Annual Church Coffee Morning

Upper Clyde Parish Church warmly welcomes you to our Annual Church Coffee Morning.

Come and gather for a cuppa and a blether at Roberton Village Hall, 10am 12-pm, Sat. 29 August:

Sermon, Sunday 9 August: 'Choose love'

Readings:

Ephesians 4:25-5:2 & John 6: 35, 41-51 

Sermon

Let’s pray:

May the words of my mouth, and the meditations 

of all our hearts be acceptable in your sight, 

O Lord, our strength and our redeemer, Amen.

This morning, as we ponder words from Scripture, and, thinking particularly of our reading from Ephesians, a story...

which some of you may or may not have heard:

Once upon a time, there was a taxi driver. 

He lived in a big, noisy, overcrowded

and very dirty city.                                                               

It was an August night – late.                                  

Very late. 

2.30am.                                                

A call came in for a fare.                                    

As he drove, the cabbie began to wonder

who the fare was going to be:                        

perhaps he was off to pick up some young folk

heading across town to the next party;                                                               

maybe he was off to collect someone

headed for a flight to what might be

the holiday of a lifetime?                                                             

Perhaps the fare was a medic heading in to work for the early shift?

He’d met a whole host of folk in this job

and nights could be...interesting.                                  

At least his imagination kept him awake,

as he drove through the deserted,

litter-filled streets.                                                                  

As he neared the place where he was

supposed to collect his fare,                                

he saw the building was in darkness…                                

no, not quite all in darkness:                                                                      

there was a single, low light in

the ground floor window.                                                              

He honked the horn and waited.                   

Nothing.                                                            

After a few moments, he honked again.        

Nothing. 

Nobody.                                             

He wondered if it had been a prank call.    

Just as he was about to put his foot to the pedal and drive away,

something made him stop.

He turned off the engine,

got out of the cab,

and walked to the door.

The low buzz of the intercom echoed down

an inner hallway.                                                         

There was a sound of crackling and static …

and then a tinny, distant     weak voice

echoing down the line:
“Just a minute,”                                                 

He stood there in the semi-dark,

by the door     waiting,

and as he did, he heard the sound

of faltering footsteps

and what sounded like something

being dragged across the floor.                                    

After what seemed to be

the world’s longest pause,

the door opened, revealing a tiny, elderly woman.

He couldn’t quite work out just how old she was.

She was wearing a floral print dress

and a faded pillbox hat and veil.

‘Like someone out of one of those old, old movies’, he thought.

Faded elegance.                                                          

The woman was carrying a small, black suitcase.

A smell of dust and mothballs

hung heavy in the air and,

as he peered beyond her into the

dim light of the hall,

and into open doorways,

he saw the shapes of furniture draped in sheets,

emptied shelves,

bare walls with the faintest traces to show

where pictures had previously hung.

At the end of the hall, he noticed a cardboard box

filled, higgedly-piggedly, with photos, glassware,

assorted knick-knacks.

Her apartment looked as if

no one had lived in it for years.                              

“Would you carry my bag out to the car?” 

The cabbie nodded, took the suitcase to the cab

and then returned for the woman.                        

She took an arm and they walked slowly

to the car.

She kept thanking him.

Feeling awkward, he said:                            

“I… just try to treat my passengers the

way I’d want my mum treated.”

Once settled, she gave an address then asked:

“Can you drive through downtown?”
“It’s not the shortest way,” the cabbie said.
“Oh, I don’t mind,” she said.

“I’m in no hurry.

Then, more quietly:

‘...I’m on my way    to a hospice.”

The cabbie looked in the rear-view mirror. 

The woman said:                                   

“I don’t have any family left.

The doctor says I don’t have very long.”        

                                                        

The cabbie quietly reached over

and shut off the meter. 

 “What route would you like me to take?”

He asked:                                         

For the next two hours they drove

through the city.

She showed him the building

where she’d once worked

as an elevator operator.

