Who did you help today?

It was just a line from a novel. Hidden there, waiting for me to extricate it from page 256. Asking me to wrench it out of the paragraph and to exploit it mercilessly. To offer it to you dear reader for your consumption and enjoyment. Hoping that it might give us just enough indigestion to make us uncomfortable and try a little harder to become the people we are called to be. It all went something like this.

“So we’d come home from school, sling bags into the corner of our room and enjoy the Ovaltine and Anzac biscuits. At dinner we would sit around the table, Dad would look at each of us in turn and ask in a measured tone. ‘So who did you help today?’

We all knew the question was coming, we had heard it every day of our school life and yet somehow it still made us squirm, especially when we had to confess that we couldn’t think of a single person we had helped.”

The follow-on questions which were not spelt out in the novel were .. ‘How did you help them?’ And… ‘Was your helping effective and fruitful into the future?’ Ie Did your actions have lasting consequences for the person and the school community?

It didn’t matter if the ‘helping’ was unnoticed, unheralded, unrewarded or if we were thanked. The important bit was that it simply happened. That an effort had been made. And just as importantly, another effort was made the next day, and the next, and the next, until this pattern of serving others was integrated into our daily life.

They are not bad questions to ask ourselves at the end of each day.

Who did you help today?

How did you help them?

Was your helping effective and fruitful into the future?

The Righteous, The Prophets and the Children.

While we are called to welcome absolutely everyone, in today’s gospel there are three groups of people that we are specifically asked to look out for.

They are prophets, the righteous and little ones. In this day and age these words aren’t familiar to us and I wonder if we would recognise these people if they walked through the door. So perhaps it might be helpful if I played around with these terms and offered my guesses as to who our modern-day prophets, righteous and little ones might be.

The prophets. Whenever I hear the word prophet I can’t help thinking of Nathan the prophet who called King David to account for his disgraceful behaviour with the beautiful bathing Bathsheba. Nathan didn’t go ballistic at David although he had every right to and it would have been understandable. Instead, Nathan the prophet quietly, and with great restraint, tells David a story about a wealthy guy stealing a poor man's sheep and hopes that David will understand that he is the wealthy guy who has nicked the lamb that is so precious to his neighbour. But no, David doesn't get it and Nathan has to very clearly spell it out.

So I am guessing that our modern-day prophets are those who without hesitation, call out wrong where they see it. Moreover, they do so by leading the naughty to arrive at the point of repentance by their own volition. It’s quite an art form. To say the hard things graciously without blowing your top or thumping your fist is a gift. But,.. we ought always to be listening because sooner or later a prophet will speak to us and we ought to not only welcome them, not only listen but also be prepared to act on their advice. Their words will make us squirm because we know deep down, at our very deepest level, that they are quite right and that we should have seen our errors a long time ago. Prophets are our friendly irritants.

And the righteous. The righteous are those who are right with God, right with others and therefore right within themselves. It is not a matter of outward observance but righteousness is a continuous striving for what is right often without knowing it. So Matthew will tell us in his powerful Beatitudes that those who hunger and thirst for righteousness will be filled or satisfied. And in his parable of the sheep and the goats, the righteous are not even aware that they are the ones doing good things.

Remember this bit…Then the righteous will answer him, “Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink?”

The righteous are those who have striven for righteousness for such a long time that it is just a part of their daily lives. It is simply what they do and most importantly, it is who they are. The righteous.

And the little ones.

The little ones probably can refer to the small in physical stature like children, but it should also include those who, like children, are vulnerable, those who are not heard in our society and have no voice. They are those who cannot repay us for any kindness we offer.

And the cup of cold water business…

The Teacher is not giving a literal command to give a cup of cold water so much as He is describing a type of action that will be rewarded by God. The fact that Jesus uses such a routine action, such as providing a drink of water reminds us that this principle applies to any action of service, no matter how unremarkable. So it is in the little, ordinary, everyday actions that we find ourselves and we find Him. The seemingly dull and unimportant things are really sacramental by nature for they convey the grace of God. It is in the dull and the boring, the commonplace and the conventional, that God is working out his purpose and his salvation. In the pots and the pans, in the vacuuming and mowing, in the grimy dishes and the hot sudsy water. In the listening and the silence and maybe even, goodness gracious, in tedious homilies. We miss glimpsing Him because we see and do the everyday and commonplace things and actions all the time. Little ones, prophets and the righteous are those who do not hold themselves aloof with some sort of pious air of superiority. They are our everyday brothers and sisters, people that we rub shoulders with and shake hands with. They are in the grit and grime of our everyday stuff. They are the ones who say the hard things graciously and who call us back, not to gloat or because they are grumpy with us,  but because they love us and want the very best for us. They are the ones who will gently tell us a story and patiently sit back and wait for us to finally get it. And when we do, then we will find that we are the thirsty and the hungry, that we are the poor who can never repay the abundance of His magnanimous grace.

