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.

Dispersed and distributed throughout the gospels are an uncountable number of occasions where Jesus is misunderstood. And He is misunderstood by those who we think should have known better. Today's gospel reading has two groups of people who misunderstand Jesus.

First there is Jesus' family.

“When his family heard it, they went out to restrain him, for they said ‘He has gone out of his mind.’”

Then most of our gospel reading is taken up with the scribes from Jerusalem misunderstanding who Jesus is. They believe that he is possessed by Beelzebub “He has Beelzebub, and by the ruler of the demons he casts out demons.’

Then the next 7 verses (quite a lot for Mark who is usually very brief and to the point) have Jesus explaining that this is not the case and we have the classic line about a kingdom divided against itself which can never stand.

Then right at the end we again come back to Jesus family.

“Then his mother and his brothers came; and standing outside, they sent to him and called him. A crowd was sitting around him; and they said to him, ‘Your mother and your brothers and sisters are outside, asking for you.’ And he replied, Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother.”

So today's reading is rather like a sandwich.

A bit about Jesus' family at the  beginning and the end. The two slices of sourdough bread. The juicy, meaty filling is the bit about the scribes from Jerusalem.

But it is a sandwich flavored with what I call the pepper of misunderstanding.

There are various types of misunderstanding. There is the misunderstanding of when we are indecisive. “Lord shall we use the sword”.

There is the misunderstanding of forgetfulness. ‘Was it two or three o’clock that I was supposed to be at that appointment?’

But in the gospel it is the misunderstanding of who Jesus is. They thought he was out of his mind or working for the devil. They could not see what was right before them and so they misunderstand.

And you would think that being so close in time and geography to Our Lord, that these folk would have been able to understand.

And it is very easy for us to kid ourselves that if we had been there we would have understood, we would have known who this wild man was and what he was on about.

But would we? I think of how easy it is to misread, miscalculate and misunderstand myself and others.

People are always evolving, always changing, always growing, developing and always being formed by those around them and the adventures that shape them. None of us is the same person that we were a year ago and we ought to be patient and sensitive with others and perhaps most of all with ourselves. Hopefully we are continuously becoming the person we are called to be. The very image of The Master incarnate in the 21st century in Western Victoria.

But hang on… the title of the homily is … “From misunderstanding to understanding.

So where do we go in the scriptures to learn about this understanding business? How do we make this transition? There is a chilling, haunting and yet comforting question from Our Lord on the night before He dies.  Jesus got up from the table, took off his outer robe, and tied a towel around himself. Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet and to wipe them with the towel that was tied around him. Then He looks them in the eye and says tenderly “Do you understand what I have done for you?” Do you understand? Do you?

I think about that question a lot. Peter didn’t understand what it was all about. Remember his little tantrum “Lord you will never wash my feet”.

How do we make this transition from misunderstanding to understanding?

Part of the answer is to read and reread the scripture. Take the pew sheet home and read over just one of the lessons again. What strikes you? What did you miss the first time or second time around? What do you need to ask that clever Bishop Gary?

But more powerful and helpful than getting an erudite and clever answer from bishop Gary is this. The transition from misunderstanding to understanding begins with realising how grubby, grimy and pungent our own feet are.Then we pick up the implements of that upper room. We take up the bowl and towel and then just simply wash some feet. We make the move from misunderstanding to  understanding, when we are actually being and doing. When we wipe the feet of the gnarled and the disappointing and the unattractive. The feet that are bruised and have sores and ugly bits on them. This is how we move from misunderstanding to understanding.

We don’t always get it the first time round or second time but we must always be open to the possibility of new understanding, fresh perceptions and new truths. The best way to move from misunderstanding to understanding is to wash some feet, beginning with our own.

Trinity Sunday is the only Sunday given over to a concept or idea, rather than a person or an event. The Trinity is always irksome for to squish God into our vocabulary is impossible.

