Two of our most potent emotions are fear and anger. They are part of our DNA. Our companions in the media know this and will sell ratings and papers to us riding on these two deeply ingrained feelings ... They can be used for good. Like, it’s helpful to run away from a person who is threatening you.

But next time you catch a glimpse of a headline or a little news banner, ask yourself what is really going on here.

See how we quickly and easily rise to the bait.

Sadly it can also happen in our day-to-day encounters. We can ‘push each other’s buttons.' Sometimes without realising it, sometimes sadly, just for the heck of it wanting to watch the smoke and the Catherine wheels.

But when it happens to our own selves it's a different thing altogether. We seldom act well when we are fear - full or grumpy. We are less than we ought to be. We are not the sort of people we are supposed to be. We can be better. I know this dear reader because I am hideously guilty of these things myself. We can become so immersed in our own maelstrom that we completely forget that the other person might well be sinking in a swirl of unhelpful emotion.

The best strategy I have discovered, in fact, the only strategy is to remove myself physically, psychologically and every other ‘lly’ out of the situation. Then step away figuratively, in time and in space.

It’s not easy and it will cost, but the fruits of making this ‘space’ might well be understanding and reconciliation. At least let’s give them a chance to grow and flourish. Our ‘adversarial’ world may not actually be as grumpy as we are led to believe.

Hooray, it's our pet blessing

This weekend we are celebrating our annual pet blessing and we have deliberately chosen to align it closely with St. Francis day which falls in early October. St. Francis saw, understood and enjoyed glimpses of God in the created order and especially with animals. So he spoke openly and unashamedly about sister moon and brother sun. At Christchurch Hamilton we have a window in the porch in his honour and as you would expect it has a menagerie of animals to view.

As this parish is in a regional part of Victoria understands better than most just how special is the relationship between animals and humans. You don’t have to travel too far out of town to see that this relationship, this interdependence is not only something that is vital for the livelihood of our hardworking farmers and their families, but it is also something that they actually enjoy. I had the undeserved privilege of growing up on a wheat sheep farm in the Wimmera and I well remember the sheep, the chooks, the pigs and even the odd cow. It was a fantastic life and I remember feeding all these animals and the pleasure of watching them grow and flourish.

And then there are our pets. Those special animals that we have a unique relationship with. We engage with them, we feed them, we scold them, we cuddle them, we pick up after them and we simply enjoy them.

The Genesis creation story makes it pretty clear that with this relationship of care for God's creation, there comes a certain responsibility as well. Those of us with pets and with livestock well understand that in addition to the sparkle of the relationship, we have duties to perform and nurture to offer, even when and especially when, our animals and pets drive us nuts.

Human life and the lives of animals are sacred. It is not something to be treated lightly or with disrespect. In looking after God’s animals we are sharing in God’s creative work and that is a wonderful vocation and something we should rejoice in.

Our animals teach us things, like responsibility, like the need to feed and discipline our creatures. They stretch us and inevitably we fall in love with them. Just ask anyone whose pet has died about the hurt and sorrow they felt. If they can articulate this sorrow, they will tell you that it wasn’t very nice. That's me dressing it up and trying to be polite about it.

This relationship between livestock and person, pet and owner is an exceptional relationship. It is utterly and simply enjoyable. But more than that, it is a mirror image of the relationship that we have with God.

We say a lot to our pets, “Sit, stand, come here … and don’t. Sometimes we need to say those things repeatedly.

We are constantly speaking to the creatures we love. Even if the speaking is done through a pat, or a stroke, or a cuddle.

But I wonder what our pets would say to us, particularly in their twilight years,..

I reckon they would say something like this.

“Thank you for feeding me and caring for me. You admonished and rebuked me when I needed it and you encouraged and supported me when I was on the right path.

Sometimes it was great and sometimes I really needed steering back in the right direction and a jolly good spanking. But always, always you loved me, even when you had to tick me off, I always knew you were loving me.

And that, my friends, is the sort of thing we should say to God on a regular basis.

“Thank you for feeding me and caring for me. You admonished and rebuked me when I needed it and encouraged and supported me when I was on the right path.

