Sermon on The Presentation of the Lord

In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit

May 23rd 1979.  It was my 6th birthday and it was a day long awaited.  I woke early and burst into my parents room, shaking my father and begging him to get up.  For some months, in a room in our rather forbidding Victorian house, my father had been secreting himself in a large spare bedroom, and working behind a locked door.  Whenever I asked what he was doing I was told rather sternly that it was a surprise and that I would find out on my birthday.   

I don’t know about you, but one of my abiding memories of childhood is really, really wanting everything right now!  Of course, Christmas and Birthdays are good examples of this but actually I realise now that I spent most of my childhood wishing and waiting and wanting…. Stuff!

In our Gospel reading today we meet Simeon.  Simeon is an old man. He is waiting for something, he really, really wants it and it has been promised to him.  We don’t actually know how long Simeon has been waiting but it feels like a long time.  Imagine him sitting patiently outside the temple, an old man seemingly watching the world go by amid the hustle and bustle of city life.  And then, across the street, between the people going about their business and children running and playing he sees a family approaching and he knows.  His wait is nearly over and the anticipation builds rapidly in him.  Simeon is going to meet the Messiah, just as the Holy Spirit promised he would before he died. With long-awaited joy he takes the infant Jesus into his arms and knows him to be the one he has been waiting for.

How did Simeon know this was the Messiah?  After all, he must have seen lots of babies, 40 days old, tiny and wrinkly, carried into the temple by insignificant but devout mothers and fathers. And was he even looking for the Messiah in a baby? Surely he was imagining something a little more exciting – a great teacher or a charismatic rebel.

Have you ever considered how many of God’s promises we don’t see fulfilled simply because we aren’t paying attention or because we don’t have eyes and hearts, like Simeon’s,  prepared to see God at work in unexpected places?

Or maybe we don’t see it because we are more comfortable in the waiting than in uncertainty of what comes after?

There is an old tradition that today, which as well as being called the Presentation of the Lord is known as Candlemas, is the day that really ends the Christmas season. Today is the day when everyone’s nativity scene should be taken down. Because today is usually about half-way between Christmas and Good Friday – half-way between Jesus’ birth and Jesus’ death. So today is kind of a pivot point for the year – the day when we turn from cradle to cross; birth to death.

Simeon’s story contains this pivot.

Holding the infant Messiah, Simeon knows his wait is over, God’s promise to him has been fulfilled. He praises God and sings of light and glory. And then Simeon turns to Mary and the tone changes:

“This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed, so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed – and a sword will pierce your own soul too.”

I wonder if there wasn’t a part of Simeon that would have preferred to just keep waiting – to hold on to the sense of hopeful anticipation rather than the perhaps more complicated emotions after the arrival of the Messiah. 

But following Jesus is not just about Christmas – not just light and joy and celebration. Today, we let Simeon turn us in the direction of the cross, remembering that following Jesus is also about sacrifice and faithfulness in the face of suffering.

Perhaps this is why Candlemas is the day on which candles are traditionally blessed, marked as signs of the light of Christ in the world – we know we still have need of such signs to get us through the darkness ahead.

Back home in the UK where I am from, Candlemas is also roughly half-way between the winter solstice and the spring equinox – it’s the point at which we begin to turn from the cold and dark of winter towards the promise of spring.  Of course, here in Australia we are looking forward to cooler weather.  Today is the day when there is enough of a possibility that we can begin to anticipate autumn.  Each day I rise early to say morning prayer.  At the moment, I say morning prayer as early as possible to avoid the searing heat, but soon mornings will be much, much cooler.

So, on this seasonal pivot day, we turn not simply from cradle to cross but from cradle through cross to the empty tomb, already visible, albeit dimly through the darkness still to come. Following Jesus is not just about Christmas; not just about Good Friday. Following Jesus is also about the hope and freedom of Easter.

Simeon’s song begins with a declaration of the end of his work, perhaps even his life: “Lord, now let your servant go in peace”. His task has been fulfilled; he has born  witness to the arrival of the infant Messiah, seen the salvation of the world. Simeon’s season is over, a new season has begun.

How did Simeon feel when he woke up the day after meeting Jesus and seeing the truth of what his future would hold? Perhaps he woke up thinking, ‘today might be the day!”, before he remembered that yesterday had been the day and that he would have to find something else to do today.

