I’ll call her ‘Bron’. Bron had gone in for a standard piece of fix me up surgery. Not the least bit timorous Bron had always been a resilient lass. The surgery went according to the textbook and the people in the white coats were delighted with their success.The day after the surgery Bron had the ‘post surgical blues’. There was a bit of pain and she had awoken early on the third floor of the hospital. Bron was completely by herself, what with COVID and all, there were no family and friends to encourage and soothe. With everyone absent, where was the ‘Teacher’ in all of this? Was it too much to ask for a simple word, an ethereal sense of presence… please… maybe? The sun peeked up over the horizon and while it was a surreal view it just didn’t quite lift the mood.

Until… outside the hospital window a figure arose and there He was! A beaming reassuring face resplendent in a high viz vest and hard hat ascending in a cherry picker. The instruments of salvation were his window washing equipment. A smile, a wave, a thumbs up was all it took for Bron’s spirits to lift. A rush of joy so that she could embrace the day with verve, even if she did wince as reached for her morning cuppa. Odd, isn’t it, that we come with pre-determined rigid expectations of what and how the divine might intervene and show Himself in our pedestrian life. These rigid fixtures can blind us to who it is that really walks amongst us or washes our windows, or sees us across the school crossing, or in broken bread, or even in a high vis vest and hard hat. Watch out for Him. He’s closer than you think.

July 11th is St. Benedict day and you should probably know a little bit about him.

Born around 480 AD, the son of a Roman noble of Norcia and the twin to his sister, Scholastica.

Benedict fled Rome, gave up his inheritance and lived in a small village with his nurse. When God called him beyond this quiet life to an even deeper solitude, he went to the mountains of Subiaco. Although becoming a hermit was not his purpose in leaving, there he lived as a hermit under the direction of another hermit, Romanus.

In Monte Cassino he founded the monastery that became the roots of the Church's monastic system. Instead of founding small separate communities he gathered his disciples into one whole community. His own sister, Saint Scholastica, settled nearby to live a religious life.

Benedict was an innovator. No one had ever set up communities like this before or directed them with a rule. What is part of history to us now, was in fact a bold, risky step into the future.

For prayer, Benedict turned to the psalms, the very songs and poems from the Jewish liturgy that Jesus himself had prayed. To join our voices with Jesus in praise of God during the day was so important that Benedict called it the "Work of God.”

So he understood that our every day work, like vacuuming and doing the dishes, and making the bed is all sacred. The flip side is that when we say our prayers we are in fact working. Both are important. Both are necessary. They are all expressions of finding God in our everyday life.

There are more very good reasons why St. Benedict continues  to be important to us.

He is our brother in Christ. He is one of us and although he is separated by the flimsy veil of the grave, he joins us at the altar every time we say ‘Therefore with angels and archangels’.

He has some very useful things to teach us.

1. Prayer is central to our search for God.

St. Benedict’s idea is that prayer should be central to those who seek God. You can’t find God without spending time with Him, listening to Him and praising Him. The Church lays out various methods to do this: in her liturgies like the Eucharist, morning and Evening prayer, meditation on the bible and just simply opening your heart and mind to God, giving Him praise and asking for His help and intercession.

2. Obedience to God’s will.

You can’t find God if you follow your own will. Through holy obedience, we overcome self-will and are able to follow the will of the Father who loves us. In the monastic life, they live out their obedience by following the Rule of St. Benedict. In our daily lives, we live out obedience by following the Church, the will of God, our families, and our responsibilities. Living a life of obedience leads to a true authentic freedom that can be found nowhere else.

3. Humility.

You can’t find God if you are too full of yourself. We have to learn, by steps, that WE are not in charge of the world, or even ourselves, but God is.

4. Living a life of community can help us discover God.

We don’t find God alone, but with and through others. And, amazingly, it doesn’t have to be only those who are like us or who we are fond of. A monk finds God in each and all of his brother monks, especially the ones who are not so easy to live with. For us, we find God in the people we interact with daily, our families and friends, those we work with, the stranger on the street. God calls us to love them, and through that love, we find God.

There are many ways to seek God, but they all go through Christ.

More good news.

We are fortunate to have a Benedictine Monastery just down the road at Camperdown. About an hour and half away.

All are welcome there and you can go and stay in their lovely guest house. You can also join in the worship in a marvelous chapel. It is one of those special places where there is a very calming atmosphere. A relaxing place where the veil between earth and heaven is particularly flimsy and thin. I encourage you to make the most of this place and go for a visit or a stay.

