“Hope is optimism with a broken heart”. Nick Cave

Today's story is about several different people from every parish I have been in. It is about all of them in general and none in particular. I have watched this drama play out frequently, always trying to tread gently and listen to their words rather than speak my own.

I’ll call them Matilda and Rupert because to the best of my very dodgy memory, I don’t think I have ever had the privilege of ministering to a Matilda and
Rupert, although I would dearly like to of course.

Matilda is Rupert's mum. She was given a confronting medical diagnosis and a very grim prognosis. Such was the relationship between the two and the faith of both of them, that not even a poker-faced doctor could take away their faith and their hope. In 99% of the cases, the sombre doctors were right and Matilda did die. But something else happened in the process. Something very difficult to articulate. It cannot be measured in a laboratory or grasped in our hands. It is something far more miraculous and lovely than a brief respite from the inevitable demise that our hard-wired mortality demands.

When all seemed lost, forlorn and hopeless, not once did the ‘Ruperts’ and ‘Matildas’ of this world give up. Their faith and courage remained unflinching in the face of the stethoscopes and machines that go bing. Even when there was blood and vomit and drugs and tears their hope was not taken away or vanquished.

It remained supreme and triumphant even when and perhaps especially when, the last breath had been taken and the undertakers phoned.

And that I think is part of the message of today’s two healing stories. Yep, it's great that the dead girl got up and lived.  It would be nice to think that she lived a happy long life, married, had babies of her own and was a faithful, practising Jew going along to the synagogue where her dad was head server and vestryman.

It’s splendid that the woman who had had the bleed for  12 years (coincidentally the same number of years as the young girl had been alive) was restored to her family, to her community and in good health.

Whilst none of these healings could have happened without The Master's help, it is the faith and hope of these ladies that smacks you between the eyes. The woman who believes with everything that she is, that if she just touches the hem of Jesus’ garment then that will be enough and she will be healed.

That takes real grit, passionate hope and faith that I hope that I might have one day if I ever grow up.

Jarius of course is just as tenacious. Let’s call it for what it is.  His daughter is dying. She is in the last stages of palliative care but this does not stop him. He is undaunted in his mission.

A few things about Jarius, his daughter, Matilda and the woman.

First, notice that in each case physical touch is involved. The woman touches Jesus’ garment and Jesus takes the little girl by the hand. And I wonder how many times you also have brought healing, comfort and consolation by your touch to those who are in need. I am sure that you have done more than you realise. It’s always the way. We go away feeling futile and impotent, but what we leave behind is always remembered and so deeply appreciated.

Secondly, both the woman with the bleed and the little girl are ritually impure. In both instances, Jesus places the needs of the afflicted person above purity laws. Jesus allows himself to be touched by the woman who has been unclean because of her bleeding, and, as a result, socially and religiously marginalised; ‘outside’ the chosen people of God. If Jairus’ daughter is dead, then the touch of her body would render Our Lord impure. In the context of this story, the two women are equals: both need healing which he can give.

Finally, the woman approaches her Lord on her behalf. Jarius on behalf of his daughter. It matters not whether we approach HIM for ourselves or on behalf of someone else. The faith, the hope, the courage, the unstoppable, unconquerable love and just the act of asking, are all that count, no matter who is approaching Jesus and why.

For my Matildas and Ruperts wherever you are and whoever you are, please know that even when your countenance was contorted by grief and your eyes were blotchy and reddened, in my eyes and in the eyes of The Master you were amazing and you are magnificent. To touch and anoint was a humbling and undeserved privilege.

So where to now?

A couple of simple phrases for you to take home. I hope you will find them helpful. They are not the last word, for the last word has not been written yet and Him who is THE spoken word, is always the Living word.

“Hope is optimism with a broken heart.” Nick Cave

“Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see”. Hebrews 11:1-3

“Don’t be afraid; just believe.” Mark 5:36

The Manual for World Peace.

I’ve been trying to work out why the sharing of food is so powerful. Think about all our life milestones and you will discover that there is often a sharing of sustenance as part of the package.

After a funeral… The cuppa, the sausage roll, the lamington and that tomato sandwich are just as important as the eulogy and the pictorial display. The conversation and chatter that the fare facilitates is vital to everyone who is in the early stages of their grief.

