So this is what it’s all about!

I found some words the other day that were helpful for me. For some, they might be too churchy, for others, the style will be familiar. For others… go gently with it and see where it might lead you. I use these words to conclude this little reflection and hope you find them useful.

The words begin with.…

Compassionate God,
As you know, each star you have created,
So you know the secrets of every heart;

And here I could not help but think of a wise old adoring couple who, knowing each other’s every wrinkle and flaw, still chose to wake up together. Over the years, they found out not only the fun bits, but all the other uncomfortable, pongy, grungy bits. The way he kicked his slippers off at night… and left them there. Or that annoying little idiosyncrasy that made the hypertension flare up.

To be found out, known, forgiven and loved even when everyone knows the cost, pain, privilege and joy of the relationship and still wants to sign on for an eternal amount of time has to be good news, right?

The truth I have come to realise too late in my little life is that this is exactly the relationship that The Master chooses to have with me.

When I understand this and mirror this compassion to the others in my life, then all may be citizens in his city of peace.

Compassionate God,
as you know, each star you have created,
so you know the secrets of every heart;
in your loving mercy, bring to your table
all who are fearful and broken,
all who are wounded and needy,
that our hungers may be satisfied
in the city of your peace;
through Christ, who is our peace.

Sunday March 15th

Lent 4  15 March 2026

During this Lent, we will be offering some homilies under the theme of ‘Instruments of resurrection’. We are discovering that the most unlikely, commonplace, mundane things are instruments of resurrection. How clever that the master would use everyday, simple things to communicate and help us enter into the most profound mysteries.

Today it is tears, and it is also Mothering Sunday.

This reflection, written by someone else, combines both tears and Mums… and it’s short

“When God Created Mothers"

When the Good Lord was creating mothers, He was into His sixth day of "overtime" when the angel appeared and said. "You're doing a lot of fiddling around on this one."

And God said, "Have you read the specs on this order?" She has to be completely washable, but not plastic. Have 180 moveable parts...all replaceable. Run on black coffee and leftovers. Have a lap that disappears when she stands up. A kiss that can cure anything from a broken leg to a disappointed love affair. And six pairs of hands."

The angel shook her head slowly and said. "Six pairs of hands.... no way."

It's not the hands that are causing me problems," God remarked, "it's the three pairs of eyes that mothers have to have."

That's on the standard model?" asked the angel. God nodded.

One pair that sees through closed doors when she asks, 'What are you kids doing in there?' when she already knows. Another here in the back of her head that sees what she shouldn't but what she has to know, and of course, the ones here in front that can look at a child when he goofs up and say. 'I understand, and I love you' without so much as uttering a word."

God," said the angel, touching his sleeve gently, "Get some rest tomorrow...."

I can't," said God, "I'm so close to creating something so close to myself. Already I have one who heals herself when she is sick...can feed a family of six on one pound of hamburger mince...and can get a nine-year-old to stand under a shower."

The angel circled the model of a mother very slowly. "It's too soft," she sighed.

But tough!" said God excitedly. "You can’t imagine what this mother can do or endure."

Can it think?"

Not only can it think, but it can reason and compromise," said the Creator.

Finally, the angel bent over and ran her finger across the cheek.

There's a leak," she pronounced. "I told you that you were trying to put too much into this model."

"It's not a leak," said the Lord, "It's a tear."

"What's it for?"

"It's for joy, sadness, disappointment, pain, loneliness, and pride."

"You are a genius, " said the angel.

Somberly, God said, "I didn't put it there.”

Lord Jesus Christ, by the tears you shed at the grave of your friend Lazarus, sanctify our own tears that when we weep,
we may come to know that you are already there, embracing us in our distress.
Then bring us at last to that place where those who mourn are comforted, and every tear wiped away with your pierced hand.
Then we shall see you face to face and in your light we shall see light and know your splendour, for you live forever and ever Amen.

The Two Faces of ‘What If?’