There is a story of how St. Augustine had a dream the night before he was supposed to speak about the Trinity. In the dream, he was walking on a beach, and saw a young boy digging a hole in the sand. The boy would grab a seashell, fill it up from the waves, and then pour it into the hole. Augustine approached the boy and asked him what he was doing. “I’m trying to empty the ocean into my hole,” the boy replied. When Augustine responded that that was impossible, the boy answered, “Not as impossible as you trying to explain the Holy Trinity.”

It’s probably easier to say what the Trinity is not rather than explain what the Trinity is.

We could say that God is not evil, not hateful, not vengeful or spiteful; but that still leaves us with a gawping vacuum of exactly what He really is.

There are various images and parables that go a goodly way to being helpful for us but inevitably, if you push the image too far and try to take it too literally, then it must fall over.

One classic image, is that the Trinity is like water. It can be found in three forms; vapor, ice and liquid. All are water and yet all are different, with unique properties. One is not somehow better or more important than the other, they do not compete against each other and one seems to quickly transition from one to another.

However, we don’t put God the water into the kettle to boil Him up and produce steam and have nice cup of tea with a chocolate muffin. Nor do we drop God the ice into a gin and tonic with a slice of lemon.

So with that caveat, the image that I want to dabble with is that of the Trinity as a family.

The Father, the Son and Holy Spirit live in complete harmony one with another. They understand and communicate perfectly with each other. The Son is obedient to the Father and He is empowered by the Holy Spirit to do what is asked of Him. No-one is more important than the other and each are absolutely essential to the life of other two. They are the perfect family living in stability and consummate unity, each pointing to and embracing the other two in pure love.

So far so good; let’s push the parable of family a little further. One of the things that people cherish and frequently have on display, are family photos. They are there as reminders to those who live in the family home, but also as a witness to those who visit.  God the Father sent his Son as a kind of photo so that we know what God is like. Compassionate, a servant, loving, sacrificial and yes, sometimes rebuking when we get it wrong and are not the person we are called to be.

We glimpse this family unity and we experience the Trinity in a unique way when we gather around the altar as a family. We hear our family stories, we partake of Holy food and we offer all that is upon our hearts. The grist of daily family life is shared, offered, sanctified and made holy. It becomes the stuff of God. Our pain, our joy, our suffering, our tears, our giggles are His, are ours.

And we will glimpse the Trinity at another table later on this morning when some  of us toddle off to a café at Tarrington. As always, with a shared meal together, nothing happens and yet everything happens. There will be catching up, there will be a fresh learning of where we are up to. There will probably be smirks and burps and laughter and listening. There will be coffee and wine and yummy food. All this will be thoroughly enjoyable and it is absolutely essential for the life of our parish family together. No wonder the master chose the image of a wedding feast to describe the party of Heaven.

And maybe in the car on the way home, we might realize that in some way, some how, in the banter and jocularity… somewhere between entrees and the last desert, the smiles and listening, we have sensed something of the Trinity. A unity so enjoyable that we did not know how hungry we were for Him. And perhaps by the time we get home and maybe have a little snooze or  a walk around the Lake, we will come to realize that we have been fed in that sublime way that matters most to us. We will know that our souls will have been nourished and sustained and now replenished, we can walk along little further, closer to the party where the wine is always of exceptional quality, where we never get indigestion, where the laughter is voluminous and we can dance in a way that knows no embarrassment, because everybody else in our Trinity family will be dancing with that same ecstatic bliss.

In the name of our Trinity Family, Father Son and Holy Spirit.

A friend of mine has an interesting turn of phrase. Whenever we part he says.

“I hope my words find a home in you”.

I have never thought too much about this phrase. It’s always just been something he has said and sadly I have brushed it off as too much caffeine or some other ‘hidden ingredient’.

But on a rare moment that is unlikely to happen again this side of a pink moon, I gave some thought to his words.

I recalled who it is that is at home with me and how they influence me. I also remember those who have shared my home over the years and how they have moulded me to be the person I am today. I hope that I am a little more polished, a little more empathetic, a little more sympathetic. There is no question they have changed my way of life and the way I now interact with others. This I hope, is a good thing and my feeble desire is that the world might be just a little shinier because of those who have I lived with and still live with me today.