Sometimes it was great and sometimes I really needed steering back in the right direction. But always, always you loved me, and even when you had to tick me off, I always knew you were loving me. You were always there for me. Always.

‘Legacy’ - what others see when they no longer see you.

It was a fruitful conversation to have and it went like this. That when you are 20 something you are pretty much absorbed in life and living it to the full with no thought for the future and certainly Sister Death is non-existent. Sure, like she happens, but only to really old people.

But now that we are a little closer to our dotage, Sister Death is peeking from around the corner and casting alluring, knowing looks. How do I/we prepare to greet her?

I think I have begun the process by doing the pragmatic stuff. My favourite undertaker knows exactly what vestments to put on my body. There is a file with hymns, readings etc. Cremation is the order of the day. I have a will and I have a nifty purple organ donation card which takes pride of place in my wallet.

Other people will arrange their inevitable interview with Sister Death in other ways and that is right and good and proper and appropriate.

But there was another word lying latent in this conversation. This other word was ‘Legacy’. Someone defined it this way. Legacy is what others see when they no longer see you. So the question that is in my face and will not let me shy away is this.

‘What will others see when they no longer see me?’ What legacy will remain? Here are my pious, naive wishes.

That something I have said, written or done, will have enabled just one person, at one point in time, to glimpse the unconditional love of You Know Who. Pretty much pie in the sky, but it's a good thing to aim for. So having had a go at answering these questions, it’s now your turn.

Homily October 2nd

So what’s all this synod stuff?

Each year our diocese holds a thing called a synod. It’s the Diocesan parliament. It's a curious and important beast and you should probably know a little bit about it.

It’s made up of 1 bishop, the parish clergy and lay representatives from every parish in the diocese, including this one of course. It has some legal people to help us with any tricky things and they are called the advocate and the chancellor. They also assist the bishop in anything legal throughout the year and sadly they have had more than their fair share of things to wrestle with.

Our Synod meets over the course of a Friday afternoon and a good chunk of Saturday. This year we meet on Friday, October 21st and Saturday 22nd.

At the Synod, the bishop gives his charge or address. This is always a scintillating speech and presents the big picture of the diocese and often a glimpse into the National Church as well. We are very fortunate to have a bishop who is articulate and can present complex ideas in an easy-to-understand, even Fr. David can get it, type of way.

We then break for worship, an evening meal and often on Friday night there are some workshops and discussion groups pertinent to the day's topics.

On Saturday morning we begin with morning prayer, and then there is legislation that has been handed down for us to consider from the National Anglican Church. We can choose to either accept it in total, or reject it in total. We can’t cherry pick the bits we like and chuck out the rest.

Then there is any legislation for our own diocese and finally, any motions that we can vote on.

I would expect that this year there might well be some more discussion on the issue of whether we can bless the union of two people who are of the same gender.  I would be surprised  if someone did not move a motion to the effect of

“That this Diocese gives thanks for the life and ministry of Queen Elizabeth the second and extends our deepest sympathy to the royal family in their bereavement.”

What else happens?

The diocesan budget is presented and folk have an opportunity to ask questions for clarification. Our Registrar Peter is a splendid gentleman doing an impossible job and fields queries effectively and with clarity. At this time, leading up to Synod, he and the bishop will be working very hard to make sure everything is put in place so that the whole thing runs smoothly and effectively.

The Head Master of our Grammar school in Ballarat offers a presentation to the Synod and again there is an opportunity for questions to be put. It’s good to see what our Grammar school is up to and it always seems to be going ahead in leaps and bounds.

Reports from our Diocesan bodies are presented and received. For example our Diocesan Mothers Union and Guild.

So who gets to go to this jamboree? All the clergy go. And this parish is allotted 4 places for our lay people. These folk are elected for three years or three meetings. There is often a public gallery for folk who want to come and have a look-see and while they cannot vote on any motions, it is always fascinating to watch Synod in action.

Now you might think all that sounds rather drab, dry and tedious and there are parts that do seem to make you want to lose the will to live. However, it is just plain good fun. There are a number of articulate, witty, intelligent people, particularly from the laity, who sprinkle synod with wise and funny words and make us laugh out loud and often.

