May 19th Pentecost 2024.
Guard the Holy fire.

There is something mysterious, alluring and powerful about fire. There is something quite charming about staring into some flames in an open fireplace, but in rural Australia, we also understand how fickle and brutal fire can be. We are somehow both attracted to and in fear of flames.

Fire is no stranger to us and has been around for a very long time; in fact as far back as Moses and the Old Testament

When the Israelites had finally escaped the dastardly clutches of Pharaoh and were without GPS or compass….

(Exodus 13:21)

“The Lord went in front of them in a pillar of cloud by day, to lead them along the way, and in a pillar of fire by night, to give them light, so that they might travel by day and by night.”

Then when they get to Mount Sinai the light show and special effects are even more spectacular

Exodus 19:18

“Now Mount Sinai was wrapped in smoke because the Lord had descended upon it in fire; the smoke went up like the smoke of a kiln, while the whole mountain shook violently”. Marvellous Stuff!

And in today’s first lesson, there’s even more fire.

“When the day of Pentecost came, they were all together in one place. Suddenly a sound like the blowing of a violent wind came from heaven and filled the whole house where they were sitting. They saw what seemed to be tongues of fire that separated and came to rest on each of them.”

This is why, as a ‘descendant’ of those apostles a bishop wears a funny flame-like hat called a mitre. I hope you will be able to see Bishop Garry wearing his mitre in a photo in the pew sheet today.

And here in church, we have candles and at Christchurch Hamilton has an opportunity to light some personal candles.

All of us would be familiar with and entranced by the eternal flame that burns at the tomb of the unknown soldier. It speaks to us. Engages us. When we look at the eternal flame there is something deep within us that we understand and also resounds within us. It is more than just an echo of a history that is the tragic slaughter of the past. Somehow it  is also  part of who we are as a nation, as individuals and as a community. The flame continues to burn to remind us that love did not die on the battlefield.

But most potently and personally there is the flame of faith which is kindled somewhere, somehow deep within us. Sometimes it flares up brightly and gives light and warmth.

Sometimes it sputters and can even go out.

But the flame of His love cannot be extinguished because that is who He IS. His love is not just something He does. It is Him. It can never die and perhaps it is in those moments when our faith seems spluttery and futile and cannot be ignited, that HE will burn brightest. He will take our arm and walk with us through the black caverns of despair and doubt which are large and frightening .

Remember this…”And even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil for you are with me.”

Guard the holy fire that is within you and all of us. If you see someone else’s candle going out, it takes a heartbeat to go and give some of your flame to theirs. You'll discover that your faith is actually brighter and more radiant because of this

One of the gifts of the Holy Spirit is fear. Fear means respect and awe, and also a healthy fear of doing anything that would harm our relationship with God. Guard the holy fire.

The best analogy I can think of is that exhilarating time in our lives when we first discover a relationship so precious, so exciting, so gorgeous that we will do anything to preserve and protect it. The first flush of romantic love. It is like holding onto a precious crystal vase that you treat with reverence, joy and respect. You rejoice in it and are thrilled just by looking at it. And you look at it often. You look at it a lot just because… it makes your heart go faster and you look at it just because you can. You guard it. You would lie down in front of a Big Mac truck to protect it.

How precious and treasured it was and is. How fiercely and carefully you want to guard and keep it as well as celebrate and enjoy it.

Guard the holy Fire. Your fire which is His fire.

Charles Wesley sums up this protective joy, the vocation to guard the Holy fire, in his sublime hymn ‘O thou who camest from Above.’ With a yelp of joy I hand it over to Him to articulate what I have clumsily been trying to say.

O thou who camest from above
the fire celestial to impart,
kindle a flame of sacred love
on the mean altar of my heart!

There let it for thy glory burn
with inextinguishable blaze,
and trembling to its source return
in humble prayer and fervent praise.

Jesus, confirm my heart’s desire
to work, and speak, and think for thee;
still let me guard the holy fire,
and still stir up the gift in me.

