Faith community compassion generosity

Fourth Sunday in Lent (Year A)
Grafton Cathedral
22 March 2020


[ video ]

The gospel set for today is strangely apt and yet it strikes a chord that spells fear, not hope.

Jesus is in Jerusalem and he encounters a man who has been blind since birth.

Note the very different attitudes of the key characters in this story:











We can also notice that Jesus was clearly not under the current COVID-19 health requirements when he spat on the ground and made a paste from the dirt …


Fast forward around 2,000 years and here we are on the edge of a whole new way of being church, worshipping God and serving others.

We have never been in this space before.

Easter is just around the corner and almost certainly there will be no public church services during those most holy days.

Passover will be scaled back for Jews.

Ramadan will be quiet and subdued for Muslims when the daytime fasting ends.


Some of us have experienced part of this in our lives due to illness or other life events that have kept us away from church for a time. But we always knew that church was happening, and that people of faith were gathering for worship, learning more about their faith, and getting organised to make the world a better place for everyone.

Not anymore.

The pause button has been pressed.

So, what do we have left during these weeks when not just church but so many other aspects of our lives will be so very different from anything we have experienced before?

Let me unpack that around four (4) key words:

  • Faith
  • Community
  • Compassion
  • Generosity



Faith is something that seems to be in short supply these days.

People who strip the shelves of household supplies and food are demonstrating a profound lack of faith in the capacity of our system to sustain us as it does in normal times.

People who pack our beaches and ignore the advice to maintain safe social distances are also showing their deep lack of faith. They do not trust the health authorities. They do not believe the government. They have no faith in science.

These are not normal times, but we can respond to these times with faith rather than fear.

We can be people of cautious optimism and quiet hope.

We can do all this because we are Easter people.

We do not deny the tragedy and the evil of Good Friday, but we affirm that light conquers darkness, love defeats hatred, hope destroys fear, and life overcomes death.

Faith does not halt the pandemic, but it stops us falling apart as our routines dissolve around us.

Faith nudges us to look beyond, to the love which at the very centre of the cosmos and which came to us in the person of Jesus.

Faith is practical hope; not whistling in the dark but lighting a candle to shatter the deepest darkness.



As people of faith we are community, the Body of Christ, those called together to make a difference in the world.

For as long as any of us can remember, our community has been grounded in gathering around a table, the Table of Jesus.

But that table is out of reach for a while.

We are going to find other ways to build and sustain community.

One part of that is the technology which has transformed our lives, and which now allows us to gather without being in the same place.

We have online communities and we can make better use of them.

But we also need to make the phone calls and knock on the doors of isolated people.

Make list of people and find ways to check on them. Make a list of 10 names and pray for those people every day. Maybe give them a call. Check how they are doing.

If you have concerns for them, let us know and we shall try to make contact as well.

Download the Cathedral app.

Join the next few Dean’s Forums as Zoom meetings!

Get onto Facebook and join the Grafton Anglicans private group. Share your thoughts. Ask questions. Reflect on what is happening. Explore the Bible. Begin to imagine what church will be like on the other side of this pandemic.

We are a resilient community and we shall come out of this stronger than ever.



Some people are going to be hurt by the pandemic.

Many people will become ill and some will die. Some of us may die in the next few weeks.

Businesses will close.

Jobs will be lost.

Some essential household items and certain lines of food are still going to be hard to get.

But we do not hoard.

It is against the very essence of being people of faith to hoard.

We share what we have and give when we are asked.

It seems impossible to feed 5,000 people with five bread rolls and a couple of small fish, but God can use what we share to make a huge difference in the lives of others. And especially in those in most need.

Instead of worrying about how we will survive as a church with the OpShop closed for several months, let’s begin to imagine what an impact we can have on people as the OpShop becomes a community hub where they find the help they need. And indeed, in some ways, the food they need for each day.

Give us today our daily bread.

We shall be gentle with each other and act out of compassion.



Recently we sang the beautiful modern hymn, “A Spendthrift Lover is the Lord” by Thomas H. Troeger:

A spendthrift lover is the Lord who never counts the cost
Or asks if heaven can afford to woo a world that’s lost.
Our lover tosses coins of gold across the midnight skies
And stokes the sun against the cold to warm us when we rise.

As people of faith, we reflect the generosity of God in ourselves and in our own actions, and we are going to need generosity as we navigate the weeks and months ahead.

Generosity is as much about openness as it is about funding.

Indeed, generosity is the very opposite of the hoarding which has been so evident in the past few weeks.

It is natural that when we fear that there may not be enough of something to go around, we are tempted to grab what we can before it runs out. We panic buy. We hoard. We are selfish. Other people get hurt.

As people of faith we know the generosity of our spendthrift lover.

We trust the endless capacity of God to bring good out of evil, and life out of death.

We have no deep fear that life lacks what we need to thrive.

Give us today our daily bread.

So we have no need to hoard.

We can share what we have without fear.

And that unlocks a chain of compassionate generosity that turns our world upside down.

As a Cathedral, we will pay what we need to spend, and we will share what resources we have. Even if our reserves are exhausted, God will provide all that we need and then some.

Give us today our daily bread.

So please do find a way to get your gifts to the Cathedral: direct debit, bank transfers, cheques, mobile payment on the Cathedral app, delivering your envelopes to the office.

We may have less coming in, but there will still be lots to go out.

As generous people, we can keep our hearts and our minds open to those who need our help.


In among all the strangeness of the coming weeks, hold fast to these four key words:

Faith – Community – Compassion – Generosity


Finally, embrace this opportunity for a change of pace. Let’s all slow down for a bit.

With that in mind, let me close with a poem by John O’Donoghue

This is the time to be slow,
Lie low to the wall
Until the bitter weather passes.

Try, as best you can, not to let
The wire brush of doubt
Scrape from your heart
All sense of yourself
And your hesitant light.

If you remain generous,
Time will come good;
And you will find your feet
Again on fresh pastures of promise,
Where the air will be kind
And blushed with beginning.

© John O’Donohue. Excerpt from his books, To Bless the Space Between Us (US) / Benedictus (Europe). Ordering Info:

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Clean hands and open hearts

This opinion piece appeared in The Daily Examiner on Thursday, 12 March 2020

“Facts not fear. Clean hands. Open hearts.”

With these seven simple words, Dr Abdu Sharkawy, concluded a recent Facebook post about the coronavirus. Dr Sarkawy is a Canadian medical doctor and an infectious diseases specialist. His post went viral, which is an interesting metaphor given our content.