There are two other things that we do that are essential to the life of the Synod. First, we eat together and over the table, we meet other people or reconnect with good friends. There is much chatter and a genuine and warm camaraderie is built up. This is vital for the life of the diocese and whatever differences we might express in our speeches on the floor of the synod, there is a mature and professional understanding that we are here just to get on with it, even if we might have a difference of opinion to the rest of the Synod and the decision does not go the way we would have liked.

But the most important thing of all is we worship together. There is an Evening Prayer, a Eucharist and Morning Prayer and to be able to say the office with 100 other people is a rare and lovely thing. Not better or worse than when there are only one or two, but it is kinda nice to be reminded you're not on your Pat Malone.

Well, all that sounds pretty jolly spiffy Fr. David. How do I get to be a Synods rep? Well, as I mentioned Synod reps are elected for 3 years and next year at our Annual General Parish Meeting in 2023, it is an election year for Synod reps. There are those 4 places up for grabs once again and we need two emergency folk. Anyone, from any of our centres in our parish, can be elected or reelected. I commend Synod and our local representatives for your prayers and ask you to consider whether this ministry might be something God is calling you to.

I was reading the story of ‘The precious pearl’ the other day only this time the story was dressed up for our younger viewers.

Once upon a time, there was a merchant who had everything he wanted. Houses, cars, a fish pond, and even his favourite fluffy hat with a feather in it. The stock market was booming and he had more money under his bed than he could ever possibly spend. Until… he spots a pearl at the local jeweller. This pearl is an absolute corker! It is seriously big, rich and creamy in colour and there is not a blemish to be seen.

It costs an eye-wateringly huge sum of money of course and so begins the biggest real estate/garage sale ever.

The merchant sells everything. Even the fish in the fish pond. Even his lovely fur coat and he is left with just three things. His nightshirt, his favourite hat and a pair of boxers.

Sadly he is still just $6.20 short. The jeweller is a harsh hombre and won’t budge., but…says “Sell me your lovely floppy hat. The one with the feather in it”.

Now you might have thought that the merchant would have wept, cried, pleaded, negotiated or simply walked away from the deal. But he doesn’t. He laughs and in the time it has taken you to read this, he is minus his favourite hat and has his precious pearl. When we hear this story we think that the punchline is that the Master is like the pearl. There is a cost to discipleship. There is a cost to love but it is worth more than anything in the whole wide world. And that’s right. The cost of love is immeasurable. But what if … what if …we are the precious pearl?

Dear Lazarus,

I have put off writing to you until I could take no more. You don’t know me, but I have certainly seen you from time to time wandering the dusty streets of Cana. I have noticed that you sleep under the gorse bush/tent at the end of my very long driveway.

My name is Diver Dan and you must have noticed me. I dress in purple which is perhaps a bit exotic but it is what I am used to and I think it rather suits me.

I have made a career out of property management and tax evasion and I must modestly confess that I have done rather well. I am able to entertain Matthew the tax collector and Zaccheus, together with their wives and concubines. They come for a soiree on a frequent basis and we have a wild old time.

They have healthy appetites as do I, for Champagne, Beaujolais, stilton cheese, tiramisu and roasted pheasant doused in healthy amounts of gravy and sauces. I’m proud to say that there is not a piece of fruit or vegetable anywhere to be seen on my table.

There has been an odd complaint from the neighbours about the noise of my parties but it is nothing that can’t be bribed away.

I have two dogs; Buck and Buddy and I know that they are quite fond of you. I have noticed that they come and jump all over you when you are going to the market. Odd, but I have never seen you actually buy anything and I have often wondered why that it is.

My slightly wilder side of life began when my wife left me because of one too many indiscretions and I have sought consolation in all the wrong places. Food, wine, dinner parties and the wrong sort of house guest. For a few hours each night, everything is swimmingly pain-free, but then I wake the next morning worse for wear and while I may not be physically alone, I am actually more lonely than ever before.