They came to me with a bewildering tale of how they were lining up for a lifetime of ongoing tests. Each one is seemingly innocuous in and of itself, but any one could be life-changing. It wasn’t an easy way for this person to live, but that was their lot. In the end, we agreed that we were fortunate to live at this point in history and in this culture where we had such attentive medicos and access to such great medicine.

It took my friend a while to get into this way of thinking, but most of the time, that’s how they came to reason and live. Most of the time… But… with each looming appointment and icky test, the inevitable question would raise its hoary head and roar… “What if?” That was a long time ago, and the last time I heard, they had gone on to live a rich, long, fulfilling life.

But the question ‘What if?’ also has a flip side.

What if we made an honest and long-lasting attempt to be quieter for longer? What if we wrote that ‘Thinking of you card’? What if I didn’t look at a screen for 24 hours?

You see the two faces of the question ‘What if’.

When my fearful friend asked this question, it was an understandable inward-looking, at self-inciting doubt and fear. For a few days, it would cripple their potential and joy.

The other way of asking the question looks outward to others and how we might enhance someone else's life.

Both have their place, but the former will frivolously waste our time pondering unknowables, whereas the 'other face' can inspire us to actually do something positive and enriching.

I know which face I would rather gaze upon.

8/3/26 

Lent 3 

Instruments of Resurrection - The Lance.

During this Lent, we are offering some homilies under the theme of ‘Instruments of resurrection’. We are beginning to discover that the most unlikely, commonplace, mundane things are actually instruments of resurrection. We discovered last week in our reflection on the hammer and nails that God can even use the implements of suffering and death as instruments of His resurrection.

Today’s reflection is on the lance that a soldier used to pierce Jesus’ side on Calvary.

But I want to begin our reflection in a different place and a different time.

The place is Wimmera Base Hospital. The date is July 22nd 2008. The time is 5:20 am. My father has suffered a massive cerebral haemorrhage and has died. The nurse on duty astutely walks that delicate line between being compassionate and being professional. She courteously explains that there are a couple of minor procedures that have to be done to confirm my father's death. A doctor arrives, obviously dragged out of heavy slumber. First, a gentle light shines on my father's eyes. Then the stethoscope is used to make sure that there is no heartbeat.

I have been privileged to watch this procedure many times, and I guess if you were looking for a catchphrase to describe what is going on, you would call it ‘proof of death’ as opposed to proof of life. And I want to come back to my father's proof of death at the end of this homily.

Today I want to reflect on the lance that pierced Jesus’ side.

The story goes that to bury a corpse on the Sabbath day is breaking the Sabbath law and doing work. Our Lord died on a Friday, and so the Jewish leaders of the day did not want the bodies to remain on the cross but to be taken down by sundown.

To make sure that the criminals were really, truly, truly dead, soldiers were sent forth to break the legs of Jesus and the two criminals. Breaking the legs fast-tracks the process of crucifixion. The soldiers break the legs of the two criminals; however, when they get to Jesus, they discover that he is already dead; but just to be sure… (no funny business, the Romans were sensational at this death business), a lance is used to pierce Jesus’ side. Blood and water flow out, and proof of death is displayed for all to see. It cannot have been glossy and glitzy. In fact, it must have been a rather grisly and gruesome sight.

So for the soldiers and for us, the lance is the proof of death, and therefore it is vital for our own personal death and resurrection. Yours and mine.

Flip the argument over from the other side…

If Jesus was just pretending to die. Just sort of held his breath and somehow managed to survive and get out of the tomb, then somehow break out of the tomb, then our  Christian faith doesn’t address our mortality.

God would not have made death Holy, the grave holy; he would not have embraced my own death and taken it into himself.  The soldier’s lance is the proof of The Master's clinical, authentic, physical death, so that when I die a clinical, authentic, physical death…. I can also enjoy an authentic physical resurrection.  The lance is like the modern-day torch in the eyes and stethoscope on the chest.

Something else the nurse also said, which has stayed with me for the last couple of decades.

‘Well, Rob, I don’t know where you are now, but you aren’t here.’

It was compassionately said, and they are wise and helpful words.