After all the scientific and medical details in his post, those three simple axioms stand out for me: Facts not fear. Clean hands. Open hearts.

We certainly need to pay attention to the facts and resist the tendency for fear to override both common sense and scientific knowledge. The empty shelves in the supermarket aisles reveal how easily fear can trigger irrational responses.

We are fortunate to have an excellent public health system. Let’s give the advice coming from the federal and state health officers at least as much credence as the advice we accepted so readily from our emergency services during the recent bushfire crisis.

Facts not fear.

The best practical advice is to leave the toilet paper on the supermarket shelves and to focus on personal hygiene, especially cleaning our hands. Often. And thoroughly. Yes, it really is that simple. Clean our hands. Cough into our elbows. Avoid shaking hands. Stay indoors if we feel unwell. Do not put others at risk even if that means some inconvenience for us.

Clean hands.

But perhaps the most important lesson of all is to keep our hearts open to one another.

As a compassionate community we affirm our shared humanity, and we renew our commitment to be there for one another.

A year ago we determined not to allow an act of violence in Christchurch to tear us apart. Since then we have stuck together as fires ripped the heart from our forests and threatened so many small communities. The same resilience is needed as we stare down this virus which threatens our compassion for one another.

Open hearts.


Dr Greg Jenks is the Dean of Grafton. Like many Anglican and Catholic churches across the North Coast, Grafton Cathedral has made changes to its worship arrangements to reduce the risk of the COVID-19 virus being spread.


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Solidarity in blessings

First Sunday of Lent (Year A)
Christchurch Cathedral Grafton
1 March 2020


[ video ]

Perhaps not surprisingly on this first Sunday in Lent, the Bible readings chosen for today tends to focus on temptation and sin.

For sure there will be sermons in churches all around Grafton and all over the nation about sin as the great reality at the heart of human existence, and about how we all need to use these 40 days of Lent to turn away from sin and embrace the good news.

I am going to take a different line today.

Most likely that will not surprise you.

Rather than focusing on solidarity in sin, I want to focus in solidarity in blessing.

In doing that I am not blind to sin, although I prefer to call its by its proper names of ANGER, EVIL, FEAR, HATRED, INJUSTICE and VIOLENCE.

What tend to be categorised as ‘sin’ seem mostly to be low level moral failures that cause very little harm but arouse the passion of the theological thought police, while those things that really are evil and which cause devastation to individuals, families, communities and even the planet as a whole tend to escape the label ‘sin’.

To the extent that we want to turn away from sin this Lent, let’s search for ways to address these larger and more potent forms of evil and avoid a self-serving focus on moral failure and religious laziness.

Each of us is flawed—hence the phrase ‘broken things for broken people” as I invite you to the table of Jesus.

But each and every flawed human being is capable of the most amazing acts of courage, generosity and love.

Contrary to the theological fear-mongers, sin is not what characterises us most deeply. Rather, our true dignity as human beings and as Earth creatures is that we are made in the image of God and have the most amazing capacity for good.

Next time you look in the mirror, congratulate God on her fine work rather than berating yourself for some marginal improvements that may be long overdue.


Paradise Lost

Our first reading today comprised two excerpts from the book of Genesis in which the first people make choices about being human:

The Lord God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to till it and keep it.  And the Lord God commanded the man, ‘You may freely eat of every tree of the garden;  but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat of it you shall die.’
3  Now the serpent was more crafty than any other wild animal that the Lord God had made. He said to the woman, ‘Did God say, “You shall not eat from any tree in the garden”?’  The woman said to the serpent, ‘We may eat of the fruit of the trees in the garden;  but God said, “You shall not eat of the fruit of the tree that is in the middle of the garden, nor shall you touch it, or you shall die.” ’  But the serpent said to the woman, ‘You will not die; for God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.’  So when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was to be desired to make one wise, she took of its fruit and ate; and she also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate.  Then the eyes of both were opened, and they knew that they were naked; and they sewed fig leaves together and made loincloths for themselves. (Gen 2:15–17 & 3:1–7)

This is one of two creation stories in Genesis and one of several creation texts in the Old Testament, yet this is the story on which the Christian West has been fixated.

In this story God sets boundaries to the freedom which Adam and Eve may enjoy. They could eat any fruit from any tree, except for the ‘tree of the knowledge of good evil’.

Of course, we know there never was such a tree and that this is a mythical tale about the loss of paradise. Yet we never pause to wonder why God would want to ban humans from knowing good and evil, or whether God was right even to make such a rule.

Let’s stand back and look at ourselves—at our Christian selves for almost 2,000 years—and wonder how we can be so short-sighted in the way that we engage with this story.

We have used this story to explain to ourselves why life is not perfect, and we use this story to put the blame for that reality on ourselves as humans.

I think we can read that story in a more affirming and positive way, but let’s put it aside for now and focus on the other two readings set for this morning.


We, not me

When we look at the reading from Romans, we can immediately see why it was chosen for today, but we can also see that at the heart of the text is a concept of human solidarity that we mostly ignore.

If, because of the one man’s trespass, death exercised dominion through that one, much more surely will those who receive the abundance of grace and the free gift of righteousness exercise dominion in life through the one man, Jesus Christ.  Therefore, just as one man’s trespass led to condemnation for all, so one man’s act of righteousness leads to justification and life for all.  For just as by the one man’s disobedience the many were made sinners, so by the one man’s obedience the many will be made righteous. (Romans 5:17–19)

Our culture celebrates the individual rather than the whole human bio-system of which every individual is a part: families, households, clans, clubs, churches, tribes, nations, race, humanity itself.

Paul clearly accepted that Adam’s choice in Genesis 2 was a bad move and had inflicted suffering on every human being ever since. Note, however, that in the opening verse from the larger text for today, Paul says this was because everyone else also sinned.


That’s an interesting correction to the dominant sin-and-death cult of Western Christianity at least since Augustine of Hippo (who died in 430 CE).

According to Paul the same consequences that Adam experienced as a result of his bad choices were experienced by everyone else ever afterwards … because they also all made the same kind of bad choices. Not simply because they inherited bad genes from the first human being.

Notice how Paul sees the choices made by Jesus as also having consequences for everyone else.

Writing to the Corinthians a few years before his letter to the Romans, Paul used the parallel of the ‘first Adam’ and the ’second Adam’ this way:

Thus it is written, “The first man, Adam, became a living being”; the last Adam became a life-giving spirit. But it is not the spiritual that is first, but the physical, and then the spiritual. The first man was from the earth, a man of dust; the second man is from heaven. As was the man of dust, so are those who are of the dust; and as is the man of heaven, so are those who are of heaven. Just as we have borne the image of the man of dust, we will also bear the image of the man of heaven. (1 Corinthians 15:45–49)

The device of contrasting Adam and Jesus was part of Paul’s theological toolset.