And far from us arrogantly thinking that it is us welcoming others, perhaps it is us who need to be welcomed back.

“The quieter you pray, the further you go.”

It happened on the show ‘The antiques roadshow. Someone had proudly brought in a chair, a family heirloom. It had a few knocks and scratches but it was clearly loved and had been enjoyed by many bottoms over the decades.

The chair had an inscription carved across its back in a different language. Loosely translated it meant. “The quieter you pray, the further you go.”

Now there's an interesting thought. Usually, we think that the faster, the noisier, the more out there, and the more highly politicised and noticed we are, the better for everyone. Especially the economy and for matters of our public profile.

But what if we were quieter when we prayed? What if we actually said less and did not burble our prayers as quickly as possible, as if our life depended on the words per minute that were uttered? What if we listened more? Wouldn’t that open up the possibility that we might go further in our prayers? Surely our prayers would be a richer, more exotic experience. Something to be gently savoured and simply enjoyed. When you are in the presence of someone who enjoys you and you enjoy them, surely there's no rush to just simply prattle away and be done with it just because chatting with them is a bothersome duty. Something else to tick off the daily list before moving rapidly onto the next thing and the next and…

And I reckon this works in our everyday relationships with human beings as well, especially our dearest and our best. They would understandably be crotchety if our conversation was just ‘something we had to do’. Why should it be different when we are in the presence of … Him?

The quieter you pray, the further you go.

Fear … our new opiate

Mr Marx used to say that ‘Religion was the opiate of the people.’ That is, religion is a facile drug used to calm and placate us when the going got a bit boisterous. He would argue that Religion gave us illusory happiness, a bit like smoking something you shouldn’t or a couple of glasses of red cordial. His point was that religion didn’t actually confront the cause of the angst, but rather it was like some happy gas that just soothed our symptoms and helped us forget that we had a problem.

I never actually subscribed to this theory. After all, what was calming about the Garden of Gethsemane? What is soothing about being nailed to a cross? What is illusory about being a single, teenage, peasant, unwed mother? Surely one of the benefits of worshipping the Master is that he is right here in the midst of the yuckiest times in our lives and doesn’t slink away from us pretending that there is nothing to see here. What’s more, Our Lord takes to himself our ghastly experiences and makes them his own. He makes them Holy. So the experience of dying and death is God’s experience as well.

But can I put it to you that there is a new opiate that we in our privileged 21st century, just can’t seem to get enough of and that opiate is fear. The briefest glance at any screen, or any device, will feed us with lashings of fear.

Everything from the fear that our footy team might lose to the fear of higher taxes, the fear of being homeless to the fear of how the homeless might impinge on our lives. The fear of sudden, macabre and grizzly death, the fear of death itself or the process of dying. The fear of the rich and powerful and the fear of having our identity stolen. The fear of being assaulted or the fear of being embezzled. The fear of change, the fear of the unknown.

Fear is a bully and it seems that we can’t get enough of him.

Counter to all of this are Jesus’ words from this morning's gospel. Do not fear

And even the hairs of your head are all counted. So do not be afraid; you are of more value than many sparrows.

And this is not an isolated text. From as far back as Abraham in the book of Genesis to Revelation when John falls at the feet of an angel, we get the mantra ‘Do not be afraid’.

In all, there are a minimum of 76 times when God says to someone “Do not be afraid”. It seems that we need to be continuously reminded that the Good guy is actually on our side and that fear is one of the bad guys’ most subtle and powerful tricks.

Fear leads to a muddled head and a bewildered heart. Without us realising it, our faith can find itself a little shaken and stirred.

