25/10/26

Moses Mountain Misery Moment

I want to begin by pointing out the bitter and unreasonable injustice of God in the first lesson.

Remember that Moses has reluctantly but obediently done everything God has asked of Him. He didn’t want the job of freeing the Israelites from the bully boy Pharaoh. Moses calmly offered every excuse he could think of not to accept the job.

But accept it he does and it’s not an easy gig for him. From the get-go, Pharaoh plays very rough. And at every passing plague, Pharaoh says one thing, then changes his mind and does the opposite.

Until we get to the plague of the firstborn; only then, when Pharaoh is left to mourn the death of his firstborn child, does he let the people go.

And you would have thought that would be the end of it. But No. Moses’ Misery is just beginning. In the wilderness, the people have a long litany of complaints. There’s no water, there’s no meat, and Moses is AWOL, talking to God on Mt. Horeb. A gross dereliction of duty. There’s no food and the serpents are ferocious and lethal.

‘If only we had stayed where we were’ is the hewn cry. ‘Why did you bring us out into the wilderness to die?’ They moan?

Finally, finally…after 40 long, grizzly years, they get to within spitting distance of the promised land, and you would have thought that the Almighty would let Moses have the luscious moment of satisfaction and lead his people triumphant into the promised land.

But no, almost as a tease, God takes Moses up a high mountain and shows Him all the land that he had promised. Then he says to Moses

“This is the land I promised on oath to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob when I said, ‘I will give it to your descendants.’ I have let you see it with your eyes, but you will not cross over into it.”

And Moses the servant of the Lord died there in Moab, as the Lord had said.

How unreasonable, how unjustified, how undeserved, how brutal, how harsh, how callous and how severe.

What sort of God is it that asks such excruciatingly difficult things of Moses, only to snatch away the final trophy right at the end of his life?

There is a sense in which I relate to this Moses Mountain Misery Moment, and perhaps you do to. At every funeral we send our loved ones across to the other side with a loving shove, our prayer and gratitude, off to the promised land that we sort of glimpse, but mostly don’t, and we are left on this side bereft and still waiting and missing them with that all-encompassing and unbearable ache. They are there on home base and we… ??

But there is another side to this Moses Mountain misery moment. We’re not actually told what Moses thinks about this sneak preview, this little trailer as shown by God on the divine YouTube channel.

What if… Moses was actually deeply grateful for this little peek. Maybe at 120 years old this was a marvellous and undeserved glimpse into a place that he had never anticipated or dreamed of.

And there is a humbling lesson here that we don’t actually have to achieve absolutely everything on this side of the grave. We don’t have to put the world to rights and find a cure for cancer and stop the war in the Middle East or even solve the housing crisis or sort out the church finances, or find a new priest for Christchurch Hamilton or a new bishop for our Diocese.

In our little lifetime, we are just called to be faithful and to give it our best shot for as long as we can, the best way we can.

We are not the Messiah, we are not the saviour of the universe, we are not Superman or Wonder Woman; we simply leave things for the next generation in the best possible shape. This is our vocation and responsibility. Anything more is self-aggrandisement and misplaced entitlement. All this should come as both a challenge for us, but also, I hope, as a blessed relief.

Two little bits of sugar to finish.

First lump of sugar

The text reads almost as if God himself buries Moses. Listen carefully

“Moses the servant of the Lord died there in Moab, as the Lord had said. He buried him in Moab.”

There’s no break in the text, and it’s flavoured with tenderness.

Second lump of sugar.

Remember when the Master takes Peter, James and John up another mountain,  he is transfigured in their presence, and there appears…. Moses… and Elijah.

Ah, so Moses’ life does not end on top of Mount Nebo after all: Here he is popping up in the story of the transfiguration.

So whatever things we may feel we have left undone, whatever dreams we have had to relinquish, no matter what is left unaccomplished, or future glimpses of cities just beyond our reach, all this we place into his pierced, loving hands and look forward to our mountain misery moment, becoming our triumphant mountain of transfiguration moment.