Some words we ignore or are too busy to hear. Some words linger for a little while and some find a home with us. We take them through the front door, take off our shoes, relax and have a ‘conversation’ with our new friends, our new words, our new phrases. They have an influence on us, if only it is to bewilder, encourage, inspire  and startle us into a different way of thinking, a different way of behaving.

So you may like to reflect on the words that have found their home with you and what words you send to peoples home. May your word live in us.

Today's homily

This morning's story begins at Chelmsford cathedral in England in 2013. There are several hundred of us clergy types in this marvellous stone cathedral which has been sensitively, yet exquisitely restored I am at the synod of the local diocese and we begin by singing a hymn ‘O thou who camest from above’, the words of which I have put in the pew sheet. The words of our hymns are very important and many of them have much to teach and to remind us. Some fail in this important task.

The sound bounces around the walls of the cathedral and the organist does flash twiddly bits. And just for a few moments, a few ecstatic seconds, all is as it should be. I am completely absorbed and caught up in an act of worship of the God who loves me. It is a moving, joyous, sublime and yet indescribable experience . It is I imagine, how that first Pentecost, that first coming of the Holy Spirit may have felt for those funny old disciples and Mother Mary all those years ago.

For them, something significant happened and things could not be the same again. Yet outside, the persecutions were still rife and the eucharist was celebrated in secret and in fear.

For us too today, our outside world knows not and cares not. Nothing seems to have changed and nothing seems to be different. The shenanigans of our fearless leaders seem unstoppable, lawyer, lawyer and co are still very much in business and we still experience that struggle as we try to draw away from our dark side. Into the clay of our everyday existence, comes the divine spark of the Holy Spirit to inspire and inflame us. The strength, the understanding that this is not all there is. The power of God which is the Holy Spirit, which is his love descends again and agitates deep within us.

God again taking the initiative in a way that we could never foresee, never comprehend and understand. For those first apostles fear is conquered and sorrow gives way to joy. Instead of being locked in a room with isolation and loneliness for company, their message goes out through all the earth.

But… there is a trap here and the trap is this. That having had such an experience we may be tempted to hunger and search for that same religious ‘high’ and forget why we have today.

• We come because He loves us and He wants us here.
• We come because we know that it is the right thing to do and you do the right thing because it is the right thing and you know it to be the right thing.
• We come because we know that we are sinners and we need forgiveness.
• We come because we want to be with our brothers and sisters in the Lord.
• We come to offer our thanks and our triumphs.
• We come to offer our needs and our praise.
• We come to offer our tears and our mess.
• We come because we want to offer to the world the fruits of the Holy Spirit.

These are not something we can buy at the deli section of the supermarket. To attain these very desirable but necessary fruits takes a lifetime of failing and crafting and much, much courage.

Some things to think about.

First. I began the homily with what I call a ‘Big church’ experience. I should point that I have had far more ‘small church’ experiences of the nearer presence of God. There is a sense of intimacy and closeness where only 2 or three are gathered, that could never be replicated at Chelmsford Cathedral.

Second. After the Holy Holy Holy bit in the middle of the Eucharist, the priest asks the Holy Spirit to descend upon the bread and wine at the altar. The outward action is the priests hands descending over the bread and wine. The flash church word for this moment is the ‘epiclesis’; but the important bit for me and you to remember, is that it is not something the priest does. It is the action of the Holy Spirit. One example of these words is “and we pray that by your word and Holy Spirit we who eat and drink them may be partakers of Christ's body and blood.”

Finally, if I close my eyes and remember Chelmsford, it is almost as if I am right there all over again.

Now if God is truly present in all time and in all places, is it not possible, that in some sense that I am with those people just as surely as I am with you here today? There is a sense in which all our worship, no matter the year, or the place, is one continuous act of loving God, even in our death and especially after our death.

This would make sense of the last verse of the hymn which is a splendid place for me to stop.