In today’s reading from Romans he is, in effect, saying:

Adam – bad choice ­– everyone dies
Jesus – good choice – everyone lives

Notice, by the way, that Paul says ‘everyone’; not just the religious and not just the Christians. All humanity.

Our job as people of faith is not to scare people out of hell, but to love them into heaven. Jesus has already secured their entry. It is theirs for the taking. Hell will be empty.


Jesus makes good choices

Our third reading today from the Gospel of Matthew has Jesus making the right choices.

Like every ancient hero inside the Bible or outside the Bible, Jesus had to overcome a series of tests before he could begin his task.

Then Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil. He fasted for forty days and forty nights, and afterwards he was famished. The tempter came and said to him, ‘If you are the Son of God, command these stones to become loaves of bread.’ But he answered, ‘It is written, “One does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.”’

Then the devil took him to the holy city and placed him on the pinnacle of the temple, saying to him, ‘If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down; for it is written, “He will command his angels concerning you”, and “On their hands they will bear you up, so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.”’  Jesus said to him, ‘Again it is written, “Do not put the Lord your God to the test.”

Again, the devil took him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendour; and he said to him, ‘All these I will give you, if you will fall down and worship me.’ Jesus said to him, ‘Away with you, Satan! for it is written, “Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him.”’

Then the devil left him, and suddenly angels came and waited on him. (Matthew 4:1–11)

Again, this is myth not history. It is how people saw reality. And there is truth in the story even if there is very little history.

Like Adam and like Jesus we get to make choices.

Making choices is a sacred human attribute.

Sometimes we make bad choices, and those bad choices may cause hardship for other people, even those who we love.

But sometimes we make good choices, even brave and holy choices. Those good choices will also have consequences for other people; those close to us and even people we may not know directly.

We need to make more good choices and fewer of the bad choices.

The choice is ours.

The consequences will not be just for us.

And this first Sunday in Lent is a good time to ask God to help us make more good choices and to fix the consequences of any bad choices we have made in the past.

Maybe that is our prayer today as we come to the Table of Jesus?


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Think different

Grafton Cathedral
Epiphany 6A
16 February 2020



[ video ]

Between 1997 and 2002, Apple Computers (as they were then called) had a highly successful advertising campaign that transformed perceptions of them and their products, while encouraging people to “think different”.

Hold that thought as we delve into today’s Gospel reading.


For the past few weeks we have been hearing excerpts from the Sermon on the Mount, a special collection of teaching material from Jesus.

We shall look more closely at the Sermon on the Mount during the Dean’s Forum in two weeks’ time, but for now let’s just not that this is the classic collection of the teaching of Jesus, an epitome of his spiritual wisdom.

Although only found in Matthew it has been extremely influential over the centuries.

Indeed, Mahatma Gandhi largely drew his inspiration for non-violent resistance to the British imperial power in India from the teachings of Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount. He famously said that if the test for being a Christian was simply the Sermon on the Mount taken at face value, then he would gladly say that he was a Christian!


In the Gospel today we heard part of the final section of Matthew 5, a section in which Jesus gives a series of antithetical statement more or less along the lines of:

“you have it said this way in the past … but now I am telling you different!”

In these statements, Matthew is contrasting Jesus with Moses.

For the Jewish Christians who comprised Matthew’s audience this was a controversial idea, even if we have long since become comfortable with the contrast.

It would be rather like a Pope saying, “Well, I know the church has always said this, but now I am telling you we need to think differently about that matter.”

In this series of six antithesis, Jesus ‘ups the ante’ in the following areas of personal relationships:

  • no murder (no hatred)
  • no adultery (no lustful stare)
  • no divorce without papers (no divorce)
  • no false oaths (no oaths)
  • proportionate violence (no violence)
  • love your neighbour (love your enemy)


In what many seem a classic example of hyperbole, Jesus begins his series with the example of homicide.

We might think that is a bit extreme, but pause for a moment and think how common domestic violence is around our country and even right here in Grafton where the rates tend to be twice the state average.

How many women die in Australia due to violence by a domestic partner or family member?

The answer is—on average—one woman dies every week in Australia as a result of violence by her current or former partner.

So this is not some extreme example randomly chosen by Jesus, but sadly a part of everyday life in our most intimate and personal relationships. In the places where we should be most secure from harm, immense harm is happening every day every week all year to women and children.

So Jesus picks up the traditional law: no killing

You heard that in the past he says.

Now this is how I am telling you it needs to be:

But I say to you that if you are angry with a brother or sister, you will be liable to judgment; and if you insult a brother or sister, you will be liable to the council; and if you say, ‘You fool,’ you will be liable to the hell of fire (Matthew 5:22 NRSV)

No killing—but also no violence (see verses 38 to 42)

More than that—just getting angry with someone else is forbidden.

And more than that—even to insult someone is to fall under divine judgment.


Jesus has really raised the bar, and he continues to do that through the whole series of antitheses in the final half of Matthew 5.

Let’s hear that summary list again:

  • no murder (no hatred)
  • no adultery (no lustful stare)
  • no divorce without papers (no divorce)
  • no false oaths (no oaths)
  • proportionate violence (no violence)
  • love your neighbour (love your enemy)


As I wrote in the Daily Morsel for this morning, these are the values of the kingdom, not a checklist for compliance.

But the world would be a better place if more people aspired to these values. Our own lives would be as well.


In times of stress, we are more likely to lash out and to seek to score points at the expense of another person.

Sadly we see this in the life of the church as people struggle with declining numbers and with changing attitudes towards religion.

We are seeing it as well in the diocesan restructure process as people face the prospect of their special place of worship being closed and sold.

Harsh words are spoken.

Relationships are smashed.

Cruel things are said about the bishop, the Cathedral, the diocese, the priest, the town next door, and so on.

The idea of working together is dismissed and people seek to retain what they still have left of the church which has vanished but which they cannot let go.


Such times are hard times for us, just as drought and fire and flood are tough for people on the land.

But we cannot turn on each other when the times become hard for us.

Jesus sets the bar really high: no anger and no name-calling.

We choose love and we choose to care for one another as we navigate these tough times.








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Religion that pleases God

Fifth Sunday after Epiphany
Christ Church Cathedral, Grafton
9 February 2020



[ video ]

Our readings today revolve around one really big idea.