Some time ago, I discovered that our church has a time capsule.

It occurred to me that this device would be an ideal way to offer some thoughts, reflections and maybe even some wisdom to those who come after us. But what do you say to a people yet to be born?

I’m writing this in 2026 in my 67th year, and I wanted to offer these words to you. You may find them interesting and maybe even helpful.

I had hoped in my lifetime to see the quietening of the guns of war, but my dreams were naive and idealistic. With the immediacy with which we can receive images and words from anywhere in the world, I am more acutely aware than ever of our disharmony and animosity.

We were seduced by the internet in this age of the screen. We were promised connectivity with one another. We were told that it would save us time and make our lives simpler. Instead, we used the cold, hard screen to spread our more spurious thoughts to millions in a matter of seconds.

We work harder now with less leisure time because we are connected to our work, not each other. We expected more of ourselves just as our overseers expected more of us. Work smarter / not harder was a common catchphrase. We lost our identity behind the anonymity of the screen.

But there were silent little ones who believed that all was not lost. There were saints who chose to put others first in visible, tangible, touchable ways, and their efforts were all the brighter and more powerful because of the plastic environment in which we lived.

Go gently, then, friend. Make every unretrievable moment count for where we have failed and gone wrong, awry; you have the opportunity to get it right in ways that we never could.

Of St. Luke

This year St. Luke’s Day falls on a Sunday, so it’s an ideal opportunity to have a bit of refresher about St. Luke and about his gospel.

Here’s what we know about the man. He was a young doctor, very likely in Antioch. St. Paul calls him a “beloved physician” (Col 4:14). At some point, however, it appears to have occurred at Troas, he began to accompany St. Paul. So he gave up his medical career in order to become a “co-worker” of St. Paul. He loyally stays with St. Paul until the bitter end, being the sole coworker in prison with the apostle at the end of his life. There’s no indication at all that he was a leading light during St. Paul’s missionary journeys. He was simply a companion and a helper. But after St. Paul died, he wrote down for a friend — Theophilus, which might have been one person, or many — what he remembered. He had no way of knowing that here in Western Victoria  we would be reading his gospel. He just wanted to share the faith and God did the rest. Then he continued the story with a second book, a sequel, about how the Holy Spirit came down on the apostles and the early Church to continue Jesus’ mission.

Here’s what we know about his writing

St. Luke wanted to write things down so that we would be certain about the things of the faith. Through the lens of St. Luke’s gospel we see very clearly that the Master is above all mercy full. We see this by remembering some of the things that are unique to Luke Gospel. Some of the details about John the Baptist’s conception and birth. The scenes of the Annunciation, Visitation, Presentation of Jesus in the Temple and the Finding of Jesus in the Temple. The beautiful scene of the raising of the only son of the widow of Nain. And without St. Luke we wouldn’t have entered Bethany with Jesus to hear Jesus’ words to Martha and Mary about choosing the better part and the one thing necessary. We wouldn’t have the scene of the healing of the ten lepers, the encounter with Zacchaeus, Jesus’ interrogation by Herod, or two of Jesus’ seven last words. We wouldn’t have the scene of Emmaus, which in some sense, summarises all that Jesus continues to want us to do. To walk with Him, to converse with Him, to break bread with him and then to go and tell others.

St. Luke’s gospel is all about how Christ has come as the Divine Physician to share his healing mercy with us and this is very good news. In Zechariah’s Benedictus the point is how the “Lord … has visited and brought redemption to his people,” he has come “to show mercy to our fathers” and John would “go before the Lord to prepare his ways, to give his people knowledge of salvation through the forgiveness of their sins, because of the tender mercy of our God by which the daybreak from on high will visit us to shine on those who sit in darkness and death’s shadow, to guide our feet into the path of peace.” And in Mary’s Magnificat, Mary exclaims that God’s “mercy is from age to age to those who fear him” and that he has “helped Israel his servant, remembering his mercy, according to his promise to our fathers.” We see his mercy in the Parables of the Good Samaritan, the Lost Sheep, the Lost Coin and the Lost Son, all unique to Luke. We see the importance of mercy in the blithe omissions of the Rich Man with Lazarus at his gates. We see Jesus’ will to forgive seen in the scenes with the grateful leper, with Zacchaeus, and with the Good Thief. We hear it in his crying out from Calvary, “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do.”

