We know not what we bring

As I’ve gotten older I find that my curiosity is piqued not by the main characters in bible stories but more and more by those who are behind the scenes that make it all happen. Often they are nameless and frustratingly they disappear from the story seemingly never to appear again.

Where did they come from? Who were they? What was the grit and grist of their day-to-day life? Did they avidly follow the Master’s career path to the end or simply forget him the next day as a bizarre point of curiosity? Something to be talked about over the muesli in the morning and dismissed as soon as the breakfast dishes were cleared away and the day’s work began.

In today’s gospel, we have such a group of ‘behind-the-scenes people.’

‘People’ were bringing little children to him.

Who were the ‘people’? How did they hear about The Teacher and why did they bring their children to him?

What was it about Jesus that brought them scurrying with their offspring? There must have been a certain sense of approachability about The Master, a welcomeness and affability. Whatever it was, whatever they saw, it was infectious and they wanted to be a part of it.

The quality control system of the disciples we find abhorrent today and it's ‘the people’ who come off looking squeaky clean and righteous in the gospel.

Now part of what these parents are looking for is for Jesus to touch their child. These mums and dads understand the power and potency of touch. How did we lose that understanding, trust and potency? Probably because some of my clerical colleagues have abused the privilege and trust that is involved with touch. In my little time of 40 years of ordained life, it is one of the biggest shifts I have been saddened to witness. Time was when I thought nothing of having someone weep on my shoulder. Nowadays…not so much and everyone has a phone/camera.

But scratch a little deeper into the gospel story. It is not just the physical youngsters that are being talked about here but what the children symbolise.

These adults bring something incredibly vulnerable and helpless to God.

They are bringing something of infinite value to God

They are bringing something of themselves to God

And they are bringing their future to God.

So it is not just about the squirming, burping, squawking giggling youngster. What they bring is so much more.

When we take the time to think about it, of course, all of those things are wrapped up in a tiny child. All of these thoughts and understandings do something to us and give us fresh hope and even make us a little vulnerable in our newfound goofiness.
And here’s the really odd thing. We find that when we hand over that which is most important to us, that far from losing something, we actually come out winners and beneficiaries.

Today we not only bring our own physical children in thought and prayer, but we also bring other children.  Those who cannot speak for themselves, those who have no one to advocate for them. The ones who do not expect it of us or ask us. It is up to us to bring to Him who is the source of all blessing, those whose home life is difficult, unsupported and confronting. For it is to these little ones that the very Kingdom of heaven itself belongs.  They are our treasures. Those who come through the doors of Anglicare, those who sleep rough, those who have fallen through the cracks of our 1st world system and our heart.

A little warning and a story about such treasured people.

The warning… it’s tempting to scowl at what we think others bring and offer. The reality is that we never know what others bring and offer. Both outwardly, but also inwardly. Their scars, their gifts, their disappointments, their failures, their hidden victories and ongoing relentless struggles.  We ought always try to be like the parents in the story rather than the quality control(ling) disciples.

The story is from the 3rd century, and it is just as potent and powerful today as it was then. Perhaps it is more so.

In 258, there was an Emperor called Valerian who didn’t like Christians very much. Enter one Spanish Fr. Lawrence who was archdeacon of Rome. This important position put Lawrence in charge of the Church’s riches, and it gave him responsibility for the Church’s outreach to the poor. The Emperor demanded that Fr. Lawrence turn over all the riches of the Church. He gave Lawrence three days to round it up.

Lawrence worked swiftly. He sold the Church’s vessels and gave the money to widows and the sick. He distributed all the Church’s property to the poor. On the third day, the Emperor summoned Lawrence to his palace and asked for the treasure. With great aplomb, Lawrence entered the palace, stopped, and then gestured back to the door where, streaming in behind him, poured crowds of poor, crippled, blind, and suffering people. “These are the true treasures of the Church,”

So we come. We bring not just our riches and the wealthy. We bring the things that might make us squirm. We bring our finest and that which disappoints us. We bring our all to him and because he is our loving God he can do no other than reach out and touch, heal, bless and make holy. When we can rush to him unabashed with glee, then others will see in our face what those funny old parents saw in His face.