Ready for all thy perfect will,
my acts of faith and love repeat;
till death thy endless mercies seal,
and make the sacrifice complete.

Praise to the God who disturbs us.

May 12th 2024.

Today I want to try to unpack the story of the election of Matthias in the second reading.

Here’s what we know.

Peter stands up in front of about a hundred and twenty folk and gives a little speech. He lets them know that there is going to be an election to replace Judas.

“Brothers and sisters, the Scripture had to be fulfilled in which the Holy Spirit spoke long ago through David concerning Judas, who served as a guide for those who arrested Jesus. He was one of our number and shared in our ministry.

 Therefore it is necessary to choose one of the men who have been with us the whole time the Lord Jesus was living among us, beginning from John’s baptism to the time when Jesus was taken up from us. For one of these must become a witness with us of his resurrection.”

Two nominations were received. 1. Joseph called Barsabbas (also known as Justus) and 2. Matthias. known as …. well … just … Matthias.

Now … Did these gentlemen know that they were going to be nominated? Were they lobbied over a long leisurely lunch of fish, wine, lamb and olives?

Did they have any idea that this very day God was going to disturb them?

A suitable prayer is then offered which is good, right, healthy and essential.

“Lord, you know everyone’s heart. Show us which of these two you have chosen to take over this apostolic ministry, which Judas left to go where he belongs.”

Notice please they are not saying exactly where it is that Judas has gone … Judas is now God’s problem just as surely as you and I will one day be God’s problem. Are God’s problem.

Then they cast lots.

This was a familiar practice for the Jews because it was the way priests were chosen for service in the temple. The 800-1000 priests who were assembled at a given time for a week’s service in the Temple all wrote their name on rocks and the rocks were put into a big container and shaken until one came out. The name on the rock would be the one chosen to preside over the morning or evening sacrifice or serve at the altar of incense. In this case, they put the names Matthias and Joseph also called Barsabbas (Son of the Sabbath) or Justus (the Just One) on rocks and shook them out and the lot fell to Matthias and he was constituted among the apostles. Here is something important for us to grasp. God doesn’t always choose the people who would seem most likely. Just as no one would have predicted that among the apostles there would be, fishermen, tax collectors and relative nobodies, so here if it were a decision solely of men rather than of God then Matthias would not have been chosen above someone who had already earned two nicknames because of the way he lived the faith.

He had the nickname Son of the Sabbath and also the Just One. This was an outstanding candidate who had great credentials. But God’s ways are not our ways.

Something else that is important.

Matthias was not somehow better than Joseph. God did not somehow love Matthias more than Joseph. It’s just that God wanted Matthias for this specific role.

Which has implications for us in 2024.

It’s not that we’re better than others, or more loved by God than others. We were allotted to become more aware of that love of God — “Just as the Father loves me,” Jesus says today, “so I love you” — and to have the chance to live it through Christ’s Mystical Body. But with that gift comes a task: you and I are called to pass on the knowledge of that treasure. Just like God chose the Jews as the people to receive his revelation so that one day that light could be brought to all nations, so God has allotted each of us to receive the gift of Himself, his words, and his presence, so that we may bring these marvellous gifts to others and others to God. Our names have been written on him who is the “stone rejected by the builders who has become the cornerstone.” Our names have been written on the rock on whom Jesus built his Church and are united in communion with Peter and his successors our bishops.

Likewise, we need to be people who are able not just to tell people he is alive, but to show people he is alive.

Something else to think about: those two gentlemen were disturbed by God that day. Things changed for them. I wonder if Justus went home bitter, angry and disappointed and I wonder if Matthias wondered what on earth he had done allowing his name to go forward.

Whatever the coming days and weeks brought for these two chaps, God had disturbed, tousled and ruffled them.

And I suspect he continues to agitate, interrupt and disturb us. Rarely through the spectacular and the life-changing, but always in the mundane and the tedious.

We give thanks for this almost imperceptible continuous activity that troubles and annoys us. Praise to the God who disturbs us.