Think of a wedding. After the vows, rings and the smooch, there are always some beverages and food to share and enjoy.

Think of the couple who are just in the early stages of trying to work out if their relationship is platonic or may lead to something more. The venue for the discerning process is often a table with some food on it along with a glass of something fabulous and if we’re lucky a red rose and a lit candle.

When I toddle off to the Clergy Retreat we always begin with a very noisy BBQ on Monday night before plunging into the delicious depths of silence on Tuesday morning.

Something quite special happens when we share food. It enables conversation, and can engender camaraderie; it becomes a shared experience to look back upon, hopefully with fondness and the desire to do it all again.

Naive as this might be, I reckon that if those who disagree so publicly sat down privately and shared a scrumptious lamb roast with a fine bottle of red ned with some crispy potatoes then there might be more grins and less angst.

Hec ... For a meal like that, I’d be willing to try.  Maybe the manual for world peace is actually a first-rate recipe book.

23 June 2024

Four stormy questions

The usual path for the preacher today is to point to the reassuring reality that the Master is always with us in the storms of life. ‘The boat’ can be interpreted as our parish, community, nation or life.

And it is true... The master is always with us. Often he indeed seems to be snoring when we need him most and it is true that sometimes he seems to stir from his slumber and put things right, bringing stillness and calm in the most unlikely way. It is also true that Jesus’ slumber is a sign of his confidence in us. But amid today’s weather forecast, there are 4 stormy questions.

Each one of them is a rhetorical question. IE | A question that is asked for effect and to make a point. It does not seek an answer. Kind of like ‘Do you think it’s wise Father David, to drink a bottle of your finest before a funeral?’ Notice also that there are no answers to any of the 4 questions. It is left up to us to discover the answers for ourselves in the storms of our asking.

So let’s take each question one by one and see where this little boat ride might finish up.

Question 1

“Teacher, don’t you care if we drown?”

That Jesus cares has never been in question and it's not what the disciples are asking. What the disciples want to know is what, if anything, is the Master going to do about this life-threatening situation.

Further, there is the slightest tinge of manipulation in this question.

“If you cared, you will do something about this.” Or worse. “If you cared, you would have made sure that this storm would never have occurred in the first place and we would have had an uneventful passage across the lake.”

It’s not an uncommon way of thinking. ‘If the God we worship is so loving and caring how come … The television tells me that A, B, C and Q.4 happen daily.

Perhaps it comes back to the snoring Jesus in the stern. Maybe the onus is on us to be active when the storms get tempestuous.

Notice the salutation with which Jesus is addressed. The disciples call him ‘Teacher’. This will be important later on when we get to question four.

So Jesus stills the storm and turns to his disciples for questions 2 and 3

Question 2

Why are you so afraid?

Question 3

Do you still have no faith?

I don’t think Jesus is looking for an answer here, rather he wants the disciples to ask the question of themselves. So it becomes not  ‘Why are you afraid?’ But rather the disciples need to ask themselves ‘Why am I afraid?’ And this is a very pertinent question to all of Jesus’ disciples including ourselves. Why am I afraid? or What am I afraid of? Why are we panicking instead of having faith?

Which brings us to Jesus’ second question.

Do you still have no faith?

Almost as if to say ….After everything I have said and everything I have done…. how come you guys still have no faith? What is it that is stopping you or rather stopping us, from having the faith to snore through the storms of life? These are really good questions to ask ourselves in a quiet setting. What is it that hinders, thwarts and stops me from having the faith that I know I should have and certainly the faith that the Master has given me? What is the self-imposed roadblock that stands in the way of becoming the person I am called to be?

Like those disciples in the leaky boat, part of it is fear. Fear of death, fear of loneliness, fear of becoming vulnerable, fear of …

Fear can thwart you, drown you, render you ineffectual and impotent. It is a bully. It needs to be confronted and told off for what it is.

So exactly what is it that we are afraid of? I think we need to be brutally honest here and say that one of our most popular fears is death. Not necessarily what is on the other side, but the process of physically dying. The storm we encounter to get to the other side. The fear of dying is an understandable and almost respectful fear to have. But mixed through this fear there is always hope because of who it is that is really with us in the boat and what He has done. Which brings us to the fourth question.

Question 4

“Who is this?”