Your mission today is to be the answer to someone’s prayer.

It was a cutesy poster I saw in a church once. The photo showed someone embracing a raggedy child. While the photo engaged me, it was the caption that stayed with me long after.

Your mission today is to be the answer to someone’s prayer.

There are at least two ways of ‘being the answer to someone’s prayer.’

First, when we deliberately plot this. We consciously choose to go and be with old so and so who really needs… to be listened to, some chicken noodle soup, 2 chocolate Tim Tams or a beverage of something fabulous or a combo deal.

This is convivial, enjoyable and fruitful. The mystery is that the less that is said, the more that is accomplished. Further, we often discover that poor old so and so is actually the answer to our prayer. We just didn’t realise it when we set out and often we don’t realise it until much later.

The other thing that happens more frequently is when a conversation bubbles back up after a long period of hibernation. We didn’t set out to do anything much and in fact we had forgotten all about the chat. Not so for the other party. They took our words to themselves and the words are still ringing loudly in that person’s heart and lives. This is not something you can contrive or write into your diary with carefully chosen words and phrases. The process happens almost externally to ourselves. Not because of us, but in spite of us.

You can do this. I have watched you do it, especially in those times when you were just being you. The hard bit is accepting this sublime truth and rejoicing in the undeniable fact that we are all the answer to someone’s prayer.

Stumbling In

(with apologies to Suzi Quatro and Chris Norman)

The year was 1978 and Suzi Quatro and Chris Norman released a song called Stumbling In.

As a healthy adolescent of 18 years old, I used to think Suzi was it and a bit and a whole lot more, particularly because my mum was not exactly enraptured with this tightly-clad rock star. Somehow this made Suzi all the more appealing.

The lyrics of this song are about a young couple in a blossoming new relationship, stumbling along some of the joys and trickiness of the road that many of us have travelled. It seems that on the path of love, relationships and discipleship, there are not only roses, champagne and fluttering eyelids, but there are also things that trip us up. These send us unexpectedly stumbling into the dust.

We ought not to be surprised that sometimes these falls are self-induced. Other times, sadly, we can cause others to stumble. We then discover that the millstone of regret and guilt that our Lord refers to is heavy indeed.

In today’s gospel, it is the disciple John who stumbles. Listen carefully as he goes whinging to Jesus about an unnamed exorcist.

‘Teacher, we saw someone casting out demons in your name, and we tried to stop him because he was not following us.’

We don’t know a lot about this unnamed exorcist but there are some things we can be sure of.

1. He had heard about Jesus.
2. He knew the authority of Jesus' name.
3. He was kicking a few goals and accomplishing some successful exorcisms.

In his attitude and complaint, John stumbles because of his own envy.

I speculate that John might have had a few goes at doing the odd exorcism himself, and failed, and so when he sees an outsider having a few wins his blood pressure meds are upped. John, possibly egged on by the other disciples, considers the unnamed disciple’s success through a lens of jealousy and insecurity – him succeeding where they had failed and so fear how it might affect their position in the ‘Jesus clique’.

The unnamed exorcist who gets an A in his class, Deliverance 101, is at the top of his game because he knows it is not about himself. It has never been about himself. He always just rejoiced in the marvellous and exciting fact that the real authority lies somewhere else or rather, in someone else.

And there is a great lesson here for clergy and laity not to go into ‘competition mode’. Rather we should exalt and dance and delight in the generous gifts that God has given to others. Everyone has marvellous gifts and when you use them to God’s glory then anything and everything is possible. Even the banishment of evil and the replacement of ceiling panels that are 14 meters from the floor, is not too much of an ask.

And far from stumbling and spiralling downwards in a bottomless rush of envy and grumpiness, we ought to congratulate and enthuse and gush about the fantastic things we see going on around us.

