Good afternoon. The first item of business is time for reflection. Our time for reflection leader today is the Rev Dr Graham K Blount.
It is a special and personal privilege for me to be invited back, 25 years after the first time for reflection. Twenty-five years on seems a good time to reflect, and what a day to do it on: a day to remember—to remember a foiled faith-based terrorist attack on a Parliament. That is a disturbing thought for today.
Halfway between Guy Fawkes and today, that Parliament had a major accidental fire. As the Westminster building was rebuilt, there was a competition for artists to submit paintings fit for the new building. One of those has recently gone on display at the national gallery in Edinburgh—it is called “Christ Teacheth Humility”, and it was not accepted for the competition. Officially, they did not like its luscious colours, but I wonder whether its theme did not fit, any more than it might fit in a church pulpit, six feet above contradiction!
There is a lot going on in the painting. Jesus’s followers are embarrassed, having been caught jockeying for position. Some seem uncertain at what their leader is saying; others are so enthusiastic that they might be banging their desks, if they had any. The opposition are horrified at the nonsense that he is talking, and some are hatching a to plot to get rid of him. Clearly, all that did not fit in a Parliament—and anyway, the backdrop has been described as “distinctively Scottish”.
Although the artist’s spotlight is on Jesus, he is pointing not to himself but to a wee child, shifting the focus from himself to someone whom everyone else seems to ignore—a crazy, upside-down way of thinking about who is important.
Humility rightly gets a bad name when it is urged by powerful folk on others to know their place. Here, it is an invitation to get beyond any sense that “we” know best, or that “my” church or “my” party has a monopoly on truth or righteousness. It is an encouragement to listen carefully beyond the loudest voices, beyond those with most to say for themselves. Could those be echoes of the hopes, dreams and visions that we had for this place 25 years ago? I believe that they are still alive here, and outside.
May you, may we—with God—continue to do justly, love mercy and walk humbly.
Oh, and there is one other thing in the picture: a grumpy looking old man on the fringe, more in the “distinctively Scottish” backdrop, seemingly unsure what to make of it all. I am worried that he might be me—ask my granddaughter.
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