The disciples start by calling Jesus ‘teacher.’ As I pointed out, no answer is given to any of the questions. We must decide for ourselves who it is that is with us. That is part of Mark’s cleverness and charm. He poses the questions and then just hands over his manuscript to us. He sets us off into the storm of thinking and wrestling and only when we have found our answers does the silence and peace begin.

A question for your homework. At this point in your life are you…

The snoring Jesus?

The frightened disciples?

The boat carrying others through the storm?

The storm itself.?

Of Regrets.

Regrets are something that we tend to accumulate along the way as we journey through life. It’s just part of the stuff we put in our suitcase of experience. I don’t think many of us sit down over our assorted breakfast fare and plot our day deliberately in order to make a mistake that morphs pretty quickly into a regret.

Regrets seem pretty much unavoidable and inevitable and they have this wicked habit of surreptitiously sneaking up on you from behind and smacking you around the head with a large cooking pot. They then take out a serrated-edged knife and slice deeply into your heart, twisting as they go.

But… and this is the good bit. The moving on a bit. Nick Cave reckons that they can also help us lead improved lives. They can accompany us on the incremental bettering of our lives.’

Make no mistake, regrets will find you. They will seek you out and hunt you down. ‘They are forever floating to the surface. They require our attention. You have to do something with them. One way is to seek forgiveness by making what we call living amends, by using whatever gifts you may have in order to help rehabilitate the world’.

So next time one of these pesky little critters sneaks up on you from behind, lurking in your memory, turn around, confront it, look lovingly at it and see what you can learn from it. What lessons does it have to offer you and how can you use the experience to transform your life, your community and world… one regret at a time?

You will also find that if you challenge your regret, face off against it… the frequency of their attack will be lessened and the pain they inflict will be dulled. It won’t be easy …. but…

16 June 2024

Freddy; the incompetent Gardner.

In today’s gospel, we are given two short parables for the price of one. Please don’t feel cheated, a lot is going on here within just a few short verses.

I have to say that I am not much taken with our friendly gardener who for privacy reasons I will call Freddy. I wish Freddy had met Costa (shave for a cure) Georgiadis from Gardening Australia.

Let me explain

In the first parable, the theological gurus tell me that the word used to describe Freddy’s sowing technique is a word for ‘throw’ or ‘toss’. So our hapless gardener Freddy just seems to chuck it out there willy-nilly. There is no forward planning or thinking. The seed will fall where it will and you would think that some thought and care might make for a better harvest.

Further, There is no mention of fertiliser (as in the parable of the fig tree Luke13;8,9) nor is there any mention of doing any weeding or watering. Nope, none of that… Freddy simply chucks it out there and seemingly there is no follow-up or care. Almost a cowboy attitude.

Our suspicion of Freddy’s incompetence is backed up when we read

“the seed sprouts and grows, though he does not know how.”

Freddy simply goes to bed at night and wakes up in the morning leaving the field to grow on its own.

In the second parable we have another horticultural bungle.

We often think of the mustard seed as growing into a large tree which is in fact how Luke tells the story. (Luke 13:18-19) But Mark uses a word which translates to more of a shrub than a large tree.

Now when the gardener plants his mustard seeds he no doubt intends to have a nice addition to his herb garden just in case he wants to make some hot english mustard. Yet in this parable the mustard seed’s value is not because of its flavour, but rather because it provides shade for the birds. Surely this is not what our tragic gardener Freddy intended! Imagine planting a mustard seed or a tomato seedling or a pumpkin plant hoping for some delicious fruit and all you get is a semi aviary type structure that provides shelter for the birds. Birds that are pests, birds that peck and eat at our yummy produce well before we get a chance to protect our fruit and enjoy it. We are the ones who are supposed to eat the fruit of our labours, not those feathered pesky critters.

But the parables offer some encouragement and some warning.

First, the gospel has its own inherent power. It doesn’t require us to be highly skilled planters or attentive horticulturist’s or even to join the Costa fan club. All the gospel needs to grow is for us to scatter it out into the world. We don’t even have to sow it carefully. We just toss it out there as best we can. And keep on being faithful in this vocation. The innate power of the gospel will do the rest.

A Warning. We as the Church often like to think that we know what we’re doing as planters of the gospel. We think we know how to plant the gospel in the world and it's so easy to fret and strategise about how to spread the gospel, that we forget to toss the seed out into the world which is in fact, the only thing we are required to do.

