THE Very Reverend Kelvin Holdsworth hasn’t been talking for long when he’s interrupted by the police. Two officers have arrived at St Mary’s Episcopal Cathedral in Glasgow to brief the clergyman on the latest developments in his case. A number of possible hate crimes are being pursued. There may well be prosecutions.

For Mr Holdsworth, the provost of the cathedral and one of the highest profile churchmen in Scotland, visits like these from the police have become routine. Until earlier this year, he and his congregation were just getting on with life as normal, but then on January 6, local Muslims were invited to a service at St Mary’s which included a reading from the Koran. It’s something that had happened at the cathedral before, the aim being to promote inter-faith understanding.

But then Breitbart, the US right-wing website, got hold of the story and suddenly, St Mary’s was the target of islamophobic abuse from all over the world. Mr Holdsworth himself also became the victim of personal attacks over his sexuality and threats of violence and death. Everyone knows haters thrive online, but it seems there’s nothing that gets them going quite like the Koran being read out in a Christian church run by a gay man.

The controversy that raged was not something Mr Holdsworth ever expected and, in his first interview about the affair, he says he believes the criticism over the Koran reading was much fiercer because of his sexuality. He also admits that he was shocked and shaken by what happened, but what hasn’t changed is his view on whether the Koran should have been read in his church. “I believe in what I do here and I think what we did was right and I still do,” he says.

His views on why the furore kicked off in precisely the way it did are also interesting – he thinks the referendums on Scottish independence and Europe have changed the way people think and made them more willing to hurl abuse on social media. But he has also tried to put the hate into context.

“There is a sense in which this is a kind of pantomime mob,” he says, “although to call it a pantomime is perhaps to not take it seriously enough, because some of it was violent and alarming, yet it is something that moves on. Whereas the congregation hasn’t moved on – they are still sitting there and they are still saying: let’s be a generous people.”

What prompted Mr Holdsworth to call the police in the end were the threats of personal violence and death towards him and he has been reassured by their response. “I remember a time when hate crime wasn’t dealt with as seriously as it is now in Scotland," he says. "I can remember having hate mail in the past and it not really being taken that seriously whereas now, the police were supportive very quickly and are still following up a number of cases.”

Mr Holdsworth also, several weeks on, feels rather vindicated by the 20 per cent rise in the number of people coming to St Mary’s on a Sunday since the affair. And he is certainly not changing his behaviour. Most of the hate came via the internet and yet on the day I visit, like most days, the provost has twitter running constantly on his PC. I ask whether he was tempted to keep away from social media after everything that happened, but he thinks exactly the opposite. “People are online now so that’s where we need to be,” he says. “We can’t abandon public spaces to the crazy people.”

In many ways, that comment is classic Kelvin Holdsworth. In person, he is the stereotypical ebullient priest, although he tells me that he’s close to his emotions and isn’t afraid to cry. He’s also unafraid of straying onto controversial territory – in fact, he steers towards it, expressing his views on sexuality, Brexit, Scottish independence and a whole range of other issues. For him, that’s what priests should be like. What on earth would be the point, he asks, of a clergyman pretending to live in a world where everything is lovely?

Much of this approach, he says, came from his parents, who were both active in the Salvation Army and were supportive to him when he told them about his sexuality when he was in his 20s (he’s now 50). His dad was a businessman whose work took the family from Yorkshire to Bearsden, and then back to Yorkshire, which meant taking the job of provost at St Mary’s felt, says Mr Holdsworth, a bit like a homecoming.

The offer of the job came not long after he had delivered an extraordinary sermon in 2003 in which he told the congregation at St Saviour’s Church in Bridge of Allan he was gay. It was something he had to do, he says, although he knew it was risky.

“I preached that sermon not knowing whether I would have a job,” he said. “Someone told me they were going to leave the church because of the way the church treats gay people and I went to bed, couldn’t sleep and thought: I have to tell the truth because this is a moment where if you don’t tell the truth, it’s not worth you doing your job. I had to decide whether to tell the truth or give up.”

In the end, he told the truth in the most public way possible and did what most gay people have to do at some point in their lives: make the private public. That hasn’t changed who he is though: he still leads a quiet, private life, living in a flat just down the road from the cathedral. He also has a network of supportive friends, he says, although at the moment he’s single and is cautious about dating.

“Having a job like this doesn’t make that kind of social life that easy – it’s an awful lot of baggage for some people,” he says. “I have quite a large public profile so I could go on an online date and they would know everything about me and I would know nothing about them.” As for whether he would like a partner to support him, he leaves that up to someone else: “I don’t know what God has in store for me.”

Away from the cathedral, he relaxes by going to the theatre and the Arlington Baths. He also enthusiastically maintains his presence online where he can express his views on current affairs. Brexit, he says, is a disaster and he sees it, and the election of Trump, as part of a wider, worrying trend towards the politics of fear. “People thought the battle against the far right and fascism was won in Europe and now we suddenly find that we have to carry on the fight, and people will,” he says.

As for the prospect of a second referendum on Scottish independence, the provost’s heart sinks at the thought, partly because he thinks referendums by their very nature end up being divisive but also because he was happy with the result last time and still believes in a moral case for Unionism.

“I am not convinced that Scotland has enough financial resources and the consequence of that is that the poor would suffer,” he says. “Who’s going to pay for it? is always the question. The idea that we can march into a utopian world where pensions go up, pension ages come down, and benefits go up when there’s no money to pay for it is ridiculous and that is the conversation we need to have before we start talking about any more referendums.”

He believes, he says, in putting an argument that merges morality and economics. “The idea of an ideal nation that has no established economic policy is not enough to persuade me that those who need care most in society would be better off. I think they would be worse off. If the question was put today, I would probably vote no and for the same reasons: I care about those who are in the greatest need. It also seems to me to be too soon – we were asked that question two years ago and we made a decision and I think we have to live with the consequences.”

Mr Holdsworth knows these views will infuriate some people – and may even attract some of the internet hatred that he’s had before – but this is the way he does things. He knows it would be much easier to say sometimes that he doesn’t have views on current affairs, but the truth is he does and he’s happy to express them. For The Very Reverend Kelvin Holdsworth, the circle of white round his neck isn’t a warning to keep quiet, it’s a reminder to speak out.