THE GUY IN THE SKIRT

In a town not much bigger than Kincardine, there was a Scottish Society Hall that had been maintained by the various families of the community, the MacLeods and the Ross’, the Frasers and the Bruces.

At the front of the building, there was a large statue of a Scotsman, wearing all of the traditional attire. Hamish Stewart, the caretaker of the building, a great hulking highlander with a deep voice, and arms like tree trunks, happened to be working in the flower bed at the side of the building.

He looked up as two teenagers sauntered by the statue of the Scotsman, chuckling. “Look at the guy in the skirt,” the one teen said. Hamish straightened up, marched forward and looked the teen in the eye. “D’ya know what happened to the last person who called a Scotsman ‘a guy in a skirt’?” Hamish asked. The teen shrugged nervously. Hamish took a step closer. “He was kilt!”

There are no tartan-clad characters in Scripture.

The closest we can come is King David in today’s passage. He may not have been wearing a kilt - but he was wearing what the Bible describes as a linen ephod – an outer garment – skirt or dress like – and it was the typical attire of a priest in ancient Israel.

Today we meet David along the roadway. The Ark of the Covenant was being brought back to Jerusalem after decades of its being held in the hands of the conquering Philistines.

The Ark of the Covenant was a wooden box that contained the stone tablets of the ten commandments, the prophet Aaron’s rod, and a jar of manna - all symbols from Israel’s 40-year trek through the wilderness - all reminders of God’s presence, particularly during difficult times – and it was the focus of attention in the iconic movie “Raiders of the Lost Ark”.

For decades the Ark of the Covenant - that sacred symbol - had not only been out of sight - but in enemy hands, and finally, finally in today’s passage it’s coming home.

Picture Toronto if the Maple Leafs ever got the Stanley Cup back.

That’s the scene in today’s scripture reading. In that text, the ‘guy in the skirt’ is David, and he finds himself in the presence of this awesome reminder that God is very much present and at work in the world - and David’s joy simply could not be contained. He couldn’t help himself. Scripture says he “danced with all his might.” Now we might be thinking that we don’t have much in common with David, an Israelite king from 2500 years ago - but we would be wrong.

David is a lot like us.

He was the kind of guy who knew what it felt like to be overlooked for many years, being the youngest brother. We’ve all been overlooked at one time or another – for one reason or another. David was the kind of guy who knew what it was to struggle with a friendship –
and with temptation - and with marriage.

He was the kind of person who knew the darkness of grief at the loss of a child. David knew what it’s like to be afraid, and what it’s like to be angry – angry with God - and angry with himself.

David was a lot like you and me.

Today, we meet David dancing with all his might - kicking up his heels and his kilt and laughing out loud, because he is in the presence of the Ark of the covenant. He is in the presence of the God who stands by us – even when we find ourselves wandering in the wilderness of loss, depression, anxiety, fatigue, grief or hopelessness. I wonder if today we are simply being invited to do the same, to kick up our heels, to laugh out loud, to delight in the truth that –even though things may be difficult for us – we are not alone - we are all beloved by the God who is with us always and forever – and God invites us to dance with joy at this knowledge.

Like I said, we’re a lot like David.

Sometimes, we feel overlooked or overwhelmed.

Sometimes we’re struggling with a friendship or a marriage.

Sometimes we’re grieving or we’re afraid, or we’re angry, angry with God or with ourselves.

Like David, we have voices in our lives or in our heads telling us we look foolish, we need to smarten up, and settle down, and maintain a sense of proper decorum.

Sometimes, it’s hard to be the guy in the skirt – overcome with joy – dancing in the presence of God in the face of so much darkness in the world.

I would submit to you that sometimes we in the church have not helped matters. All too often, we’ve presented faith as something reasonable and serious; Worship as something to endure rather than something to celebrate.

Perhaps you’ve heard the story about the mother who went in to waken her son on a Sunday morning. She knocked on his bedroom door and told him it was time to get up and get ready for church. And the son moaned and groaned – as many children do. Finally, he replied with a yawn. “I don’t want to go to church.” And the mother asked ”Why”? And the son replied – Two good reasons. 1. Some of them don’t like me – and 2. I don’t like some of them. To which the mother replied, “And I’ll give you two good reasons why you should go to church.” 1. You’re 49 years old - and 2. You’re the minister.

I’ll assure you that’s never been my Sunday morning experience – although Andy and I have joked about it from time to time – particularly on those cold winter mornings when staying in a cozy bed seems the preferable option.