On this day, we give thanks to God for St. Luke who reminds us that we love a merciful God. It’s also a bit of a nudge for us to become St. Luke’s in our own place and time. No matter who we are, God wants us to accompany him and his apostles. He wants us first to become their coworkers. He wants us to use whatever skills we have to pass on the faith. If we’re truly friends of God, then we can’t help but speak of him to the Theophiluses of our own day. As one Christian leader put it. “What kind of love would not feel the need to speak of the beloved, to point him out, to make him known? We know well that with Jesus, life becomes richer and that with him it is easier to find meaning in everything. This is why we evangelise.”

On this feast of St. Luke, it’s important for us, as friends of Jesus, to seek to make him known and loved, to speak of his splendour, of his love, of his grace, and the difference it makes in our life

There’s Something Else Here.

I reckon everyone can remember where they were when they heard the news that Queen Elizabeth the 2nd had died. Jeanine and I had just touched down at Tullamarine Airport after flying back from Singapore. There was a collective gasp and a solemn silence. It was unrehearsed, quite spontaneous and utterly authentic.

It was not only an acknowledgement of the person Elizabeth who had died, but also a respect for the position she held, to say nothing of the affection with which she was held.

It reminded me of that famous scene in the series ‘The Crown’ when, after King George has died, Queen Mary visits the new young queen. She performs a slow, creaking bow to signify that Elizabeth is no longer just ‘Lilibet’ or a family member; she is now the Queen of England. There is something else going on here.

And if you watch folk lined up to honour an important person, they will acknowledge in some form or another that they are in the presence of something more than just a human being. There is something else going on here.

Just as a bride and groom become something else and someone else after being married, so too the altar, the bread and wine cannot be the same, just as ‘Lilibet’ could never be the same.

You may have noticed that we do this a bit in Church as well. We bow, we sit, we stand. We show our respect, our love, our reverence outwardly and physically, for things that we know are invisible and are all the more potent because we cannot grasp them.

Some of us are a little more ‘creaky’ nowadays, but you’ll still find us outwardly showing, as best we can, that we believe that there is something/someone else going on here.

With Apologies to Lady Whistledown

Dearest Gentle Reader,

Cana is abuzz with gossip after the wedding of Lady Susannah Nelson to Lord Daniel Hivite.

Lady Susannah wore a captivating wedding dress that turned heads and brought a mischievous grin to the face of her soon-to-be husband.

It is rumoured that an entourage of latecomers to the reception saved the family from a grave social embarrassment, for it is said that the wine for the guests had run out. This most appalling embarrassment was overcome by the fervent but discreet interjection of Lady Mary and the obedience of her dutiful son.

Further, we were intrigued to hear whispers that her son ordered the washing-up water to be enhanced by some of Lord Hivite’s show wine. One can only gasp at the impropriety of such an action, to say little of what the Hivite family must have thought.

If that were not disgraceful enough, several of the guests were seen galavanting across the dance floor in a suggestive manner that was most unbecoming of such a society event.

As more of this fine quality wine was consumed by the guests, it would have no doubt added to the gaiety which was said to continue into the small wee hours. There, new relationships were formed and blossomed. On the dance floor, Lady Ruth seemed to attract the attention of Lord Boaz the handsome, who was caught casting more than one flirtatious glance in her direction. I, for one, however, applaud the prankster Son and his mother for their initiative and hope to find out exactly who they are and how they managed to access the family wine cellar.

Cana awaits with bated breath for the next chapter in what this little crowd of ragamuffins might do and how society might, or might not, embrace them. Until then, stay humble, stay safe, stay curious and above all, stay tuned.