May 23rd 1979.  It was my 6th birthday and it was a day long awaited.  It was the day when my father presented me with a Hornby Intercity 125 model train and unlocked the door to the room in which he had been working for months.  A stunning diorama awaited me with a train track running through hills, valleys and towns.  The detail was amazing, hours of painstaking work had been put in to the project.  But I was too young to appreciate this, I just wasn’t ready, all I wanted to do was play “flying trains.”   And so it was that, as a six year old, I learnt a lot about waiting, frustration, anticipation, and a little bit about what it means to feel deflated.  I still have my train track, and now I grateful to God that I have a son who I shared  it with; it’s part of our journey, although maybe he won’t fully understand it until he has his own children to share it with.

So let us light a candle, in the quiet of this winter morning, and pray with Simeon, that the light of the world will break through the darkness and reveal to us the continuation of God’s promise. Let that be our prayer, as we journey through the seasons of the year and of our lives.

Amen

Pastoral Reflection

Dear Friends,

As I write I am at my desk on Christmas Eve, busily preparing for the next 24 hours and the beautiful liturgy we will share together as we herald in Christmas and the arrival of the new-born child that changed the world forever.

Christmas is a time when we focus on many things that really matter; the love between families and friends, the joy of being in each other’s company, and the need to share our common experiences.  I am sure many of us will take the time to exchange carefully considered gifts and enjoy some merry-making at parties and social event.

The story of Christmas is somewhat overlooked by our modern world.  Amidst the trimmings and fripperies, the turkey and wine (or prawns!) we forget that Christmas is really about a story of God revealing himself to the people of the world in a unique and unpredictable way. 

When God came down at Christmas, he came into a world in need of a visible sign of his love.  People were looking for change, for a new way of being with God that challenged the old stereotypes and prejudices.  And God delivered!

Jesus comes to us in the most humble and simple of ways.  Our King was born into poverty; his royal robes were swaddling clothes, and his throne was a manger.  He was not born in a hospital, with doctors and nurses providing for any eventuality.  His arrival is meant to challenge us and make us question our lives and the immense privilege so many of us benefit from.

Of course, for some, Christmas is an inherently difficult time.  As the western world enters into a frenzy of spending and indulgence, we often forget that there are many who don’t celebrate Christmas at all.  For people of other faiths, or for people of no faith, the message of Christmas is often completely lost and becomes a story of excess and indulgence.  Perhaps we could all do to spend some time reflecting on the Christian call to “go therefore and make disciples of all nations” and ask ourselves why would anyone come to follow a faith which, on the face of it, has become so hi-jacked by consumerism?

And then, of course, there is the endless in-fighting so often picked up by the media.  It is a truth, I believe, that those of us at the very heart of the faith so often forget to consider how we are communicating the most basic message of it.  Instead, we focus on the “issues” of our churchmanship, our beliefs about sin and our constant desire to be the one true church, in a world which looks on wryly and seems to think we are all just a little deranged!

This year has been a difficult one for Anglicans.  Once again, the church is blighted by its failings, and we have witnessed, and are continuing to witness the fall from grace of it’s international leadership.  In the UK, the church is in turmoil, and the worldwide Anglican Communion is closely watching what will happen next.  I read that there will be greater representation from the Anglican Communion as the church goes about choosing a new titular head, the Archbishop of Canterbury.  I think this is a good thing, and hope and pray that the appointment process will be careful, prayerful and humble.  I do not envy the next post-holder, and we should all be praying for the right person to come forward and answer God’s unique and wonderful call.

As I reflect on my own experiences this year, I am resolved to give thanks to God for the many blessings I have been granted.  I am blessed by a wonderful family who provide me such comfort and support.  I have managed to spend some time with my daughter in the UK when I visited her, and here in Australia when she came for a whole month!  My son has completed his schooling and will shortly begin university here in Brisbane studying music.  I am so proud of them both! 

I also celebrated my 25th wedding anniversary in August.  Although we couldn’t be together on the day itself (as my wife was on the other side of the world!) we spoke to each other, and we shared the day on social media with friends and family.  I am not a big fan of social media, but on this occasion, I was very grateful for it!    25 years is a long time, yet it has gone quickly.  I know this is because, despite the challenges of married life we have faced, we were meant to be together, and I give thanks for this to God. 