They drove through the neighbourhood

where she and her husband had lived

when they were newlyweds.                                              

She pointed to the huge old furniture warehouse:

that had once been a ballroom

where she’d gone dancing as a girl.

Sometimes, she’d ask the cabbie to slow down,

in front of a particular building or corner,

and would sit staring into the darkness,

saying nothing.                                          

As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said:

“I’m tired.

Let’s go now.”

They drove in silence to the hospice.             

Two orderlies came out to the cab

as soon as it pulled up.                                                                

They must have been expecting her.                

They opened the door and gently helped her.                                                                         

The cabbie got out, picked up her bag

and took it to the door.                                             

The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.
“How much do I owe you?” she asked,

reaching into her purse.
“Nothing,”
She objected. “You have to make a living.”
The cabbie shook his head:

“Ah, no worries, there’ll be other passengers,”
Almost without thinking, the cabbie bent and gave her a hug.

She held onto him tightly, moved by his kindness.                                                                   

“Thank you.”
Gently  he squeezed her hand,

then walked into the early morning light. 

A new day dawning.                             

Behind him, the snick of a door, shutting.                                      

The sound of the closing of a life.    

He didn’t pick up any more passengers that shift.

He drove aimlessly, lost in thought.                            

For the rest of the day,

there were no words,

lost as he was in reflection:                                                                 

What if that woman had been picked up by

an angry driver,

or one who was impatient to end his shift?                                                                 

What if he’d refused to take the call,

or had honked once, then driven away?

After mulling for some time

on what had happened,     

he decided that taking that call

had possibly been one of the

most important things he’d done in his life.

..................................

From our reading earlier,

in the letter to the Ephesians:

‘Be kind and compassionate to one another, 

forgiving each other, just as in Christ,

God forgave you.

Be imitators of God, therefore, as dearly loved children 

and live a life full of love, just as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us

as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God’

‘Be kind’.

The apostle, Paul, thought to be the

writer of Ephesians

is making a play on words here.                                                     

The Greek word for ‘kind’     

is Chrestoi.           

And …the Greek word for Christ      

is Christos.

Paul says, “Be Chrestoi to each other.”
On one level, he’s saying be kind to one another.

But at another level, he’s saying,

“Be Christ to one another.”                                   

“Be Chrestoi…

Christos…                            

Christ to each other.”

For what immediately follows this call to kindness

is a call to be imitators of God -

to live a life of love,

in the same way that Christ lived his life in love...

gave his life for the world -

gave his flesh...in love for the world.

‘Be imitators of God’...

The great Protestant reformer, Martin Luther

talked of Christians as being ‘little Christs’.

To follow Christ is to choose the way of love

and as we walk the way of love

we are nourished for the task

by the One who is the Bread of Life,

who strengthens us through the

Spirit of God already  at work within us,

enabling us to become more like Christ.

I’m not sure of the source,

but there used to be a question

doing the rounds that basically asked:

‘if you were on trial for being a Christian,

would there be enough evidence to convict you?’

What would that evidence be?

I suspect a very big part of that would be 

in choosing to live a life filled with loving-kindness and compassion;

sacrificial love

that looks out upon the world and sees

only neighbours,

not enemies;

love that forgives much,

love that follows the way of peace -

that puts away all bitterness, rage, anger,

brawling, slander, and malice.

As we follow Christ, the Bread of Life,               

let us be Christ to one another…                               

Let us be imitators of Christ…                                

And as we are,

we might just discover,

like the cab driver in our story,

those actions that really do matter in life...

And live in such a way that people

will see Christ in us,

and praise our Father in heaven… Amen.

Sneak preview: upcoming notes for August - Sept - Ocotober

Worship 'sneak preview':     

Fancy a wee peek at what's coming up in worship over the next few months?
Readings and hymns now posted up until 8th November. Click on the tab above!