Today's little reflection came to me from the internet thingy they have nowadays.Two churches in an unnamed town got to arguing. And it was a very public argument, played out on the large signs in front of their buildings— the kind of sign with movable letters that can be arranged to spell out a sermon title or a thought for the week.

Maybe the Feast of St. Francis was coming up. Maybe it was their way of promoting the annual Blessing of Animals. I don’t know. But right there, plain as day, on the large sign in front of the Holy Rollers, it said:

All dogs go to heaven

Well, before you knew it, the Callithumpian Church used its sign to reply:

Read the Bible. Only humans go to heaven

And . . . they were off and arguing. Next, the Holy Rollers Church’s sign said:

God loves all creation, Dogs included

The Calathumpians, having none of it, replied:

DOGS DON’T HAVE SOULS. THIS IS NOT OPEN FOR DEBATE

Well, maybe the Holy Rollers were just having a good time at the Calathumpians ’ expense. The next week their sign said:

Callithumpian DOGS GO TO HEAVEN. Holy Roller DOGS CAN TALK TO THEIR PASTOR

But the Calathumpians were not amused. Their next sign read:  CONVERTING TO the Holy Roller Faith DOES NOT MAGICALLY GRANT YOUR DOG A SOUL

At which point the Holy Roller Church sign advertised:

FREE DOG SOULS WITH CONVERSION

Well, this of course gave the Calathumpians fits. The next week, their sign all but huffed:

DOGS ARE ANIMALS. THERE AREN’T ANY ROCKS IN HEAVEN EITHER

And that, apparently, is when the Holy Rollers and the Calathumpians stopped talking to each other.
Now I don’t know where in the Bible these (probably fictional) Holy Rollers thought it says that only humans go to heaven. And it is true, the Bible doesn’t say much about dogs – or about any animal going to heaven. In fact, scripture doesn’t say anything at all! But the Bible does say a lot about love. And so, given what we know about the unconditional love our animal companions freely offer to us, then perhaps the Bible does talk about dogs a lot more than we realise.

Remember the bit where it says God created the “waters teeming with living creatures, and birds to fly across the vault of the sky”. Creation stories are full of creatures: cattle and creeping things; every living creature that moves or flies or swims, God created them. And Scripture tells us: God saw that they were good, and blessed them.

Scriptures also give us some sense of where these creatures fit into God’s scheme of things and therefore call us to be good stewards of it all. God makes the covenant with Noah and his family saying, “I now establish my covenant with you and with your descendants after you and with every living creature that was with you—the birds, the livestock and all the wild animals, all those that came out of the ark with you—every living creature on earth.” (Genesis 9:9-10)

All too often, however, we fail to see the divine in other creatures and living things. Living our specialised, sophisticated, materialistic, technological and hyper-functional lives, we forget that our lives are made richer by the creatures that surround us.

Who can spot the tiny hummingbird flitting around the garden and not wonder about the miracle of flight? Who can see a flock of geese tearing a v across the pale winter sky and not feel a shiver of alone-ness? Indeed, our very survival is dependent on the lowly and ordinary creatures beneath our feet.

A study concluded that in dry climates, ants and termites increased wheat crop yields by a whopping 36 per cent.
Ants have also been essential to the production of coffee and chocolate. Okay, so we certainly don’t need coffee or chocolate to survive, but there are people who believe they do…
Dogs never lie about love. They are the model of pure joy, pure disappointment and pure devotion. Who do we rely upon to lead our blind, herd out flocks and guard our house?

We often laugh at the exuberant greeting our dogs give us after a brief absence. We tend to explain it by assuming a kind of dumbness on the part of our pet: The dog thought I was gone forever. Dogs, we say, have no sense of time. Yet a lover is entranced to see the beloved again after even a brief absence–and dogs are all about love. And who, other than God, loves us unconditionally?

So let us open our hearts to all God’s creatures, that we might all be more faithful to our real work, that of loving God and letting God love us.