2024 has also been a hard year for me personally as I lost my father in September.  When someone as old him (94) dies, there is an expectation of death and people will often say “he had a good innings,” or words to that effect.  But the reality is that death is brutal to the human condition.  Those of us who are left behind have to find new ways of being and adjust to a world forever changed.  It isn’t easy to manage grief, but for me it is tempered by the knowledge of the promise of eternal life.

That brings me back, in a full-circle way, to the message of Christmas.  Above all I pray that you will know the peace, hope, joy and love for one another that the Christ-child brings.  His is a message which is as unique and timeless as the amazing world we live in: love one another, as I have loved you. 

Blessings at Christmas and always.

Fr Duncan

Sermon on the 14th Sunday

Many centuries ago, Plato expressed a philosophical idea that has repercussions even to this day.  In Plato’s Phaedo, he tells us that the soul is imprisoned in the body.  

For Plato, and many people today, the human person has two separate parts and this concept is known as Plato’s dualism.  It states that our souls are noble and spiritual and lead us higher up.  Our bodies are material and sinful and drag us down.  

It is true that in daily life, we feel bodily temptations to overindulge in pleasures.  It certainly feels that our souls are weighed down by our bodies, and if we could just free ourselves from material needs, then at last, we would become a saint. 

While this may seem right, it is not.

We do not need to beat our bodies into submission to free ourselves more and more from what it means to be human. 

Our soul is not in a bodily prison, rather our bodies are “spiritualized” by our soul.  Consider the things that make us human:

o   We don’t just talk, we sing. 

o   We don’t just eat, we share delightful meals. 

o   We don’t just build shelters, we build homes and decorate them.

o   We love one another in sacrificial ways. 

o   We are romantics and poets, artisans and free-spirited adventurers. 

The people of Nazareth could not conceive of a Messiah that was as “human” as they were.   Thankfully, in God’s plan of salvation, our bodies are to come along with our souls on the journey of holiness.  One does not hinder the other, but both carry each other.  This is the miracle of being human and it is a gift from God.

Despite God’s omnipotence, there are a few things God has chosen not to be able to do:

·      God can’t force us to love him.

·      God can’t force us to trust him. 

These are two gifts that only we can give him.  And so often we refuse him these gifts!   Trust in God is the “Yes” God needs in order to perform his miracles in our modern world.

There are three special virtues that we as Christians can lay claim to. They are called theological virtues because they come from God himself (God = Theos). They are faith, hope, and love. 

Hope is often misunderstood. At first glance, it may not seem like something spiritual at all.  We hear people say all the time phrases such as: “I hope my team wins” or “I hope I win the lottery”. 

One way to understand hope is to recognize that it transforms and heals our past so that we can look towards the future with joy. 

We often may say that a person might have “baggage from the past”.  If you have baggage from the past, it means that something bad that happened yesterday is negatively conditioning your today and tomorrow. You see the future through the lens of the past hurts.

The people of Nazareth could not let go of the past. They knew Jesus too well and had to let go of what they thought they knew about him. They couldn’t see Jesus as the Messiah because of the false understanding they held onto about what the Messiah would look like and what he would do. As such, this inability to see their present and future through a different lens made them reject the Messiah!

Through baptism and by the sacrament of reconciliation, we receive an inpouring of transformative grace.  If we allow Christ to heal these past hurts, we are then freed from the past and able to look to the future now through a different lens: that of God! 

Hope is therefore being prophetic. Did not the prophets look to the future through the eyes of God, and then deliver these prophetic visions to their fellow man? 

If being a prophet means seeing the future through God’s eyes, then every baptized Christian who allows the theological virtue of hope to be operative in their life can hope to be in their own way and in their own circumstances, a true prophetic witness for Christ. 

If, like me, you were raised in the church and have always attended, you have the advantage of understanding and living a life of grace from the “cradle to the grave”. But there could be a few potential issues to deal with.

For example,  you have probably never had a moment of choosing on a personal level to make religion and faith a part of their life.   You may never have experienced being “far from the Father’s House”, and you might therefore undervalues what it means to “be in the Father’s house”.  You might have lots of church traditions that are the backdrop to your life but are not an intentional part of your life.  And you might not be “wowed” by learning about the faith because it always just seemed to make sense. 

So, what can a “cradle to grave Christian” do to avoid being “bored” or “overly familiar” with Jesus? Here are some practical things all of us should do:

Firstly, we have to meet Jesus anew each day.  Go to him in prayer as if you’ve never encountered him before.  