It tells death as it is, but it also gives hope. The life Rob enjoyed was no longer with us in the way that we had known him, but that doesn’t mean it was over altogether. It was just that the life he was living was being lived somewhere else in another dimension, in another way. Thus I could pray…

Lord Jesus Christ, by the three days you lay in the tomb, you sanctified the grave to be a bed of hope of resurrection.
Grant that when we lie in our own grave, we may sleep in peace until that glorious day when you awaken us to your glory.
Then we shall see you face to face and in your light we shall see light and know your splendour, for you live forever and ever Amen.

Observe the rest

Some time back Jeanine and I went to see the film. ‘The Choral’. It’s a charming movie and it involves a choir with all the sparkle and hard work that goes into making intoxicating music. There was a line in the film I remembered long after I walked out of the cinema.

One of the choir leaders is guiding one of the choristers and helpfully says ‘Remember to observe the rest’

Now in ‘Muso language’ I think it means to make sure that the chorister observes the pause in the music.

Pauses and silences when adroitly used in music can lead us on and draw us into the mystery and magic of the music.

It works the same way with a good preacher / speaker. You can either prattle quickly because you are nervous and want to get it all over with, something I have been guilty of on many occasions, or you can have a practice or 6 and find out how it flows.  Where do you want to ladle in a nice dollop of silence to enhance the message?

It also works in the art of personal conversation. The most fruitful, potent and luscious conversations are those where silence is blended gently with the talking bits. In the quiet nothing is said, because nothing needs to be said; yet the ‘rest’ or silence serenely weaves a bond between the two people.

Finally a little lesson for myself. ‘Observe the rest’ is a solemn lesson and a warning to make sure that there is at least one day off a week, the required annual leave and a week of retreat. It's enriching for me and my family but also the folk I serve.

Observing the rest is not a luxury where nothing is happening, but it is an essential implement to make sure everything can happen.

Lent 2 1/3/26

Instruments of Resurrection: Hammer and nails

During this Lent, we will be offering some homilies under the theme of ‘Instruments of resurrection’. We will discover that the most unlikely, commonplace, mundane things are instruments of resurrection. How clever that the master would use everyday, simple things to communicate and help us enter into the most profound mysteries.

They were just my tools of trade. Simple things that I reached for every morning as I went to work. Almost a part of me and who I was.

The trusty hammer that I had ever since I was an apprentice carpenter. An implement designed to send a nail through the wood and hold the thing fast and secure. It wasn’t supposed to come undone.

Same too with the nails. Sharp and pointy so they went easily and quickly in. It all made a lot of sense when I was just starting out, knocking up the odd chair, a table and once we got a big job for a boat. That was 10 days of work. We thought we were made. But then work dried up…

I got an offer for a different job. The pay was better, the work assured, and the contract was pretty much open-ended for as long as I wanted.

I’d never watched anyone die before, let alone gone to a crucifixion. So it was all strange and new to me.  I was told to bring my biggest, strongest hammer and all the nails would be supplied. Not carpenters nails though this time. Long rusty spikes that weren’t very sharp and we were way ahead of our time. We’d recycle em from the crosses we used of the day before.

Bang Thud, Bang thud, Bang thud. “Next!”

There’d was no variety in it. It’s not hard. Just three simple blows. One each for the hands, one for the feet. Bang Thud, Bang thud, Bang thud. “Next!”

You try not to hear the crowds. Some with their screeches of grief. Some with the roar of sport and blood lust. Bang Thud, Bang thud, Bang thud. “Next!”

You try not to look at the eyes staring back up at you. Just focus on the hands and feet. Nothing else. Get the job done.  Bang Thud, Bang thud, Bang thud. “Next!”

After the second day I reckon I could do it in my sleep, and that was the trouble. In my dreams, I was still at work. Blokes younger than me. Inevitably losing the wrestle. Writhing. Bang thud… Bang Thud… Bang thud… “Next!”