“Fix your course to a star and you can navigate through any storm”

Leonardo da Vinci 1452.

Jeanine and I were privileged to attend the LUME in Melbourne where there was an immersive experience featuring the works and inventions of Leonardo Da Vinci. Not only did he paint, he also invented and thought deeply about a lot of important things. Part of this exhibition was some of his more insightful and profound sayings. I intend to use some of them in this forum. One of them I found particularly helpful.

“Fix your course to a star and you can navigate through any storm”.

We all need some standard to measure ourselves against. Some places, some aspirations, and some ideals to reach for. Clarify your purpose and values and align them with your goals and strategies.

We live in a very turbulent ever-changing almost washing machine-tumbling society and world. We can so easily be tossed about and emerge battered, confused and bewildered. There are so many competing demands and philosophies out there, that it would be very easy to select a different one each day to suit our whim of the moment. This would of course see us sloshed about with no direction or hope of arriving anywhere or accomplishing anything.

A star is a good metaphor because you never actually physically reach it. You are always striving, always looking beyond yourself; always there is more to try for.

So for your reflection, you might like to ask what are the ‘stars’ that you strive for? Who taught you these principles? You likely acquired them almost by osmosis from a significant elder in your life. Maybe a parent or a teacher.

Have these ‘stars’ been helpful or have you found others along the way and what are your storms?

May 5th … You did not  choose me… but…

One of the many security tests Jeanine and I encountered on our trip to the States was that we had our fingerprints taken, both going in and leaving the country.

We were tired, jet-lagged, bemused and fraught by it all, but we were not going to argue with the really big guys with the really big shiny badges and the really big guns. Oh no sireee! We swiftly did as we were told and looked forward to that moment when we made our way to the luggage carousel, then to Jacky and David, then to a taxi and then to a shower.

I offer this little memory because it should remind us that each and every one of us is completely unique. No two people have exactly the same fingerprints. No one has exactly the same set of fingerprints as you and some really clever people could probably use other body bits and pieces to make the same scientifically provable fact. It is also true that no one else has exactly the same set of memories and combinations of perceptions as you. You are marvellously unique and that is a wonderful and exciting reality to try and hold onto and get your head around … if you can.

That's the good news.

The flip side of this glorious truth is God knows your blueprint. He designed it specifically and he knows your every wrinkle, your every gift, your every flaw, and he knows exactly what you are really, really good at and what you enjoy.

This means that he will specifically choose you, has specifically chosen you for this particular point in history in this particular place to do some particular work.

Hence the haunting line “You did not choose me … but I chose you” from the gospel today.

Clergy I am first to admit, are particularly good at kidding themselves that God has chosen them to do fantastic wonderful whizz bang sparkly things and to go to the plum parish St. Swithens in the bog.

If only they knew.

God always takes the initiative, God always does the calling and sometimes we discover to our dismay that it is not altogether to our liking.

I could point you to any number of your favourite biblical characters who found themselves called by God to a position that they did not want, or like, or ask for.

Consider the Blessed Virgin Mary who did not send a welcome email to the Archangel Gabrielle to apply for the job.

Or Joseph who had to spend some time in Pharaoh's prison wrongly accused of an improper relationship with Pharaoh's wife. Or Moses, or the disciples.. and you can probably think of lots of others.

But what about a modern-day 21st-century example?

Glad you asked.

Bishop John Stewart was Bishop of the Eastern Region of Melbourne. One of his roles was to attract vital, young, intelligent, witty, geeky, holy clergy to the Eastern parishes of Melbourne. Not an altogether easy role but there you have it.

Perhaps as a sweetener to this role or perhaps to raise his blood pressure even further, Bishop John was given the role of administrator of the diocese. Ah, now here is a better gig. You simply step into the Archbishop's role whilst he’s on holiday or in Lambeth or whatever it is that Archbishops do when they are not in the office and, maybe flex a bit of muscle, send out for pizza for the office staff and anything too thorny you say ‘Thats an archbishop's decision and you’ll have to wait until they return from the Bahamas.’