Let me close with a thought-provoking reflection from a  vet’s office:

If you can start your day without caffeine,
If you can be cheerful, ignoring aches and pains,
If you can resist complaining and boring people with your troubles,
If you can understand when loved ones are too busy to give you time,
If you can overlook it when people take things out on you
If you can face the world without lies and deceit,
If you can eat the same food, day after day, and be grateful for it,
If you can do ALL these things, then you are probably the FAMILY DOG.

4/10/26

Hear the Word of the Lord

The Master was a skilful storyteller. It was his main method of teaching, and we still use his stories today.

In the gospel set down for this weekend He tells a real rip snorter and it finds its mark, in part, because the setting is very familiar to his listeners who are the religious leaders of the day. The setting is a vineyard, and vineyards crop up on more than one occasion, which makes me think that he must have been familiar with at least one winery, or maybe he just got chatting to the folk who were running the wedding reception at Cana.

The audience he is addressing is the local clergy, parish wardens, maybe even the parish nominators and the board of electors.

In today’s parable, the owner puts a heck of a lot of work into establishing a really good vineyard.

He puts a wall around it, digs a winepress in it and builds a watchtower.  But his choice of tenants is not as fastidious. They turn out to be a great disappointment to him, and that is me politely understating it.

When the owner of the vineyard sends some folk and asks for the fruit, the tenants seize his servants, beat one, kill another, and stone a third.

Ever patient and persistent to reap what is rightfully his, the owner sends more people, and this next lot of debt collectors are treated in the same way and also meet a grizzly end.

Finally, the owner sends his son, and instead of showing respect and honour, they see this from a different perspective altogether. This is their big chance to make a takeover big for this prize winning winery.

Come, let’s kill him and take his inheritance.’  So they take the son and throw him out of the vineyard and kill him too.

Their sense of entitlement and propriety is as gob-smacking as it is ludicrous.

The local clergy, parish wardens, the parish nominators and the board of electors are listening intently to this enthralling little story. So far, so good..  But then the master does something … um… master-full

He turns, looks them in the eye and in a firm and dulcet, non-threatening way asks them a question.

“Therefore, when the owner of the vineyard comes, what will he do to those tenants?”

And that is when the fuse finally meets the powder and the things explode.

For our little cluster of Holy ones, realise who the parable is really about. This story is all about and is for …them.

A few things to ruminate on.

The master knows exactly what is going to happen to Him. He makes it very clear that he will die at their hands, and this is one of the things that stirs me and makes me uncomfortable every Lent. As Jesus approaches Jerusalem, he knows that each step takes him closer to the place of his own crucifixion.

The religious leaders of the day know this too. They can see that the little, loving, truth-telling man in front of them is too prepared to embrace his death at their own hands. All the cards are clearly face up and on the table here.

It’s almost as if Our Lord is saying…Come on, folks… We all know what’s really going on here. We all know what you are going to do. We all know that you will bruise me and crush me.

We all know that I lay down my life of my own free will, and I will allow you to do this because I love you; because of this, I will be, and I am, the cornerstone. The foundation of love that is unshakable; the gates of the underworld of sin and hate and fear and greed will be vanquished. The empire of retribution and greed turned to rubble, and out of the dust, love will rise triumphant.’

There is good news here for us today. The fruit and the triumph and glory are not ours to keep to ourselves but have always belonged to the owner. It should be enough for us to simply turn up to the vineyard and enjoy the privilege of working for Him who wants us to be there.

Similarly, if there are mistakes and failures, disappointments and frustrations, even when we have tried our best, then we are not to be too hard on ourselves. We are not the owners of the vineyard. No one expects us to save the universe, sort out the parish finances, bring peace on earth and good will to all people, persuade God to come as our Bishop and lure the Blessed Virgin Mary to become our next parish priest. We just get on, do and be the faithful tenants we have always been called to be, gaining wisdom and experience with each passing mistake.

Finally,… at the end of the readings, we have a simple statement and response.

‘Hear the word of the Lord’ and the response  ‘Thanks be to God.’

We listen, sometimes a little more attentively than other times, but sometimes we don’t hear and sometimes don’t take it to ourselves and amend our lives accordingly.