Secondly, we must routinely stand before God alone, with our individual uniqueness, and decide for ourselves that Jesus is our Lord and Saviour.

Thirdly, all of us should go on a retreat or pilgrimage so as to experience “something new” and finally, we should make sure to spread our faith, by talking about it, and sharing it. 

Sermon on 13th Sunday

Our humility is the source of our healing.

Today's Gospel passage illustrates this perfectly. Jesus performs two shocking miracles and in both cases, the key that released the power of his grace was humility.

Jairus, the synagogue official was humble: he knew that saving his daughter was something beyond his own powers. This is clearly demonstrated by how he approaches Jesus.

When he made his way into the Lord's presence, he wasn't aloof, sceptical, and argumentative, like so many Pharisees and Sadducees. Instead, St Mark tells us that he "fell at his [Jesus'] feet and pleaded earnestly with him."

The synagogue official was an important person in the city. He was used to being in charge, used to having the right answers and helping other people solve their problems. But faced with the mortal sickness of his child, Jairus remembered that there was a higher power in the universe than him, and he humbled himself before the Lord, and the Lord "went off with him" to work a miracle.

The woman with the haemorrhage was humble too; her sickness had made her so.

She was not a powerful leader in society. In fact, her sickness made her an outcast. She was "unclean," according to the Mosaic Law. And she was risking her very life by fighting her way through the crowd, touching all those people, and making them unclean too.

Where did she get the strength to overcome those obstacles? From her humility.  For twelve years she had been seeking a solution to her chronic, humiliating, and debilitating health issue, paying for all the latest technology and all the most highly recommended doctors.

And so she discovered the vast limits of human ingenuity, and turned instead to the limitless mercy of a much higher power.  She risked everything just to touch a tassel of the Lord's cloak; and strength far beyond her limited human powers flowed out from him and healed her. 

The humility of these two unforgettable Gospel characters opened their hearts to faith in Jesus Christ. And faith unleashed God's saving power in their lives.   And God's saving power healed their hopelessness, strengthened their weakness, and enlightened their darkness.

Our humility is also the source of true strength.

The humble person is strong in the same way that a shipwrecked person is strong. After a shipwreck, you will cling with all your might to a piece of board that will keep you afloat. You will not let it go no matter what, because you know that without it, you will drown.

That's humility: recognition of our dependence on the cross of Christ to save us from spiritual shipwreck, and that recognition inspires us with unbreakable courage.

During the French Revolution the revolutionary government took over the Church, and Catholics who refused to go along with the revolutionary agenda were imprisoned or executed.

In this difficult situation, one peasant farmer named Jean Chantebel gave an eloquent example of the strength of humility. His minimal education had come entirely from the Church. The book he treasured most was his little catechism. He loved to read it over in the evenings and savour its truths.

When he refused to attend the revolutionary church, the authorities searched his house and discovered his dog-eared Catholic catechism. Possessing the book was considered treason, and they arrested him.

The local revolutionary committee erected a pyre in the town square, gathered the townspeople around, and produced their prisoner, the faithful farmer.

They read the sentence passed on him and his book, laid the book on top of the large pile of wood, placed a burning torch in the prisoner's hand, and ordered him to set the catechism on fire.

He responded: "I will never do it. That book contains the principles of my faith, and you will never get me to renounce it." One of the committee members took the torch and applied its flame to the arrested man's own hand.

Chantebel replied to this gesture by saying, "You may burn not only my hand, but my whole body before I will consent to commit an act unworthy of my religion." In the end, they paraded him around town to humiliate him, but no storm of persecution could loosen his grip on the saving wood of Christ's glorious cross.

Humility is the only door through which God's grace can reach our hearts and set us on the path of true happiness.

This leaves us, logically speaking, with a question: What can we do to increase our humility?

St Paul gives us one possibility in today's Second Reading. In this Letter, he is encouraging the Christians in the prosperous Greek city of Corinth to be generous in helping the Christians in Jerusalem, who are suffering from a severe economic downturn.

He points out that sharing with others the gifts we have received from God's providence is one way we can follow Christ more closely. Jesus, in fact, was the first one who took the privileges he had received from the Father and surrendered them by becoming a man in the Incarnation. And by lowering himself in that way, he made it possible for us to share in those privileges, to become real children of God.

This is what St Paul is referring to when he writes: "... though he [Christ] was rich, for your sake he became poor, so that by his poverty you might become rich."