Bishop John was doing a fine job as administrator in October 1989 when Archbishop David Penman was on leave. All was going swimmingly well when Archbishop David died just as arrangements were being made for a heart transplant.

All of sudden Bishop John is ‘It’. For an unknown period of time he’s now Number One and all of a sudden the job isn’t so much fun any more. You can’t just go down to the local supermarket and see which Archbishop is on special this week. This process takes time and no one knew it better than Bishop John.

Bishop Johns's fervent prayer as he entered the office each day was a simple and profound prayer and one that I am tempted to offer from time to time.

“Dear God, please don’t let anything happen today.”

It was years later that I got to know Him better. He and his Janine had a holiday house to the north of St. John’s Soldiers Hill and whenever he was there for the weekend he would graciously come and preach for me. A different flavour, a different voice and fresh sparkling insight. He was a treasure and would take me out to ridiculously long lunches and enlighten me with hysterical tales of recalcitrant clergy the names of which for some reason I cannot now remember. We were just what each of us needed at that point in time, in that place, each with our own particular talent for chattering and listening. Bishop John needed to savour his stories and reminisce. I needed to learn what not to do… again! Each of us, with our own frailties and foibles.

I’m typing this within 24 hours of learning of his death. The fruit of his conversations are made all the more likeable because of the fruit of the vine is still abiding and still lasts and will continue to abide, until I see Him again.

You did not choose me … no I chose you and commanded you to go and bear fruit, fruit that will last.

What / Who am I doing this for?

We gathered at Melville Oval Hamilton. It was a drizzly, chilly morning and there were hundreds with me. There is a single light on the statue and far too many crosses on the lawn.

It was cold, bleak and depressing. I had left the comfort of a warm bed and a scalding shower. It was easy to slip into the question… What am I doing this for? Despite the countless ghost-like figures in the early morning gloom, I was in a solitary place.

The thought that rescued me from my self-pity was this. It must have been so much worse for those who first landed on the shores with bullets slaughtering the friend next to them. I did not have fear coursing through my veins. I knew that I would be going back to a warm home, a cup of rich espresso and a day of work that I relish. But these youth who could easily have been my son or daughter… What were they thinking? Did they ask the same question? What am I doing this for?

A better question would be WHO am I doing this for? The brutal, inescapable truth is that those teenagers did it for me. The answer to my question is… I am doing it for them.

We have never met. They lived and died decades earlier. They are but names on a monument to me. But they were real people with hopes, dreams, aspirations, laughter, tears and joy. Real bullets tearing through real flesh. Real breath, real bones, real death.

They did it for us. I did it for them and will continue to do so until that day when He who taught us that all life is sacred gathers us into His loving arms and we finally live in peace.

Wicked Little Letters

I went to see this film the other day. I should probably start with the health warning that some of the letters were technicolour in their content. That’s the next level above colourful.

The film starred some well-known folk like Olivia Colman, Edith Swan, Jessie Buckley and Rose Gooding.

The film was based upon a true court case in the 1920s and without giving too much of the plot away, several wicked little letters were posted around Littlehampton in England. The letters are crude, insulting, clever and demeaning. Fingers are pointed at who the author might be and.. well… the plot unfolds with a quirky bounce. It’s a jolly good romp. The good guys come out trumps whilst the right person/author is caught out and given their just deserts.

Aside from just being good fun, I was reminded again about the potency of the written word. The responsibility of those whose written words are read by many people is significant. Once written, whether on paper or a screen, they cannot be retrieved. You can’t pretend that you somehow didn’t write them. In this electronic age, it’s even more salutary because your words can be speedily sent on to countless numbers of people in the time it takes to click a computer mouse. I don’t think that there is such a thing as an anonymous email these days. That’s why we rightly employ clever, wise people in this burgeoning industry called Cybercrime.