It is simply this: what kind of religion pleases God?

You would think that after 2,000 years of Christianity and at least another 1,000 years of Jewish history we might have a reasonable good answer to such a basic question.

Indeed, the prophets of ancient Israel—including Isaiah whose words we heard today—certainly spoke very plainly, as you may have noticed during the first reading.

Before we go there, let’s think a bit more deeply about the idea of ‘pleasing God’.

We hear a lot of this kind of talk, but it needs to taken as metaphor and not as some literal need on God’s part for us to make her happy, to relieve God’s stress levels or otherwise to stroke his ego.

God does not need us or anything that we can provide to complete the divine perfection.

You may have people in your family for whom it is so difficult to find a suitable gift. Well, God is like that on steroids! There is nothing God needs and there is nothing we can organise as a gift to make his existence any more complete and satisfying than it already is.

It may be more helpful to speak of God having a dream for the universe, for our world and even for our own individual lives. Rather like a parent who has hopes and dreams for the future happiness, success and well-being of our children, so God—we might imagine—has hopes and dreams for how the world might develop: for the direction things might go and the process by which we might all get there.

We sometimes speak of the moral arc of the universe being long but tending towards justice.

In a similar way we could speak of God’s dream for creation as a long-term process (at least 15 billion years so far) leading to a universe that expresses and reflects God’s own character as love.

There have been a few setbacks, which we might imagine disappoint God or even cause her some form of grief (whatever emotional dynamics we ascribe to God).

Hopefully there have also been some developments which have ‘pleased’ God.

As Christians we see the life of Jesus as an act of extended faithfulness that pleased God, while we also see his murder by the powers that be as something that disappointed God. We see the divine response to that ‘disappointment’ in the resurrection of Jesus, and so we believe that Easter is the paradigm for God’s action in bringing about the final outcome that she seeks.

Those are pretty big theological and philosophical ideas, but when we look at how religious people act it seems that people of faith think they know what God wants, what will ‘please’ God.

We see that certain trends are easily observed:

  • People think God wants the nicest building we can afford to build
  • We should keep enlarging that building and making it more beautiful (to our eyes)
  • The design and the materials should reflect the best architectural principles
  • Our music should be the very finest that we can perform (nothing less is good enough)
  • Our liturgies should be perfect performances, with the most gorgeous vestments and vessels of gold and silver—with added jewels, if possible
  • Readings and prayers will be said by people who speak properly
  • And the sermons should be well written, delivered with some flair and able to inspire people to do more of the above, or at least to keep contributing more money so we can keep doing all of the above.
  • One more thing … the people who enter that building to participate in these glorious liturgies should be nice people (people like us) who get on well without any arguments.

Sounds just like our cathedral, right?

Well, perhaps it sounds how we would like the Cathedral to be or even how we fondly remember it being in the days (insert name of your favourite Dean here) …


Now let’s ‘wind back the tape’ and listen again to the words from the Scroll of the Prophet Isaiah:

Is not this the fast that I choose:
to loose the bonds of injustice,
to undo the thongs of the yoke,
to let the oppressed go free,
and to break every yoke?
Is it not to share your bread with the hungry,
and bring the homeless poor into your house;
when you see the naked, to cover them,
and not to hide yourself from your own kin?
Then your light shall break forth like the dawn,
and your healing shall spring up quickly;
your vindicator shall go before you,
the glory of the LORD shall be your rear guard.
Then you shall call, and the LORD will answer;
you shall cry for help, and he will say, Here I am.

(Isaiah 58:6–9 NRSV)


Such an idea was not unique to Isaiah, but let me cite just one short example from the New Testament to demonstrate that this understanding is at the very heart of both Judaism and Christianity:

Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to care for orphans and widows in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained by the world. (James 1:27 NRSV)

God is not opposed to good architecture, fine music, good liturgies and powerful preaching; but religion that pleases God is religion that incarnates God’s love for the broken, the needy and the poor in ways that actually make a difference to their lives.

We saw an example of that recently when Pope Francis ordered that one of the Vatican palaces be made a hostel for homeless men. Imagine the reaction among his advisors and the heritage committee!

But note the words spoken by the Pope: “Beauty heals!”

And we recall the Pope’s words when he was first elected in 2013 and called for “a poor church for the poor”.

Now that sounds like Isaiah 58 to me.

When we become a poor cathedral for the poor of Grafton, then we shall indeed be salt for this town and a light set upon a hill.

May that day come soon and may it last for ever.



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Love with its sleeves rolled up

Australia Day 2020
Christ Church Cathedral, Grafton
26 January 2020





For almost five months, fires have raged across large tracts of our ancient and dry continent.

Who could have imagined it?

And February is not yet here.

Yet, after an apocalyptic summer we are on the verge of normality.

Well, some of us are: those returning to secure jobs in the last week or so, and those resuming (or commencing) school this coming week.

But there is no return to normality for the vast tracts of bushland that have been destroyed, nor for the one billion animals believed to have been killed by these fires.

There is no return to normality for the owners and workers of almost 6,000 buildings lost to the fires so far.

There is no return to normality for the people who once lived in almost 2,700 homes which have been destroyed by the fires.

There is no return to normality for the 33 people killed in the fires so far, nor their families and communities.


It is not just the scale of the fires that has been so daunting, but the intensity of the flames, the speed with which they ran ahead of the fire front, the early start to the fire season, and the proximity of the fires to farms, homes and even urban areas.

Airports have been closed, seaside villages evacuated, and in so many different places people were choking on the thick air under a frightening red sky.

The world has noticed.

Any of us with overseas friends will have had many enquiries asking about our safety.

Australia has been teetering on the edge of the abyss as a serious climate emergency has seemingly caught us unaware. Not really unawares, of course. Just unprepared as our leaders have chosen to ignore the warning of scientists and fire chiefs, preferring to head overseas on their family holidays while Australia burned.

In this climate emergency we have seen the worst and the best of humanity.

The arsonists and the looters, few though they be, remind us our capacity for evil.

Thankfully their lack of human decency has been more than matched by the outflow of the very best of humanity which we have witnessed in these past months: compassion, volunteers, assistance, and donations (huge amounts).

Of course, the culture wars have continued as well, and some of the divisions have hardened as people stick to their preconceived ideas no matter how bad the fires become.

But overall this has been a time when we have rediscovered who we are as Australians.

Perhaps it has also been a time when we have sensed just how fragile life can be.

We are all so vulnerable.