The religious leaders of the day understood that this parable was explicitly and implicitly for them. They get it.

And if they can hear it, if they can understand it … If they can get it… then why can’t I?

Hear the word of the Lord… Thanks be to God.

What’s a Deanery Day?

A deanery day is a day for clerics to get together to consume food and quaff refreshing beverages. In the course of their conversation, they discover again that they are all flawed, all have their failures, and all do have some wins. We brag about our faithful folk who tirelessly support us even when we let them down. Those who inspire us with their remarkable courage and who enthral us with their sparkling sense of humour.

In the bubbling cauldron of conversation, an unseen but pertinent process is happening where our miserable failures are transformed into points of hilarity. Almost, but not quite, a competition as to who can muck up in the most comical and spectacular fashion.

We also learn about each other, we learn about ordained life, and we learn that if young, bright so-and-so, with all the wit, holiness and charm of the archangel Gabrielle, can make a few blunders, then perhaps there is hope for this little mite after all.

So you see how ‘Deanery Days’ are actually vital to the well-being and spiritual refreshment of your priest/minister/pastor/religious-guru. We come away inspired, happier, enriched and humbled. The bonds between us are strengthened, and the glow on our cheeks has more to do with the bonhomie we have enjoyed, rather than the red cordial we may have consumed.

So when your clergy aren’t necessarily right there at the end of the phone and answer at the first ring, it may be that they are doing something very important, like going to a ‘Deanery Day’. They are most likely raving about how wonderful you are to their fellow collar-wearing colleagues. They are probably getting to know others and themselves just a little better. Another toast to Deanery Day’s

Recently I was privileged to see the musical ‘Pretty Woman’. You may have seen the film starring the handsome Richard Gere and the very attractive Julia Roberts.

Near the end, an iconic exchange occurs when Edward (Richard Gere) conquers his fear of heights to climb the fire escape of Vivian’s (Julia Roberts) apartment building, playing out her childhood fantasy of a knight rescuing a princess from a tower. When he asks what happens next, Vivian puts an empowered spin on the classic fairy tale.

'What happens when the dashing knight rescues the damsel from the entrapment of her tower?’

Answer: ‘She rescues him right back,’  highlighting that their relationship is actually a mutual rescue where they have both fundamentally changed and saved each other.

In the film/show, Vivian rescues Edward from the entrapment of the cold-hearted slavery of making dollars at the expense of others and himself. In turn, he rescues her from a life of prostitution. Thus both are enriched and liberated. Both can now explore a freedom that they have needed.

But there is a solemn little warning for all of us who seek to free others from whatever encumbrance we imagine they might have.

Everyone needs freeing. Our snares could be cash, the need to be needed, the longing to be noticed, the addiction to guilt. Clergy and carers of all sorts can be particularly unseeing of their own enslavement. So fervent are we in rushing to save one poor soul after another that we forget we have locked ourselves up in a tower of entitlement and self-congratulatory praise.

We need to be reminded that we also are continuously tempted; the tendrils of ego are forever growing and entwining, and we should always remember the humbling truth that the tax collectors and prostitutes are getting into heaven ahead of us.

21/9/26

Egbert and Fr. David

The usual path for the aspiring preacher for today’s little parable of the two sons is, I think, as follows.

Dad has two sons. One is devious and disobedient, and on our grumpy day we would call him a bare-faced liar. He says he will go and work in the vineyard but does not. The other is more honest and says a polite, or not-so-polite, ‘No thanks, it’s too hot, the work is tedious and boring, and you don’t pay according to the standard minimum wage, let alone any overtime I do.’

Later he thinks all that was probably a bit harsh and Dad probably did catch him at an awkward moment. So he quietly, unobtrusively slinks off to the vineyard and just gets on and does it.

Then our fearless preacher would point out that even when we grumble about doing God’s will, it’s better than telling fibs and not doing it at all. A change of heart, a reorientation to God’s will and doing what He asks, even if we have been wicked and mischievous, is better than hypocrisy. Thus, tax collectors and prostitutes, even though they might live on the seedy side of life, will make it into heaven before those who are full of their own self-entitlement and self-righteousness. My pet theory is that there will be many such people waiting to greet me when I get to the other side and what an entertaining group of people they will be.