And it doesn’t take much.

“Whoever gives you a cup of water to drink because you bear the name of Christ will by no means lose the reward.”

A very basic and selfless act of discipleship is always of infinite value. It is especially admirable when it is offered to a little one who is not necessarily junior in Earth years but is still being formed in the way of discipleship, which is pretty much all of us. You do this ministry frequently, lovingly, selflessly and with great joy.

And when you exercise this ministry you are demonstrating your understanding that it is not just about you. That there is someone else who needs ministry. You understand where the desire to serve another comes from and what must be done.

When you do this you make yourself vulnerable. This really is stumbling forward on the road we call discipleship. Heading towards our new Jerusalem in vulnerability is a risky, risky pilgrimage of vulnerability.

My idol Suzi Quatro together with her colleague Chris Norman put it this way.

“Our love is alive, and so we begin
Foolishly laying our hearts on the table
Stumblin' in
Our love is a flame, burning within
Now and then firelight will catch us
Stumblin' in”

In his supreme act of love, at the end of His walk to Jerusalem having fallen no less than three times on the Rocky Road, when the Master opens wide his arms on the cross, the flame of his love burns more brightly, more ardently and more warmly than ever before, because of his helplessness on the cross and at the table.

This is my body … Suzi would be askance at my twisting of the lyrics,  but for me at least, in the upper room, on the night before the Master dies, he does lay his heart on the table, because lays himself on the table. This is my body, this is my blood.

So together, we stagger and totter, always stumbling forward, always with Him. When we are flattened by our failures and disappointments. Then we pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, for our love is alive, His love is alive and so again we begin.

Foolishly laying our hearts on the table and stumbling in, Stumbling in, ultimately, to heaven itself.

22 September 2024

But Why???

There’s a small child (Brutus) together with his mother down aisle number 3 in the supermarket. As everyone knows aisle 3 is not the health food section. Aisle 3  is where all the good stuff is. The chips, the chocolate, the confectionery, the Mars bars and the Freddo frogs.

The inevitable conversation begins.

“Mum, I want to 2 snickers bars and a bag of salt and vinegar chips”

“Not now darling” rushing to get to a safer aisle where the herbs and spices are kept.

"But why?”

“Because I said so” The answer is curt and clear.

“But why?” whines Brutus.

“Because too much sugar is bad for you” - now trying to make a dash for the cleaning aisle.

“But why?”

“Because you’ll ruin your lunch”

“But why?”

You know how this conversation goes and if you haven’t participated in such a conversation you will at the very least have witnessed such an exchange.

And I want to come back to Brutus and his beleaguered Mum a little later.

Today’s gospel also stars a child.

The disciples have been toddling along to Jerusalem and in the 2nd of three attempts. The Master Teacher predicts his own suffering and death. It’s almost like the tolling of a funeral bell.

They do not hear what Jesus tells them or at the very least miss the significance of what their rabbi has told them.

Instead, they have a lively debate about which of them is the greatest.

Thank goodness that would never happen in the Church of God today … would it?

It can’t have been easy for the Master. For the second time he has passed on a vital piece of teaching and they have chosen to chatter about who should win the Gold Logie of apostleship. That’s got to hurt.

And what is even more painful is that when he confronts them about their ‘Vote 1 for me chatter’ they are silent. Why?

One of two things is going on here.

Either  - they don’t want to appear as confused and muddled-headed as they really are. They are too embarrassed to offer an explanation. They are so caught up in their straw poll for leadership that they can’t offer any excuse for their egoistical mutterings.

Or,  they do understand … very clearly, exactly what has been said. Their friend, master, teacher and brother, the one who has walked and talked with them, shared their daily bread and their wine, the one they have simply grown quite fond of is going to suffer cruelly and die. What on earth do you say to such a grim prognosis and a heart rending forecast? Sometimes there are no words in the face of such potent grief. They don’t want to ask anything else, they don’t want or need the scenario clarified because it is breathtakingly clear that a messy chapter is just over the next page.