The lesson for all those who stroke the keyboard, and especially myself is ‘Be careful.’ Read and re-read, your words before they are sent off into the cyber cosmos. Our wicked little letters are more easily found out in the 2020s than they would have been in the 1920s.

From Bishop Mark Burton.

Of Tupperware and Tin.

John Donne wanted to die with his boots on. No quiet exit, slipping away in bed while asleep.

Ideally, he wrote, in a letter to a friend, ‘it hath been my desire) that I might die in the pulpit.’ And preferably, mid-sermon, to fall headlong into the congregation. He wasn’t granted that wish, for which the staff and people of St Paul’s, London, were probably glad. Rather like Saint Paul himself, for Donne, Death was the last enemy, finally to be overthrown in the victory of God in Christ: let Death earn its keep, ‘not merely seize me...but win me, and overcome me.’ Donne was defiant in the face of death—which was, we must remember—everywhere around him; but he could confidently declare that, ‘I shall have my dead raised to life again.’

A more ‘material’ man would be hard to find and while I might not endorse every aspect of Donne’s life to be emulated (any more than my own, I hasten to add), I find his earthiness attractive and profoundly spiritual (which may sound like a contradiction to some). Not for him a denial of the stuff that is our present reality; not for him a fleeing from matter as if it were the tainted by-product of a failed cosmic experiment by some half-baked demiurge or godless. This fragile, dangerous dimension we inhabit, wherein even the most ordinary of objects can result in disaster (a pin, a comb, a hair pulled, Donne observed), is that which God declared ‘very good’. The Word became flesh, not to condemn the world, but to save it.

The reminder of this material fragility is everywhere around us; the Gospel itself—' this treasure’—is held in breakable vessels, made of earth and clay. The treasure of the gospel is held in earthenware clay. It is held in you and it is held in me. And we are given to fragility: and like the disciples who are argued who was the greatest, we are also very brittle likewise brittle. A potential we all exhibit from time to time, I expect.

The wonderful news is that God is actually very pleased to be associated with such fragile earthenware. God is not embarrassed by us, by matter. This truth is supremely evident in the solid and thoroughgoing humanity of the Son of God, a humanity still present in a transformed, surpassingly superior yet recognisable resurrection body, still bearing the marks of suffering.

Here, this morning, we are surrounded by those material things in and through which the Holy Spirit of God is pleased to be present and to work: in addition to our very selves we have the scriptures, written and spoken; bread and wine and water; lyrical voices; this building itself, a reminder of the importance of place and yet subject to decay. Even hand sanitiser, a sign of our times.

Each of these things is material, made of matter. Whether spoken words or words on the pages of the scriptures, ink-on-paper (or pixels-on-thin-film-transistors, polycrystalline silicon ‘words’, for you technology buffs), they are material. We have no doubt that the Gospel, so conveyed, is effective that words can be a ‘means of grace’ as the old Prayer Book puts it. And if words, then so too water and bread and wine and oil—all manifestations of God’s good creation that can be and are used to achieve God’s purposes. (As a test, wherever you encounter the expression ‘means of grace’, substitute the word ‘grace’ with ‘action of the Holy Spirit’,

The Gospel is properly described as ‘treasure’, yet ironically it is to be kept on open display, with neither lock nor key; to be in constant use by means of its distribution to those who need it; and never to be rationed. Because the Gospel is not a finite resource, it is to be shared lavishly, even indiscriminately—for who is to say who the next ‘unworthy’ convert will be? All of our material bits and pieces—words written or spoken; water of baptism, bread and wine of the Holy Communion; oils with or without fragrance—arises from, and points to, the coming of the Son of God as one truly human. Ignoring them impoverishes us, and others. If we ration them we are mean. These material things point forward to the perfection, the completion of all things in Christ, the first-born of all creation, who will be all and in all, as Saint Paul put it; when these things will no longer be needed.

We look forward to the putting on of a ‘spiritual body’—which looks like a contradiction in terms—an embodiment modelled on, and sharing in, that of the risen Christ’s: the-same- but-different, immortal (that is, not subject to decay), when the Last Enemy is finally overthrown.