Ready for all Thy perfect will,
My acts of faith and love repeat,
Till death Thy endless mercies seal,
And make my sacrifice complete

Today's story begins at the  Museum D’Orsay in Paris in 2013. I am admiring Van Gogh’s  painting of Starry night. The picture to go with the story is in the pew sheet. I am deeply moved. In fact, there are real live tears because I know the story behind this painting and I know the story of this man.

Vincent van Gogh painted Starry Night in 1889 during his stay at the mental asylum of Saint-Paul-de-Mausole.. Van Gogh lived well in this hospital; If attended, he could leave the hospital grounds. He was allowed to paint, read, and withdraw into his own room. While he suffered from the occasional relapse into paranoia and fits, it seemed his mental health was recovering.

Unfortunately, he relapsed. He began to suffer hallucination and have thoughts of suicide as he plunged into deep depression. Accordingly, he returned to incorporating the darker colors from the beginning of his career and Starry Night is a wonderful example of that shift.

Van Gogh suffered from psychotic episodes and delusions and though he worried about his mental stability, he often neglected his physical health, did not eat properly and drank heavily. His depression continued, and on 27 July 1890, Van Gogh ended his own life.

This painter was unsuccessful during his lifetime. He was considered a madman and an abysmal failure. But…

“He transformed the pain of his tormented life into ecstatic beauty.”

In our gospel Our Lord makes the distinction between living physically in the world and living according to the world's standards.

One is the geographical place where you happen to eat, sleep, walk, talk and live. Your physical, touchable, tangible world. The other is your spiritual and moral world and life.  Your relationship with God. The world where you dwell in God and He in you. That house with many rooms.

To the art world of the time and his contemporaries Van Gogh was not understood and never celebrated. He was not of this world. But perhaps in his delirium and his illness he was more closely aligned with the divine and creative skill of God than what we could ever understand.

And I can’t help wondering who it might be that is living amongst us today that is misunderstood, misaligned, mistreated and mistrusted; that will be rejoiced in and marvelled over, in a hundred years time.

The contrast between the two worlds; the physical, outward, touchable one which must inevitably pass away…  and the spiritual, inward, divine world… is spectacular. For the outward world, the highest ideals are power, prestige and control. For the spiritual world we aspire to service, humility, gentleness, love and sacrifice.

Todays gospel is from John 17. At the start of that chapter Jesus says

“Father, the hour has come. Glorify your Son, that your Son may glorify you.

“The hour” that Jesus refers to is the hour of crucifixion. The “glory” He is referring to, is his mangled death.

And to this disfigured figure of love we turn our thoughts, our hearts and minds again. To be inspired and so to emulate The masters love for us once more.

“He transformed the pain of his tormented life into ecstatic beauty.”

So Van Gogh is my hero not just because he was ahead of his time, not just because he was a clever painter. I admire him because he was able to use his inward torture to offer the world something precious and enduring and lovely.

There are times in our lives when it is sweetness, light, honeymoon, champagne, liqueur chocolates, roses, sparkle and dancing. And that’s right,… we ought to celebrate those times and dance like someone who has had a strawberry milkshake or six.

But there are also times when it is dark and brooding and there seems no way out, or no way forward. The ache continuously sears us and it will not go away.

Then like Van Gogh and like our Lord on the cross, we use it to God's glory. We do this simply by offering our torment to the Master. We learn that this is the most authentic and legitimate  form of prayer we will ever attempt.

Perhaps it will help to finish with some stolen words. The person who wrote these words was speaking about Van Gogh, but they could just as easily be speaking about another wild man … the Master craftsman who roamed the dusty streets of Palestine.

“Van Gogh is the finest painter of them all. Certainly, the most popular great painter of all time. The most beloved. His command of colour, the most magnificent. He transformed the pain of his tormented life into ecstatic beauty. Pain is easy to portray, but to use your passion and pain to portray the ecstasy and joy and magnificence of our world. No one had ever done it before. Perhaps no one ever will again. To my mind, that strange, wild man who roamed the fields of Provence was not only the world's greatest artist, but also one of the greatest men who ever lived.”