And in the parable of the mustard seed  we need to be mindful of trying to control the outcomes. We may plant a seed with one intention only to discover when it comes to fruition, that its usefulness is entirely different from that which we anticipated. We might think that we are growing a spice garden, when in actual fact we are in the throes of building an aviary or even a menagerie.

But be encouraged brothers and sisters. Taken together our two little parables tell us that the incompetence of Freddy  is not important to the outcome. Freddy’s lack of understanding, our lack of understanding, does not undermine the capacity of the gospel to grow into a bountiful harvest. Nor does our intention to harvest one thing prevent God from doing something completely different. Thank Goodness.

Our task is simply to be faithful. To go on being faithful . Not to fret about the outcomes and the bottom lines and how big the marrow will be. We ought not be too invested in what we think is our lack of expertise and we dare not take credit for whatever may be produced by our flimsy and chaotic efforts.

The kingdom of heaven grows not because of us but in spite of us. It flourishes where it will and how it will. It comes to fruition in its own time. Not when we say it should. And it will and must shelter those we think are a pesky nuisance and who irritate us the most. So here’s to Freddy the Gardener and Peter Cundell who join me in saying

“And that’s your blooming lot for the week”.

Of winners, losers and antagonism

And so we came to Budget night. There were many images on different size screens. Smartly dressed people, exquisitely manicured, tenderly holding microphones. Countless people spoke a lot of words and wrote even more. Somewhere an unnoticed tree gasped and fell writhing to the ground. Ink was sprayed upon it in the form of many numerals.

The detail and hyperbole left me needing a warm shower and a glass of medicine. My grey hairs tell me that all this hoopla happened last year and will inevitably be repeated next year. I have never been blessed with strong numeracy skills and somehow just could not get enthralled.

What did pique my interest was this whole “winners and losers business”.  If you were of this demographic or had this particular interest or were at this particular stage of life, then you were a winner or a loser. Depending upon a couple of other variables over which you had little or no control you were a grinner or a weeper.

Now I don’t mind who you write the number 1 (one) next to on the ballot paper. It’s your business and we are blessed that we can vote freely in this splendid democracy of ours.

My question rather is why do such documents and political jamborees always have to be ‘Us versus them’ or ‘Winners versus losers’? Does the dish of the budget / the election / political hot potato really have to be served up to us with such an adversarial sauce?

Would it be such a devastating thing if some of us went without a little (became losers) for the sake of those who truly need more? (became winners) Are we so addicted to antagonism? It would seem so, but I would be thrilled to be proven wrong.

What is going on here?

The year is 1976 and I am boarding at Horsham so that I can attend Horsham High School. I come back to the farm at Warracknabeal for weekends and school holidays.  Horsham High is a much happier place than my previous school. 1976 is a great year and I feel secure, and supported and have a great circle of friends.

You can imagine my befuddlement and surprise when at the end of the year, the car is packed up, complete with siblings and we move to Horsham leaving my father on the farm.

What is going on here?

For years I did not, could not understand what had happened and why. My parents understandably shielded me from the slings and arrows of a very painful breakdown and then divorce. I had no idea and could not read the situation. Partly because it was hidden from me and partly because I did not have the maturity and insight of an adult.

In today’s gospel, some other people completely misread the situation. They do not understand what Jesus is on about, why he has come among them and his very radical understanding of what family is. So let’s have a look at these people.

First, the crowds show up. These pesky little blighters have been persistently gathering around Jesus from the very beginning of Mark’s gospel.

They swarm around Jesus at every turn (Mark 1:33, 37, 45; Mark 2:2, 13, 15; Mark 3:7-10.

The crowd does not speak, they express no worries, but their actions suggest they want more of Jesus. Exactly what they want is not clear, but they are not there to pass the time of day and talk about chooks, footy and the weather. They’re not even going to let Jesus and his disciples eat, so clearly there is a flurry of activity and conversation.

What is going on here?