It is also a powerhouse, a throbbing battery of prayer and there have been times when I have asked the monks and nuns for a little something special. A bit of extra help. I have never been disappointed and always sensed their support and nurture. May St. Benedict continue his work of prayer for us.

Two ladies are having a stimulating conversation… but the conversation is not the important bit. One of them wears a veil because they look quite different to what you and I might expect. The veil is the important bit. The chatter goes on about this and that and then all of sudden the lady without the veil turns and looks as if for the first time; she realises that the veil is gone!

“When did you stop wearing your veil?’ She asks in a surprised but almost joyful tone.

“When you stop seeing it?” The response is swift, astute, insightful and… challenging. It is challenging because I realise that often I don’t perceive people for who they truly are. Others put on veils and sometimes masks and while that might be understandable, it is regrettable for we do not see folk as they truly are, even if they are scarred and not quite what we expected or hoped for.

The other point to be made is that sometimes we put a veil on the other person. We perceive them first as maybe separated, divorced, an amputee, impoverished or holding a different point of view to us. Sometimes sadly, we can’t see past those things and admire who it really is that is before us. We miss out on seeing someone quite beautiful and talented. We miss out on seeing an exquisite and adorable child… a child of God. And when we fail to see them as this child, it is like missing out on a spectacular sunset, a piece of art and possibly a life changing / enriching experience. Would that I had the courage to not only take off my own veils and masks but also to see others as they truly are.

“When did I stop wearing my veil?”

“When you stopped seeing it.”

Connor is a dairy farmer and for a couple of decades now has got up in the middle of the night in the blistering cold to milk the cows that kick him. He is rained upon and pooped upon. He has been manipulated by the upper echelons of people in warm cosy comfortable board rooms. Folk he has never met and never will.

And yet time after relentless time I knew where to find Connor and what he would be doing. Somehow he would grin from under his tattered beanie and quip in good humour “These insatiable cows want more milking”.

This morning it was ink dark, the cold was stinging and the rain was horizontal. I also found myself wearing a daggy beanie, more for comfort than insulation. My mantra was

“This insatiable God wants more psalms”. The heady days of theological college and ordination seemed to belong to someone else. A different, much younger man. Back then we used to speak of ‘arriving’ of ‘making it’. As I pushed open the church door I wondered … “Have I in fact ‘arrived’ ”? But then some measured words came to me and I offer them to you.

You have not arrived when you want to go to the altar because you are exuberant with puppy dog enthusiasm and bubbling with uncontainable excitement. You have started the journey when you want to go to the altar when all gloss has worn away and the sparkle has disappeared and disappointed. You know that you are nearly there when you know how much you need to go to the altar and how very much you need Him. You know that you are much closer again, when you understand that He has always wanted you to be there, even more than you wanted to.

Today we are keeping “Coming of the Light” Sunday. This is an important celebration when Torres Strait Islander Anglicans observe the 150th Anniversary of the arrival of the first Christian Missionaries in the Torres Strait.

Here's the history lesson which is not the most important part of what I want to offer to you today.

On Saturday 1st July 1871, (so today it's the 150th anniversary) the Reverend Samuel MacFarlane of the London Missionary Society anchored at Darnley Island. The Society had been active in the Southwest Pacific since the 1840’s converting people to Christianity. Dabad, a Warrior Clan Elder “defied his Tribal Law” and openly welcomed the London Missionary Society clergymen and South Sea Islander evangelists and teachers. Torres Strait Islanders' acknowledgment of the missionaries was the acceptance of a change that would profoundly affect every aspect of life in the Torres Strait from that time onwards. The Islanders' acceptance of the missionaries and Christianity meant the end of inter-island conflict. Christian principles were partly compatible with traditional religion and the missionaries gave some protection and assistance to Islanders in their contact with foreigners in the maritime industry. Today, Torres Strait Islanders of all denominations wherever they live, in the islands or on the mainland, come together to honour this anniversary. The Torres Strait Islander festival of the Coming of the Light is a day like no other in Australia. Church services and a re-enactment of the landing are central to the day’s activities. Hymn singing, feasting and hoopla strengthen community and family ties.

The gospel chosen for this celebration  talks about light  Then Jesus told them, “You are going to have the light just a little while longer. Walk while you have the light, before darkness overtakes you. Whoever walks in the dark does not know where they are going. Believe in the light while you have the light, so that you may become children of light.

So here’s a bit about light and its symbolism which is also not the most important part of what I want to offer to you today.

