Of Frank and Fr. Oulton

Most of you will know that I once had a go at being a school chaplain. I was a spectacular disaster and after 4 long tortuous years, by very mutual consent, I wrote a pleading letter to the then Bishop of Ballarat asking if it might be possible to return to parish life. Fortuitously a parish had just become vacant and with great glee I rushed back into a rectory.

Years passed and our daughter Jacky happened to meet a former student of mine.

‘Oh…’ said Jacky’s friend. ‘You’re Fr. Oulton’s daughter.’ Poor Jacky wasn’t really quite sure how to answer this, but it would be a sin for a vicar’s daughter to lie now wouldn’t it?

‘Oh… I remember the day he came into our classroom and asked... ‘If Fr. Oulton stood on the table right now and started shooting up the furniture, would that make him a bad man?’

I, of course, cannot remember any of this, but the educational value of this question to bright, young, inquiring minds is highly questionable; so yes, it probably was something I said.

I think the moral of the story is that even good people can sometimes lose it, and do the wrong thing. An error in judgment or the spilling over of anger does not necessarily mean that a person is intrinsically evil and it certainly does not mean they are ever beyond the loving clasp of the Master.

Fast forward an even greater number of years to 2023 where I am reflecting with our confirmation candidates about the second station of the cross in Christchurch Hamilton. The 2nd station is the one where we reflect on Jesus receiving his cross. All the while Jesus knows what this piece of timber is for and he knows what it will do to him.

In the carving, there is a gentleman giving Jesus His cross and when I thought about it I came to understand that there would have been someone, probably a man, who physically gave Jesus his cross.

The astute and insightful question from our budding confirmation student was

‘Was the man who gave Jesus his cross a bad man?’

You see the understandable logic which says that of course, he was. This guy played a pivotal role in Jesus’ crucifixion. He was instrumental in causing The Master's suffering and death. Of course he was wicked.

But upon more mature reflection I would also reason this way.

That for this guy… let’s call him Frank, for Frank, it was just another day at the office. Handing out crosses willy nilly to every passing criminal was just what he got paid to do. He probably wasn’t aware of exactly who it was that he was giving a cross to. It was yet another poor schmuck on his way to a painful death. Frank was just another little guy in a really large story. Probably the most enduring and enormous story ever.

You see, I hope, the parallel between Fr. David going ballistic in the classroom on a hot Friday afternoon and Frank on another Friday afternoon. Neither are beyond hope or redemption.

But there is something else going on in the carving. Often with religious art, the artist has the people in the scene looking straight out at us. The viewer. This is an excellent reminder that Holy people are watching out for us and they are watching over us. Not in a menacing, checking up on us way, but in a way of care, protection and love.

But not so in our carving. The artist has Frank and the Master looking directly at each other. Almost gazing adoringly at each other. The moment is almost tender and intimate.

Further, when you look closely, The Master is clutching his cross tightly and holding it himself. It’s almost as if he is saying Thank you to Frank. Thank you, you are playing a pivotal role in your own salvation and that of the world. You may not know it now. You will never know it on this side of your grave Frank, but what you are doing is important today, even when you think it is ghastly and reprehensible.

Frank was one the little ones in the gospel story. We know what he did, but we don’t know if he said anything, if he had family, if he had a second job. Hec! We don’t even know if his name really was Frank, or Fred, or Felix.

It would be easy to despise him for what he did, but there is a cautionary line in today’s gospel about the little ones like Frank.

Take care that you do not despise one of these little ones; for, I tell you, in heaven their angels continually see the face of my Father in heaven.

Which is of course a lovely echo of the look that is being exchanged between Frank and The Master.

We all might do some crazy Fr. Oulton things from time to time. We all might do some unwitting Frank things from time to time, not knowing that our repetitive drudgery is really part of God’s greater plan. There is hope for the Fr. Oultons of the world. There is hope for the Franks of this world. There is hope for everyone sitting here and there is hope for those who are not with us today.

For our ultimate vocation is to be one of God’s little ones and with the angels to gaze upon Him. To gaze upon Him who longs to gaze upon us, who is in fact, already gazing upon us and who will do so forever and ever amen.

Vocation = Anticipation

I have always enjoyed the story of Moses and the burning bush.

