Pentecost 6

From the locum

Our Gospel reading for the 6th Sunday after Pentecost contains a story within a story, and both of them are powerful. What strikes me most about this story is not the healings, but who was healed.

In the hierarchy of first century Jewish life, a child was much less important than an adult, and a girl child even less so. The story has Jesus going out of his way to heal this girl, which tells us again that he was constantly working against the social system which classified some people as more important than others.

That idea is underlined in the story within the story. The woman broke all the rules by being out in public when she was haemorrhaging. She was considered ritually unclean and therefore should have kept to herself to avoid contaminating others. But she forces her way through the crowd, making everyone she brushes against unclean. And she touches Jesus.

Instead of yelling at her for making him ritually unclean, he says it was her faith that made her well. Not his action but her faith. Nor does Jesus go through the necessary ablutions to ritually cleanse himself, but proceeds right on to the house of an official of the synagogue who would have been very conscious of such rules.

Jesus kept colouring outside the lines.

Fr Michael

Pentecost 5

From the locum

The Gospel passage from the 4th chapter of Mark which is the reading for today describes Jesus’ ability to still the storms of life. The disciples panic when a sudden windstorm rocks their boat, filling their craft with water. In their fear, they call upon Jesus, whose calm voice stills the storm. There are two storms described in this miracle story – the first is the storm at sea, the external realities that put us at risk.

For many congregations, the storm at sea involves budget and membership. We fear what will happen to us; we wonder if our congregation will survive the changes in the current spiritual landscape and its own aging demographics. The second storm is the inner tumult, the fear and anxiety within each of us and our institutions.

A fishing prayer goes, “The sea is so wide and my boat is so small.” Dwarfed by the grandeur of the universe and the challenges that confront us, we appear to be powerless. We are uncertain if our lives matter or if the universe cares for us. An alternative version gives us another perspective, “O God, your sea is so large and my boat is so small.” The sea is God’s sea, not an indifferent force, and God’s sea ultimately will bring us homeward with waves of healing. Blessings, Fr Michael

Pentecost 4

From our locum

God looks beyond appearances to see the human heart. God goes beyond the superficial to see beauty hidden in geodes and wonders in a small seed. A child’s lunch can feed a multitude. A persecutor can become the leading voice for a global faith. There is more to be found in every person and situation, and congregation. Amid the concrete limitations of life, there is more than meets the eye. The parables from Mark 4 that are part of today’s Gospel describe the surprising growth of God’s realm. Small is not only beautiful, it can also be powerful and life-transforming. The smallest of seeds can become a great plant giving shelter to the birds. The broadcast of seeds, falling everywhere, is the precursor to a great harvest. All of today’s readings inspire us to see the divine energy and insight present in unexpected places. We look beyond the obvious to discover God moving in unlikely persons and situations. In all things God works for good and though the seeds God’s realm often appear to be precarious and unimportant – infinitesimal – a great harvest and great possibilities are on the horizon for those who see from a God’s eye view, the eyes of faith, and bring forth great things from small beginnings. Fr Michael

Pentecost 3

Readings

1 Samuel 8.4-11, 8.16-20, 11.14-15
Psalm 138
2 Corinthians 4.13–5.1
Mark 3.20–35

Pentecost 2

Readings

1 Samuel 3.1-10
Psalm 139.1-6, 139.13-18
2 Corinthians 4.5-12
Mark 2.23-3.6

Trinity Sunday

From the locum

Today is Trinity Sunday.  The Gospel passage from John was chosen by the lectionary compilers for this day because it is one of the few that mentions all three, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, in one place. Some on this day may rather focus on the subject of truth found in this Gospel, and ignore the Trinity.  But let’s take on the challenge.  The Trinity has been explained in many ways from very heavy philosophical ideas to simplistic visual metaphors like Patrick’s three leaf clover.  With any of these it is important to remember that none of them describes God in God’s very being or essence.  That cannot be done.  The Trinity is a statement of how God relates, not how God is.  Or perhaps how anyone relates is indeed how one is.  When it comes to relating we can’t pin God down to one thing or one way.  When we consider one way to view God there is always another way, on the other hand.  But why three, as in the Trinity?  Who knows?  But we do know that just as we can’t pin God down to one of our simplistic ideas, we also can’t pin God down to three either, or any one of the three.  God is relating everywhere; and because of the multiplicity of God’s relating God can never be missed.  Look at the beautiful sunset.  God is there.  Look at the home destroyed by a bush fire, flood or cyclone.  God is there.  God is in the tears of joy and in the tears of sorrow.  What a gift of self!  So can we be like God?  We are the image of God.  In that image we also cannot be pinned down to one way of relating.  We are all many things.  We may say God is this way; but on the other hand . . .   What wonderful surprises we all are, just as God is always a wonderful surprise.  We are all, like God, a sincere gift of self.
Fr Michael

Day of Pentecost

From the locum

Whichever way we look at the symbolism in the account of the first Pentecost, it is about a mind-blowing, heart-searching moment. The wind of change challenges and disturbs not only individuals but whole communities. Martin Luther King spoke of the storm which will not abate until a just distribution of the fruits of the earth enables all people to live dignified and decent lives. Spirituality does not exist separately from the social context. Look at when and where the story in Acts is set. The Spirit coming is about more than individual inwardness. It means engagement: what we do with the material part of our lives; how we connect with other people, how we relate to other living things, how we walk on the earth.