Church 'ad-hoc' singing group:
Our 'ad-hoc' singing group will now be a little less 'ad-hoc':
unless otherwise stated, the singing group will sing monthly, on the 1st Sunday of the month.
Nikki will put up a poster in the Church Hall so those of you wishing to sing can note dates
in your diaries.  The usual system will continue: anyone wishing to sing on one of the listed
days is very welcome to come along to church at 9.45am for a practice before worship.
All ages and all abilities welcome - just bring yourselves and your enthusiasm!
[not to be confused with 'Junction 13 Community Choir'!!]

Occasional music group:
Calling musicians of all kinds, all ages, all abilities - looking for folk interested in playing music together for fun, and possibly with a view to play together occasionally during worship - morning or evening. At the moment, the initial thought is just gathering together to play and see how we go - with a view to possibly playing at some point over the Christmas period.
If you'd like to know more, contact Nikki Macdonald or Teresa Brasier using the 'contact us' app on the right-hand side-bar of this blog.

Some dates for your diaries:

9 Aug & 13 September, 6.30pm: Evening worship at Holy Trinity Chapel, Lamington.
All are welcome to come along to these shorter, reflective evening services.  A time of prayer, silence, and singing - using the music from the Taize Community.

23 Aug, 27 Sept, and 25 October, 6.30pm: Evening worship - in Leadhills/Wanlockhead
All-age, informal and relaxed time of worship - for the young and the young at heart, all welcome.

30 Aug - 27 Sept. during worship: 5 weeks in which we'll be exploring the Lord's Prayer

27 Sept, 1pm: pot-luck lunch and discussion on the Lord's Prayer...
At the end of this series, a pot-luck lunch will be held in the Manse at 31 Carlisle Rd, Crawford, 1pm.
There'll be plenty of opportunity for questions and general discussion around matters arising from this 5-week series - your chance to 'put the minister on the spot'! :)

Sat 3 October, 7-10pm[time tbc?], Silver and Song... Community Concert, Crawfordjohn Hall
with the:
Leadhills Silver Band, 
St Silas Community Choir, from Glasgow,
and our very own home-grown shiny new community choir:
Junction 13.
Join us for a fun, all-ages, inter-village evening. Refreshments, tombola, etc. as well.

11 October, 10:30am HARVEST SERVICE

Sermon, Sunday 19 July: 'Breaking down the walls'

1^st READING: Psalm 23

2^nd READING: Ezekiel 13:9-16

3^rd READING: Ephesians 2:11-22

SERMON ‘Breaking down the walls’

let us pray:

May the words of my mouth and the meditations 
of all our hearts be acceptable in your sight 
O Lord our strength and our redeemer… amen.                                           

‘He is our peace… who has broken down every wall.’                                                       

…For most of this week, I’ve had that verse from Ephesians in my head, 

along with a picture – 

it’s good to have something in there at least!

Early last year, I had the opportunity to travel to the 

Holy Land on a study tour with a group of students from New College. 

It was an amazing time: an odd time.

Lots of sights, sounds, smells that were unfamiliar, and yet,

strangely familiar too, as stories from the bible came to life in my head. 

Our group was spending a couple of days in Jerusalem, a city built of stone:

a place where ancient faiths mingled uneasily,

a place of narrow gates, old walls. 

We were walking near the wall known as the ‘Wailing Wall’,

watching observant Jews draped in prayer shawls busy at their devotions.

I was reminded of a photo I’d seen a couple of years before:

a close up of some of the stones in that wall -   

ancient, crumbling, limestone;

big stones;

stones that had expanded and contracted in the heat and in the cold -

the heat and cold in turn creating cracks.

And there, stuffed in the cracks –

were pieces of paper – prayer notes. 

Notes of hope and notes of fear,

notes of love, notes of anger,

notes of life and notes of death,

stones telling prayer stories,

stones with notes…  eloquent in their silence.

It’s a simple photo, and yet, in its very simplicity,

it holds within it such contrasts:

the tiny bits of prayer on crumpled paper - so very fragile, ephemeral...

and the huge stone wall - strong, solid, ancient.