Christ, the eternal, divine Son of God, coming down from heaven and raising us up to share in his divinity is the perfect model of humility. We can follow his example by reaching out to others just as he has reached out to us.

Visiting the sick and imprisoned, feeding the hungry, praying for sinners, encouraging the discouraged, comforting the troubled, inviting sinners to repent...

By "gracious actions" like these (as St Paul calls them) we reproduce in our souls the humility that Christ taught us.  And doing that opens the door for his transforming grace to come and make us into the wise, joyful, courageous, and fruitful saints that we were created to be.

Sermon on Corpus Christi

The Jewish feast of the Passover commemorated and renewed the foundational experience of God's Chosen People of the Old Testament: their liberation from slavery in Egypt. 

The first Passover occurred in the aftermath of Pharaoh's repeated refusals to set the Israelites free to worship the one, true God.  Nine horrible and miraculous plagues wouldn't budge the stubborn Egyptian leader, so finally God sent his angel of death to slay every Egyptian firstborn male.

On that very night, every Israelite family was told to sacrifice a spotless lamb, mark the doorjambs of their dwellings with its blood, and feast upon it. The blood of the lamb signalled the presence of God's favour, and so the angel of death knew to "pass over" those families in the course of its destructive mission.

When Moses had successfully led his people out of Egypt, God gave the Israelites detailed instructions for the annual commemoration of the Passover event.  Such a commemoration, the Passover Seder (or "supper," still celebrated by Jews) was the occasion for Christ's institution of the sacrament of the Eucharist.

St Mark records the words of Jesus by which he reveals that he is the true Passover lamb.  Just as the Israelites in Egypt were saved from slavery by the lamb's sacrifice, so all men and women would be saved from sin by the sacrifice of Christ on Calvary, by the breaking of his body and the pouring out of his blood, out of love for us.

And just as the Israelites were to partake of the feast of the lamb, so all of Christ's followers are called to feast on his living body and blood through the Eucharist, in order to share intimately in his divine life. It is, truly, the bread that frees us from death, that nourishes in our souls the seed of eternal life that was planted there through baptism.

The Eucharist manifests Christ's Lordship over life and history: it extends his once-for-all sacrifice through all time and space. It also shows what kind of Lord he is: one who gives his life for those entrusted to his care, even for his Betrayer, Judas, who was right there at the Last Supper.

Another detail in St Mark's Gospel reiterates the central importance of the Eucharist.  St Mark spends as much time describing the odd events that immediately led up to the Last Supper as he does describing the institution of the Eucharist itself. 

What does the man carrying the water jar have to do with Christ's saving sacrifice?   Some scholars surmise that Jesus kept the location of the Last Supper secret in order to insure that his enemies wouldn't be able to apprehend him there. If he had said openly where they would be gathered, Judas would have been able to tip off the Jewish leaders.

Other scholars point out that carrying water was a woman's task in ancient Palestine, so finding a man carrying water subtly indicates the new order of things that Christ is about to establish.

Whatever scholars may say, however, one thing is clear: Jesus knew exactly how this last evening with his Apostles was going to pan out.  His instructions about finding the place for their celebration show that the occurrences of that evening were not left up to chance. Every word, every action was part of a drama being directed by God, most especially the highlight - the institution of the Eucharist.

This was no ordinary supper, no traditional celebration: the images and shadows of the Old Covenant would give way this night to the fullness of the New and Everlasting Covenant, which is renewed during every Mass.

The Eucharist, the sacramental foreshadowing and prolongation of Calvary, is no abstract symbol; it is the ultimate reality towards which all other symbols converge.

That is the cosmic meaning of the Eucharist, but what is its personal meaning for each one of us?  It is the super-abundant revelation of God's unconditional, undying, personal love for each and every one of us.

Christ gave his disciples bread, which had become his own body. Then he gave them wine, which had become his blood. He did this for their sake, and for the sake of all who would be saved from the slavery to sin.

What greater gift could he have given them, and through them, to us? Christ continues to take, bless, break, and give the bread and wine that are his body and blood - he does it through the priests of his Church, because he wants to stay with us and be our life, strength, and hope.

And this gift has no strings attached. 

Jesus gives it even though we are undeserving - like Judas, we have betrayed our Lord, countless times. 

Every time we ignore or discard the voice of conscience, every time we pick and choose among the Church's teachings, every time we judge our neighbour or fail to love others as Christ has loved us, we echo Judas' betrayal.