Now we do need to be honest and say that it is normal to be afraid sometimes. It’s part of our whole survival technique. The whole fight for flight thing. And for your reflection, you might want to spend a bit of quiet time thinking about who you are afraid of, what you are afraid of and why you are we afraid. If we can work out why we are afraid of this, that, or the other person… then we might learn to our blessed relief that our fears are not woolly mammoth size at all and there might be some strategies we can put in place so that at the very least our fear is manageable.

Something else that might help is a little mantra that I shamelessly pinched from that internet thing they have nowadays.

God first. Others second. Me last.

So when we are confronted by something that unsettles us we should have no hesitation in kicking it upstairs. God first, others second, and me last.

God first. What does the Master ask of me in this situation?

Others second. How can I best serve them?

Me last. I find my fulfilment, my deepest and most lasting sense of satisfaction and joy when I get my priorities right. When all is placed safely in the pierced hands of the Master who loves me, fear is diminished and we see everything in its rightful perspective. Fear is something transitory with the really big battle already won.

And this makes sense for the rest of our very tricky and confronting gospel reading.

“Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me, and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me, and whoever does not take up the cross and follow me is not worthy of me”.

He’s not saying you should loathe your pesky parents and your siblings, but rather start with God’s love and let everything else flow out from there. It’s all about getting the priorities right. Then everything else tumbles down into its rightful place.

“God first. Others second. Me last.” The antidote to fear. (Jesus - Others - Yourself = JOY)

Compassion enfleshed.

Today’s gospel is thrilling and action-packed. There is a lot going on. While Jesus travels, he teaches, proclaims, and heals and that’s just the ministry we’re told about. Whew! That’s enough you would have thought but no... Matthew tells us that there is more to do.

Jesus sees the crowds, feels compassion and he does something about it.

He summons his inner circle of disciples and after giving them authority to cast out unclean spirits, and to cure the ill, he quickly dispatches them to continue and expand his endeavour of teaching, proclamation, and healing. Off you go chaps… and because there was no gospel written at the time or Church history, we can skip the theological degree and priestly formation. Learn on the job from your mistakes and rejoice in your triumphs; which is of course what every follower of the Master does. Clergy and laity alike.

But he is also specific about which diocese they are to serve in and who are the first people that they should call on.

“Go nowhere among the Gentiles, and enter no town of the Samaritans but go rather to the lost sheep of the house of Israel”.

And this initiative comes from the Master because he sees and understands that the folk were ‘harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd’.

At first glance it might appear that he is launching his own healthcare program, dealing with the physical bits and pieces and a few nasty demons, but he’s also aware that people feel harassed and dejected. You might have all your bones intact, a great exercise regime and a healthy diet with all the basic five food groups….but… The Master is talking about a different kind of healing here. Jesus' compassion is not limited to illness or the lack of food. His compassionate heart is in response to all those who find themselves in a situation of vulnerability. He is moved by those who apparently live on the edges of society because of illness, disability, ostracism, and social convention that renders some people "harassed and helpless" (9:36), particularly in Judean Jewish life.

We are complex, intricate, multi-layered creatures and Jesus’ response is not just to the physical and spiritual, but also to those who are not seen or heard which is a debilitating and painful illness to have.

Can I put it to you, that often it is the predicament of vulnerability in which a person lives, that allows and almost guarantees that the physical ailments will quickly follow? Here I am thinking of those who sleep on the streets or in their cars. Their health must inevitability deteriorate.

The Master’s call to the 12 is also our call. Our compelling vocation is to recognise that we have been empowered to see particularly the people who are often overlooked and ignored, and then to act on their behalf in ways that address the circumstances that endanger their lives and communities. Seeing, feeling and then acting.

Jesus' compassion for others is always sparked by a single observation, which is… that "others" are "harassed and helpless" and we must do something to address it. What authenticates Christian compassion is the action that accompanies the one feeling it, not just the emotion alone.

It’s one thing to feel compassion but if it stops at the benign comment or the hand-wringing sympathy from afar then it is not true compassion at all.

Every one of us is being called to be a harvester. Each one of us can reach a corner of the paddock that is accessible to no one else. These include our family, our neighbours, our work colleagues and others who come into our life. I may be the only person who brings Jesus with his healing and compassion into their lives.

And of course, there must be times when it feels like nothing is happening, there must be times when we will make mistakes, and there must be tricky times, but then not respond to the multiplicity of needs we see, to just sit on our hands and say ‘Its all too hard’, is not what The Master asks of us.