Strength and fragility combining:

a stone wall with cracks and paper prayers….

I’ve been thinking about other walls this week:

There are so many walls…

The Great Wall of China;

The Berlin Wall;

Hadrian’s Wall;

The boundary fence between the USA and Mexico;

The Rabbit-Proof-Fence in Australia – and the film of the same name, 

which was about indigenous kids taken away from their families 

to be placed with white families…

The walls of the Warsaw ghetto – to keep people in;

The large concrete wall zig-zagging its way around parts of Israel – to keep people out;

The world… is full of walls.

Everywhere we go, there are fences, gates, partitions, 

and other ingeniously constructed barriers—                                                           

all aimed at keeping something or someone in, 

and keeping something or someone else out. 

I’m reminded of the lines of quiet protest about walls 

in Robert Frost’s poem ‘Mending Wall’:

‘Something there is that doesn't love a wall,

That wants it down.'

Walls are useful.

We need walls:

walls in our homes to protect us against wind and rain;

walls to keep livestock safely in and predators out - 

though sometimes keeping the livestock in can be a challenge -

it’s quite something to see the occasional cow leap a wall and 

race off down a track, as I did the other week while I was sitting in the wee car! 

Walls to help us separate spaces and improve organization and efficiency.

But it doesn’t take much to understand that walls, 

both literal and spiritual, can lead to grief, division and even violence:

racial walls, religious walls,

political and ideological walls:

concrete, limestone, barbed wire, brick,

bible, torah, koran.

And it doesn’t take much of a jump to realise that when it comes to walls,

we face a dilemma, a paradox:

when we wall people or things out, we wall ourselves in -

hold ourselves captive to our fears both real and imagined…

and then we hear the words:

He is our peace, who has broken down every wall...

In Ephesians we read that Christ has "broken down the barrier of enmity."

The church in Ephesus was faced with a problem – 

a division brought about due to religious ritual, 

and the clash of culture and tradition - namely, differing views on circumcision.

There was the ‘in gang’, those who were circumcised;

And there were the folks on the edge,

who didn’t fit in,

who weren’t circumcised and who weren’t about to be, either.

The inner group thought of them as outsiders, aliens, strangers, foreigners.

There were cracks in the relationships between the members in the church at Ephesus.

Strong walls had been built:

tall walls which stopped them from coming into the fullness of God’s hospitality.

All walls serve a purpose,

but not all walls serve the purposes of God

And the writer of Ephesians was at pains to stress that this had to stop,

that this shouldn’t be the case –

that in Christ, there were to be no divisions.

That the work of Christ was to turn strangers into friends,

to invite the aliens – the foreigners inside - from a place of exclusion,

to a place at the table in the household of God,

and that the process of reconciliation was a process 

where walls of separation,

of division and dissention,

were cracked,

broken down,

dismantled

in and by Christ,

peace-bringer and wall-dismantler.

These days, watching the news, it can feel like hostility is the default position

when it comes to how we live and relate to one another.                                                           

Faced with a relentless stream of bad news stories -

of wars, of terrorism, of neighbourly disputes,

it can be very hard to imagine how we even begin to go 

about the work of peace and reconciliation,

of breaking down walls.

And then, there’s the small but important matter of perspective: of where we stand. 

Perspective and power shift depending on what side of the wall we’re standing on.

Let’s be blunt: in the ongoing discussions about immigration, 

I’m someone who looks at this from the perspective of being one of

‘those foreigners’!!

I’m rather pleased the Government hasn’t thrown me out as yet.

But the side of the wall we stand on colours our view of the ones standing

on the other side:

And back to the Holy Land for a moment:
Just ask the Jewish "settler" about the Palestinian "squatter"…

differentiations… divisions,

demarcation lines drawn.

it’s a very human thing, this building of barriers.