The flip side of this, the good news for us and the disciples, is that even when we are afraid, even when we don’t understand, even when we are arguing about who is the greatest, even when we are embarrassed, even when we don’t ask the questions that we should …. The Master still welcomes us.

When the disciples are mute in today’s gospel the Master doesn’t desert them or berate them. Instead, he brings into their midst his own living, breathing visual aid. A child. His very own version of the Brutus that we heard so resoundingly in the supermarket.

Here gentlemen! Here is what it is all about. Take note. Aspire to be a child. A child is innocent. A child is vulnerable. A child doesn’t pretend to have all the answers. For a child, every day is a fresh new page with no mistakes in it. Every morning when they wake up, they experience a day brimming with blessings, surprises and opportunities and they just sail through it. The past never existed and each experience is fresh and exciting. When and why did we lose that and is it possible to recapture this shine and wholesomeness?

The sad bit about the disciples is that instead of asking the questions, instead of asking ‘why’ they miss a valuable opportunity to learn and become childlike. Instead, they have diverted themselves onto a path of self-aggrandisement, the flip side of which is to belittle everyone else in order that they might seem big.

In our own time, no one wants to look uninformed, confused, or clueless. We withhold our toughest questions, often within our own churches and within Christian fellowship. We pretend we don’t have hard questions. Yet the deepest mysteries of life do indeed elude us.

So just as our mythical Brutus asked lots of questions in the mythical supermarket, so I finish with lots of questions for myself and if you find them helpful then I am sure Brutus would be pleased.

How would our stories be different if we asked Jesus our hard questions? What kind of conversations might we pursue with Jesus and then with each other? How would our daily life as disciples together be different as a result?

Is there any question we can’t ask God?

And what would happen if we looked him in the eye and said

‘I don’t understand that last bit. Could you tell me more?’ What do you think his response would be?

The light of Christ and living water. Part 1

The opening of the Games held in Paris was startling.

What resonated with me was the Countries of the world participating going down the Seine river.

People lined along the lit sides of the river waving their flags and having a wonderful time. The fact that the rain came down relentlessly did not matter at all.

It took me back to when my daughter and I were on a boat  in  2017 also on the river Seine

The heavens opened and the rain fell relentlessly on our trip as well.

Rain cannot dampen the spirit. Mother Nature relies on rain for sustenance and growth. 

In the days of Christ, John the Baptist said in Matthew 3:11 I will baptise you with water, but the one who is coming will baptise you with the Holy Spirit and fire.

Then sometime later the opening ceremony took place near the Eiffel Tower.  Wow, the Eiffel Tower swirling flashes of light showering the full length and breath radiating up and down.  Jumping pulsating outwards, upward, swirling. Olympic circles radiating beaconing.

Colours of gold. Aiming high is the reward of hard work of perfecting achieving the ultimate result of winning.

Do you ever consider the tears that are shed when athletes try so hard that it feels like failure?

A bit like failing the glory of God. When we let ourselves down by not living the commandments that God has, by not loving our fellow man. All the Gold in the world is not worth a penny if we cannot live with a free spirit of love with our fellow man.

Our reward as Christians is going towards the light of Christ. To be with him when our time on earth has come.

If we ask for forgiveness for our failings he will bless us and rest in him for eternity.

Let's aim for Gold. Let's love your fellow men. Put aside wars and all things that leads us away from the light that Jesus offered and died for . He loves and wants only the best for us.

Let's pass on the light.

The light of Christ and living water 2

Not Gold. Fools gold.

With the Para Olympics still on  our minds and with the courage our Olympians show to pursue their aim to be  the best in their chosen fields of competition, is to be no 1 and to have that

precious gold medal hung around their necks.

What is gold? A combination of copper tin and iron. When gold is refined it is everlasting,so much prized.

Then there is fool's gold.

Weathered Mica can mimic gold, as can Chalcopyrite Crystals used in jewellery and sculptures can also appear gold-like. 