But - sometimes, even those of us within the church promote the idea that having fun, and being people of faith are mutually exclusive.

Somehow, we’ve started to believe the notion that coming to church is a duty, a responsibility, a burden.

Recently, I read an article that invited us to adopt a different perspective. The author said he was replacing the words “have to” with the words “get to” with anything that was beginning to feel like a responsibility.

So, “I have to help at a community breakfast becomes “I get to help at a community breakfast.” “I have to go to church” becomes “I get to go to church.”

It changes how you see things doesn’t it?

It reminds us how fortunate we are. I get to go to church. I get to meet God in community. I get to lift my voice in praise of something bigger than myself. I get to be a part of the Body of Christ on earth, however imperfect it sometimes is. I get to be the voice of God, the hands of God, the heart of God in the world.

Now, that almost makes you want to dance a little, doesn’t it?

Before I came to Kincardine almost 6 years ago, my exposure to things Scottish was restricted to the two trips we made to Scotland, the 12 or so Robbie Burns dinners that one of my former congregations put on every January, and the map of Scotland showing all the clans that my father hung on the wall of our family room.

This whole idea of Saturday night parades, Scottish Festivals and Kirkin’ o’ the tartans services were new to me – exciting, but new.

But year after year, I need to tell you – this weekend, these services of Kirkin The Tartans and blessing the Pipe Band have become true highlights in my life here at Knox – because, like David dancing down the roadway alongside the Ark of the Covenant, this day is an opportunity to come together and celebrate.

It’s an event that reminds us that we worship a God who was with us in the past, and who is with us still.

It’s an event that pushes us NOT to take ourselves too seriously, but to dress in bright colours, and lift our voices in praise, to make a joyful noise, because we get to come to church to worship the God who looks with love upon the overlooked, and the struggling, the imperfect, and the frightened and the angry.

Our God is the God who is with us on hot sunny days when the bagpipes are playing, the kilts are swinging and swaying, the hornpipe and sword dance are being danced and the cabers are being tossed.

Our God is the God who is also with us in the bitterness of Bruce County winters when the wind whips and the snow flies - and when a dish of haggis and a wee dram are just what the body needs to warm it up and nourish it to face the cold.

So, we bring all of our colours into church today.

We kick up our heels and dance because we get to be here with the God who promises to be there for all of us who are sometimes like the guy in the skirt.

We gather in gratitude for the gifts of sea and sky,
Of friends and family gathered close by.

We gather in gratitude for the sun warm on our brows and the wind soft on our backs.

We gather in gratitude for the God who is above us and beside us, behind us, before us and within us.

Kilted or not – may we dance and kick up our heels – literally or figuratively - in joy and thanksgiving for knowing ourselves to be the beloved children of God.

Amen - and to God be all the honour and glory.

BLESSING OF THE KINCARDINE SCOTTISH PIPEBAND
Once again we are grateful for the presence of the Kincardine Scottish with us this morning – and for the place that they have in the history and the heart of Kincardine. Since 1908 – well over 100 years - the Kincardine Scottish has been established as a cornerstone of this community – a cornerstone which links us to the Old Country from which many of the settlers of this fair land came.

It is true that the face of Kincardine is changing as individuals and families from many different places are finding a home here – and that is good.

Diversity in culture and tradition enrich any community, and Kincardine is no exception.

This is a town which warmly welcomes newcomers – where you are a stranger only once.

Nevertheless, your abiding presence in Kincardine, maintains a strong connection to the Scottish heritage which is significant in the hearts and minds of many residents – and the crowds of people who line the streets on summer Saturday evenings – people who come from places all around the globe - bear witness to the love of tradition which you uphold in our midst.

For the time and effort you give throughout the year in regular practise – for the numerous and varied community parades in which you participate – for those in your midst who are the Phantom Pipers - for maintaining a high standard of decorum and dignity – for excellence in musicianship and precision – and for being the heart, the face and the sound of Kincardine – we give you our deepest thanks ---

And so, I offer these words of blessing from me – and us – to each of you and all of you.

Each time you march, may the ground beneath your feet be smooth and even.

May it remind you that all ground is holy, and may it bless your life’s journey.

May the beating of the drums bless the beating of your heart.

May the music of the pipes bless the music of your soul.

May the people who gather along the roadway bless you with a sense of friendship and community.

May the air you breathe sustain you with good hope.

May the sky above watch over your waking moments as well as your slumber.

And may the God who loves you bless you with amazing grace this day and in all of your tomorrows.