Moses had killed a man back in Egypt and escaped before Pharaoh and his henchmen could track him down and put him in solitary confinement. Moses gets a cruisy job with his father-in-law Jethro looking after the sheep in the top paddock, and you would have thought that would be the end of the story and Moses would have lived happily ever after. All is perfect and polished until one day…

Moses comes to the mountain of Horeb and sees a burning bush. But all is not as it seems. While there are flames, the wood is not consumed. His curiosity piqued, Moses naively says to himself

‘I must turn aside and look at this great sight, and see why the bush is not burned up.’.

Of course it's really an invitation for Moses to do an impossible task, it’s just that He doesn’t know it yet. The next thing you know, Moses is handed a job description to go back to Egypt, confront Pharaoh and release his brothers and sisters from slavery.

Moses understandably puts up every argument as to why this is not a good idea.

‘Who am I?’ says Moses. ‘I’m a person of no consequence.’ But God responds with the assurance that he will always be with Moses.

‘I don’t know who you are, Lord. Who will I say has sent me?’

So God reveals himself. ‘I am who I am.’

But, says Moses … Suppose they don’t believe me. What happens then? And that’s when we get the whole serpent/staff trick together with the leprous hand miracle.

But then Moses points out that he’s no good at public speaking. Maybe he had a speech impediment, a stutter or never came top in his class in English. ‘I am slow of speech and slow of tongue.’

God has to point out that he created the tongue and the mind and that really Moses… you’ll be fine.

Having run out of excuses Moses is left with just a simple plea. ‘Please send someone else.’

By now God is becoming cantankerous.

“Then the anger of the Lord was kindled against Moses and he said, ‘What of your brother Aaron the Levite? I know that he can speak fluently;’” so Aaron becomes Moses’ wingman.

At one level the story is about vocation. How we are drawn to a particular way of life, a particular path, a specific person and outwardly, like the burning bush we are curious and intrigued. It’s only later that we discover that there is actually more going on here than what we first thought.

And sometimes, like Moses, when we discover what the job really entails, we quickly put up every excuse, every flimsy reason and yet… and yet… God uses our misgivings, our ineptitude, our own spectacular disasters to his glory and to bring his purposes about, even when and especially when we don’t want the job. Even when we are sure that there must be more competent candidates who have applied for this career opportunity.

On the way, like Moses, we will discover who God is. He will reveal Himself in ways that are often unorthodox and very different.

Remember the burning bush that got Moses into all this trouble in the first place? As Moses approaches the bush, I strongly suspect that there was a flutter of anticipation as he saw something that was new, unusual and unexpected.

Fr. Glenn Loughrey put it this way.

 Alongside vocation is anticipation. Being Christian invites you to be anticipatory to be constantly looking for what is coming next. Anticipation looks for the new, the unusual the unexpected, and the not seen before and engages with the ongoing nature of creation as a never-ending action of God of which we are a part.
To play our part we are to be ready for what is next and what we haven’t seen before. It is a mindset of possibilities not one of passive participation
We need to be active participants engaged in an ongoing seeing and speaking with the divine, with ourselves and with others.
Anticipation allows us to grasp opportunities.

Sometimes we see and then choose to ignore. We can do this because we forget that God operates outside the of Church building and some of his finest angels are not with us in the pews.

Remember this from Satara on the 23rd of July.

“Dr. Williams suggested that in an increasingly secular world, although churches are emptier, people continue to be baffled by natural phenomena, stopped in their tracks by something so strange, and exhilarated at unknown prospects. In his words, this was God continuing to make Himself known to humankind, albeit in subtler ways – or unconventional ways”. While God operates inside the Church is it not also possible, nay probable, that he works outside the Church? I mean … When you’re God you can operate wherever and whenever you like.

So not only in bread and wine, but also in a loving heart a teardrop on a cheek, the spontaneous outburst of laughter, the child kicking autumn leaves. Things that are simple and yet breathtakingly profound.

We are called to look for him, to experience him in the unlikely, the unusual, things not seen before. Like a burning bush, the smile of an infant and especially within you and within me. These are God’s gilt-edged invitations to confront our own ‘pharaohs’ and bring liberty to all God’s children.

Whats App?

One of the new words in our vocabulary is the word ‘App’. Once upon a time, these things did not exist. They were just a twinkle in some millionaire's eye.

Now these little blighters are all over my phone and my iPad. They have come a long way and a friend of mine was showing me a new app that is connected to his car.