Of course it’s better still if you can always say ‘Yes’ and always do it with a completely joyful and gleeful attitude; but few can achieve that and none can sustain that emotion perpetually. We all have our grizzly and glum days. Don’t take yourself too seriously and just get on and always try to give it your best shot. Reorientation and conversion are an ongoing process and God’s will is not always palatable, glitzy and glamorous.

But when preaching about this parable, not a lot is said about the third person in the parable, and that is the Dad.

In my opinion, the Father is just as vital to the story as the two sons.

Here’s why.

The father knows his sons very well. He’s watched them grow and burgeon and develop over the years. He knows their gifts and their foibles. For all this, he makes a conscious decision each and every year to go and work in his vineyard. The vineyard is his livelihood, his sustenance. It’s his business, and ultimately it is what puts food on his table at night.

So to ask the sons to go and work in the vineyard is a risk. What if they muck up the harvest? What if they don’t prune the vines in the right way? What if they eat more than they harvest? When the Master sends out his sons into the vineyard, it makes Him vulnerable, as love always is.

And to push the parable even further than I should, try this hoodie on for size.

What if this is not the first time that Dad has asked his sons to go and work in the vineyard? Is it not possible that he knows jolly well that Son number 1, let’s call him Fr. David, will lie to his face and say one thing and go off and play his Nintendo Switch all afternoon whilst quaffing refreshing beverages and sampling Stilton cheese.

And with son number 2, let's call him Egbert, Dad knows that there is a chance that ultimately, eventually he might finish up in the vineyard testily doing the right thing even if his heart is not in it.

What if, for the last umpteen years, at every harvest, this has been the pattern of things for this winemaker and his sons? And what if every year, Dad still asks, still puts his livelihood and the vineyard’s reputation on the line, and he knows that frequently, his sons will let him down. But he will never give up on them; he will continue to ask, and the invitation will always be there. The good news of this parable is Our Loving heavenly Father’s unending love. The invitation with no use-by date to go and reap a reward in the vineyard that is tricky and rocky, but utterly inexhaustible in its mysteries and joys.

One last thing to ponder. There is an echo of today’s parable with the story of the prodigal son. Dad and two sons. One who stays at home and is self-entitled about his inheritance. The other is a ratbag who nicks off and squanders his inheritance. Both parables have a dad and two sons. Both contrast one son against the other. But the most important thing that links them is the uninterrupted and burning desire that the Father has for his sons. He craves intimacy and relationship with the two sons.  He craves intimacy and relationship with all his children. He craves intimacy and relationship with you and me. He always has done, and he always will forever and ever. Amen.

20/9/26

A Special Kind of Blindness.

The folk who compile our lectionary try to offer a common theme between the readings. It’s not always obvious, but it can be discerned with some time, effort and patience.

The common thread in today’s readings could be titled ‘a special kind of blindness.’

Let’s start with the gospel, the parable of the generous employer.

Various people are hired at different times of the day to go and work in the vineyard. There are some that sign on at the crack of dawn whilst others drift in at various times throughout the day.

All are given the understanding that they will be paid a full day’s wages.

The working day comes to a close and the viticulturists, wine makers and bottlers all line up to get paid.

First, those who have only worked a few hours. As agreed, they are paid a full day's wages. So when those who got out of bed with the sparrows come along, they expect significantly more. But not so. They are paid what was agreed. A full day’s wages. Exactly the same as their counterparts who only worked a few hours.

Understandably, they whinge to Benno Seppelt, the owner of the vineyard, who asks them, politely mind, to go back and read their fair work agreement contract.

They grumble because they have fallen into the trap of comparison. They are comparing themselves and the long day they have worked with the 'Jenny and Johnny come latelys'. And at one level I completely understand their rumblings and rumination, but comparing yourself to someone else is not healthy. This is because you can become so fixated on someone else, their good bits and bad bits, that you are distracted from taking a good, honest look at your own bad bits and good bits.