So I did want to write to you and point out that while my life might appear glamorous and festive, deep down there is an emptiness and ache. The best word I can come up with is that my life is ‘hollow’. I have 5 fridges and 2 freezers full of wonderful sweetmeats and beasts. I have a cellar that is burgeoning with fine show wine. I have all the casual company a grown man could want and yet … and yet…

My physician is very grumpy with me and whenever he makes a house call (at an exorbitant cost I might add) he gives me the same lecture about cholesterol, heart, attack, stroke, girth, and death.

You, on the other hand, always seem so perilously lean and this is probably because I have never actually seen you eat. Although I thought I did see you try to wrestle a turkey drumstick out of Buddy’s mouth once. That incident aside, I have never seen you eat and yet you live just down the end of my lovely gravel driveway.

Sadly the purpose of my letter was not just to introduce myself but also to ask you to remove the shabby little tent which is tucked away under the gorse bush that you sleep under sometimes when it is hailing. It cannot provide much shelter and warmth so I wonder what the point of it is?

I have made enquiries with some of my learned legal colleagues and they assure me that I am quite within my rights to ask you to remove it under Cana Council regulation item 54, paragraph 6.1 which explicitly states that

‘No dwelling of any substance or design may be erected on someone else’s property without the owner of the property’s explicit written permission in triplicate. Copies must be given to the owner and lodged with the House Department of the shire no later than 3:45 pm on a Friday afternoon.

I appreciate that you must have a very good reason for this ill-conceived dwelling, but it does have a detrimental effect on the value of my real estate.

I do not want to pursue this matter through the usual legal channels as I am sure you do not have the resources to fund such an unnecessary courtroom fiasco. I am hoping the matter might be satisfactorily resolved by you removing the shade cloth, finding alternative lodgings and a written apology would be the gentlemanly thing to do.

Please do not be offended by this letter. I am sure that even though I have never actually met you, you are a thoroughly fine fellow and do not mean any harm by your naive choice to live where you do.

I expect that your habitation will be gone together with any evidence of your existence, by the end of next week.

All correspondence should be directed to my legal team Pharisee, Lawyer and co.

I remain yours

Diver Dan Esquire.
Bachelor of tax evasion
Master of property management
Wholesaler of gourmet produce.
Liquor merchant and importer of quality wines.

Orson the deviant

This gospel reading has always made me grumpy. I could never understand how Jesus could praise someone who was dishonest, and shrewd.  Today’s gospel tells us the story of “The Dishonest Steward.” Here’s how it goes. A steward I’ll call him Orson. Orson was fired because he had squandered his boss’s property. Nothing new there. Lawyer and Lawyer and co have clients like this all the time. Orson was left without a job and it looked like he would join the queue at Centrelink. He doesn’t want to fix the roads or be a tradie. Nor does he want to beg, but does he need a way to put lasagne and garlic bread on the table? Preferably with a little mouthwash to help it down. Finally, he decided to go to each of his master’s debtors, fess up and forgive a portion of their debt. And you would have thought how deceitful, what a trickster and a cad. Boy, Jesus is really going to throw the book at Orson. But not so. The master commended Orson for acting prudently. And that’s the bit I have never figured out.

Why is he being praised for being dishonest? It might help if we remember that at this time in history, agents acted on behalf of their master. The steward was praised because he collected the full amount of the debt owed to his master. The debt that was reduced or eliminated was actually Orson’s commission. So even though Orson was guilty of squandering his boss's property, he was honest in collecting the full amount that was owed to his boss.

He was also praised for being prudent. By eliminating his commission, Orson charged the debtors less and made friends with them. So they became obligated to him and became best buddies. Instead of being a victim of circumstance, he turns a bad situation around to benefit himself by making friends with the debtors. The parable does not praise dishonesty, rather it praises the ability to use our material resources wisely in a time of crisis. The steward knew he needed friends more than he needed the commission money.

This same parable also mentions two kinds of wealth—there is dishonest wealth and there is true wealth. “If, therefore, you are not trustworthy with dishonest wealth, who will trust you with true wealth?”