Compassion must become enfleshed. That is why Christmass happened and it is what happens here at every mass. God becomes enfleshed in simple bread and wine to meet us in our brokenness, to show his compassion. He comes to us so that we may be nourished and sent out into our little paddock to be harvesters for him.

And in a very real sense, it is why we are here. This is our vocation. You and I are to be compassion enfleshed. Living, moving, talking, caring, thinking, breathing people of compassion. We make the invisible love of God, …visible.

We will be most effective though when we celebrate the undeniable fact that our own hands are pierced and our hearts have been broken.

When we can celebrate this, then we will have become …Compassion enfleshed.

The sweetness of doing nothing

It was a simple line really. Something I heard in passing from the lips of Julia Roberts in the film Eat, love, pray. It’s also a book by Sophie Minchilli. The words have kind of lingered close to me ever since. The sweetness of doing nothing.

On the surface of it, someone who is doing nothing might be called a sloth,  a recalcitrant or simply a slack toad.

But what if there is something else going on here? What if the person who is stretched out on the lilo or on the couch is just simply enjoying the sweetness of doing nothing? What if they are allowing the body, the mind and the soul to recuperate, rebuild and rehabilitate?

Your brain can only cram so much stuff into it before it says ‘Enough! I refuse to take on any more, for goodness sake write a few notes to yourself and shuffle some of that other ‘essential’ stuff into the coming weeks in your diary.

Further, you should schedule some serious time to just sit and enjoy the sweetness of doing nothing. Like the succulent flesh of a mango the sweetness of doing nothing will not only nourish your body, but also your whole being. Who doesn’t feel better after eating a mango?

And here’s another advantage of savouring the fruit of doing nothing. You are far more effective, far more productive, far more efficient and far happier when you come back to the desk, the yard or whatever your workplace happens to be.

The sweetness of doing nothing is not just a dollop of something nice if you can get it. It is actually essential to your situation, to your colleagues, to your family and most especially yourself. Thank Julia Roberts.

The first edition of the 10 commandments.

In last week’s homily I hinted that God had to have two goes at writing the 10 commandments. The first lot met a catastrophic end and this is how they came to be destroyed.

Moses goes up the mountain to get the 10 commandments and leaves Aaron his offsider in charge. It must have been quite a trek, or God had rather a lot to say to Moses, or perhaps Moses had rather a lot to say to God.

Suffice it to say, that Moses is delayed and is gone for about 6 weeks.

After all this time the people get twitchy and say to Aaron. “Come, make gods for us; as for this Moses, we don’t know what has become of him”

Aaron thought. Yeah, good point. .. What could possibly go wrong?

So Aaron says ‘Take off all your gold and bring it to me.’ Aaron forms a mould and casts the image of a calf. The people are delighted and say “Voila! This is our God who brought us up out of the land of Egypt.” Aaron throws a party to celebrate with burnt offerings and in a rather intriguing line ‘The people sat down to eat and drink, and rose up to play’.

Meanwhile, back on the mountain, God gets to hear about this and he is not happy. He’s been usurped by a hand-made golden calf. So he says to Moses ‘Go down at once! Your people, whom you brought up out of the land of Egypt, have acted perversely; they have been quick to turn aside from the way that I commanded them; they have cast for themselves an image of a calf, and have worshipped it and sacrificed to it. Step aside Moses so that my wrath may burn hot against them and I may consume them.’ I told you he was grumpy.

Moses goes in to bat for the people and points out to God that this would be bad PR.

‘Hang on a minute God…Why should the Egyptians say, “It was with evil intent that God brought them out to kill them in the mountains, and to consume them from the face of the earth”? Turn from your fierce wrath God; change your mind and do not bring disaster on your people.’

So the Lord changes his mind and Moses goes down the mountain to sort it all out.

 As soon as Moses came near the camp and saw the calf and the dancing, his anger burned hot, and he threw the tablets from his hands and broke them at the foot of the mountain.  He took the calf that they had made, burned it with fire, ground it to powder, scattered it on the water, and made the Israelites drink it.

Then he interrogates Aaron.

Aaron’s response is a classic.

You know the people, are bent on evil. They said to me, “Make us gods, who shall go before us; as for this Moses, the man who brought us up out of the land of Egypt, we do not know what has become of him.” (So it's their fault. They came to me). So I said to them, “Whoever has gold, take it off”; so they gave it to me, and I threw it into the fire and out came this calf!’