Pentecost isn’t a once and for all happening but ongoing and energising hope right here, right now, in this world, in this place. It’s about that which sustains us, enables us, provokes a just anger in us and arouses our compassion. It’s about spirit-filled life bursting out of encounters with darkness and suffering and it’s characterised by joy – not the shallow cheeriness of jolly Christians but the deep joy of those who hope and hear the bird’s song in the storm.

Fr Michael

Ascension Day

From the locum

The Ascension of Jesus which we celebrate this morning is a peculiar day in the Christian calendar. Some people might still imagine we live in a three-story universe—heaven above, earth between, hell below—but few people believe that if you get into a space ship and fly far enough, you'll find a place called "heaven."

What are we to make of Jesus' Ascension? Of course, it's not out of the question that Jesus defied gravity, but is that the real point? Is the Ascension about gravity or spirituality, geography or vocation? Acts 1:1-11 describes the Ascending Christ. First, the disciples quiz him about the fulfillment of history, the restoration of Israel. Jesus' response is purposely vague, and still remains good counsel for those who seek a precise date for judgment day or the fulfillment of history. "It is not for you to know the times or periods." Rather, we are to await the coming of God's Spirit and the missional power that comes from encountering the Holy, whether in the 1st or 21st centuries. Finished with his counsel, Jesus is lifted up, and the disciples are left gazing into the heavens until an angel admonishes, "Why do you stand looking toward heaven?" The angel promises Jesus' ultimate return, but that's not the point. The point is that the disciples' mission and our own is right here—in our time and place and on our planet, not some far off sphere.

Fr Michael

Easter 6

From the locum

Soaking up being loved by God isn’t easy. We want to justify our existence therefore, before God, we focus on our concerns in a myriad of ways. We want to be busy about our own anxieties, even if they are our own sins, or worse the sins of others.

But over and over, Jesus commands us, even pleads with us: ‘Remain, abide in my love!’ Yes, all our concerns do need to be dealt with but if we think we can do them by ourselves or with even a little help from God, we are crazy. We have to ask ourselves whether our ways of praying and doing aren’t paying lip service to the reality of our utter dependence upon God’s love.

The true way to love ourselves and each other is to abide, remain in God. It is a good practice to begin each day, resting, abiding, remaining in the love of God for just a few minutes. The radio can wait, as can the TV, email, social media and the internet. The troubles of the world will still be there. But resting in the love of God for those few moments can be a source of the richest grace to live and love throughout the coming day.

Fr Michael

Easter 5

Readings

Old Testament: Acts 8.26-40
Psalm: Psalm 22.26-32
New Testament: 1 John 4.7-21
Gospel: John 15.1-8

St George's Day

From the locum

Last week I attended rather than, as is usually the case, officiated at, a funeral. Many people whom I have not seen for some time came to say their farewells; we shared memories and experiences, and gave thanks for a long life, well-lived.

It was a story of faith and obedience, from the deceased’s earliest years until her eventual departure. Was it a whitewash? Did we collectively give in to that temptation to only speak well of a person who has died? “Never speak ill of the dead” is an oft-quoted proverb. No, this was a thanksgiving! Of course, no-one is perfect, but it is certainly true that if we put our best efforts into life we can make a tremendous difference for good. This was a life invested in people and in the Kingdom of God - truly a faithful servant of Christ.

As a Christian, I find a funeral is always a mixed emotional journey. To say goodbye to a friend or loved one is always difficult, and we shouldn’t pretend otherwise. But alongside the natural grief there is a confidence: when Jesus invites us to follow him, he also guarantees our eternal destiny.

As a priest, my task has often been to help the bereaved along the journey of acceptance and grief. Being involved in a funeral service is a huge privilege and a massive responsibility.

Facing our own mortality is a challenge to us all. Even with the assurance of faith we still face the uncertainty wrapped up in the actual experience of dying. This funeral of which I’m writing occurred close enough to Easter to remind me of the glorious hope of the resurrection. Jesus Christ entered the full experience of death, took it apart, and rendered it powerless through that Resurrection from the dead. It was a miracle above any other, and the subsequent encounters with the Risen Christ laid the foundation for the continuing spread of the Kingdom of God - even to this very day.

We can no more imagine what life beyond death is like than a caterpillar can anticipate the changed life after its transformation into a butterfly. Yet we are confident because Christ returned from the dead, and has promised that he will return again to restore and reconcile this damaged creation. Death of itself is never good news. But resurrection is the ultimate definition of good news. Jesus summed it up perfectly, as John recorded in his Gospel.