Despite our best efforts to provide shelter and food, and to provide for future contingencies, we are vulnerable, and our comfortable lives can quickly vanish in a fire, or a flood, or a hurricane, or a negative medical diagnosis or a new global virus alert.

Too often we are like the proverbial rich farmer whose plans for an easy retirement collapsed in a single night. [Luke 12:16– 21]

The fires may have been a wakeup call for a society which expects everything to work out well. We imagine that the universe owes us a living, and a good one at that.


On this Australia Day as we scan the shared contours of our national life there are some features which speak to our hearts.


It seems to me that this climate emergency and the fires which it has turbo charged has also revealed a genuine compassion for those who are doing it tough. When so much often seems to divide us, it is a good thing to discover all over again how much care about one another.

Compassion goes deeper than mateship, as it extends even to strangers and people with whom we may disagree.

Compassion is about deep solidarity when we discover how much of the good stuff and the bad stuff we all share. Your feelings and your concerns are mine, and mine are yours.

Compassion surpasses tolerance and even harmony. It is more than finding room for someone else and their opinions, but actively wanting what is best for them even at the cost of what we may wish for ourselves.

Compassion is love with its sleeves rolled up.


Alongside compassion for all those impacted by the fires, we have this amazing sense of gratitude for the firefighters and all the emergency services personnel.

Words fail when we seek to express our debt to them, even if our own homes were not in the path of the flames.

We salute their unstinting response: day after day, week after week.

We acknowledge the costs they have also borne as they sought to save other people’s homes and farms.

We are thankful for all they have done, and continue to do.

We are in awe of them.

Ancient Wisdom

The fires have done something else, as well. And this is something that is it essential for us to name on Australia Day.

The fires that swept across our ancient and dry land reminded us that our story did not start in 1788 when the eleven ships that comprised to so-called ‘First Fleet’ sailed into Port Jackson after an aborted attempt to establish a settlement at Botany Bay.

In more general terms there have been calls to learn from the First Nations of this land how to live more in harmony with a country that is prone to extreme weather events punctuated by extended droughts.

Perhaps most poignantly, the fires in southwest Victoria exposed previously unknown sections of the ancient aquaculture systems at Budj Bim. These systems date back to a time before the pyramids were built in Egypt, and their chance exposure due to the fires has been another reminder that the story of nation long predates the arrival of Europeans.

On a day which commemorates the arrival of one group of immigrants, it is important to recognise both the people who have been here since time immemorial as well as welcoming those who have arrived more recently.

As we learn more about the truth of our deep past we shall be better prepared to live into the future that we must—and shall—share together.

This Australia day, from the devastation of the fires, let’s claim these three precious items as we live into that future: compassion, gratitude and cultural humility.


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Gifts exotic and rare

Feast of the Epiphany
Grafton Cathedral
5 January 2020


[ video ]

Here we are—almost—at the Twelfth Day of Christmas.

Tomorrow (January 6) we complete the great celebration of Jesus’ birth within the Western tradition, and then tomorrow evening the Orthodox faithful will begin their Christmas celebrations.

This double celebration in western and eastern parts of the church is an accident that derives from our different ways of counting time.

In the West, we have tended to count the days according to the movement of the sun; which works pretty well provided we have an extra day inserted every fourth year to keep things in sync. The calendar we know was promulgated by Pope Gregory XIII in 1582 and was itself a reform that involved skipping ahead 10 days to make up for a gradual drift out of alignment that had happened over the 1,628 years since the previous reform of the calendar by Julius Caesar in 46 BCE.

Although the Gregorian Calendar has been widely adopted and is now used by almost everyone in the world for civil and commercial records, the older Julian calendar continues to ‘set the clock’ (as it were) for religious purposes in the East.

While it looks to us as if the Greeks are celebrating Christmas almost two weeks late, that is simply because our ways of counting time are out of sync.

Both in the West and in the East we celebrate a 12-day festival between Christmas and Epiphany.

That quirk of public timekeeping reminds us that how we see reality often depends on the lens through which are looking.

I wonder if there may be a subtle lesson for us as our ‘culture wars’ over climate change paralyse our public administration so that we are unable to respond appropriately to the massive fire emergency across vast areas of our ancient continent.

Rather than defend ‘how we see things’, perhaps the fire emergency is calling us to deal with what is now happening in our forests and even on the water’s edge.


At the heart of today’s Gospel is the strange tale about a visit to Bethlehem by a delegation of leading scientists ‘from the East’.

It is a marvellous symbolic story that invites us to imagine an impressive entourage of exotic people turning up in the little town of Bethlehem. And there is nothing in the story to restrict their number to three people!

Matthew is not describing three mates off for a fishing weekend.

Matthew is not suggesting one person with a package of gold, another person with a bundle of frankincense and a third person with a jar of myrrh.

Rather, Matthew is pointing to a delegation from the faraway eastern lands who brought ‘truckloads’ of precious materials not easily available on the local market.

These sages will not have been travelling without a bodyguard, plus slaves to look after their camels and other slaves to prepare their meals, offer personal services, etc.

We actually have several descriptions of one such Eastern delegation to Rome around the middle of the first century, and that visit may have been the inspiration for the scene that Matthew has created in his birth legend for Jesus:

The story of a state visit to Emperor Nero by the Armenian ruler, Tiridates, is told by several ancient writers, but this example from Dio Cassius gives a sense of the scene being constructed by Matthew for his readers:

In the consulship of Gaius Telesinus and Suetonius Paulinus … Tiridates presented himself in Rome, bringing with him not only his own sons but also those of Vologaesus, of Pacorus, and of Monobazus. Their progress all the way from the Euphrates was like a triumphal procession. Tiridates himself was at the height of his reputation by reason of his age, beauty, family, and intelligence; and his whole retinue of servants together with all his royal paraphernalia accompanied him. Three thousand Parthian horsemen and numerous Romans besides followed in his train. They were received by gaily decorated cities and by peoples who shouted many compliments. Provisions were furnished them free of cost, a daily expenditure of 800,000 sesterces for their support being thus charged to the public treasury. This went on without change for the nine months occupied in their journey. [Dio Cassius, Roman History.]


Now that is one impressive state visit by Eastern rulers (magi), and it helps us to imagine the scene that Matthew is suggesting for his audience.

Unlike Nero, also a nasty character by most accounts, Herod does not make the eastern visitors welcome but rather seeks to exploit their visit for his own evil plans.