And in our own lives, there will have been times when 

we’ve helped to build walls of hostility:  

within our families,

amongst our friends,

with neighbours,

with collegues at work. 

We’ve built walls with folk we’ve both known and not known –

people holding differing political views,

people not considered to be from our culture,

even people in the church.

Church communities have been torn apart with arguments about which bibles

to have in the pews…

or whether or not to actually have pews;

or about worship style: traditional or less-traditional worship? 

Noisy or contemplative?

Or who may, or may not, be a Christian.

What about the walls between Christian groups?

The growth of more and more denominations as

Christian brothers and sisters form splinter groups 

convinced that theirs is the only way to follow God?

The scandal of divisions, splits and infighting that flies 

in the face of Jesus' high priestly prayer for unity and oneness? (John 17)?

Such troubles in the body of Christ are a sign 

not necessarily of diversity but of division. 

Used as excuses sometimes to score points, perhaps?  

They compromise the church's witness and grieve the Holy Spirit.

Walls…                                                                    

We've built many of them, not out of bricks and mortar, 

but out of the raw material of sin and division. 

Then we've cemented them with the mortar of name-calling, 

labeling and prejudice – all ways that effectively dehumanise 

those who are different, those seen as ‘other’….

All walls serve a purpose, but not all walls serve the purposes of God.

In light of this, how should we ‘unpack’ our text from Ephesians chapter 2? 

This is where I see a connection with the Psalm this morning:

It is so, so easy to be busy -

to get caught up in a cycle of endless activity

in our busy, fast-paced world.

Maybe walking away from the circus of our lives for a while,

and allowing ourselves times of refreshing, 

allowing ourselves to be led by still waters,

allowing ourselves to quietly trust and give thanks 

and ensure that God is the still, peaceful centre in our lives,                      

would help us to find a place of peace from which we can then begin to work for peace. 

Thomas a Kempis said:

‘First keep the peace within yourself, then you can also bring peace to others.’ 

And Christ, the peace-maker, the peace-bringer is the foundation of our peace –

reconciling ourselves to God,

reconciling ourselves to ourselves…

reconciling ourselves to others. 

The peace described here is not just a ceasing of conflict

 or the absence of violence.

Here unity, peace and hope are not things at all; they are a person.

Christ is our peace;

in his flesh he has blurred the differentiation and demarcation 

and has broken down the dividing wall. 

In Christ's death on the cross,

peace has been achieved and hostility has been crucified.

Peace is not necessarily the absence of noise:

Jesus is the God-human wrecking crew, 

that demolishes the walls that divide 

and who gifts us with unity, peace, and reconciliation.  

Peace in this case is less the absence of noise and more

the sound of walls cracking and crumbling and falling down

and of rubble being cleared away and of paths being made,

and doors being flung wide open.

Peace is not necessarily the absence of noise…

it’s the sound of building work –

the work of building relationships grounded in Christ the cornerstone.

Donald Hilton, a writer and minister in the URC, once said that:

‘the Church is meant to be a laboratory of peace, 
a parable of the Kingdom, a sign of contradiction among the nations,

a place of welcome amidst the sectarianism and xenophobia 
of the surrounding society, a community of praise.’

Ironically, as those brought into the household of God,

we live in a dwelling place with God that doesn’t have walls,                                                        
a place not made by human hands:

we worship a God who is uncontainable;                                            
a God beyond walls… 

The Church is not made of bricks and mortar but of flesh and blood;

built on the foundation of Christ the cornerstone,  
who reconciled us with God, 
and we carry on with the work of reconciliation.

The work of reconciliation happens when we decide 
to speak with a member of our family who we’ve fallen out with, 
and who we’ve not spoken to for a long time;

It’s when we stand in solidarity with those in our society who are oppressed

because they are different…

It’s when we support projects which give people in local communities 
opportunities to have fun together and to build relationships between villages  – 
and I’m thinking of the such things as our new community choir, 
or our parish lunches, 
or in the wider world, of small acts of saving stamps for the work of World Mission

or supporting Sujitha, the child we sponsor as a community.