From the comfort of his couch, he knows such things as tyre pressure, battery and fuel level, distance to empty, as well as any doors that are open or closed, locked or unlocked and whether the boot is open or closed. Remarkable!

I’m also aware of other apps that play games and help you with your spelling, grammar and maths. Apparently, there are also others that are of a less salubrious nature. If there is a need for it, then there is an app for it.

There are lots of great things about apps. They are a big help to us in all sorts of ways to do all sorts of things. The manufacture and production of them employs countless hard working people right around the world.

So with so much going for them is there a downside? You’d have to look pretty hard to find one but I think I have discovered a temptation to spend too much time and energy gazing into the screen and tapping or clicking. Our energy and concentration can be hoovered up by what is on the other side of the screen and we forget to look at the faces and the scenery around us. These are just as important, more authentic and they don’t ‘crash’ or nick off with your identity. In this digital age of the screen, we must never forget that the mirror is our best app ever.

Whats App? You!

On Being Flawsome

Church Street today is brought to you by the word ‘flawsome’ and by the number 40.

Jeanine and I are not with you on Sunday, August 27th. It was always part of our crafty, cunning plan to elope on this particular weekend and escape to be by ourselves. While you are reading this homily we are somewhere in Tasmania being ‘flawsome’.

All a bit cryptic? It might help if I offer a few reflections on the sacrament of marriage on this special weekend. It’s not every day you get a homily about marriage, but today it might be particularly appropriate.

There is an old saying that every woman marries a Romeo. A dazzling, charming, impeccably mannered gentleman only to discover much later on in life that she has actually married Falstaff. A bumbling, potbellied, burping, forgetful and hapless sod. Of course, to keep the balance equal I might say that every man marries … Well, I’ll leave you to fill in the rest of that bit.

In marriage, two people commit themselves for life and it is the happy couple that actually performs the sacrament. The priesty person is just there to offer the Church's blessing.

In this amazing service two people, in effect, write blank cheques to each other with their lives. Here is my life, my signature, you must write what you will .. and vice versa. Sometimes we scribble on another life, other times we tenderly doodle love hearts. Either way, writing this blank cheque is a brave, risky, daring and marvellous thing to do.

Sure there are the government bits, but we have all frequently been to homes where a couple isn’t strictly speaking ‘married’ but they are very much more together than couple x down the road who have all the bits of paper and whose names appear in the Church’s register and yet… Well, you know how it goes.

Over the course of a marriage, every wrinkle, every flaw, every annoying habit is discovered and held up to the glaring scrutiny of the other; sometimes with firm words being offered in critique. If you have been married a while you might be able to bring to mind a few examples of your own, or maybe you heard about some of these irregularities from over the back fence where couple z have loudly proclaimed that the toast was burnt, the bins not taken out and the dishes undried … again!

But here’s the lovely thing. This is the God bit. Over the years, woven through the tapestry of joys and disappointments, of hurts and pleasure, there is something else going in the tedium of the everyday humdrum where nothing much seems to be happening. And that something else is this.

To be loved for who you are when someone else has seen straight through you and knows your every quirk and flaw, gift and talent and especially those annoying little habits that you just can’t seem to shake no matter how hard you try. When that someone special loves you in spite of all these things and in the end, because of all these things, then you are transformed into the person you were always meant to be. Falstaff becomes Romeo after all and if I was to be balanced I would say the nasty stepsister becomes the beautiful princess.

And this is the really, really good bit. The celebratory bit. This unique and forgiving and ever-patient love is exactly the way that God loves you. We celebrate a God that sees straight through us. A God that knows every last wart and scurrilous secret. A God who delights in us and celebrates us, even when and especially when, we let Him down in catastrophic and spectacular ways. And this should give us the impetus and reason to send champagne corks to the ceiling and make us jive around the dance floor at the wedding reception in uninhibited ways.

Ah! But what of this word, ‘flawsome?’ The definition of flawsome according to the google dictionary is this.

Flawsome is an adjective and describes an individual who embraces their ‘flaws’ and knows that they are awesome regardless.

Got it? Flawsome … describes an individual who embraces their ‘flaws’ and knows that they are awesome regardless.

It is a rare and splendid thing when you find someone who can embrace not only your shiny bits but also your yucky stuff. It is a sublime thing when you understand your heavenly Father embraces your flaws and knows that you are awesome regardless.