This is not history, of course, but an imaginative celebration of the significance of the birth of Jesus. Luke, as we know, tells a very different story; but each in their own way are teasing out the political significance of Jesus, the Anointed One, the Lord, the Saviour.


So here we are celebrating this ancient legend as we wrap up our Christmas and as our Orthodox friends prepare to start their own celebrations.

And our country is on fire!

Are we just playing holy games inside the Cathedral to make us all feel better about a world which is a real mess and our lives which are far from perfect, or are we dealing with spiritual wisdom that is not only relevant to everyday life but has the power transform how we deal with reality?

Most people in town—and maybe most of our family and friends—think we are playing harmless religious games, but I hope we have a sense that the faith we share has the power to change the world.

It did so in the past. Repeatedly. And it still has that capacity.

As our country burns we could use some wise ones to come from afar—east or west, north or south—and brings gifts to help solve this fire emergency which threatens to consume such a large part of our countryside.

Actually, wise and generous people have already arrived and most of them came from close by:

First of all the amazing volunteer fire crews (how can we ever thank them?)

Alongside them a vast network of emergency response people: setting up evacuation centres, preparing food for both the fire crews and those escaping the fires, donations of money and goods to assist those impacted by the fires, as well as chaplains offering emotional and spiritual care to everyone involved.

Then we have the array of scientific and technical people who bring their expertise to help us understand the fires, the weather; to fly the aircraft and to maintain the fire trucks.

The defence force has become increasingly engaged in the battle, for such it is, to save our communities from the flames that are licking at the suburbs of Sydney and consuming isolated rural communities.

Ordinary members of the public doing their part and then even more to assist as and where they can.

Not to mention the volunteer fire crews who have arrived from overseas.

We are all in this together.


Most of these wise and generous strangers have emerged from among us, just as they did some weeks ago when the fires were causing devastation in the area around us here on the north coast.

We have been overwhelmed by the scale and the ferocity of the fires, but we have also been renewed and lifted up by so many acts of kindness and generosity.


The fire emergency points to the larger climate emergency which our politicians seem unable or unwilling to see:

a world where extreme weather events become the norm

a world where ice caps melt

a world where sea levels rise

a world where islands and delta regions vanish under the sea

a world where fires start earlier, burn hotter and last longer


In such a world and at such a time we need wise and generous people who will bring gifts that calm our fears and address our challenges.

As people of faith, we are the ones with ancient spiritual wisdom on which to draw as we face the fire emergency and beyond that the climate emergency.

What gifts do we bring?

Gold might be useful, but let’s set aside the frankincense and myrrh.

In the spirit of Epiphany let me suggest three spiritual gifts we offer to our community and our nation at a time such as this: hope, courage, solidarity.



The fires are destroying more than landscapes and structures.

Dreams are going up in smoke. Homes are destroyed. Lives are lost and livelihoods vaporised. Wildlife is devastated and massive quantities of emissions are pumped into the atmosphere.

After the fires subside the grief will persist and the challenges of starting afresh will remain. The climate emergency will continue and will doubtless get worse before it improves. And the fires will be back long before the next summer begins.

Despair robs us of energy to meet these challenges and paralyzes our political leaders.

This is not a time for recrimination, but it is a time when people need hope.

We are people of hope and the Easter message is a story of fresh beginnings.

Our Christmas faith proclaims a God who is present among us and identifies with us: Emmanuel. Not a faraway power nor a pure philosophical principle, but a God who is born into a third-world village on the edge of a vast empire.

We dare not pretend to have all the answers, but we do have spiritual wisdom which gives us hope even in the darkest times.

Not ‘hoping for the best’; but remaining hopeful even in the worst of times.



To face the fires takes immense courage, raw courage.

To rebuild lives and communities will also require courage.

The ultimate source of the courage we bring to bear in these difficult times is our spiritual confidence in the power of love. For us, love is at the very centre of the universe and we know that love as Emmanuel, the God who is with us, within us, between and one of us.

Addressing the challenge of our climate emergency will require courage, and courage requires deep spiritual roots if it is not to wilt in the heat of these fires, in the dryness of this drought.

Thousands of years ago an anonymous songwriter from Jerusalem talked about finding a well from which to drink as we pass through the valley of weeping (Psalm 84:5–7).

That well is our faith, the spiritual wisdom we have inherited from our forebears and have tested in our own lived experience.

This one of the gifts we bring to our community as a Cathedral and a people of faith.

We do not fold under pressure, but we go deep and find those hidden wells from which to draw courage to face the tough questions and courage to make the changes as we create a new and sustainable future.



In times of crisis we need to stand together, and we have seen that happening in every place where the fires have torn communities apart.

Perhaps that is why we find it so offensive for political leaders to go on vacation as the fire emergency engulfs our country.

Solidarity is at the heart of our faith.

Emmanuel is a God who identifies with us, who is in profound solidarity with us.

From the beginning of Christianity we have spoken about being “in Christ”, united with one another and forming the “body of Christ”.

As we gather at the table of Jesus to break bread and bless wine, we are engaged in a ritual of solidarity: Holy Communion.

We belong to each other and our future is a communal one. We are not just saving individuals, but transforming whole communities, indeed the entire world.


As we join together in solidarity, inspired by courageous hope and hopeful courage we can overcome the devastation of the fires and even find a way to address the larger climate emergency.

Divided and paralyzed we will surely fail, but we bring to our community, our nation and the whole planet profound spiritual wisdom which gives us hope, fuels our courage and draws us together as one people.

Find the wells and tap into the ancient spiritual wisdom of our faith.

Then bring our gifts of hope, courage and solidarity to a nation in need of all three.









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Celebrating the birth of Jesus

The Christ Mass
24 & 25 December 2019
Christ Church Cathedral, Grafton

[ Let Mum rest | Video ]


Around the world today millions of people will engage in various rituals to mark the birth of Jesus more than 2,000 years ago.

Millions of Orthodox Christians will keep the same feast on January 6 & 7, while the Armenians will have their celebrations on January 19.

Some of those people will be in Bethlehem itself, where crowds will attend services at the ancient Church of the Nativity as well as the nearby Lutheran Christmas Church.

Some will join in the celebrations by digital communications, singing carols together despite thousands of kilometres distance between the participants, or watching the liturgy on television.

Some will be in remote military bases where soldiers serving as peacekeepers or as members of international forces take time out to ‘sing the Lord’s song in a strange land’.

Some will be in grand cathedrals in Rome, London, Paris, Washington, Melbourne or Brisbane; to name just a tiny handful of places.

Some will be on holidays by the sea or camping out in the bush, where the stars shine more brightly.