Writing helped… sort of 

And a Good Friday Was Had by All
Bruce Dawe

You men there, keep those women back
and God Almighty he laid down
on the crossed timber and old Silenus
my offsider looked at me as if to say
nice work for soldiers, your mind’s not your own
once you sign that dotted line, Ave Caesar
and all that malarkey, Imperator Rex
well this Nazarene
didn’t make it any easier
really-not like the ones
who kick up a fuss so you can
do your block and take it out on them
Silenus
held the spikes steady and I let fly
with the sledgehammer, not looking
on the downswing, trying hard not to hear
over the women’s wailing the bones give way
the iron shocking the dumb wood.

Orders is orders, I said after it was over
nothing personal you understand -we had a
drill-sergeant once thought he was God but he wasn’t
a patch on you

then we hauled on the ropes
and he rose in the hot air
like a diver just leaving the springboard, arms spread
so it seemed
over the whole damned creation
over the big men who must have had it in for him
and the curious ones who’ll watch anything if it’s free
with only the usual women caring anywhere
and a blind man in tears.

Lord Jesus Christ by the three days you lay in the tomb you sanctified the grave to be a bed of hope of resurrection.
Grant that when we lie in our own grave, we may sleep in peace until that glorious day when you awaken us to your glory.
Then we shall see you face to face and in your light we shall see light and know your splendour, for you live forever and ever Amen.

I Feel Guilty

You know those magazines at the supermarket checkout? One of them had the curious headline in lurid, stand-out, knockout colours: “I feel guilty”. Presumably, the attractive, smiling person on the cover belonged to this headline, but they didn’t look as though they felt guilty. They looked positively radiant, which, of course, is how people on the front cover of magazines are supposed to look.

The quote ‘I feel guilty’ is called a ‘hook’. A tag line to arouse your curiosity and make you want to find out more. ie. To buy the magazine. What were they feeling guilty about? How long had this feeling of guilt persisted?

I found myself thinking Hmmpph and phooey. Over my little life, I have cultivated ways of dealing with my guilt. I’ve had to tell you, because I can muck up with the best of them. When deluged by guilt, you fess up, suffer the consequences, try to make amends where possible, say you’re sorry, mean it and then move on, always leaving the door open. It’s not a whole lot of fun or as pleasant as 2 scoops of chocolate ice cream, but it is necessary and important to do.

But there are other questions that this tagline stirred within me.

Like… Why is this even on the cover of a magazine in public view? Do people actually buy this stuff, and if so …why? I can think of nothing more intrusive or tedious than reading about someone else’s guilt journey.

Of course, I chose not to buy this magazine. Glamorous the front cover person looked, there is enough guilt, recrimination, retribution and shirking of responsibility. I don’t need to read about someone else's guilt journey. No matter how artfully this ‘hook’ was offered, I will get better value buying and devouring a mango.

Lent 1 22/2/26

Instruments of Resurrection - Bread and Wine.

During this Lent, we will be offering some homilies under the theme of ‘Instruments of resurrection’. We will discover that the most unlikely, commonplace, mundane things are instruments of resurrection. How clever that the master would use everyday, simple things to communicate and help us enter into the most profound mysteries.

Today’s homily is about bread and wine, which are very much instruments of resurrection.

Let me explain.

John has Jesus teaching his disciples about the strong connection between Eucharist and Resurrection.

He who eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up at the last day. (John 6:53–56) 

Later, on Holy Thursday night, Jesus will do a show and tell.  He takes bread from the table, and then takes the cup, saying, “This is my body... This is the cup of my blood,” and when you gather together, this is what I want you to do. “Do this in memory of me.” Now the word Jesus uses for “memory” is a flash church word ‘anamnesis’. It means so much more than simply remembering I have to put out the bins on Wednesday. When The Master says ‘anamnesis’ at the table, He effectively brings past events into the present. In other words, you’re not repeating the action of the past; you’re entering into the event of the past. So today at the Eucharist when the priest says ‘Do this to remember’ (anamnesis) we are not just looking back to a past event 2000 years ago in a shonky upper room, we are actually entering into the events of the upper room and we are there with him and his motley crew at the table. It’s why we say or sing  ‘with angels and archangels.’ This phrase, ‘With angels and archangels,’ is not something that is said lightly or to make us feel gooey inside; it’s telling it how it is. It expresses the reality that we are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses.  So too we are there at the foot of the cross, and we are there with angels and Mary Magdalene at the empty tomb on Easter Day.