Digging for gold. Fools gold looks sparkling but is often mistaken for gold, so it can fool the best of us as it is not valuable. Fools gold is made up of iron Pyrite and Crystal-like structures. Often has a sulphur smell.

So what is a fool? In proverbs14:16 a wise man sees evil coming and avoids it, the fool is rash and presumptuous.

So what to avoid.

Something that you think to be very successful but is not. Or a flashy but worthless investment.

Quick rich schemes that sound to good to be real are usually too good to be true.

American John Huston’s 1948 film adaptation of the Treasure of the Sierra Madre tells about “Three geezers” who are skint and they put money together to get equipment to go looking for Gold. Then they betray each other. Gold becomes so powerful.  Then they find Gold to be a curse as well as a blessing.

In Proverbs 14:31-15.17  says. Trust in our fellow men comes from the lips of the wise. Spread knowledge and the love of God.

Do not turn to Gold as idols do. According to Hosea 8:4 Silver and Gold idols are doomed to destruction.

Gold Idol's Eyes have they but do not see. Ears they have, but cannot hear……………

Levi 19:4 Do not turn to Idols and cast no Gods of metal.

So what are we to do? Faith in the God of heaven is the one to turn to.

As in Peter 1:17, That faith is more precious than Gold

Fools do not understand the deep thoughts of God. Psalm 92:6 Stupid men are not aware of this and can never appreciate this.

For those Athletes who think they have failed can be reassured of God’s love and healing.

OK, so where would you like to start?

It was a simple line that I happened to overhear. We were in the room with a coach who was speaking to one of their people on the phone. “OK, so where would you like to start?”

It’s a great opening line and invites the other person to be comfortable and divulge heaps so that the exchange may be as fruitful as possible.

It also highlights a certain selflessness. It’s not about the coach or the boss or whoever is the overseer. The focus is on ‘the other’ and how they may be best helped.

The place or the issue they start with is the most pertinent and burning issue to them and there is nothing worse than trying to quash this while there are trivialities that are being discussed. Do the big stuff, the hard stuff, the painful stuff first. Then everything else seems trivial.

It may be that the place you want to start and the issue you need to deal with first does not have easy or quick answers, but at the very least you feel as though you are being listened to and understood. This is important to me!

I wonder if this opening line would help all kinds of relationships and not just in the workforce or the sporting fields. What if the not-so-happy married couple began with “OK so where would you like to start?” Or what if our communities, our nation and inter nations might adopt this line, or at least, the good sense behind it?

The other line at the end of the meeting/chat is “OK, so what am I missing?” It might be painful, it might be contentious, but long-term fruit, fruit that will last, will have the best possible chance of flourishing.

Mums Move Us On.

Go into any ward at the Royal Children’s Hospital Melbourne and the ache of a mother's love for her child is almost tangible. It wraps itself tightly around you from the moment you walk through the door. The sense of fear, desperation, hope, grief and protection never leaves you. So ferocious is that sense of love that it becomes a deep part of you. It becomes part of your DNA. As you leave the hospital you have been revamped and restyled. You just don’t know it yet. But you will and you are all the better for it. You are transformed, made more compassionate, made more understanding. You say less, you listen more, you weep louder. You are nudged forward into being someone else.

Every colour, every moment, every experience is heightened, pierces you and enriches you. The world is a more vivid, vibrant place. Life becomes passionate and urgent. And this is because of those Mums who are at the bedside.

Today’s first story of healing is all about such a Mum.

Much is made about this woman being an outsider. Much might be made of her nimble mind and her retorts but perhaps the most potent, important and lovely thing about this woman is the simple fact that she is Mum. A desperate, relentless, loving Mum and just as Our Lord’s divinity is on full display in the feeding of the 5000, his baptism and the transfiguration, so too in this story, Jesus’ full humanity is on display.