Some will be pausing their fire-fighting efforts to remember the child whose birth we celebrate today.

Some will be in churches across Grafton, as Christians of different traditions mark this special day in ways that reflect their particular understanding of faith.

And some of those people are right here in the Cathedral for this service!

Not everyone will be a person of faith, but Jesus has a significance for our world that goes beyond religion.

It would be hard to identify any other individual who has had the impact on the world which Jesus has had over the past 20 centuries.


Yet, to the extent that we know anything at all about the circumstances of his birth, it was not a promising start.

His immediate family—Mary and Joseph, along with several brothers and at least few sisters—were from the small village of Nazareth in Galilee.

Luke has the family based there even before Jesus is born, while Matthew has them move to Nazareth for safety after they become refugees and asylum-seekers. It was a good thing they were not seeking refuge in our country. They would have ended up in off-shore detention with a lifetime ban on entry to Australia.

We now know quite a bit about Nazareth 2,000 years ago.

It was a small pioneer farming village. Maybe just 15 families who had recently relocated from the south (near Jerusalem) to establish a Jewish presence in the Galilee area, perhaps encouraged by government land grants and tax concessions.

Nazareth was—by our standards—a third-world village. Most families started out using one of the local caves for shelter, as well as storage for their crops. The caves also provided a place to hide from bandits and tax collectors. Over time the caves were modified with modest structures being added at their openings, but the village had not yet developed to point of having a schoolhouse or a resident rabbi.

Like many pioneer communities, the families of Nazareth maintained strong ties with the places from which they had emigrated.  For the family of Joseph that seems to have been Bethlehem, but we know from our archaeological finds that these people were very attached to the Temple in Jerusalem.

From this previously unheard-of village came someone whose name has become famous: Jesus of Nazareth.


The Holy Child of Nazareth held no political or priestly office, and commanded no armies. He was not born into a wealthy family nor into a family with high status in the wider community.

So far as we can tell he was illiterate, not being educated sufficiently to master either reading or writing.

The longest journey he ever took as an adult was the 100km from Nazareth to Jerusalem.

That journey took him to his death: executed on a cross as a rebel against the Roman Empire.

His ragtag band of followers scattered and went back to their old lives as fishermen, scribes, and tax collectors.

From humble origins, his life had ended in shame and failure.


Yet Jesus turned the world upside down.

Almost exactly 300 years after his execution the Roman Emperor Constantine publicly identified himself as a follower of Jesus and convened a council of bishops from around the Roman Empire—all at government expense—to draft the creed we shall say together in just a few minutes time.

The story since then has not been all glory and success. We have failed so many times and in so many ways. We have done what Jesus would never do and aligned ourselves with people of power and wealth.

Even worse, we have abused and exploited children and other vulnerable people.

Despite the church, millions tonight will gather in homes and churches to mark the anniversary of Jesus’ birth.

Jesus proclaimed the coming of God’s reign, but sought no power for himself.

Jesus healed the sick, gave hope to the oppressed, fed the hungry and was even said to raise the dead back to life.

Jesus blessed bread and wine, then invited anyone to come and eat. No limits to acceptance. No boundaries to compassion.

“Imagine this”, Jesus said. “Imagine a world where God’s law of love prevails rather than the edicts of Caesar or the privileges of the powerful.”

And he taught us a prayer which—if we ever really lived it fully—would turn our own lives upside down as well:

Our father in heaven …
Your kingdom come …
Your will be done on earth as in heaven …
Give us the bread we need for today, one day at a time …
Forgive us by the measure of how we forgive others …
Do not put us to the test …

We shall say that prayer together later in this service, and I invite you to hear afresh how that prayer reverses what we often think we know about God, or power, or church, or ourselves.

This is the legacy of Jesus, whose birth we celebrate tonight.

No wonder Jesus matters even to people for whom religion is meaningless.






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Son of David

Christ Church Cathedral, Grafton
Fourth Sunday of Advent (Year A)
22 December 2019

[ video ]

What a difference one week can make …

Queue at Church of the Nativity Bethlehem

Saturday last weekend we were lined up in the beautifully restored Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem, waiting—along with hundreds of other people—to visit the ancient cave below the altar of the church. That cave has been venerated for almost 2,000 years as the place where Jesus was born.

Earlier we had spent time at some fields where shepherds once tended their flocks, but we did not see any angels on high. We did, however, sit inside a dark cave and read the story of the angels appearing to the shepherds.

Later we visited the cave where Saint Jerome worked on the translation of the Bible from Greek to Latin, a project that would shape the spiritual imagination of the West for another next 1,500 years and in many ways still does.

The Christmas decorations were everywhere that we went, since both Muslims and Christians celebrate the birth of Jesus. Sadly, Jews in Israel are not so inclined to join in the celebrations.

Returning to Australia in the early hours of Thursday morning it was beginning to look a lot of Christmas here as well.

And there is nothing like a child to remind us of the magic of Christmas. Newborns remind us of the holy infant, while older children infect us all with their delight as Christmas beckons us to loosen up and be nice to people.

It has been great delight these past few days to have the opportunity to meet baby James, the newest member of our family, here from Canada for a few precious weeks.

And it is a special privilege this morning to welcome Mitchell Gosson and his extended family as we celebrate his Baptism.

Any noise they and their buddies make is simply part of the sounds of Christmas!


A child to turn the world upside down

Each newborn is a focus for our hopes and dreams: What will they be like? What will they become when they are older? Will they be like us? Will they be different? Will the world treat them kindly? How might they make the world a better place than it has been before?

For sure they turn our lives upside down as we rearrange everything to provide the love and care they need. And who needs sleep in any case? They evoke love and tenderness from everyone, including complete strangers at the shops!

But what will the future hold?

Running through the readings set for today is the theme “son of David” as a title for Jesus.

We mostly speak about Jesus as “son of God” or even—at this time of year—as “son of Mary”. The church—and especially the church in the West—does not talk so much as about Jesus as ‘Son of David’.

That title suggest a Jesus who goes beyond our comfort zones. He changes stuff. He gets involved. He gets political. And that worries us.

Two weeks ago I was with a group as we visited a small Greek Orthodox Church on the side of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem.

IMG_2247We were there to meet Archbishop Atallah Hanna, an outspoken and courageous Christan leader at a time when his people’s future is being stolen by military occupation and incessant illegal settlements. When there was an opportunity for questions, someone asked if the messages that he gives from his pulpit are as courageous as his actions outside the church.