Money, worldly riches, or wealth are not bad in and of themselves. These things are simply tools for us to use in our secular society in order to buy things we need (and maybe some items we want.) What becomes bad is when money becomes the driving force in our lives. When it rules us rather than we use it cash takes on a level of importance it does not deserve. Money can be used to build churches and hospitals or to care for the poor and needy. It can also be used for illicit purposes which destroy people’s lives.

The true riches in this gospel passage have nothing to do with money and everything to do with spiritual blessings, such as love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, and most importantly a relationship with God. These true riches cannot be bought with any amount of money, no matter how wealthy you are.

The other bit that begins to make sense of it all is this. “You cannot serve both God and mammon.”

If we are worshiping the almighty dollar, and money is the primary focus of our lives, then there is no room for God.

There is nothing wrong with making money or being wealthy, as long as it is a result of being a faithful steward. Using money to serve God and help others indicates you love God and you are serving him with the material blessings he entrusted to you.

It is not about the amount of money we have. It is about how faithful we are with what we have been given.

Jesus calls us to have complete dependence on the Father, not on our own economic security. All the money and possessions we have here on earth ultimately belong to God and are to be used for his purposes.

This world is temporary, yet millions of people live their lives as if this world is all there will ever be. They devote their entire lives to getting ahead in this world and accumulating all the “stuff” that seems so important, but which is, in reality, useless.

If the reason you are living is to make money for the sake of the things money can buy, then money becomes your god, and you cannot serve the living and true God.

Everything we have can be used as either a material idol to worship or a tool to spread God’s Kingdom here on earth.

Ironically the only riches we take from this world are those we have given away. Love, faithfulness and joy.

It was going to be a great lunch. I knew this to be a fact because after we were seated, a tonsured gentleman swiftly appeared with a basket over one arm and a pair of tongs.

The contents of the basket were covered in a white piece of linen which he deftly flicked open to reveal some freshly baked bread rolls. The aroma was intoxicating. He served us with a debonair attitude that was courteous without being standoffish.

The roll had obviously been freshly baked. Crunchy on the outside, almost tender on the inside. It was delectable and we already felt as though we were home and sated.

I remembered this experience the other day and asked myself …what is it about the magic of bread? It’s been around for thousands of years in many guises and has stood the test of time. judging by the variety that is on offer to the consumer, it is more popular now than it has ever been.

What is it about this simple delicacy that has seen it become part of our everyday staple diet?

Part of the answer is that it is the fabric of our community. I reckon if you were to check the larder/fridge of the homes around you there would be some kind of bread in nearly all of the homes.

There is something earthy about it. It has a quality that sustains, nourishes and nurtures us.

And here’s something else about bread. It must be sliced or broken in some way before it can be shared and consumed. Even the bread roll we received with such aplomb had to be broken open in order to be eaten and enjoyed.

Perhaps this is what the Master meant when he said “Give us this day…”

Some of you will be familiar with C.S. Lewis’ lamplights. How in the land of Narnia, where all is frigid and freezing, these lamps point the way to the next exciting adventure.

The curious thing about them is that they don’t actually say anything out loud or move about. They just simply stand there, give off a lot of light and point the way forward.

I am thrilled to be able to say that I know some people like that. They come in a variety of ages with a vast array of ideas, feelings and backgrounds. But the one thing they all have in common is that they are a light for me and frequently point the way in what often seems to be an unfriendly and frosty world.

If I have regrets it is that I don’t tell them often enough how valuable they are in my own little adventures and how I would be so very lost and ‘cold’ without them. I also wouldn’t be making the same progress that I am today.

The Master once said. “I am the light of the world” and here we are all these years later. He still is. A bright light, sometimes a bit hidden, but warming and alluring on a planet that does not seem to have learnt that coolness of heart just makes everyone chilly and freezes other people out.

The good news is that we can claim His phrase for ourselves. What would happen, dear reader, if you looked in the mirror, paused, breathed, and said with all sincerity of heart? “I am the light of the world?” That would have to change your day, your friends, and your community. Mmmm “I am the light of the world”. Now to believe it… now to live it.

9/11 and all that

I’m writing this well before we leave for New York, but I can tell you that one of the things I would like to see is the September 11 memorial. Not the museum… that would be far too confronting, but I do want to go and pay my respects and offer my shaky prayers at the place where it all happened. I think I owe my brothers and sisters that much.