In the meantime let us dare to knock the tops off the fragile, earthen vessels and pour out the generosity of God: share the Gospel, in season and out; let the waters of baptism be sloshed about as if we mean it; welcome sinners to the Lord’s Table; anoint lavishly and with confidence; offer the best we can, given our circumstances. And leave the outcome to God.

There is less of me that is original now than there was when I was a younger, slightly more attractive vessel: my hips are made of titanium and ceramic; I have about a third of a metre of Dacron plumbed through a major artery; and my gallbladder is a distant memory. I am now more earthen than ever. As, I suspect, are some of you. But take heart: this is God’s good pleasure, to take the unlikely and the ordinary, and through it to do things unheard of, finally to renew it and make it fit for the Kingdom of Heaven.

Dear Cleo,

This letter comes to you in two parts. There is the grown-up bit at the start for old people and then there is the nice bit which is a story especially for you.

Let’s get the old people bit over with first.

You came into this world with much anticipation and joy. You were looked forward to and wanted and loved even before you emerged from your Mum’s tummy. Even before you cried loudly in the labour ward and the first bottle of pop went … well…. it went Pop!

You were baptised or Christened on April 21st 2024. In Churchy terms, it was the 4th Sunday after Easter that year or the fourth Sunday in Eastertide or Good Shepherd Sunday.

It’s very hard to describe to old people what Jesus is like so there are lots of times when we say that Jesus is like… Like a Good friend, or like a really good parent or like a fantastic older brother who sticks up for you.

On the Sunday you were baptised we said that Jesus was like a Good Shepherd or a good farmer.

Someone who knows each and every sheep or person. He knows what is good for us and where we need to be at any given moment of the day or night.

The Good Farmer speaks to us and sometimes it's a bit hard to hear him so we have to practice being quiet and being very still in our hearts and outside when we are playing. This is very difficult for us especially when there is so much great stuff on TV and good friends to play with.

Jesus the Good Shepherd also leads us or shows us where we are supposed to go into the future and somehow (you’ll have to ask him how he does this) he is also behind us shooing us along or encouraging us. Then it gets really tricky because he also walks alongside us. Sometimes he helps us up if we fall over and skin our knee or if we feel lonely or just because he really likes being with us and giggling with us.

You see what a tricky but thoroughly enjoyable Farmer Jesus is?

Sometimes life plays tricks on us and things don’t seem to go the way we think they should. This is where Jesus the Good Farmer really comes into his own. We can rely on him when we have all sorts of hard questions and  especially when we have our cranky pants on and are feeling cross.

The priests, people, your parents and Godparents are also a bit like shepherds. They love you very much and are there to help you and support you. You can easily see them and listen to them and ask them all sorts of tricky questions. They will try to show you what Jesus is like by the way they care for you.

Jesus church is always open for you and will always welcome you. That’s a really important thing to remember.

Phew… that was the older person’s bit. Now comes the story.

Once upon a time, in a place not very far from where you are reading this, there was a really great Shepherd. He had exactly one hundred sheep. He knew each of them by name, he loved them so much that He even knew what each one liked for breakfast and how they liked to have their wool clipped.

Each day he couldn’t wait to get up and go and count all his sheep and give them their crumpets, vegemite toast and coffee. But one morning … Uh Oh.. one of his sheep was missing. The Sheep's name was David and Jesus the good farmer was really Really sad because David was missing. Jesus the good farmer did not waste a single minute. He began looking for David immediately.

He went down to the hen house because he knew David liked to play with the chickens. He looked in every nesting box even though he kind of knew David the sheep wouldn’t fit in the nesting box.  No David. Oh Dear where can he be? He went down to the haystack because he knew that sometimes David liked to go and have a little old persons snooze at the back of the haystack. But no… David was not there. The Good Farmer Jesus did not give up. He went to the prickly bramble bush (which he didn’t like very much) and looked all through the bush; but no David.