It was an odd question in some ways, but Archbishop Atallah answered it well.

The courage of a sermon, he said, reflects the character of the preacher. Some priests cannot speak words that give their people hope. They should keep silent. But he will not.

Then two days ago news came through that Archbishop Atallah had been rushed to hospital are being poisoned by tear gas thrown into his church by Israeli soldiers.

I have no idea whether King David was an ancestor of this bold Palestinian Christian, but he is certainly a ‘son of David’. He speaks truth to power. He is bold. He gives his people hope.

Thankfully he is also expected to make a full recovery from the attack.


As son of David, Jesus is not just offering to make us feel better, give us hope or provide assurance of life after death.

As son of David, Jesus turns the world upside down. Our world. The whole world. The world of power and privilege. The world that ignores the scientists warning of climate change until the fires are so bad not even politicians can turn a blind eye.

As we prepare to celebrate the birth of Jesus in the next few days, the son of David invites us to have big dreams for a better world, to live boldy, and to nurture that spiritual boldness in our children.

That is what we sign Mitchell up for as we baptise him here this morning, so let’s go and get the water ready!






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Good news for some

Christ Church Cathedral, Grafton
Twentieth Sunday after Pentecosts (C)
27 October 2019

[ video ]


That gospel reading has two episodes, and in each of them people are coming to Jesus with hopes of finding some spiritual blessing; either for their children or some piece of wisdom for themselves as adults.

In neither case do things go as expected.

For the people bringing infants to Jesus for him to touch, the minders—better known to us as ‘the disciples’—were refusing them access to the Master. That is a story to unpack someday when we have the time needed to make sense of it in a world that was very different from our own; a world where children were not valued or appreciated as they are in our culture now.

Suffice to note that Jesus challenged and overturned the attitudes of the disciples.

To be ready for the reign of God, says Jesus, we must be child-like.

There is a lot in that to explore some other time.


Then we get story #2, and it is a well-known story.

We probably know it as the “rich young ruler”, but that title already mashes together three different versions of the same incident in Matthew, Mark and Luke.

Mark provides the earliest version. Here the key character is a man who has lots of possessions and is seeking advice from Jesus about what he must do to be sure of eternal life. This fellow is neither young nor a ruler. Very few people ever get to combine those two attributes, of course.

Matthew edits Mark’s version to remove some theological issues and, in the process, the rich person becomes a ‘young man’. He is still not a ruler, but he is a very pious Jew seeking spiritual advice from Jesus.

Some decades later, Luke makes his own set of edits to Mark’s version of the story. Luke does not follow the same line as Matthew, but he upgrades the asset portfolio of the gentleman and he also turns the rich man into a ruler. In this version, as in Mark, the rich man is an older person.

So we are dealing with a story that was well-known but which each of the three gospels chose to tweak in its own way. Later on, the church mashed all three versions into the meme of a ‘rich young ruler’, but the core issue about this person is that he is very rich.

Each of the gospels uses this episode as a lesson in discipleship, and all of them link the story with an odd saying about a camel not being able to pass through the eye of a needle.

For Luke—our key Gospel for this year—this episode occurs in chapter 18; very close to the end of the extended ‘long march’ which Luke created by devoting almost half of his storyline to Jesus making his one and only adult journey from Galilee to Jerusalem.

As Luke tells the story, Jesus has almost reached his destination (see next chapter) when he is approached by this wealthy ruler seeking spiritual advice.

Like the parents who brought their children to Jesus, the visit does not go as Mr Money Bags might have expected.

In fact, it ends in tears.

Maybe not actual tears, but disappointment and confusion all around.

The rich ruler walks away from Jesus. He has not found a wisdom that he is willing to embrace, and Jesus has missed out on a wealthy new member of the movement. They probably could have used his offering envelopes!

The disciples had been saying: No room for children in the Jesus movement.

But Jesus seems to say: No room for rich people in my movement.

No prosperity gospel here, and no special favours for rich and powerful supporters. This, guy—as Luke tells the story—was both exceedingly rich and a ruler. He could have been rather handy on the team.

Jesus does not promise that people who follow his wisdom will become rich (or happy or powerful or healthy), but rather the opposite. Those who want to be his followers must become poor, relocate to the edges of society, and lose all their social connections.

Tough words indeed.

Very few people in history have been able to embrace that message. But some have: Francis of Assisi, Albert Schweitzer, and Mother Theresa … to name just a handful.

The disciples are shocked.

In their minds, rich people with influence have a much better chance of pleasing God than ordinary folks like them But Jesus has just turned their world upside down. It seems they had not been watching very closely during the previous few months.

Mind you, the church has not been very good at listening either during the past 2,000 years. We love influence. And we enjoy privilege. We accumulate wealth, property, assets. Indeed, we have sometimes loved those things more than the little children, as the recent Royal Commission has demonstrated so grimly.

Jesus doubles down on his message.

It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to get into God’s empire.

He seems to be quoting an ancient Middle Eastern axiom, and perhaps it originally said ‘camel (rope)’, but over time the axiom has been exaggerated to make it even more compelling. It is not just that one cannot thread a needle with rope made from camel hair, but it would be easier to thread the whole camel through the needle than get a rich person into the kingdom of God.

No wonder the disciples are confused …


This is classic Jesus, the verbal poet with an ear for a great turn of phrase.

This is the same person who told people to rip out their eye or cut off their own hand if those body parts cause them to sin.

Hyperbole was one of Jesus’ favourite tools, and we certainly seem to have it in action here.

Infants are welcome, rich rulers can go to the end of the line.

Now that is good news for some, but not do for others.

It is good news for the poor, the sick, the unemployed, the refugees, the people whose lands will soon disappear under rising sea levels, and everyone who the powerful and privileged people overlook.

It is not good news for those of us who are comfortable and privileged.

Yet Luke was writing his account of Jesus for the successful people in the second-century Roman world. He wants the rich rulers to hear the good news that Jesus both proclaims and lives.

And we need to hear that good news as well.

If we have wealth or privilege or status, then that is to be spent for the sake of others. It is not to be hoarded and protected as if it somehow gives us a cosmic superannuation fund for the future.

For the rich ruler ‘giving away all that he had’ sounded like a punishment, rather than an opportunity to share the blessings around.

Yet a core spiritual principle of our faith is that ‘it is more blessed to give than to receive’ (or we might say to share rather than to hoard).

Maybe the rich ruler realised that, at some stage, and came back to Jesus ready to share all that he had with those who had so little. I like to think so.

It would be his only hope of redemption and it may be ours as well.

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