In other words, the people have always been a bit wicked, you were gone for such a long time (so it’s sort of your fault too Moses) and well .. the people whinged to me for so long and we just threw the gold into fire and Hey Presto, Abracadabra, out came this calf. You can’t argue with that… Can you?

There’s a bit more mopping up in this story, but I want to draw out the following points.

First, the inability or at least, the desire to sit still and wait patiently for the Lord is a very difficult thing. For some reason we expect God to be just as busy as we are. But it would seem that for God, not every day has to be crammed filled with action-packed miracles.

Secondly, remember this bit?

‘Moses took the calf that they had made, burned it with fire, ground it to powder, scattered it on the water, and made the Israelites drink it.’

Just as we enjoy savouring the fruits of the Holy Spirit… love, joy, peace etc. we sometimes find ourselves tasting the fruit of our foolishness and the taste we discover is not at all pleasant.

There was an echo of this in a speech by President Kennedy in October 1962.

“We will not prematurely or unnecessarily risk the costs of worldwide nuclear war in which even the fruits of victory would be ashes in our mouth”

Thirdly, With Moses and the Cloud of Presence gone, the people craved a visible, tangible something. They also needed a place to gather, to offer worship and sacrifice.

Our ache for the physical, touchable, and seeable is fulfilled and finds its completion in, the incarnation. God giving his physical, touchable, seeable Son because he knows how fickle we can be.

And here at this altar once more, He gives himself in palpable, touchable, broken bread and wine poured out. He gives of himself not in a flashy golden calf, but in little defenceless things because only the fragile and the helpless and the feeble things meet us just where we are. It is this powerful self-emptying love that transforms us into Him, even as He is transformed into us, as He always was and always will be, forever and ever Amen.

Of Kate and Doug

In the Adelaide Botanic Gardens, we chanced upon a bamboo plantation. Pretty much every trunk had some names, dates and love hearts carved into it.

One of them proudly announced that Kate and Doug were absolutely smitten with each other. Well… at least they were on 1/2/18. That was five years ago and it left me pondering a few things.

First I am delighted that these two people had discovered each other and were enjoying each other. The world could do with a lot more of this gooeyness.

Secondly, I have to admire the way they made their adoration for each other so very public. And not just Kate and Doug, but a whole lot of other people had unashamedly put their passion for each other on display.

But then I wondered … what had happened to Doug and Kate? Let's say they were eighteen at the time of their carving, that now makes them twenty-five. Did they go on loving each other? Did they marry, make children or did they separate painfully or worse maybe one had died suddenly and tragically?

I’d like to believe that they went on blissfully for the next five years. I reckon that there would have been arguments and disappointments, as well as champagne and kisses. But of course, I have no way of being sure.

But the one thing I do know for certain is that on 1/2/18, in the Adelaide Botanic Gardens, Kate and Doug were together, they were in love and they were not ashamed to profess it.  And they have left an inspiring and lasting legacy not only on the bamboo trunk but also for me. For when grumpy things begin to gurgle and bubble in my being, I stop and I remember Kate and Doug.

The folk who choose our readings Sunday do not choose them by random. There is a goodly amount of thought that goes into this process.

When you look closely you can often spot the theme. For example today it is all about God revealing himself and we also discover that there is work to be done.

In the gospel the disciples are sent forth to go and make disciples of all nations, baptising them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. So we learn that God is Father, Son and Holy Spirit and the work to be done is to baptise all nations. We also learn that He surely is with us always, to the very end of the age.

In the first lesson, Moses is asked to bring two fresh tablets of stone so that God can write again the 10 commandments. (In next week's enthralling homily we’ll be learning what happened to the first draft of the 10 commandments.) Moses has some work to do and we learn something of the nature of God.

The Lord, the Lord, the compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness, maintaining love to thousands, and forgiving wickedness, rebellion and sin.

But there are other links between the first lesson and the gospel reading.

First, the invitation to be with God is fairly limited and I guess that is what makes them so precious.

In the Old Testament lesson, it's just Moses and the Lord.

In the gospel, it's only the 11 and The Master. That’s it. No great crowds, no thousands of people waiting to go into the bistro where fish and loaves are on the menu.

And notice the location for both of these events. It's on a mountain.

In the first lesson, it's Mount Sinai. In the second lesson, it's umm… well we are not actually told the exact location. It's simply ‘the mountain’ where Jesus had told them to go.