The writer to the Ephesians says:

‘yours was a world without hope and without God’

Our task is to be reconcilers, as Christ reconciles:

To be bringers of hope to the world;

To be reminders that God is in the world…

To use our prayers to widen the cracks in the walls;

To see and to help the peaceable kingdom come –

To serve the Prince of peace…

for he is our peace,

who has broken down every wall.  Amen 

Sermon, Sunday 12 July: 'Power, pride, passion, revenge'

1st READING: Psalm 24
2nd READING: Mark 6:14 - 29

SERMON 'Power, pride, passion, revenge'

It’s a story of power, of pride,
of passion, and of revenge.
Now before any of you go thinking of programmes like
‘House of Cards’ or ‘Game of Thrones’
or perhaps even ‘Emmerdale’ or ‘Eastenders’...
No.
I’m referring to our gospel passage this morning;
a passage that I confess, caused me to look heavenwards,
sigh rather loudly, and made me wonder why on earth
I’d chosen to preach on it.
Oh....my.
Because this particularly gruesome story -
of John the Baptist’s execution in the Gospel of Mark -
could hardly be described as one of your lighter, fluffier cheerful bible texts.
In fact, it fits into a special category of bible readings
commonly referred to as the ‘terrible texts’ of the Bible.
And, it’s unremittingly grim...
so now that I’ve cheered you all up -
well, given you a little advance warning at least,
let’s explore this story!

Two questions sprang to mind as I pondered this particular ‘terrible text’.
The first:
Where is the good news in this passage?
The second:
Why does the writer choose to place this story where he does?
Why is it here?

To help answer these questions,
and, thinking of our themes of power, pride, passion, and revenge,
we need a little background context for this story.
Who are the main characters in this drama?
There’s John, cousin of Jesus, and very popular prophet.
Perhaps worryingly popular if you're a ruler:
in his life-time, he’s certainly more popular than Jesus.
And he certainly makes a statement -
not just by his words, but by the way he acts.
He’s quite a striking figure:
stern, austere,
a wild man who’s lived in the desert hills and valleys;
who wears a camel’s hair garment tied with a leather belt -
the clothing of a prophet.
He eats locusts and wild honey.
And he emerges from the desert preaching repentance
and baptising those who listen to his words.
He takes no prisoners with his message:
he is a truth-speaker
who tells things as they are to people regardless of their station in society.
And it’s this truth-speaking, without fear or favour,
that’s landed him in Herod’s prison.
John has openly criticised Herod for breaking with
religious regulations and marrying his brother’s wife.

And what of Herod?
Herod could have had John killed immediately -
after all, he’s got the power to do it,
and yet, he doesn’t:
John holds a fascination for him -
Herod knows him to be a righteous and holy man,
likes to listen to him,
even though John’s message is a hard one for him to listen to.
This Herod -Antipas - is the son of King Herod:
Herod the Great.
That same Herod the Great who spoke to Wise Men from the east
and ordered the slaughter of the innocents.
While Herod Junior is not a particularly nice bloke
his dad, Herod Senior is in a whole different league of nasty, and of power.
Herod Senior is recognised as a king by the Romans;
Herod the younger is not.
He’s not really ‘king’ Herod, he’s Herod the Tetrarch,
’tetrarch’ signifying a quarter:
Herod Junior holds only a quarter of his father’s kingdom,
has nowhere near his status and power.
And because of this, it appears that Herod the younger
is all about trying to make himself look like a big man,
a man in charge,
a man of power and substance.
Perhaps this is partly why he’s now married to Herodias -
having abducted her from his brother Philip.
It’s a way of demonstrating Philip’s impotence, weakness:
the marriage is a way of humiliating his brother;
young Herod’s way of showing everyone that he’s powerful
and he can take what he wants, whenever he wants.
Or rather, he’d like to think he’s powerful,
and, to some extent, of course, he does have some power...
but effectively, he’s merely a puppet hanging on Roman strings,
given power only because it suits his Roman masters for the time being.
He’s rash, impulsive,
and lives under the shadow of his dead father’s greater reputation.