In both healing stories in the gospel, The Master restores humanity to the fullness of life and communion with the creator who loves them and wants them to be restored. But in the first story, the Mother nudges The Master along. This Mum caused Jesus to reconsider what his ministry is all about and who it is all about.

Notice that though she is insistent, she is nonetheless humble.  She does not dispute Jesus’ “preferential option for the Jews.”  She does not arrogantly demand to be served first.  She’ll settle for leftovers. So in her debate, she teaches us much about humility.

She also has something to teach us about who is included and what might be achieved if we were jolted out of our complacency and had the tenacity to go on asking, to go on searching.

That’s the great thing about Mums. Being responsible for another human being takes you out of yourself. Motherhood makes you think about someone other than yourself. Mums get it. They know the pain when their child is hurting and they know the joy of every triumph. They know the intimacy for 9 months longer than any man ever will. What great gifts they bring to our faith community, to one another and to the world.

On a deeper level, this woman has helped Jesus break new boundaries in his proclamation and ministry. Perhaps she will help us to open new boundaries in our proclamation and ministry.

And just as the Syrophoenician woman moved Jesus on, so did another woman at a wedding at Cana when the guests had run out of wine.

Our Lord’s first response to His Mother appeared to be a no, but Our Lady’s determined perseverance turned it into the ‘Yes’ that launched his public ministry. When you read that charming story in John 2, it’s almost as if Mother Mary is saying. “Well son, today is not about you, it’s about the happy couple. Think of someone else for a change.”

With both of these women, their faith ignored the obstacles and just kept on going.

The Syrophoenician woman entrusts the destiny of her daughter to the man who stands before her.  To believe in someone is to trust them, to entrust something of value to them, and even to entrust one’s very self to them is sublime. Her desire for her daughter’s salvation and her trust propels her to pursue The Master, to seek him tirelessly until she obtains what she believes he can provide.

Every mother who at this moment is in a ward at the Royal Children's Hospital is entrusting the most precious thing they have to the staff. They hand over the future of their child. In doing so they are moved on, transformed and even though it does feel like it, they are transfigured and become even more beautiful.

You and I need such people to help move us on, to help us pause and consider. And sometime this week you might like to reflect on those who have moved you on. Nudged you forward, and challenged you to look, think, reflect and act differently.

Sure, like the woman in the gospel, they can be downright annoying, not just because they challenge us, nag us and confront us, but because at the deepest level, we know they’re right and they leave us no option but to stir us out of our complacency and sloth, to break new territory in the places and actions where we know we must be and the people we must love.

When we can do this, when we can step out of ourselves in courage and faith, when we are open to going even further, demons are banished and good-quality wine flows. And that’s when the party begins.

From the V Sign to the Clenched Fist

There is a photo from the 1970s that shows two high school students sitting around doing what high school students tried to do in those days. To act cool and fail dismally in the process.

If you could see the photo and use your imagination, you may actually be able to work out who the gentleman on the right is. His hair is quite a different colour these days and there is much less of it.

The ‘V’ sign he is showing was all the rage in the late 1970’s. I think that it was supposed to stand for Victory but the significance has been lost to me over the years and no one seems to do ‘V’s anymore. Nor do we enjoy the peace that it signified or we hoped for. Over the decades we have learnt the hard, brutal, exhausting way that the victory of peace and stability are elusive commodities. Some would say they are unachievable.

Today, instead of showing a V sign or saying ‘Peace’, multiple groups punch the air with a clenched fist and chant ‘Fight’. It can’t be good for you, for the community or the world.

The old version of the guy in the photograph looks back on the fresh-faced version and whines that life seemed less contentious then. How swiftly do we seem to have gone from flower power to nuclear warheads, from a V sign to a fist?

We were probably naive, but that doesn’t mean we were wrong to aspire to a different world where dorky teenagers and even older grey-haired folk could just hang out, make peace signs, fail to be cool, but nevertheless be comfy in their school uniform. We must continue to choose the V sign over the clenched fist.

Why I Do the Dishes.