But the key to all of this is when you know that you.. Yes YOU  dear reader, can embrace your flaws and know that you are awesome anyway. And the couple who over the years have embraced each other, their flaws and all, should know that they too are awesome as well.

May the one who blessed the married love at Cana by the overabundance of wine and by being in the midst of the celebration, bless you also. And may his Mother Mary who quietly,  unobtrusively,  but with potent effect made it all happen, pray for you and walk with you in your vocation to be fully flawsome.

A double shot of holy water

It was a giggly conversation. ‘Oh! Father … It’s been a stinker of a day. I think I better have a double shot of Holy Water.’

I think I replied ‘Great! Will there be chips with that?’

But for all the frivolity it did get me thinking. What would a double shot of holy water look like? What would it taste like and how would it affect you?

Here then is my speculation.

A double shot of holy water would look alluring. It would be something that would be gentle on the eye, and unusual in colour. It’s not something you tend to see a lot of but it would sit comfortably with all those expensive looking bottles of various hues on the very top shelf of a chic wine bar.

Your eye would easily pass over it as just another expensive beverage that would make your credit card squeal in fear.

Holiness presents itself in the everyday, the innocuous and the easily missed. And yes there is a cost to holiness. Quite a considerable one actually.

What would it taste like? I imagine that there would be a little sweetness to begin with. The flavour of ‘mango’ on the palate and then something richer and more fulsome as you began to get the full measure of what you were now assimilating into yourself.

Then a fiery burning trail all the way down that would change your countenance and heat your toes. Steam might even come out of your ears. It would not just be a taste sensation … it would be more like an ‘experience’.

Those of us who regularly imbibe know both the pain and the pleasure and it leaves us saying just one thing. ‘Another double shot of Holy water… and yes… there will be chips with that.’

Of Scraps

There are several characters for the budding preacher to play with today.

There is of course Jesus himself who has chosen to go to the region of Tyre and Sidon. This area is traditionally thought of as the land of the Gentiles. The community outside the realm of salvation.

There are the disciples who don’t exactly come up smelling of roses. ‘Just give her what she wants because she keeps on shouting after us.’

In other words, they really don’t give a mandarin about the woman or her daughter. Their own peace and serenity is all they care about.

The lead role is claimed by the Canaanite woman and there is the briefest cameo appearance by her daughter who is plagued or oppressed by a demon.

At best, Jesus and his dialogue with this leading lady seem condescending. At worst, He is brutal and heartless.

His initial response is to ignore her.

‘But he did not answer her at all’.

Undaunted, the woman persists and The Master responds with

“I was sent only to the lost sheep of Israel.”

Undaunted, and this time adopting the posture of humility and kneeling, the woman tries again.

But she came and knelt before him, saying,

‘Lord, help me.’

 only to be met with

“It is not right to take the children’s bread and toss it to the dogs.”

Undaunted, she responds to this brutal rebuff

“Even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master’s table.”

Then and only then, Jesus grants her request.

And there is a lesson here about pestering and persisting in prayer and there is a lesson about the least likely folk having their petitions answered. There is a really good homily that contrasts the disciples' reaction who just want the quick fix, over and against the woman’s persistence. And all of those are very good homilies and they are right and we need to be reminded of these things.

But aside from her tenacity, there are some other things that make her the star of the show.

First of all, remember that she is not asking for herself. She comes before The Lord on behalf of her daughter. This is a child who she loves very much. Mum will do whatever it takes to try and get healing and wholeness for her offspring.

We are offered a minimal amount of information about the lass. We don’t know how long she has been suffering, we don’t know if she has siblings, we don’t know the symptoms of her possession, and we don’t even know her name.  But,… we do know one very important thing, perhaps the only thing that really matters and that is that the daughter is loved so very much.

Another thing that is outstanding about the Canaanite woman, is that she knows just how dependent she is on the Master. She only has her scraps of faith to offer.

Watch again this little interplay.

Jesus replied, “It is not right to take the children’s bread and toss it to the dogs.”

“Yes it is, Lord,” she said. “Even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master’s table.”

At no point does she deny that she is an outsider, a gentile. She does not say ‘Well that was a bit harsh. How dare you?’

She comes to Him exactly as she is. No pretensions, no delusions, not even a shred of self-pity or righteousness.  She approaches Him knowing who she is and just as importantly, she knows who HE is.