Light is beautiful and mysterious—like God. It is one but can be separated into many colours. No one knows if light is made up of particles or waves. In addition, light has many functions that make it a good symbol for Jesus. Light helps us see things. Jesus gives us the truth about God and about life, our origin, and our destiny. Light guides us as we travel. Jesus guides us safely through life to our heavenly home. Light promotes growth and life. Jesus brings us everlasting life. Light warms and comforts. Jesus welcomes us and calms us. Light deters crime. Jesus is goodness itself. Light dispels darkness, which stands for evil. Jesus pierces the darkness of sin and death and conquers them. All the darkness in the world cannot put out one candle flame. Jesus cannot be overcome by evil.

But the most significant and important thing that I really want to say to you today is this. If you forget the history lesson, or you forget the mucking about with the symbolism of light, please remember this simple phrase.

“You are the light of the world”.

Yes, you who have made it to the altar today. You who may have looked a little disheveled in the mirror this morning. You who stumble and fumble and rejoice and giggle and weep and have loving, joyful and sometimes aching hearts. You are the light of the world.You may not even notice it and sometimes it probably doesn’t feel like it and sometimes yes, we can go to some very dark places where it is inky black and there seems no way out. It is then, when the gloom seems to have engulfed us, when we are at wits end and the walls are high and hard and in the words of the gospel…“Jesus left and hid himself from them”.

It is then that we can become quite magnificent just by keeping on with our prayers and being faithful at the altar. You are the light of the world. And day by day in this parish in countless little ways, I see the light that you are and I see it and I am warmed and encouraged and inspired and delighted.You are the light of the world and one of the lovely things about the gospel coming to the Torres Strait Islands is that God was on both sides of the beach 150 years ago and in some conscious or subconscious way everyone was open to that possibility. So the world was a brighter and warmer place for it.

It will be so now in 2021, if we claim for ourselves the reality

“I am the light of the word”.

There is an unfortunate mantra which is easily caught, ingested and passed on. “Could have, should have, would have”. It’s an unfortunate mantra because it always looks back and never forward. The mantra operates at a personal level when we look back and mutter to ourselves “Could have, should have, would have”. It applies to everything from the un-purchased tattslotto ticket, to the quick harsh words, to the unspoken compliment or even just the simple “Good morning”.

This mantra rushes to our lips when we want to shift the focus from ourselves to the sitting goose that obviously got it wrong and needs a peppery pot shot. Old so and so “Should have and could have” done A, B & C. Instead they did Q.4, and #5.The mucky bit of this mantra is that it doesn’t change the pickle and sauce in which we find ourselves embroiled. No amount of angst and argy bargy can change the present milieu. But we can use this mantra helpfully if we learn from the blunders of the past and learn what not to do. This process of reflection, looking forward and doing better must start with our own selves and it must start today.

I have known folk who have made some spectacular disasters in their past and to their outrageous credit have gone on to lead shiny magnificent lives that are all the more inspiring for their self-inflicted calamities. The most heinous use of the mantra is when we inflict it on others personally. There is lasting invisible damage. But the person who is most afflicted is always the speaker. The angst and antagonism can fester in our souls  like a mutating cancer leaving us diminished. It is time to find a new mantra. “Will do, can do, love to”.

Today’s story begins in Central Park, New York. Central Park is really BIG. Like, it has its own zoo!

My informant was ambling through when they came across a turtle. Not so unusual, but the odd thing was that this turtle was a long way from where it should have been.

Sadly it was going the wrong way and trying valiantly to climb some steps which was a futile and misguided endeavor.

The passerby watched the struggle for some time, not really quite knowing what should be done. They weren’t a qualified vet and the turtle wasn’t exactly forthcoming with a home address or a mobile phone number. Still an email was sent to an authority later in the day and hopefully Tommy / Trina was rescued by an appropriate person.

A few things to draw out of this wildlife adventure.

Sometimes it feels like we are the turtle. We stumble and fumble and whilst we are convinced we are going the right way for the right reason, we are hideously lost and it takes an outsider to put us back on the right path.

Sometimes we are the passerby and we can miss the cue or think the situation is beyond us. Maybe when we come across  a ‘turtle,' we are exactly the right person, in the right place, at the right time.

It is difficult to discern whether we are the turtle or fixer upper. The reality is that we flit quickly from one to the other and the trick is to know which one we are and when.

Finally, it’s OK to kick something upstairs to a specialist. I didn’t do this often enough in my early days. Now I kick things ‘sideways’ or ‘upstairs’ at every opportunity and I am a much happier turtle for it.