And yet, our Lord still comes to us in the Eucharist. Christ's love doesn't depend on our being worthy; Christ's love depends only on his burning desire to give us the fullness of life, to make us worthy.

What a relief to have such a friend, one who cares only about giving, and one who can give such an incomparable gift!

As we continue with this Mass, let's give God the pleasure of accepting that gift, at least today, with humble, faith-filled joy.

Sermon on Pentecost Sunday 2024

Pentecost 2024 

I want you to think for a moment about our musicians. Each week, they come to our church and produce some very beautiful music.  At some of our services, and particularly at occasional services like weddings and funerals, we might only have 1 or 2 musicians.  On many Sundays, we may have up to 10, and at Christmas and Easter that number swells even more, perhaps as many as 20.

When we listen to the music, we often forget the fact that them musicians are dependent on a conductor to ensure they are in time, and hopefully in tune if he has rehearse them well!  The conductor also controls the tempo and dynamics, and it is his, or her, interpretation which we may come to love.  I can think of a number of recordings of my favourite choral works which I would always go to listen to first, and they would be the benchmark I would compare other performances to.

The conductor in most of the opera houses I worked in was known as “maestro”.  He or she is literally the master of music, and is responsible for everything musical that occurs.  I don’t want to give Tom ideas above his station, but he is our Maestro!

The thing is, although the conductor is the visible sign of unity, that is to say he keeps everyone together, he is actually reading a score, which was produced by someone else.  It is the composer who actually creates the music in his or her mind and shares it in written form for others to play.  Some composers deliberately allow conductors to interpret their works broadly, giving them freedom to explore dynamics, tempo, phrasing and other aspects of the piece.  Some composers leave detailed notes of exactly how they want their piece performed: Olivier Messaien, whose organ work we heard last week is a good example of the latter.

But we, the people in the pews, or the audience in the opera house, don’t see the notes the composer has written, or the instructions he has left to the musicians.  We just listen to the beautiful music that is created for us, and we don’t often think about all of the people who have actually been involved in creating it.

The church is somewhat like this.  Here on earth, we have people who are called into particular positions of leadership.  They are often ordained, as I am, but not always.  They sometimes hold positions which claim to be a visible sign of unity: the Pope, The Archbishop, The Bishop.  They all have a role in leading the church and we, have a role in following. 

One of the key ideas we should think about today is how the Holy Spirit features in our understanding of the leadership of the church.  If we think about catholic order, we understand the idea of those who are called into specific ministries as being ordained, and ontologically changed.  That is to say, that at the laying of hands, a bishop, priest or deacon, is changed indelibly by God’s Holy Spirit.  They are literally marked by God, and believe me that is no small thing!

Of course, not everyone who goes to church believes this, and that becomes particularly relevant when we see those in positions of church leadership who don’t exactly seem to live up to the call placed on them.  Confusingly, there are many in the Anglican church who don’t believe in ontological change, they see ordination as a merely a historic formulary that will allow them to take up a job role.

And that’s the most complicated part of all of this; Bishops, priests and deacons do a job.  But it is a job unlike any other I have had, in that the accountability, as I understand it, is primarily to God, and to a bishop acting on his behalf.  Again, some Anglican’s disagree on this; many would follow a more congregationalist view and see that they are primarily accountable to their congregation.  But that is not a catholic understanding of the church or of Holy Orders. 

Whoever you look to, be it the Pope, the archbishop, or the bishop, understand that the Holy Spirit has marked them out and they are called to lead.  And as sheep follow a shepherd, so we are called to follow them.  That is never an easy task, particularly when we disagree on their interpretation, but, as all our musicians will tell you; there is only one conductor. 

Today, on Pentecost, we should consider how the Holy Spirit formed the church, and how it continues to do so.  When the spirit descended on Peter, when he preached to the church, he began what we now call the messianic age. 

These events are set against the backdrop of the celebration of Shavuot in Jerusalem.  Shavuot is celebrated 50 days after Passover, and has a joyous theme giving thanks to God for the first fruits of the harvest.  The streets would have been busy, and there would have been noisy parties taking place. 

Acts 2 tells us the disciples "were all together in one place" on the "day of Pentecost" and the Greek verb used in Acts 2:1 to indicate the arrival of the day of Pentecost carries a connotation of fulfillment.