In both stories, the meeting is set up well beforehand.

In both stories, God is encountered. And as I mentioned on both occasions there is work to be done. We are not supposed to just bask idly in our near God experience. So where is your mountain?

We are indeed fortunate to have the Grampians in our very backyard and I know many of you go exploring them and enjoying them as well as we should.

But your mountain, the place where you encounter God might actually be anywhere. It might be at Church, or it might be the back garden, or it might be … dot dot dot here insert your own ‘mountain’.

Now I have to confess that I am more drawn to the Moses story than I am to the Jesus story today.

For one thing, There is a wonderful back story as to why Moses has to go up with a second lot of tablets for God to write on. The first two tablets met a ferocious end… you can read all about it in Exodus 32.

Further, the imagery of these tablets can be unpacked and reflected upon in several ways.

Sometimes like Moses, we have to have more than one go, or we have to have several goes, or a lifetime before the finger of God writes his commandments upon our hearts, our minds and… this is the really hard bit… upon our lives. It's one thing to read the commandments, another to academically understand them and it's something quite different again to actually live them. No sooner do we understand and want to live them, than we find ourselves distracted to disobedience. Not necessarily because we go out of our way to be wicked, but because we tend to have a bias for naughty things. We find them tempting and alluring.

Moses took two blank tablets up with him onto the mountain and I wonder what we bring with us today to God. What is etched onto our souls that we cannot leave behind?

Often, For me, it is what I affectionately but frustratingly call, the ‘scribble of distractions’. Petty, irrelevant things that can disfigure and frustrate me. They have no place on the mountain.

But it might be worth asking… what do you bring and from what place do you bring it? Is it something from long ago and far away, or a recent dilemma or skirmish?

I suspect that it is only when we go up to our mountain, wherever and whenever that might be, with a completely clean slate and wait patiently for God to write what he wants to write, what we need to learn; It is only then that we can discover who God is and what he wants us to do.

So for your reflection, you might want to ask what God wants to write onto your soul. What are the imprints that he dearly needs to stamp upon us? A few guesses. Love of our neighbour. Commandments 6 - 10

Love of Him, Commandments 1 - 5 or the Readers Digest abbreviated condensed version

Perhaps it is just a simple cross.

Of bubbles and bombs.

In the Botanical Gardens of Adelaide, we chanced upon some white chairs neatly arranged and a table set just to one side. This was obviously the setting for a wedding.

It was a quieter area, out of the way a bit. Around the corner, there was a large marquee with people and beverages and music. Spritely adolescents sashayed with silver trays of delicious-looking morsels. The sound of conversation and laughter rose and fell. For a few precious moments, you could believe that everywhere and everything was as it should be. The world was a sweet and fragrant place to be.

But the news on the screen that morning had been pessimistic. Russia and Ukraine were still not at peace. People were fleeing everything they had known and everyone they loved, just for the chance to live. ’Reconciliation’ was still an elusive dream.

The two realities seemed to be at odds with each other even as I tried to hold them in loving tension. I was aware of both great love with a fantastic party while on the very same planet, death and destruction stomped all over my hopes and crushed them heartlessly into the rubble.

I thought of that custom now where people blow bubbles instead of throwing paper confetti. Bubbles in Adelaide and bombs in Ukraine. Give any sane person a choice between these two and they will always choose bubbles over bombs. Champagne over muddy drinking water, food over meagre rations. We must always choose relentless love instead of rebellion and revenge.

The oasis in the Botanical Gardens, where two people would say ‘Yes’ to bubbles and No’ to bombs. Where they chose to write selfless blank cheques with their life to each other, instead of choosing to write each other off.  There is hope, I thought. We must always choose bubbles, not bombs.

Of Two Masterchefs

And so they came to our place. Two Masterchefs who unobtrusively simply worked gently together in our kitchen to prepare a different sort of meal for us.

The plotting of this meal had begun long before with the purchase of exotic ingredients. Then there was much chopping and dicing and preparation. The aromas seduced our senses and all of a sudden we were hungry and very ready.

The meal of course was sensational. Every meal you don’t have to prepare for yourself has an extra ‘zing’ but in and of itself this one was fantastic. We even tried relentlessly with our chopsticks with varying degrees of success. (That’s me putting it politely and being generous about our ability.)