And then there’s Herodias - Philip’s ex-wife.
She is not at all best pleased by the wild prophet John
who has the temerity to criticise her relationship with Herod Junior.
She knows she’s on rocky religious ground -
and she’s probably a figure of scandal and gossip
and perhaps even mockery down in the market-place.
Her situation is tenuous:
dependent upon a weak and fickle not-quite-king
to keep her not just in luxury and comfort,
but to keep her safe.
John’s words,
John’s presence,
and her husband’s fascination with him and what he says,
are a threat to her position.
If John’s was a message about repentance,
might Herod repent,
and might she be cast aside?
Out of fear, if for no other reason,
she nurses revenge in her heart and looks for the right opportunity
to rid herself of a potential threat.
And fear can cause people to act quite viciously,
and to justify any means to get the desired ends,
even if those means involve using your young daughter.

Herodias’ daughter, probably also named Herodias,
is also referred to as 'Salome'.
You may have heard of the ‘dance of the seven veils’
and of Oscar Wilde’s story ‘Salome’, or Richard Strauss’s opera.
And she’s portrayed in these as sensual, seductive.
But here we have a problem:
for in the biblical text, unlike the opera,
Herodias’ daughter is a wee girl -
according to the Greek word for ‘girl’ in the text.
So we have an ambiguity:
is this scene in fact as sexually charged as has been implied by writers and musicians?
If she's very young, this moves into quite dubious territory...
Or does the wee lassie just do an innocent dance at a party
that delights the assembled guests, and makes her step-dad proud?
I’ll leave that for you to decide,
but I think it’s the latter.
Nevertheless, what we do know, is that the mother
uses the daughter to exact her revenge on John the Baptist.

Herod, in front of his guests,
wanting to score points,
wanting to look good,
wanting to demonstrate the kind of ruler he is,
the kind of power he has,
grandiosely promises the girl anything -
well, up to half of his kingdom...
which, incidentally, isn’t really in his power to give away.
What would she like?

Well, if I'd have been the poor mite,
I might have possibly been thinking of a nice pony, or a wee dolly.
Salome heads back to mum to ask her advice.
And Herodias jumps at the chance:
‘John’s head on a platter, thanks very much’
It’s possibly not what Salome was expecting or hoping for
and it’s certainly not what Herod expects - he's 'distressed'.
Nevertheless...he demonstrates his power.
Or does he?

If this is a story about power,
Herod is actually demonstrating just how weak a ruler he is,
and just how rotten to the core his not-quite kingdom is.
He has the power to choose,
and he chooses the path of least resistance.
He doesn’t want to lose face.
He goes with the crowd-pleasing thing to do.
Had he really been strong, powerful,
a man of conviction -
of integrity...
a man like the one he’s just about to have killed,
he may have chosen to laugh at the wee lassie
then given her the pony, and told her to go off to bed -
and very possibly had strong words with her mother
for being so blatantly manipulative in public.
Herod.
Ironically, his name means ‘heroic’
but this story shows him as anything but.

Earlier, I noted that there were two questions arising from this text.
The latter question first:
What is this story of power, pride,
passion, and revenge doing here, in the midst of another story in Mark’s gospel?
The other story, which gets spliced in two,
is also about power,
is also about a kingdom
is also about a kind of passion.

The story of John’s execution sits within the story
of Jesus sending out the disciples to preach.
And as they do,
signs of a kingdom not of this world, are shown:
good things happen in the darkest of places.
There’s repentance, and restoration of body, mind, and spirit.
there are healings,
there’s joy and excitement
and the hope that God’s will can be done on earth, as it is in heaven.
It’s a kingdom that comes with sacrifice for, and on behalf of, others.
Here, there are two kingdoms being contrasted:
two kinds of power,
two kinds of kingship.
And my sense is, that the writer of the gospel also places
the story of John’s death here as way-marker:
John’s passion and death at the hands of Herod,
pointing to Jesus’ passion and death at the hands of Pilate -
both, earthly rulers who are merely cogs
in the greater machine of Imperial Rome.