Then he thought.. I wonder if David has gone down to the very back paddock to try and get a drink from the grungy dam. It takes the good Farmer Jesus a long time to walk all the way down to the dam. It is very hot and it is a very rocky path but eventually he gets there. And there is David  in the middle of the murky dam crying and crying, because he is stuck in the stinky mud and can’t get out.

The good Farmer Jesus dives straight into the very muddy icky water.  Kersplosh! He rescues David.

He carries David on his shoulders all the way back to the farmhouse even though David is dripping with muddy water and smells disgusting. Then the Good farmer Jesus calls all his farming friends and throws a wonderful big party with sausages and sauce and fairy bread and sausage rolls and chips and lots of fizzy drinks that make you go burp.

May you have lots of great parties Cleo and may you always remember that Jesus the good Farmer is with you at every party.

I’m writing this on Good Friday

There is a YouTube series called ‘Letters Live’. In this series, Benedict Cumberbatch reads one of Alexei Navalny’s final letters dated 17th of January 2024.

Alexei died in what might be called ‘puzzling circumstances’ and that is me pouring a fair amount of chocolate sauce on it. His opposition to one of the world leaders and his ardent desire to offer an alternative are well documented.

His letter is strongly worded and articulate. With him speaking ‘from the other side of the grave’ his words are both humbling and foreboding.

In his letter, Alexei speaks candidly about his interviews with the prison staff who ask him ‘Why did you come back? You must have some secret deal, some arrangement that has not come to fruition yet.’

But Alexei… says “No ..there is no such plot. I have my country and my convictions” and goes on to spell out his love of country with the passion of his convictions. This is why he has returned.

There is a very challenging line where Alexei simply says ‘That if you do not act on your convictions then you have no convictions at all’.

This is inspiring and sets the bar dizzyingly high. When I look in the mirror and ask myself the inevitable searing questions…

I’m writing this on Good Friday. A day that means different things to different people and we fill this day up according to our convictions.

For many, it's a day when we recall and enter into the mystery of The Master who lived His convictions and so found himself dying a premature death at the hands of others. A bit like Alexei, who acted on His convictions and… Would I, could I? Do I have any convictions?

I’m writing this on Good Friday.

3 cheers for our Doctors.

Each year I go and see a gentleman who I refer to as my ‘Big Doctor’. We have known each other for decades and we do the whole shooting match. Blood, diet, state of mind, anything and everything. All the numbers and counts are ticked off. He has seen me in good health and some pretty icky patches.

A lot is going on with this consultation. It’s not just about the science and readings and scans.

My doctor walks that delicate tightrope between being compassionate as well as being a very straight shooter. He kindly tells it exactly as it is. There is no chocolate sauce dolloped on top and if he thinks my weight is not good, or my blood pressure is too high, then he will let me know. I have always been grateful for his skill, integrity and bedside manner.

We desperately need more GPs and we need more like my ‘Big Doctor.’ Our population is not getting any less or younger and our bodies are hard-wired for mortality. The bits inevitably start wearing out and falling off as we age. How do we engender the sense of vocation to become a doctor and just as importantly how do you sum up this undeserved privilege we call a medical consolation?

I found some words in Singapore recently which say it far better than I ever can. I offer them to you.

“The practice of medicine is a calling. It is a calling in which your heart will be exercised as much as your mind. Your call is to be with those who suffer. Your call is to help heal the ill and the disease-ridden, mend broken bones and touch wounded spirits.”

Dr. Balaji Sadasivan
The Singapore Medical Council
Physicians Pledge Affirmation
Ceremony, 7 May 2055

Easter 3 14/4/24

‘How do you like your fish?’

On our menu today you can have battered and deep-fried; roast or baked; pan-fried; poached.  Or, how about broiled?

In the Gospel the disciples gave Jesus a piece of ‘broiled’ fish to eat so that Jesus could prove to them that he was ‘real’ and not a ghost; When I read this, I realised that I didn’t actually know what ‘broiled’ meant.  So I spent some time by the flickering light of the computer and I learned that broiling is ‘cooking by exposure to direct radiant heat, either on a grill over live coals, or below a gas burner or electric coil’.