Fr Michael

Easter 3

From the locum

The resurrection is more than just a past event or a ticket to life after death. It is a lived reality that has the potential to change us and our world, if we can only believe, open to the change it brings, and proclaim its life-giving power through our lives. This is the message of this week’s Lectionary, and it is both joyful and challenging. The call to be witnesses to Christ is one of the most transforming messages we can receive, because it requires us to live, speak, think, and act like Christ.

May the message and mission of Christ fill us and send us out as agents of God’s grace, justice, and love.

Fr Michael

Easter 2

Acts 4.32-37
Psalm 133
1 John 1.1-2.2
John 20.19-31

From the locum

I encountered this prayer written especially for the Easter 2, the first Sunday after Easter, and would like to share it with you. (The author is unacknowledged.)

Resurrection God,
You are the light and you sent your son to shine your light in the darkness of this world.
Lord you know the places and times in our lives that have darkness in us.
You know the dark places and times in this world.
Lord shine your light into the darkness that we may be able to see our way again.

Resurrection God,
We marvel at the Early Church’s unity;
How they loved one another as you loved them,
How they saw to each other’s needs;
And how they cared for each other.
Lord would that we would be like that in our churches.
Empower us with Resurrection power to be able to be that way.
Breathe your Holy Spirit on us that we too would be of one mind and heart.
Give us the peace you gave the disciples.

Resurrection God,
We admit that we are like Thomas we have our own doubts
And we too want to see and touch you.
We too have more questions than answers
And yet we want to believe.
Pour your blessing on us who have not seen and yet have come to believe.
Let your grace fall upon us all.
Amen

Christ is risen - Alleluia!
Fr Michael

Easter Sunday

Gospel reading: John 20.1-18

From the locum

This resurrection story that we hear today tells not so much what happened to Jesus or how the resurrection took place but who were the witnesses to the resurrected Lord. A related question that this passage raises is how to tell the resurrection story. Is there only one way to tell it? Or can it be told in a variety of ways, depending on who is telling it? Is it simply a tradition of the past that we glibly and half-heartedly mumble or parrot? Is it a story that we read and recite as sacred text but without anchoring ourselves squarely in the middle of it? Or is it of such cosmic significance that our whole existence, experience and identity are wrapped up in the way we tell the story? This is not to suggest that we change the resurrection accounts in the New Testament to make them fit our own worldviews, tendencies, enthusiasms, experiences, desires and wishes. Rather, it is to suggest that we plug our own story into the resurrection story that has come down to us from long ago. Thus, under the illuminating guidance of the Spirit, this "old, old story" must continually become the good news that addresses us where we are. It must become our story.  
With every blessing, Fr Michael

Palm Sunday

Gospel: Mark 11.1-11

From the locum

Our Gospel reading today finds Jesus in the bustling capital city. He is no longer in the villages and open country of his home. The celebratory parade is also a protest march. The disciples should have known what was happening. Jesus had already laid it out for them. But they still did not comprehend what he had said. At this moment, the crowd (small though it might have been) sees him as a king, as one who will get them out of where they are. So this is a parade that befits a king. “Hosanna”, “the Coming One”, the one who restores Jerusalem. He enters. This is the moment. He goes toward the temple. This is it. And then he turns and goes to Bethany. The parade fizzles and the people turn back to their lives. What they didn’t recognise is that Jesus brought them something that they had never had before—peace, truth, justice, and love. What they didn’t recognise is that Jesus had indeed come to restore them not to what was but to what should’ve been all along.

With every blessing, Fr Michael

Lent 5

Lent 4

John 3:16: ‘For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.

From the locum

In just twenty-seven words, John 3:16, the famous verse from St. John’s Gospel which we will hear read during the Eucharist this Sunday, describes a loving God, a cherished world, a self-giving Son, a universal invitation, a deliverance from death, and a promise of eternal life. Christianity in a nutshell. So what’s the problem?

“Christianity in a nutshell” sounds catchy, but in the end, I don’t think such a thing exists. John 3:16 is a beautiful passage of scripture, and we are right to recite it, memorise it, and cherish it. But the way of faith it points to is as vast and mysterious as all the workings of a human heart reaching out for God’s. That’s why we can trust it; its challenge corresponds to reality. No love as rich, demanding, costly, and free as God’s love for us can ever be reduced to a formula.

With every blessing, Fr Michael

Lent 3

Old Testament reading: Numbers 21.4-9
Psalm reading: Psalm 107.1-3, 107.17-22
New Testament reading: Ephesians 2.1-10
Gospel reading: John 3.14-21

Lent 2

Old Testament reading: Genesis 17.1-7, 17.15-16
Psalm reading: Psalm 22.24-32
New Testament reading: Romans 4.13-25
Gospel reading: Mark 8.31-38

Lent 1

First Sunday in Lent

Old Testament reading: Genesis 9.8-17
Psalm reading: Psalm 25.1-10
New Testament reading: 1 Peter 3.18-22
Gospel reading: Mark 1.9-15