Her attitude and heart stand in direct contrast to The scribes and Pharisees, who have been offered the good things from the Master's table and chose to turn up their noses at the fare that was theirs for the taking.

And so, and this might sound a little odd, but it is the woman’s scraps that make her beautiful. Her integrity makes her the star of the show. In her emptiness, she is filled by the morsels of the Master which are more than enough.

And perhaps you and I might reflect on this when we come to the altar and hold out empty hands today. Our hands, have nothing whatsoever in them. We bring our nothingness, our desolation and once again you and I are fed with the scraps from the table. Deep inside we know that it is enough. The scraps are more than enough for they are… Him.

The Canaanite woman reminds of another mother who was filled with Him. We should let her have the last word today.

Mary said

‘My spirit rejoices in God my Saviour,
for he has looked with favour on the lowliness of his servant.
Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed;
for the Mighty One has done great things for me,
and holy is his name.

His mercy is for those who fear him
from generation to generation.
He has shown strength with his arm;
he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts.

He has brought down the powerful from their thrones,
and lifted up the lowly;
he has filled the hungry with good things,
and sent the rich empty away.

My Grandmother’s Tears

It was one of those podcast things that I was listening to in the car. The interview was called  ‘The Bookbinder's Luck’ and it was with Dominic Riley.

Part of the interview went like this.

A woman brought her bible in to be repaired and Dominic patiently explained the process of reparation.

“We can repair the pages, invisibly with Japanese paper, we can resow and bind the cover and when we get to the front cover itself, I can remove these stains.”

At this, the woman slammed her hand down on the counter. She was so angry with me and I didn’t know why.

And she said

“I don’t want you to touch those stains.

This is my grandmother’s book.

She died in the camps.

My mother survived and those are my grandmother’s tears.”

A few things to draw out of this very poignant and touching story.

Our bookbinder Dominic learnt on that day to ask a simple question.

‘Do these stains mean anything to you?’

It’s not hard and it doesn’t cost anything, but sensitivity and wisdom are a necessity. Always ask and be prepared to listen.

Secondly, what looks like a mess and might well be perceived as something to hide away and/or be discarded, can actually be priceless. Like the grandmother’s tears, it could be irreplaceable.

Finally, tears are an ethereal gift. They are authentic and beautiful. In the case of the family bible, they are all that the grandmother could offer her descendants. They came without cost, they are intimate and profoundly personal. Sometimes in life, they are all we have to offer. From the grandmother’s perspective, it may not have seemed like a lot, but from her family’s perspective… Those stains continue to be the symbol of overflowing and unending love.

Families Huh?

Today's first reading is absolutely stonkering. It’s not just stonkering in its content but chiefly because of its authenticity. It is about a family who makes the most understandable and repeatable mistakes. The story is also about the consequences of those mistakes and the pain that must follow and must be felt.

Israel is the Dad of this not-so-happy family. He has several sons from different wives but there is one son who in the language of the classics, is ‘the son of his old age’ Israel loved this boy, Joseph, more than the others.

In understandable naivety, he displays His biased affection to one and all in the outward symbol of a tailored made coat. It’s a real fashion statement.

So the first glitch in this family is Israel’s unabashed and flagrant favouritism. This is dangerous territory for any parent and the hidden wisdom is that you just don’t go there. You just don’t. It can only end in tears.

Every time Joseph slips into this colourful garment you can imagine how it rankles with his siblings.

Further, in the verses that are omitted in the lectionary Joseph has two dreams where his brothers and father all bow down to him. Now rather than keep these dreams discreetly to himself and save any jealousy and family squabbles, Joseph proudly tells his brothers and father all about them.

This is not a good career move for Joseph.

But there’s more! When you read the lesson carefully you discover that far from being the junior apprentice trainee farm hand, Joseph the youngest son, is actually the foreman. The supervisor. So in verse 14, when Israel sends Joseph to find his brothers and the flock,

“Go and see if all is well with your brothers and with the flocks, and bring word back to me.”,

he’s not sending Jospeh as the lacky with freshly cut sandwiches, a skin of wine and to bathe his brothers feet. Dad has sent Joseph as the 2IC to check up on his brothers and make sure that they are doing their job right. To make sure that the key performance indicators are all OK and productivity is ticking over as it should.

The brothers spot Joseph from a long way off and the air is thick, humid and rancid with jealousy and retaliation. I’m sure none of these sorts of things ever happened in any of your families, but you can see what is unfolding here.