The second group of people to show up are Jesus’ family. They intend to seize Jesus. Now the worrying begins. They should know him the best. They have been with Jesus since before his public ministry began. They have the most to lose if Jesus’  ministry provokes the wrong people; the people who have the power to crush Him. Jesus’ family want to take him away. Mark says that those family members think he is “beside himself”. They  have determined that Jesus is not in his right mind. It seems they have no other way of interpreting what he has been saying and doing since he went off to see John and undergo a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. They have drawn their own conclusions.

They don’t really know what is going on here. They think they know, but they are wrong.

The third group of people to show up are the scribes from Jerusalem. They  are eager to offer their explanation of Jesus and his power. Jesus has a demon. “He is possessed by Beelzebul!  The prince of demons.

The family and the scribes are the two people who should know Jesus best. But by failing to see what is right in front of their eyes they demonstrate that they do not know him at all. They inevitably draw wrong conclusions. Both groups lack imagination. Both groups dismiss the possibility that God is restoring his Kingdom through the simple man in the house. They write it off as a satanic deception. They show themselves devoid of hope and openly contemptuous of God’s work. They don’t ask the question ‘What is really going on here? Or maybe an even better question, “What if…?”

Instead of spending the time and energy and being open to other possibilities, they actually miss out on opportunities. God’s opportunities for them, the opportunities that he so longs to offer them, to us.

What is going on here?

Part of their problem is this. The culture of responsibility, identity, stability, and opportunity were so bound up with blood relationships that Jesus’ pronouncement of a new family which includes everyone who does God’s will, no matter how scrappy and warped the family tree might be, is abhorrent and down right wrong.  But it can also bring great joy to some and it should bring great joy to us, especially if we find ourselves estranged from our own families of origin.

Which brings me back to that overpacked station wagon heading off to Horsham. It took my father about 5 years of hard work and persistence to reestablish the relationship. It was not the same, nor should it have been. I was 22, studying at a Tertiary level, testing a vocation or rather being tested by a vocation. In the marvellous flush of engaged life.

What is going on here?

And at the end of life and at the beginning of life, at every stage, at every encounter where families are changed, not ended, where relationships are enhanced and transfigured into new dimensions and negotiate different, wonky ways of thinking and interacting.

And today at the altar when we break bread, share the peace, pour the wine… in silence, in words and in song. ‘What is going on here’ and ‘What if…?’

June 2nd, 2024

A pack of ‘undesirables’.

Today’s gospel begins in an idyllic rural setting. The sun is shining, the birds are tweeting, and the corn is standing tall and gently swaying in the breeze. Dark clouds are a distant memory. It’s a sabbath day so there is no activity, no hurlby burly, all is calm and well. Think Of Snow White and the seven dwarfs when the creatures join in the singing. A scene of innocence and wholesomeness. Or the opening scene of Oklahoma. The world is as it should be. It’s all going so very well.

Jesus has even been chattering about wine and wineskins. There’s no hint of the argy bargy that is about to follow.

Now read on.

On this serene Sabbath Jesus and his mates are strolling through the grain fields helping themselves to some of the corn from Farmer Ishmael's bumper crop. Enter stage right a mob of angry Pharisees. Why is their blood pressure so high and their voices so loud?

It’s not walking through cornfields on the Sabbath that upsets the religious authorities about Jesus and his cronies. It’s not that they have helped themselves to farmer Ishmael’s corn. What really gets up their goat is the fact that Jesus and his good Jewish disciples have plucked the corn … the … Sabbath. Picking corn counts as work, so it’s forbidden; but what is even worse than that, is Jesus reinterpreting the law. ‘The Sabbath was made for human beings’, he points out: ‘Not the other way round’.

Everyone should have one day of rest per week to remind us that God is the centre of life rather than ourselves. Actually… we aren’t indispensable. Workaholism is not the same as holiness- and yes, I’m preaching to myself here, too. Clergy are innovative at persuading themselves that they are indispensable and that the way to heaven is to show that your diary is overflowing with reminders and appointments. The technological age did not give us more time at all to be with family and friends. It seduced us. It lied! We find that the addiction to the screen and the need to fill up blank pages in the diary is its own form of insidious slavery. We are not better at keeping the Sabbath at all. The sabbath was made as a gift to us and for us. Why are we so quick to shun it? Why can’t we reach out and grab it and run with it? Relish and revel in it. We would come back so much more insightful, so much more energised, so much more fruitful and attractive to those we seek to serve. Sadly to our detriment and those around us, we are less than we ought to be because we have less to offer them. We are unable to give them what they rightly need and so richly deserve.