When we begin to scratch around in this story we unearth  more questions than answers. For example …How come the disciples are flummoxed by a storm? These guys are experienced fishermen who earn their living from being out on the water. Yet they are surprised and frightened by a sudden storm. So what is Mark doing here? Clearly it’s not just about a weather forecast and storm warnings. Look deeper dear reader. Let me take you in the boat for a little journey and perhaps along the way we might discover what Mark really requires of us. Three little phases to steer us.

First “Let us go over to the other side”. For me at least, these words are oozing with meaning. The Marcan Jesus invites us to move from one place to another. We are encouraged to leave what is familiar and comfortable and go somewhere else. It’s usually not a geographical place, although that can be true. It often means a new phase in our life. Something is changing or has changed and we are invited, nay we are challenged and encouraged, to get into the boat with The Master and his disciples. To go to a different place that will not and cannot be the same. And we will discover that not only does the terrain and the climate change, but in the process of travel we also will change. But before we get to our destination there are some tricky waters that we have to navigate and it will seem as though our host has simply nicked off and gone for a quiet little kip. “Come over to the other side” There is a sense in which Jesus invites us every day to come over to the other side. To be a little further along, until that day when he says ‘Come over to the other side of the grave ’

Second “Leaving the crowd behind”. Leave the busyness, the maelstrom, the frenetic stuff behind. The things that you cannot alter or change and move with Him to that place where the storms are stilled and the waves are calmed. The distractions might still be about us, but we now have a space where things are mollified  and a healthy sense of perspective settles upon us. “The crowd” is in fact anything that distracts us from that solitary figure in the boat. It is terribly difficult to leave this hubbub behind and just focus on Him. But when we do manage it, when we allow him to be the sole focus of our energy and prayer, then we will discover that we actually have more resources at our disposal; to walk on the water and not be frightened of the tornado encircling us.

Third “Just as he was in the boat”. Jesus doesn’t need to think about having a pedicure, or a manicure, or a change of clothes or even a quick hot shower. He sets off while he is in the boat, without stepping ashore. The mission is urgent, it will not wait and the time is now.But there is another way to look at this little phrase. The Master invites us just as we are. The guy slumbering in the boat, the one who is master of the storm  is the one who takes us just where we are, just as we are. With all  our warts, ugly bits, failings and flaws. And the question is not are we good enough, or bright enough or whether we got a gold star at Sunday School, or what mischief we have wreaked during the week, or even if it has been the most tragic of times these past 7 days. The question is simply this Just as you are.. will you get into the boat?

Now I hope that those little phrases might be of some help. But I suspect Mark is asking something more of us. There is one more little phrase, a question… right at the end of this morning's reading. “They were terrified and asked each other, “Who… is… this?” So perhaps today Mark simply wants to ask us a question. Perhaps all he really wants to do is look us in the eye and ask.

Who is this?

Who do you see before you?

Who is this that comes to you in broken bread?

Who is this that invites nature to continue its cycle of death and new life in spectacular fashion all around us?

Who is this that comes to you in the face of friend and stranger?

Who is this … that looks back at you from the other side of the mirror.

Who do you see there?

Who is this?

And all we have to do is answer honestly. And when we do that, we will find that we are already in the boat with Him. We will have found not just the answer to an academic question, but we will have found Him who in fact found us a long time ago and has been travelling with us all along in our rocky little boat.

Once upon a time I had one of those infuser cups. It was a ripper. It had lovely markings and it was given to me by my son.

I thought of him fondly and with gratitude every-time  I poured a brew. That was until one day .. I dropped it and the handle broke. I was as shattered as the handle and I had to fess up.

To my surprise, he wasn’t grumpy but actually went one step better and offered to fix it.

Shamefacedly I gave him the bits and he took them away to put it all back together again. Time went by and the mug was returned intact. If you knew what had happened and were looking for it, you could spot the fracture. If not, you would have no idea and think the chink was part of the design.

Odd, isn’t it. Now sipping my refreshing beverage from this mug it actually means more to me than ever before. My son has invested himself twice into this cup. Once when he bought it and once when he spent a goodly amount of time fixing it. His time, energy and skill are always with me. It's like having a part of him here in the rectory while he is actually miles away.

But the cup also reminds me of everyone who walks the earth. We are all a bit fractured and some of us, through the help of others, have been put back together. Sure we are not exactly as we were, we never can be; but in some mysterious way we are more lovelier and valued with our chips and our flaws.

So here's to the Master craftsman who mends and heals. Here's to our fractures which make us all the more lovely and treasured.