The first of these options is all that would have been available back in the first century AD, and is basically what, today, we would call barbecuing – cooking over charcoal.  This echoes with another resurrection story John’s Gospel where Jesus was cooking fish for them over a charcoal fire for breakfast.

But there’s a more significant aspect to this than how Jesus likes his fish cooked.  We’re told the main reason  that Jesus asked for something to eat was to prove to the disciples that he was ‘real’ – that it was actually, really truly him as fully human flesh and blood.  After all, only a ‘real’ person – not a ghost – could eat ‘real’ food.  So why didn’t Luke just tell us that Jesus ‘ate some food’; or even that he ‘ate some fish’?  Why did Luke specifically state that ‘They gave him a piece of broiled fish, and he took it and ate in their presence’? What’s Luke trying to teach us here?

Well, perhaps Luke gave this specific detail because he was keen to show the reality of Jesus’ appearance – that it  really did happen. Like a witness in court, the more vivid detail they can provide, the more credible they are.

So Luke is helping us because he knows that the hardest part of faith is actually realising (that is, feeling as well as academic knowledge) the truth of what we say we believe. This is a continuously difficult thing for any disciple. Just look at the disciples: they’d lived with Jesus day-in and day-out for three years; they’d witnessed all his miracles, heard all his teaching, been given privileged additional insights.  And yet, when faced with the risen Christ, Luke tells us that they were ‘startled, terrified, disbelieving and wondering’.

So, if it was difficult for those first disciples, how much more so for us, to ‘accept the reality’ or ‘realise the truth’  that God is real and that Jesus is the real personification of God.

Indeed, this slippery grasp onto the living reality of what we believe goes right back to Moses, when he asked how God should be identified to the Israelites, God replied simply, “I AM”!  Perhaps what God meant by this was that, “If you really want to know what is really real, then ‘I AM’”.  Indeed, God is more real than anything else, because He is the source of everything that we consider real.  What Moses, what the disciples, and what we must realise, is that God is more real than anything else.

It might help if we unpack the word ‘realise’. It's the word ‘real’ with ‘ise’ on the end.  Its dictionary definition is to ‘become fully aware of something as a fact; to understand clearly’.

So how do the gospel writers help us become fully aware of the resurrection as a fact?

By telling us resurrection food stories. We connect so very strongly with food stories.  Remember another of Luke’s stories where the risen Jesus walks unrecognised with two of his disciples. It was only after they arrived at the village of Emmaus, and Jesus broke the bread at the dinner table, that they finally recognised him. Then there is the scene with Peter and other disciples after a long day of fishing. They see the risen Lord calling them from the shore. When they arrive, they find that he has cooked a breakfast of bread and fish for them and invites them to “Come, have breakfast.” (John 21:1-14)

So what else will help us feel and know the reality of a physical, touchable, tangible, palpable, body resurrection?

Jesus did some other curious things right after the resurrection: like breathing on his disciples and inviting Thomas to actually touch his nail wounds and feel the sword gash in his side.

These resurrection touching, feeling, scenes drive home not only help us to understand the resurrection but teach us the importance of the human body. For Jesus, his physical body wasn’t just something that he “wore” while on earth, but part of his very being. And for us, our bodies are not something solely for this life which we forever discard at the time of death. As human beings, we are a beautifully mysterious combination of body and spirit. Just as in the Ascension, Jesus took his resurrected body with him back to the Father, we, too, at the end of time, will receive back our glorified body for entrance into heaven. The body is a profoundly good part of how God created us. The body is holy—thus what we do with our bodies and what we do to other peoples bodies really does matter.

Flesh and spirit are not at war. They are actually exquisitely complementary. They need each other and they find that perfect union in Him who liked his fish barbecued.

For your reflection you might like to recall your favourite bible food story and why it appeals to you?