Further, when Jesus tells the Apostles to “do this in memory of me,” on Holy Thursday, he is also foreshadowing what was going to happen the next day.

You’re thinking I’m nuts now as I say these words in the upper room tonight, chaps, ... but just wait and see what happens tomorrow afternoon. You’ll understand that I knew exactly what was going to happen to me and that I wasn’t afraid to die out of love for you.

There’s something else that’s going on here.

When we eat a steak sandwich, muesli or an apple, that food becomes part of us. We assimilate it into our bodies. But at the Eucharist, We become part of his body.

On the altar, through this mysterious exchange of grace, bread and wine become instruments of resurrection.

Something I learnt this year. Most of the resurrection stories happen within the context of a meal. Why is that? Not by accident, surely. The Risen Christ could appear to anyone and within any context he liked. When you’re God, you have lots of choices. But the Risen one chooses the context of congenial meals, food and refreshing beverages to appear.

These appearances—on the road to Emmaus, in the Upper Room, on the beach—all have echoes of what we do here at the altar.

Emmaus with its glimpse of Him who walks with us and disappears the moment when we realise He’s with us. The upper room ‘Have you anything here to eat?’ On the lake of Galilee ‘Bring some of the fish you have caught’. Let’s eat together.

He who eats my flesh and drinks my blood (bread and wine) has eternal life, and I will raise him up at the last day. Bread and wine are instruments of his resurrection. They are Instruments of our resurrection.

Lord Jesus Christ, by the three days you lay in the tomb, you sanctified the grave to be a bed of hope of resurrection. Grant that when we lie in our own grave, we may sleep in peace until that glorious day when you awaken us to your glory. Then we shall see you face to face and in your light we shall see light and know your splendour, for you live forever and ever Amen.

Going Cheap.

I’m reflecting back over the Black Friday sale, the Christmass sale and the Boxing Day sale. Discounts and bargains galore.

At the same time, nation continues to rise against nation often for the sake of greed and wanting what someone else has.

This ‘acquisition’ comes at a cost that no one can calculate because the currency is human lives.

It seems that leftover tinsel, redundant wrapping paper and outdated technology aren’t the only things that are going cheap and for the taking.  With all that swilling around in my soul, some questions have come to the surface of my mind and heart.

Has human life always been this discounted and expendable?

Why did we get out our red marker and put sacred life in the bargain basement bin?

By what authority has this been done?

Is there a way forward where we can put human life back on the top shelf with a price tag of ‘Irreplaceable - not for sale’?

So let’s start with the easy one.

Yes, we have not always valued the sanctity of human life. The Master who opened his arms wide to embrace death and subsumed it into the dimension of the sacred died at the hands of others because it was expedient for the day. He was one of countless millions in history.

Why do we do this? Many reasons. Greed, convenience, failure and fear, just to name a few. You can also get a great combo deal for these reasons.

By what authority has this been done? Not sure, but I do know that every time we do not call this out, we are complicit in this action, we devalue ourselves and we diminish our brothers and sisters.

The way forward must be a collective exercise for every single person, starting with the person in the mirror.

The Value of Archives

I was nostalgically going through some old files the other day. They were old pew sheets run off with quite a different technology, and the articles were a delight to read.

The ideas and content wouldn’t quite ‘fit’ into the world of 2026, but that was not the point. There are two reasons why I treasure them and think that they are relevant this year.

First, they bring back some pretty glowing memories. Much the same way a photo might remind us of an event or a party, these documents remind me of the author and his teaching. They brought back some fun times and the companionship that we enjoyed, which enhanced my life.

The other reason I hang onto these is to remind me where I have come from. These thoughts, words and reasonings formed the basis of the way I think, talk and write today. It’s a good thing to know where you have come from, where you started out, and once you have recalled this, you know how you got to be in the place and frame of mind that you are today.

You should be in a different place and headspace now, but at least understand why and how you got here.