The Pharisees, those on the inner, rebuke Jesus and his disciples and ask why this pack of undesirables aren’t keeping the Sabbath.

The  Holy Clerics see only one thing. That the Sabbath is being broken. They do not see the hunger or the need of the disciples. Further, the Pharisees miss out on the likely truth that these blokes in the cornfields might have something quite lovely and important to offer them.

And of course, there is a lesson here for any of us who has ever considered ourselves to be on the inner. To see past what is outwardly going on and to recognise the needs of our brothers and sisters. Not what is happening but why this is happening and having ascertained our brothers and sisters need to go and do something about it. And if we are very brave we might see WHO it is, that stands among us. The one who is hungry for our love and has so much to offer to us.

“A pack of undesirables.” Vagabonds, misfits and scoundrels. Marching in on our territory. Stomping all over what we have worked so hard to establish and grow and flourish and on the Sabbath let me tell you! No respect, no understanding, no comprehension of our sabbath, our ways and they clearly have no desire to fit in. They should never have come here. There is no place for them. They should just move on.

In God’s eyes, everyone is desirable. None are undesirable. All are infinitely precious to Him, no matter how they dress, what their tax bracket, their family status or the colour of the skin from which they emerged from the womb. It matters not if they are one of 6 kids under 10 or an only child from a private school. They are desirable no matter the dialect on their tongue or the faith culture they happen to have grown up in.

Like those ‘undesirable,'  hungry disciples, it is those in greatest need who walk closest to God. It is those who stomp all over our sense of what we think is right and proper who actually have the most to teach us.

Would God smite us terribly if we spent more time keeping the sabbath and mucking about in the cornfields with the ‘undesirables’? Well hey, there’s only one way to find out.

“People of accomplishment rarely sat back and let things happen to them. They went out and happened to things.” Leonardo da Vinci 1452.

This explains a lot about why Leonardo is still being talked about, why we still look up to him and why exhibitions and his drawings can be admired and gawped at. The process of going out and happening to things ie. Being proactive is not altogether easy.

First, you have to see the ‘something’. Glimpse an opportunity, perceive a need, understand that something is not right, or could be improved upon.

Then you have to think through what is needed to make the thing happen or to be remodelled. All this without allowing apathy and procrastination to wash over and seduce you. Apathy and procrastination are very seductive.

Then you have to summon the wherewithal, actually, go and do it and maintain the energy and verve through to its completion. Whew!

But there is something else that is necessary to be a ‘Leonardo’ and to happen to things. A vital part is realising and admitting that sometimes, maybe often, you were wrong. That the problem is insurmountable, or the way you were tackling was not the best or most fruitful way.

The ability to make this admission is a very precious commodity and perhaps is the most important skill of all.

About one of his inventions, Leonardo wrote something like: ‘If the results are not as anticipated and the outcome is flawed then the concept should be disregarded swiftly and permanently.’ All of the above is not an easy checklist. There are few public, high-profile ‘Leonardos’.

But my guess is that there are many ‘Leonardos’ “happening to things’; quietly, selflessly, unobtrusively, but nevertheless effectively. We could always use more of them. Go out and happen to things.

Of first-world responsibilities.

In another place, I made the point that we have first-world luxuries like peace, the internet and motor vehicles.

It has occurred to me since that we also have first-world responsibilities.

There is a responsibility to ourselves. We have this amazing thing called a body which needs feeding, cleansing and exercising. Like a car, there are also times when it needs taking off the road and servicing. This is called annual leave, family leave, long service leave, and a pyjama day. ‘Go gently’ is a favourite mantra of a colleague of mine. I know he’s right, but it's a difficult thing to accomplish. We feel as though we should be filling up our empty spaces to show how effective dazzling and spectacular we are. How indispensable we must be when our diaries are stuffed full of busyness. The reality is that we would be much more effective and productive if we just did nothing for a couple of hours and let our thoughts and quandaries slush around for a bit. Like the best jobs, the right answers often find us rather than us finding them.