“And they observe many other traditions, such as the washing of cups, pitchers and kettles.”

In today’s gospel, Jesus addresses three different audiences: a group of Pharisees and scribes.  The crowd that is perpetually present who I have come to think of as his groupies. They don’t actually seem to say a lot but they are always there. And finally, the disciples who, true to form in Mark’s Gospel, just don’t get it. Ah, now here is a group of people that I can strongly identify with. How many times has the lightbulb dimly flickered months, if not years later?

The message is delivered differently to each of these groups, but the gist of the message is the same for all of them. The same message is said slightly differently three times, so that by the end of the third telling we might just realise that this message is personally for each and every one of us.

And the message is this. Our very selves are defiled, made unholy, not by what we take in, the outside things, but by the corrosion of the human heart. Jesus’ three different versions of this message build on one another, thus enabling a fuller understanding of what is at stake: we must prepare our hearts, and thereby our selves, for the kingdom of God. This requires not worrying over what we “eat,” but how.

For most of the gospel, Jesus is arguing the toss with the Pharisees and scribes “who had come from Jerusalem”. St. Mark often slips us small details almost nonchalantly, seemingly on the way to a larger point. But these small details are there for a reason. The fact that these Pharisees and scribes are from Jerusalem actually matters a great deal. For Mark, Jerusalem’s greatest significance is that this is the city where Jesus will die. Mark’s story is breathlessly hurtling toward Jerusalem, and to the death and resurrection of Jesus that will set in motion the fulfilment of the kingdom of God. By surreptitiously letting us know that these Pharisees and scribes have hiked it all the way from Jerusalem, Mark is linking not only them, but today’s argy bargy, to Jesus’ death and resurrection.

To further make the point that it is Jesus himself that is under attack have a look at the question the Pharisees ask Jesus.

“Why don’t your disciples live according to the tradition of the elders instead of eating their food with defiled hands?”

The question is not about the disciples. The question is really a flimsily veiled swipe at The Master. Almost as if to say “If you were a good rabbi you would keep your motley crew under control and they would always keep the tradition of washing before meal times.”

The Master’s response, a hefty quote from Isaiah shifts the argument to a deeper level. It’s what is within that really matters.

“‘These people honour me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me.

So you can wash your hands all you like before meals but unless you understand the symbolism of the action you might as well not bother.

And it works the same way with washing up. Look for and understand the why… the inward.

The same thing applies at the other end of the meal with the washing up.

Understand the why… and the inward.

Many of you will know that at parish functions it is my special joy to don my rubber gloves, toss a Mothers' Union apron over my head, fill up the sink with hot soapy water and get stuck in. Why?

Lots of reasons

Because it needs doing. How often did my mother say, ‘Well the dishes aren’t just going to jump into the sink by themselves now are they?’

Secondly, each dish reminds me of what is supposed to be going on inside me. “For it is from within, from the heart, that evil intentions come” (Mark 7:21a). Our heart is the centre of our will, thinking and desire. It is the place from which all our intentions arise.  Its part of the human condition that we gradually grubby up over a period of time and we need to be scrubbed and rinsed on a regular basis. One of the first things we do when we gather as a community for the eucharist, is we fess up to the times we have mucked up. While I am the sink it’s not just the cleaning of the dishes that I am thinking about.

Some of you have picked up on the third reason already. When you're at the sink it is almost inevitable that chatter happens, and relationships are enhanced and strengthened. Tell me the story of how you came to be here; tell me the story of where you are going; tell me where you stand, here and now. Make a bad joke, sing a song, hum, whistle; debate politics, novels, Harry Potter movies. Tell me your most embarrassing story. Complain about the weather; if it is winter, it’s too cold, if it’s summer, it’s too hot. Change out that dirty water. Smile.. sigh. The common goal of getting everything washed, wiped and tidied away, together with the physical proximity are the perfect combination for that  special something that is unseen and invisible, to be made stronger and more enjoyable. That’s why I do the dishes and long may it be so.