Folks who go to family and school reunions look forward to these events for the same reasons I fossick through my filing cabinet. To understand where they have come from and to bring back some good (hopefully) memories. It’s also interesting to hear the progress of our counterparts and where life has taken them and where they are today.

If you have archives, in any format, or any long-lasting compatriots, then might I encourage you to ponder these things and continue to become the person you were always called to be?

Of Light

Last week, I printed a homily by Lisa Kelly on the beatitudes.

She made the point that usually when we read the beatitudes, we identify as one of the crowd on the mountain listening to Jesus rattle off all the “Blessed be’s”. Blessed are the peacemakers, (not Blessed are the cheesemakers as some dubious scholars have suggested), blessed are those who mourn, etc. And as we sit there listening, there is a part in all of us that wants to shout, ‘ Pick me! Pick me! I want to be pure in heart and see God. I, too, am mourning and long to be comforted.

But what if we are actually Jesus in the story and we are looking at others and seeing in them their ‘Blessedness?’ I know that you are mourning, I know that you are a peacemaker, I can see that you hunger and thirst for righteousness.’

Today, I would like to use a similar technique with the verse from the gospel ‘You are the light of the world.’

Over the course of my little life and a few flimsy decades of ministry, I have had the privilege of enjoying many ‘lights’. They have inspired, guided, nudged, goaded and lit the rocky path that needs to be trodden but which has more potholes than some of our roads.  These people have lit up my world, and I shall always be grateful to them, for them. I am also beholden to the Master who first called them and sent them to me because He knew that I needed them. It still didn’t stop me from making some spectacular blunders, but I probably didn’t make nearly as many if they had not been there for me. Many of them caught me, dusted me off and wiped away the dust and the tears.

Most have been uncomplicated parish clergy. Priests who just simply said their prayers, got on with it, failed in dazzling ways, laughed, ate and drank. They were captivating and inspiring precisely because they weren’t glitzy, smooth, polished, glib and suave. They were refreshingly snotty, grotty, knotty, gnarly and lined. Most of the time their hopes and dreams were not realised, but they understood that the darkness of despair and despondency are the weapons of hairy legs, not the One who is the light Himself. They were and are lights to me because I figured that if they could do it, then maybe, just maybe…

Many more lights were and are folk exactly like you. Folks who fronted up to hear dud sermons and read crazy quizzes in the pew sheet. Brave, courageous, faithful souls who understood long before I did that it was never about the person in the collar, it was always about Him. And that’s why they came, and that’s why they continue to come.

Some of my laity lights became clergy, and their ministry was recognised and celebrated. When they were ordained, the whole world lit up with triumph and such indescribable, limitless joy that tears of bliss were the only correct liturgical response.

My hope for your brothers and sisters is that you, too, have such lights in your world. That you might know clergy and laity who have shone brightly, sometimes at least, to show you something of Him who is THE light of the world.

There are traps, though. One of them that Our lord alludes to in today’s gospel.

“ No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lamp stand, and it gives light to all in the house.  In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.”

Those who have been and are lights for me, and possibly you, have a disarming way of not seeing how much light they give off. And when it is pointed out to them, they can be self-defacing and modest.

I think that it is this abashment that Our Lord is referring to in his line about hiding our light under a lamp stand, or a bushel or whatever translation you happen to have to hand.

Wouldn’t it be better to simply accept graciously and let the light shine for the whole household of God to see and enjoy?

The other trap is to be so dazzled by someone else that you find yourself asking, ‘Why can’t I do that? How come I can’t leap tall buildings in a single bound, wear my inner garments on the outside and save the universe? And thus we find ourselves again covering up with the sack of envy the beautiful light that we all carry and are called to share.

It’s right to read the gospel and to give thanks and rejoice in the lights that have shone around us over the years, but watch what happens when we use Lisa Kelly’s trick and flip it over. What if the person in the mirror, you, your very self are a light for others?

What might happen if you claimed the Messiah’s words for yourself and simply, convincingly and with affirmation said.

I am the light of the world…. I am the light of the world.