And the other question?
Where is the good news, in this particular text -
a text of violence, revenge, and lust for power?
It’s that, this text shows us where real power sits:
Herod is a pale shadow of his father,
a pale shadow of a king -
weak, ineffectual, self-centred.
Herod’s kingdom-that-is-not-quite-a-kingdom,
is mired in corruption, greed, jealously, revenge;
it is self-serving:
a tin-pot kingdom in which the choice is made
that the innocent are killed
alongside truth, justice, and integrity.
It is a shabby not-quite kingdom that is
found to be seriously wanting by the writer of the Gospel.
In contrast, Mark points to another way, another kingdom:
a real kingdom in which the choice is made to
care for the vulnerable -
to look after the frail, the poor,
to protect the innocent;
where truth is spoken,
where justice and integrity,
and loving-kindness prevail.

At the beginning of the story of John’s death,
Herod thinks that Jesus is a resurrected John.
But friends, we know that Jesus is the resurrection -
the one who has defeated death and the one who promises abundant life;
the one whose kingdom is eternal and who calls us
to use our position, our power - who we are and where we are -
to be about the work of that kingdom.

We are none of us independent of each other:
the choices we make impact upon the lives of others.
And while we may not have the kind of power that Herod had,
a power that could destroy lives,
we do have the power within us
to choose the way of the kingdom of God:
to choose the way of love.
To choose to find ways to love God
and to love our neighbour as we love ourselves...
To dream dreams of peace
and to work for that peace
in a world of bitter strife;*
to embrace God’s vision of hope, of healing,
and love for the world, and for humanity.

Every day, in the news, in our neighbourhoods,
we hear stories of power, pride, passion, and sometimes, even revenge.
That is the way of the kingdoms of the world -
the way of places where shadowy power resides:
whether nations or households...
Let us choose to use the power we have
to demonstrate the power and promise
of the kingdom of heaven -
so that our lives point to the good news:
the good news that God has not finished with us.
....The good news that can turn a terrible text into one that points to hope,
and to a love that lasts for not only a lifetime, but for all eternity.
And so may God’s name be praised.
Amen.

*As we think of the choices we can make to point to God’s kingdom, let’s sing:
HYMN 710 ‘I have a dream,’ a man once said

The Garden Party...

And so the great day dawned. The minister opened one weary eye, noted the dull, grey sky, heard the patter-patter raindrops and went 'aaargh'.  Cheered on by the news that the rain would pass by 11ish and that the afternoon would be warm 'n sunshiney, things began to be moved. The wondrous Social Committee were soon on hand, organising tasks with military precision.
And still it rained.
A couple of judicious decisions were made as to where to relocate the afternoon teas, and games area, and then 2pm rolled in.
The rain, a smirry drizzle, continued.
Heedless of the weather, people began to appear.
Hot dogs [happy Independence Day, USA] were made and eaten, games were played, tombolas ...tombola'ed.  Afternoon teas were happily devoured, the giant Jenga didn't crush anyone when it fell, and in a rare moment of dryness a wee spot of petanque happened.
Great to see so many people turn up despite the weather and lovely to have such a nice buzz about the manse.  In amidst the fun-raising, we also both covered our costs and raised £416.
Huge thanks to all who came along and supported our 1st Garden Party, and very special thanks to the wonderful Social Committee [and friends] who planned and prepared, and made such a success of what had been an off the cuff thought by the minister.
I suspect we'll do it all again in a year's time - perhaps with some gazebos!!
[The rain finally cleared at about 4.15 and the weather was fabulous for the rest of the evening...!]