The grumpy labourers are so antsy about their fellow workers that they have forgotten all the remarkable work they have accomplished. They fail to celebrate and rejoice in the things they have achieved in the vineyard on the Northern slopes of Coonawarra.  It’s a very subtle form of spiritual blindness, not easily spotted, but very potent.

So what’s the link or theme with these disgruntled cellar hands and our friends in the Old Testament lesson?

First, the Israelites could cheerfully be labelled as a pack of old whinge-bags. Whilst trekking through the wilderness, they complain about the lack of water, the quality of the water, the biting snakes, the length of time Moses goes up the mountain, the lack of bread and the lack of meat.

So there is a really good homily linking the readings, about the temptation of whinging and how infectious it can be.

But there’s another theme in both readings. The blindness of both groups of people. Time and their new standard of living have blinded the Israelites to all the miraculous things God has done in the past to enable their escape from slavery. And day by day, they always have the pillar of cloud by day and the pillar of fire by night. God in fact has not abandoned them, but all the time is leading them on to the promised land. Moses might be fallible, but he does not give up on them. He does not phone the Bishop, type a quick letter of resignation, take his long service leave and annual leave and disappear into the mists of blissful retirement at Miners Rest.

Similarly, by casting aspersions on their boss, the whinging workers in the vineyard have forgotten how blessed they were to have a full day's work and full day's pay.

Both groups fail to see.

There’s another bit of blindness right at the end of the first lesson.

God provides quails… for the Israelites to eat. Yum Yum. But also some bread.

“In the morning there on the surface of the wilderness was a fine flaky substance, as fine as frost on the ground.  When the Israelites saw it, they said to one another, “What is it?” For they did not know what it was. Moses said to them, “It is the bread that the Lord has given you to eat.’

They fail to see what it is right before them. The bread God gives them; and here we have one of the very first references to God giving bread for the nourishment of his people. There will be more, of course, culminating in the bread of life that we receive from the altar at the Eucharist. And there are times when it becomes so familiar that we forget what it is and who it is that we receive. This is my body. Our Lord always chose his words very carefully, and he means what he says. This is my body… this is my blood.

The takeaway this morning is about spiritual blindness. By comparing ourselves to others, we cannot see the marvellous gifts God has given us. We fail to see who it is that is in our hands. We fail to see how gifted and blessed we are and all we have achieved in Our Lord’s vineyard.

Others can see how special we are. God sees how exquisitely remarkable and miraculous we are. And if they can so easily see those sparkling gifts in our very own selves … why can’t I?

Anything which must be remembered must be said/shown.

I am re-reading the book ‘I Heard the Owl Call My Name’ by Margaret Craven. It’s about a young priest sent to a scenic but remote part of British Columbia. He has much to learn but is blessed to have a ‘local’ who is wise and patient.

At one point, the ‘local’ says to Fr. Mark ‘Anything which must be remembered, must be said.’

Within the context of the book, it applies to the village’s old language, Kwakwala, which is not written down and so is only spoken.

But when I read this line just the other day I saw something different. I interpreted it as a firm reminder that if you want someone to remember something and never forget it, you actually have to tell them… frequently. It may be a boy thing, or maybe in my dotage I am more forgetful; or it might be my familiarity with sister death, but the pressing need to let your loved ones know that they are … well… loved, is all the more urgent with each passing hour. Say it earnestly, say it tenderly and say it often. You can’t get family back. You can’t get friends back.

Another thought after I read my quote. There are a whole lot of marvellous things that can’t be written down. Ask anyone who has ever fallen in love to adequately describe the experience in the English language. They will almost certainly begin with …It was like….admitting that words just don’t cut it. Words diminish the experience because of their inadequacy. Falling in love is to enter into a new dimension, a different world where things are ‘shown’ not spoken or written.  Can I change my quote to

‘Where there is no written language, …anything which must be remembered, must be shown?’