“The brothers saw Jospeh in the distance, and before he reached them, they plotted to kill him.

“Here comes that dreamer!” they said to each other.“Come now, let’s kill him and throw him into one of these cisterns and say that a ferocious animal devoured him. Then we’ll see what comes of his dreams.”

I do understand their animosity… truly… but to do away with Joseph is not exactly going to help the situation. It might make them feel better, but the long term wisdom of this plan is to say the least questionable. That’s me dressing it up and trying to be polite and demur.

The violence in the next few verses is difficult to read. They rip his coat from him, the symbol of his fathers’ favour, and throw him in a cistern, a large bottle-shaped cutout in the earth in which seasonal rains would collect water for use in dry seasons.

And then they sit down to eat their food. The cold-heartedness of this act shows how little they care for their brother and it’s left to Reuben to try and save the day. Which he does … sort of.

It’s hard to say if it gets better or worse for Joseph; his brothers spot a chance to profit and get rid of him. They sell him to some cash converters for 20 pieces of silver and send him off to Egypt, in their minds, never to see him again.

Families Huh?

And it doesn’t matter if it's our own nuclear family, our Parish family, our diocesan family, the Victorian State family, our national family of Australia or our Planet earth family.

We are all accountable to Our heavenly Father. We are all accountable  to ourselves. We are all responsible for each other and for ourselves and that is a weighty, heartwarming, undeserved and rich vocation.

One more thing to draw out of this story. Perhaps the most important thing.

You and I know how the story of Joseph ends.

Joseph rises through the ranks of the Egyptian hierarchy and in turn he has authority over his brothers without them realising it. Joseph forgives, weeps openly all over his brothers and all is forgiven. At last, all is right with the world and the church of God is finally sorted out. Well maybe not the Church of God bit.

You and I look back on this story through the lens of hindsight. But when Joseph was in the cistern fearing for his life, with a bunch of very furious brothers calmly eating their lunch above him, it must have seemed as though all was irretrievably lost. That the situation was hope less.

So the message I offer for your encouragement is that even when you are in the cistern of despair and gloom, the Almighty still has a very important job for you to do. You are vital to His plan and while it might take some time… the cistern might actually be your empty tomb.

It’s not about the cuppa

“I got your letter, thanks Fr. David. I appreciate you writing so quickly. Come for tea and buns on Tuesday at 2:30 pm”.

So feeling pretty chuffed with myself for my super efficiency and knowing that the tea and buns were going to be of very fine quality, I  gleefully trotted around at the appointed hour and rang the doorbell. A big smile on my face and my heart bursting with pride.

‘Fr. David. How kind of you to come.’ The tea was poured, the chocolate muffins produced and all was right with the world. Or so I thought.

“Now about your letter…” and so it began. It transpired that my correspondent was not only disappointed with what I had written but the way it was written. They proceeded in the nicest but clearest way to point out exactly where I had gone heinously wrong.

It’s a simple easy mistake for the naive priest to make and I should have read the signs more carefully. That would have saved me from choking on my English breakfast tea.

But it works in other ways as well. Sometimes you are asked for a cuppa and something far more pleasant ensues. A compliment or a request that is easily fulfilled.

And then there are the times when over the cuppa the relationship is just simply strengthened, renewed and enjoyed. There doesn’t always have to be an item for general business. It might just be about the fellowship, the relationship.

It's not about the cuppa… what’s in the cup. Good heavens it’s not even about the chocolate chip muffins or the caramel slice. It is about problems being resolved, friendships being enhanced and decisions being made. Ways forward are plotted.

It’s never about the cuppa. It was never about the cuppa. It’s always something much more.

What’s a furlough?

Most of you will know that I have a close family member who works with computers and does things I will never understand. This family member is incredibly bright but never smarmy or pretentious.

At the end of the first year of COVID, the firm he worked for did something wise and very astute. They said to their very hard-working employees that as COVID had been such a wretched time for everyone in so many different ways, on so many different levels, they should have a week off. The company was quite strict about it.

No one is to log on or do any work. They are to stay away from their screens and just relax. Have some family time if they have a family. Sleep and snore, eat and drink, cuddle your special people and just forget all about the company for a week. The company called it a weeks furlough. I call it brilliant. Of course, in the short term, it might have cost the company a few bucks, but in the long term? When all these happy campers got back to their screens on Monday morning…they were enthused and energised. Their loyalty to the company went through the penthouse ceiling and all their very clever shiny friends got to hear about it and wanted to come and work for this company as well.