I’m told that the memorial has been sensitively created and well thought out. That it is beautifully and respectfully maintained and that on the birthday of each of the deceased, a single white rose is put beside their name.

I am also very much aware that I am a guest there and I will be treading on (gently I hope ) someone else's sacred space.

It also poses the question; What do we, as Church, say in the face of such an atrocity? How do we respond, and how should we respond, as respond we must. Not to say anything would be a failure of duty to proclaim the gospel. It would be very disrespectful to the departed and those who continue to be in anguish more than 20 years later.

What I offer here is not a conclusive, eloquently argued, wrapped up in a nice white ribbon, with meticulous footnotes, piece of work.

Instead, it is a rambling concoction of a few ideas that have come to mind. The rest is up to you to wrestle with and ultimately for God to tidy away.

It all began at Christmass. We learnt that God immersed himself and became inseparable from our humanity. The guy that walked the dusty streets of Palestine all those years ago was fully one of us and fully God. Yes, I can’t get my head around it either. But what we learnt from the child that rolled in Our Lady’s womb was that human life is sacred. It’s holy, it's the very stuff of God and to snuff it out is sin. It's what the commandment ‘Thou shall do no murder is all about.'

Extremism and fundamentalism have no place in our religious life nor in our community. To believe that you are so right and everyone else is so wrong and therefore must go, has resulted in all sorts of hurt and bloodshed over the years and sadly some corners of Christianity have been sucked into this very dark place. Every time we single out a particular race or group and tarnish all of them as being somehow less than ourselves, we stand on the slippery precipice of sin.

By far the most eloquent and helpful response I have found is from another world leader and I offer her words because they are the sort I hope I might write one day.

Notice a few things though.

She never talks about the perpetrators. Instead, the focus is always on those left behind.

She too ‘had no words.' That awful quandary of ‘what on earth do I say?’ is universal. It’s not just a Fr. David incompetency thing and I find that deeply reassuring.

In that lovely paradox of ministry, she finds that those who are visited give her the words she could not find herself.

Finally and perhaps not surprisingly it is the words of the Risen Christ on that first, sublime and mysterious Easter morn that resonates most potently and it is that greeting of ‘Peace be with you.’ that I hope I will remember to mumble in New York.

“What words adequately express the pain and suffering of men, women and children lost, and so many injured? What words capture the anguish of our community becoming the target of hatred and violence? What words express the grief of a city that has already known so much pain?

I thought there were none. And then I came here and was met with this simple greeting. As-salaam Alaikum. Peace be upon you.

They were simple words, repeated by community leaders who witnessed the loss of their friends and loved ones. Simple words, whispered by the injured from their hospital beds. Simple words, spoken by the bereaved and everyone I met who has been affected by this attack.

As-salaam Alaikum. Peace be upon you.

They were words spoken by a community who, in the face of hate and violence, had every right to express anger but instead opened their doors for all of us to grieve with them. And so we say to those who have lost the most, we may not have always had the words.

We may have left flowers, performed the haka, sung songs or simply embraced. But even when we had no words, we still heard yours, and they have left us humbled and they have left us united”.

Or as St. John put it…

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.

Seeing others  - seeing ourselves.

The story of St. Christopher

Today’s homily begins in Townsville. Jeanine and I went along to the local aeroplane/war museum. It was an interesting little show and we were greeted warmly and shown around.

There was however a rather curious exchange when our guide said something like.

‘It was a near run thing you know. Our lads conquered the enemy and that’s why we, Thank goodness, all speak the Queen’s English instead of some other language.’ That’s Fr. David understating it a bit and being very polite. Our guide was a little more forthright and not quite as guarded with his words.

And I wanted so much to say…

Well, you’ll have to wait till the end of the homily to find out what I wanted to say.

I’m aware of a number of folk in this parish who travel during the winter months and I am also aware that a number of people know of St. Christopher who is the Patron saint of all travellers. So I thought it might be worth just digging into his life and having a look at him.

