died.

    But before that, is something that we should not simply pass us by just because we hear it on a dark, cold wintery night.

    In the beginning. Before disagreement, before war, before strife, there was God.

    And God looked at this world and loved it and wanted to be part of it.

    Before the world began, this much was true – that God was there and God had compassion and God was love.

    Before the world began, before not only our present darkness but before all darknesses, God was there and God brought life and light and truth.

    Every year I wonder how to see something new to preach on for Christmas. Every year I wonder how to see something fresh in the story itself.

    This year a friend told me a few months ago that his mother (whom I don’t know) was knitting me something.

    Not a Christmas jumper or a Christmas hat. But the Christmas story itself.

    I was presented with a whole crib scene made of knitting figures for the church. A knitted Mary, a knitted Joseph, knitted Magi and shepherds and sheep. And yes, a knitted Jesus.

    It is a work of art, and I’ve no doubt a work of love too. You don’t put that kind of work into something like that for someone you don’t know without a lot of kindness in your heart.

    And they sit here in church this year with an invitation to the children and everyone who is young at heart, to meet the characters afresh (even the sheep). I’m encouraging the children (and whoever wants to) to take up the characters and to think about what is represented there.

    To take up Mary and ponder what it mean to bring to birth the creator of the universe who already loved us.

    To take up Joseph and wonder what was going through his head as he stood by Mary. The love of the one who already loved us is known through such human kindness.

    To take up the shepherds and encounter those whom the world might least expect to receive a revelation from an angel. Whom do you encounter whom you find it difficult to believe God would be bothered with. Trust me on this one, God is way ahead of you whoever it is. For God has already loved them since before forever.

    To take up the strange Magi, knitted robes and knitted beards and knitted gifts and all and reflect on the fact that God’s love seems to extend to the kosher and non kosher worshippers alike. And to know that those outside our own definitions of belonging are already known and loved by God anyway.

    To take up and cradle in the palm of your hand the Christ child who once cradled the dawn of time in his.

    For in the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God.

    Every year I wonder how to say something new about the Christmas story.

    Every year, I eventually come to the conclusion that the only thing to do is to let the original story stand on its own two feet.

    For in the beginning God was. In the beginning God came. In the beginning God loved.

    And we are who we are because of it.

    The Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.

    Not post glory. Not post grace. Not post truth.

    The real thing.

    Born amongst us. Born this night. Born in our hearts.

    And with us, God with us, as time began.

    And with us, God with us, as a baby was born.

    And with us, God with us, right here and right now.

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

    Amen.

     

66 responses to “Sermon Preached on 9 October 2011”

  1. kelvin Avatar

    Now, I think we are in danger of moving away from commenting on the sermon that was posted above.

    Further comments that are focused on that sermon are welcome. I think that I will exercise my perogative and choose not to host any further debates on this thread unless they pertain directly to the orginal post.

    Several comments from those of differing opinions have been gently hushed.

  2. Alan McManus Avatar

    I remember hearing you preach this sermon, Kelvin, and being surprised at your take on it. Mine, I now realise (thanks for the research, Rosemary), came from Augustine (via my RC school chaplain, now happily married, whose constant theme was the love of God for us). It’s difficult to revise views learned while young as the evidence we accepted as children is not always acceptable to our adult minds – if we chose to review it. So I sympathise both with my coreligionist and with our Cromwellian interlocutor, despite their abrasive tone and the fun we can have with bowels and prostrates: they appear both to speak the truth as they see it. But so does everyone else commenting – and some (like Jaye) read the Hebrew scriptures in the original. I like the interpretation put forward by Kenny and Agatha and just because it was a convenient one for Augustine doesn’t mean it has to lack truth. So I turned to the Greek for backup and the first word that struck me was Ἀρίστων (ariston) which has connotations of excellence and survives in ‘aristocrat’. This king calls his ‘banquet’ (Jerusalem Bible) literally ‘my excellence’ – and he’s obviously gone all out. So none of the big wigs turn up and he goes all inclusive and gets the good and the bad in. Then throws a hissy fit about the dress code. He sounds A LOT like me when I’m directing. Then I noticed there’s a lot of play on IN and OUT (even ‘crossroads’ is διεξόδους – diexodous – way out ways?) and the final words are a pun on κλητοί (kletoi – named/ invited) and ἐκλεκτοί (eklektoi – called/ chosen).
    Now I suspect that shackling a quest hand and foot and shoving him out the door into outer darkness (the Greek word for darkness is the Classical root of ‘Scotland’!) may have put a rather gloomy outlook on the evening’s festivities. Could that be the point? It’s sandwiched between the parable of the wicked husbandmen that has the son of vineyard owner exit sharply and the trap Jesus escapes about taxes.
    With all this about ‘who’s in who’s out?’ and ‘which side of the coin are you on?’ can we take this passage with a pinch of Paul (and Augustine, and Cromwell) and say ‘our righteousness is as filthy rags before the Lord’? So the point is not how we are named/ that we are invited but that the church (ekklesia) we are chosen and called to be is not one of domineering control freaks throwing hissy fits because the excellence of their table arrangements has been spoilt by someone not following rubrics. Or by (ditto) because their nice ideas about biology (JS, once you mention ‘purpose’, no biologist will take you seriously) have been spoilt by people in love. St Mary’s is a great liturgical feast indeed. Everyone goes all out for excellence. Yet I’ve seen the oddest-dressed people doing the oddest things (me late, again, in my glad rags included) welcomed. The RC Church in Scotland, of whose hierarchy I am deeply deeply ashamed, would do well to stop whitewashing sepulchers and start calling the clergy and laity in their charge to inclusive love.

    1. Alan McManus Avatar

      That should be άριστον, guest, εκλεκτοί. Transliteration is correct, it was the cut and paste that was slapdash. Fortunately my phone does Greek (no pun intended) but it doesn’t do breathings.

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