It was such a success that the company also did it the next year and may well continue to do it into the future.

In today's gospel, I strongly suspect that Our Lord is also looking for a furlough. A space. He has heard about cousin John the Baptist’s death and he withdraws in a boat to a deserted place by himself.

However, while he does make it to the lonely campsite his cunning plan to have some quiet time to mourn and to reflect is thwarted.

The crowds hear about it and follow him on foot from the neighbouring towns. It seems that The Master just can’t catch a break. There is no furlough for him.  He is always “logged on”.

Being the compassionate teacher of course he heals and probably teaches as well. Evening comes and the disciples can see how tired their rabbi is and how hungry the crowds are.

‘This is a deserted place, and the hour is now late; send the crowds away so that they may go into the villages and buy food for themselves.’

On the surface of it, the Master's retort seems very grumpy.

‘They need not go away; you give them something to eat.’

Did he know the miracle that was about to unfold? Did he want the disciples to understand that they in fact were the solution to the problem, or was He just saying… No sorry guys, I’m all done here. You sort this out.’

As always, we weren’t there to catch the tone of voice, facial expression and body language.

And like the lonely place they are in, with nothing around, the disciples have to confess their poverty. Bless them, they are honest if not a little ill-prepared for the hike and The Master's request.

‘We have nothing here but five loaves and two fish.’

Well, we all know what happened next. Jesus multiplies the paltry provisions and the thousands go away with leftovers for a picnic lunch for the next day. 12 baskets full to be exact. If you look closely there is an echo of the eucharist in this miracle where Jesus does the fourfold action that we still do at the altar today. The food is taken, blessed, broken and distributed.

A couple of things struck me about this story and the week of furlough. Clergy have a furlough as well. We call it retreat. It’s a little more structured than the cyber furlough but it is a delicious week of silence, prayer and meditation. Nothing happens. Nothing … and yet at the deeper level, the level where it really matters, everything is happening. The Bishop, like the CEO of the company, is quite right to be very strict about his clergy keeping retreat, for he knows what will be best for the diocese, for his clergy, for the parishes and ultimately for God’s glory.

That’s not the most important thing I want to offer though. The most important thing I draw your attention to is the lonely place and meagre pickings.

Frequently it is in the solitude, the places and times when we are honest about just how much we need Him… in that lonely place when we ache for him, when we have no one else to turn to, then He fills us in ways and in places that we could never have imagined.

Part of the message of the miracle is the overabundance of the 12 baskets, the superfluity of what is left over. He is more than we could ever have hoped for, expected, needed or wanted.

It is in the most barren and deserted solitude that the Master does some of his finest work. All we have to do is offer our deficiencies, our loneliness and our poverty to be transformed. Then we discover that there are actually thousands around us and not only will we eat our fill, but there is always more left over.

Anticipation is part of the joy

A kazillion years ago, when I was a youngster, I wasn’t very good at waiting for Christmass. It seemed to take forever to get here and then it was swiftly gone.

The ache and yearning leading up to this great feast was unbearable. I just wished that it was already here.

It was the same with birthdays and Easter. As children, we didn’t have much practice in doing this waiting business.

But something happens as you get older. You get lots more practice at waiting. Waiting to marry, waiting to get into the doctor, waiting for your favourite TV program.

And in the discipline of learning how to wait, we gradually realise that the sense of anticipation is part of the whole deal. Waiting does not have to be a terrible grind but can actually be rather exhilarating and gleeful.

At some point, the arrival of the Christmass decorations, the tree and the carols did not make the wait more tedious, but actually gave an edge of excitement as the tension gradually rose and I started counting down the 'sleeps'.

I don’t exactly know when waiting stopped being a drag and became a thrill, but now I look forward to Advent. (the four-week season of preparation for Christmass) I understand that the waiting, the preparation and the anticipation are part of the whole celebration. The lead up is not just something to be endured. It does not have to be stultifying and tedious. Expectation can actually be a delicious time that can elate and charm us.

It’s all a bit like the time you spend waiting at the airport for a flight. Does the time in the departure lounge grind you down or does it wind you up with anticipation for what is to come? The choice is yours!