Christopher actually began his life as Reprobus. This name means outcast and there is a sense in which he was very much an outcast. He was a big muscly guy built like an outside brick building. Solid as. Imagine the sergeant at arms for a Motorcycle club. You didn’t mess with Reprobus. He was also a thief and a robber and he wanted to align himself with the most powerful and influential person. At first, he believed this was the devil—but he eventually came to believe that Christ was the greatest of all princes. After being instructed in the Christian Faith by a hermit, he was baptized and given the name Christophorus which means Christ-bearer.

The hermit who had instructed Christopher gave him the task of carrying travellers across a local river—a job easily done because of his great size and strength. One day, he began to help a child to cross the river, carrying the boy on his shoulders, when he began to feel a weight so great that he was bowed down by it. Once they reached the other side, the child said to Christopher: “Don’t be surprised, Christopher! You were not only carrying the whole world, you had him who created the world upon your shoulders! I am Christ your King, to whom you render service by doing the work you do here.”

Christopher bore Christ in four ways, namely, on his shoulders when he carried him across the river, in his body by mortification, in his mind by devotion, and in his mouth by confessing Christ and preaching him.”

According to the legend, Christopher went on to bring many to Christ. He was eventually martyred during the reign of Emperor Decius, sometime between 249 and 251.

Although the details of his life are pretty sketchy we actually know all that we need to. He carried Christ into the world. And, in this sense, every Christian is a “Christopher” who carries Christ in their hearts, making him present through our acts of kindness and love. The presence of Christ within us is the great gift of the Sacrament of Baptism and it is nurtured through the gift of the Eucharist.

So while we don’t actually know a lot about St. Christopher then, does that matter… really?

And here I return to that little conversation in Townsville.

What I wanted to say to my friend was this.

“Would I be any less of a person if I happened to speak another language? Would I somehow be inferior, or damaged or wicked?”

Surely when we reflect on St. Christopher’s life it was not about how he was built, or the language he spoke, or the culture he grew up in. It is not about whether St. Christopher is remembered for 200 years and whether Fr. David is remembered for 60 years. It was not about how St. Christopher started his life but how he completed it. It is and was how he served others. It was and is very much about how God sees him. And that is the real sticking point. It is not about how we see others, or how we see ourselves, it is about how God sees the person in front of us and it is very much about how God sees us.

The legend of St. Christopher not knowing who he was truly carrying says it all. We carry and serve the living Christ in every encounter, every conversation and every action, even in the little children and least likely.

A prayer for St. Christopher to finish.

O Glorious St. Christopher you have inherited a beautiful name, Christ-bearer,
as a result of the wonderful legend that while carrying people across a raging stream
you also carried the Child Jesus. Teach us to be true Christ-bearers to everyone.
Protect all of us that travel both near and far and ask the Lord Jesus to be with us always.
Amen

The privilege of praying with a person

I have been very fortunate in this parish because from time to time people have popped in and joined me in the saying morning and evening prayer. It’s about a 15-minute service with prayers, readings, the Lord’s Prayer and some canticles. Harmless, but potent stuff. The overall effect is not appreciated until much later and the pattern has been going on for some time. Like a single stitch in a beautiful quilt. It doesn’t seem like much at the time, but each tiny stitch is vital to the overall work. And to miss a day, or if you like, miss a stitch, does not seem all that appalling, but in fact, it leaves just slightly diminished. We are less than we ought to be.

Just lately something quite lovely has happened. I now have a very regular person who joins me for morning and evening prayer. It’s refreshing to have a different voice from my old drone. Instead of just quietly reading the bible to myself the words are spoken out loud and I hear them as if for the first time. It’s quite a different and liberating experience.

It’s delicious to be able to ask. “Am I the only one that doesn’t understand how come Solomon had seven hundred wives, princesses, and three hundred concubines?” and “What did God think about this profligacy?”

There are days when prayer just seems like hard work and days when it just seems to be part of the natural ebb and flow of us. The psalms may be tossing us about like boats bobbing on the water.

So thrill seekers, should you wish to partake of this discipline, get in touch with your nearest parish priest or get a little cluster together. You have nothing to lose and everything to gain.