But the real delight was not just in the eating. The thing that I want to rave about is how well these Master chefs complemented each other during the preparation and cooking process. There was a gentle ebb and flow of questions and answers. A delightful burble of complimentary conversation. No one was the boss and no one was the underdog. Both used their knowledge and expertise to enhance each other, the process and ultimately the food which was relished and enjoyed.

So here’s the thing… How good would it be if this spirit of cooperation and teamwork were to spread into the workplace, into our community, our nation and the world? Where everyone's gifts were appreciated and enjoyed. Our planet might become a place where all are honoured and everyone’s gifts are used to enhance everyone else. A place where our food was plentiful and no one went hungry for praise and enhancement by the other.

In short …Why aren’t we doing this?

Pentecost - The God of the Surprise.

We worship a God who surprises us. Who, when we reflect as always surprised us and continues to do so. In the second reading from Acts the Holy Spirit comes like a wind and a flame and the disciples' lives are transformed. You would be surprised at their transformation.

And in the Gospel, we read that the disciples of Jesus were hiding. They were hiding in fear behind closed and locked doors. They were shutting out the rest of the world which was hostile, persecuting and terrifying. They felt better huddled together, in isolation and planning what to do next, and where to go.

And then, Surprise! Into their isolation, Jesus comes. Through closed doors, He walks. Their reaction must have been one of surprise, then joy as they realised who it was. Jesus tells them to get out of their isolation and fear, and go and announce the good news. You are the bearers of the Gospel, the announcers of salvation and forgiveness. You must go, you have a mission.

But they are scared and unsure, so Jesus promises them the Holy Spirit because the Spirit will enable them to do what they cannot do themselves. The same Holy Spirit who brooded over the waters when God made heaven and earth. The same Holy Spirit who spoke through the Old Testament prophets. The same Holy Spirit who overshadowed a young girl and made her the Mother of God. The same Spirit would descend upon the Apostles in tongues of fire, and transform cowards into heroes.

That was then: does this happen now? The surprise of the Spirit in a cynical age? Perhaps it might help if I refer you to one of my heroes called Mother Teresa.  She originally belonged to a community called the Sisters of Loretto, which is a cloistered teaching order. That is they didn’t go out into the community at all. She was sent to a community school in India. It was 1947, and India became independent.

As soon as that happened there was a civil war. For the first time in fifteen years, Mother Teresa had to leave the cloister just to find food to feed the nuns. That day, over five thousand had been killed, and fifteen thousand wounded. Mother Teresa came back to her cloister a changed woman. Out of fear, the sisters would not leave their convent again, but Mother Teresa said she felt the Holy Spirit calling her to do something about what she had seen. So she did something unheard of: she asked to leave the cloister to live among the people. Surprise!

She moved out and found that the sick and the dying were everyday events. The turning point came when she found a woman dying on the streets. Mother Teresa went in search of help but there was no one, no hospitals, and no place to care for this woman so she took her to her small rented room, and took care of her.

Soon someone gave her a house. She gathered more poor and dying people from the streets slowly at first, but then she was overwhelmed by the poor. But more volunteers came, and more houses, and surprise… now there are 3,000 Sisters of Charity all over the world.

In her biography, Mother Teresa speaks of surprise. At her age, time and place, would she, could she do something different, be someone different? She was like the Apostles hiding behind the closed doors of her cloister. She said Christ surprised her. He came through the locked doors and breathed His Spirit on her. He called her to a second vocation.

The Spirit is full of surprises. We have to admit that secularism and affluence have muted the presence of God in our part of the world, but all is not lost. History has shown us that even in our worst moments, Jesus’ ever-present Spirit can break through and raise up saints who turn things around. They call us back to the Gospel and give us hope.

A Francis of Assisi pops up out of the moral mess of the twelfth century. Maximilian Kolbe steps forward from the Nazi madness to die a martyr. Rosa Parks says no to racial prejudice and refuses to move to the back of the bus. Nelson Mandela rejects apartheid and goes to prison for twenty years.

Ascension and Pentecost tell us that God is still present, still speaks, still sends out disciples to make a difference, and still calls. Not just St. Francis’ and the Kolbe’s and the Park’s and Mandela’s, but you and me. What Jesus said at Ascension still remains valid and indispensable: You be My witness. We are the Church, and what we do the Church does. And what we fail to do, the Church fails to do.

Be God's surprise… for the Church, for others and for yourself.