We also have a first-world responsibility to everyone else, especially those who are less fortunate than ourselves. I consider the fact that I have never gone hungry an undeserved privilege. I have always had a roof over my head and I have always had a circle of people who have cared about me and shown that care especially when I needed it most. These gifts show me the responsibilities I have to those who have none of these things. Maybe if we all took a deep breath and looked again at our first-world responsibilities, more people would enjoy the first-world luxuries we take for granted.

The story of the burning coal.

The first reading today is an absolute corker and as always there are at least two ways of looking at it.

First, there is the literal sense of the passage—what the words mean in their original, historical context—Isaiah’s encounter with the Living God.

The second way is to look at it through the lens of our worship. The reading speaks of the transformation that takes place in us when we receive the Lord Jesus in the Eucharist.

So, … first level. The historical call of Isaiah.

The setting is the Temple of Jerusalem in 740 B.C., the year that King Uzziah of Judah died. Our friend Isaiah finds himself in the house of worship and is granted a vision of the Lord, exalted and enthroned in majesty. He witnesses winged angels, called seraphim, calling out to one another: “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts”. Sound familiar? The volume is turned up so loud that it shakes the sanctuary to its foundations. Understandably Isaiah is overwhelmed by this awesome display of God’s glory and his heart is fear… full. “Woe is me!” he cries, “I am lost . . . I am a man of unclean lips”.

Because Isaiah has been so frank about his grubbiness one of the seraphim takes “a burning coal”  from the fires of the Temple altar and proceeds to touch Isaiah’s mouth with the glowing ember. “Behold,” says the seraphim. “This has touched your lips; your guilt is taken away, and your sin is forgiven” And then Isaiah’s fear melts away. The Lord asks whom he can send as a prophet to his people, and Isaiah steps forward with the unflinching response: “Here I am! Send me”. So it is that Isaiah is commissioned as a prophet and equipped to speak the word of the Lord. It’s a marvellous image for someone like me who is blessed with a vivid imagination.

But what does any of this have to do with what we are doing here today? So we come to the second level. The symbolic level.

Remember that at Pentecost we spent a bit of time thinking about the Holy Spirit as a flame?

Further, I want to use some words from a couple of gentlemen who lived a long time ago and kindly did my homework for me.

First, St. Cyril of Alexandria, who died about A.D. 444.

“One of the seraphim is sent to Isaiah with a burning coal which he took from the altar with tongs. I see this coal as a symbol of Christ. Remember God appeared in this way to the people of Israel as they stood before the Lord at Mount Sinai as flames and smoke.” 

Secondly, a gentleman known as St. John of Damascus wrote this about receiving Communion.

“Let us receive the body of the Crucified One. With eyes, lips, and faces turned toward it, let us receive the divine burning coal, so that the fire of the coal may be added to the desire within us to consume our sins and enlighten our hearts, and so that by this communion of the divine fire we may be set afire and deified.” (ie Made Holy)

These guys write in an esoteric way, but their point is just as important as ever. We live in a society that seems to have cast aside the potency of the symbol; an age where we have to understand everything in facts and numbers. We have become reluctant to dive into the symbol and let it wash over us, allowing the experience to heal us and to simply just enjoy the symbol for its own deliciousness.

The encounter with our burning coal we call communion does three things.

First, Holy Communion is a purifying encounter with the Lord. Receiving Him on our lips has the effect of burning away our sins.

Secondly, the fire that touches Isaiah’s mouth shows us that Holy Communion is a deifying encounter with the Lord. That is, it helps us to become more like God.

Finally, Holy Communion is a commissioning encounter with the Lord. In other words, when we receive the sacramental coal from the Lord’s altar, we are equipped to bring the gospel to the world.

That, after all, is what the Eucharist is all about. It cleanses us and sanctifies us for a purpose—to go forth as witnesses to the living Word of God. Many Christians call what we are doing here today a Mass because the last thing that happens is commissioning or sending forth. Go in peace to love and serve the Lord. We are dismissed

A couple of things to finish with.

First, you might like to think of Isaiah in a little while when with archangels and archangels we will also say “Holy Holy Holy Lord. Heaven and earth are full of your glory.”

Secondly… notice that the party of redemption can only begin when Isaiah confesses his unworthiness. Oddly, God’s work in us and the world can only start when we are honest with ourselves and with God. Then and only then, the coal of God’s love finds us, touches us, seals us and we are sent out to bring the living flame of faith to a darkened and chilly world.