A mighty rushing wind and tongues of fire appear.  It sounds terrifying, but the disciples were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in tongues.  There is much debate amongst scholars about the meaning of this: some would say it is about communicating in a wide range of languages, but others go with the idea of glossolalia as being an ecstatic language of the heavens.   Over the last 200o years many Christians have come to understand this event as evidence of the fulfilment of the prophecy that Jesus will baptize his followers with the Holy Spirit. 

Peter preaches to the crowd, speaking of the Resurrection and indicating the fulfillment of prophesy and the start of the age of the church.

Just like the first followers of Christ, we find ourselves looking for leadership in our church.  We seem to spend so much time arguing about power, when really we should be focusing on the need to live out the Gospel commandments.

Peter was the focal point for unity in the early church.  That brings us back to the original theme of today’s sermon – where do we look for leadership, for unity?

Look closely in your hearts and listen to God.  Stop worrying about who is in charge, and see that God is the great composer whose tune we delight in.  We invite the Holy Spirit into our hearts and our lives each time we pray to God and when we receive the sacraments of the church.

Let his grace lead you, let his love for you shine to others as we build his church

Fr Duncan's Sermon on 5th Sunday, 4/2/2024

Do you ever wonder why Jesus said some of the things he said, and did some of the things he did?

One of the most puzzling aspects of much of Jesus ministry is the fact that he seems to often ask his follower not to tell anyone what they have seen.  Now, because most of us have been reading and listening to the bible since we were children, we probably don’t stop often enough to ask obvious questions.

So here’s an obvious question: Why would Jesus, the Messiah, the saviour of mankind, not want people to know that he had the power to perform miracles, or to forgive sins?

Well, if we look at today’s reading, we begin to see a possible answer to that question.  I am currently re-reading a book I first read at college.  Marcus Borg was a pivotal figure in New Testament scholarship from the 1970’s until his death in 2015.  He has written extensively on all the Gospels. But his book on Mark explores some of the themes that underpin the text and help us understand the audience it was written for.  He suggests that these early chapters introduce the idea of conflict in Jesus Ministry, and that this is a theme which frames his public ministry; at the beginning and the end of his three or so years of ministry, Jesus was challenged, and threatened by scribes, and particularly by Pharisees.  Scribes were educated men whose job was to interpret the bible, whilst pharisees were all about ritual observance.  In Mark’s Gospel, which we will read this year, we see chapters 2 and 3 are dominated by these encounters which always involve conflict of some sort with authorities of one sort or another. 

So perhaps we shouldn’t be surprised that Jesus began his ministry in Capernaum and not in Jerusalem or Nazareth.  Capernaum was a village in Galilee.  It sat by the lake, and nearly all of those who lived there would have been involved in the fishing industry.  It was a fairly small village – only about 1500 people lived there during Jesus time and it remined a place where people lived and worked until around 100AD when it was abandoned, almost certainly because of the first crusade.

So if we were to compare Jesus decision to begin his ministry in Capernaum, with a location here in Queensland, I suppose we could say that it is as if he picked somewhere like Stanage Bay.  And if you don’t know that Stanage Bay is a tranquil fishing spot in the Livingstone area of Queensland, you probably will now understand that Capernaum has a similar vibe; it was not a well know place.  But Just like Stanage Bay, far away from the hustle and bustle of the city, Capernaum had a peaceful, laid back rhythm to life.

On the outskirts of the village is the synagogue.  You can still visit it today and stand in the very room where Jesus began his ministry.  Mark tells us that Jesus spoke as one with authority, not as a scribe; in other words, there was something about Jesus, about the way this wiry young man held an audience, that made him stand out.

Just down the road from the synagogue is a church.  It stands on the site of a house which tradition holds is the home of Simon.  It makes sense; its about 2 minutes from the synagogue and it was a small plot, the kind of size a fisherman’s family would have.  And it is here, in this house that we begin to really see the kind of power Jesus has.  He heals Simon’s mother in law, and the gossip factory that is a small community spreads so that within a couple of hours most of the village is in the street outside Simon’s house trying to see who this man is.  He healed the sick and cast out demons that day.  And the next day he began his journey south.

If we go back to that original question I asked – why didn’t Jesus want people to know about his skills and abilities, we might begin to answer by saying something like “ because so many people flocked to see him” or “because he was worried about the authorities arresting him.”  But Ched Myers, the American theologian suggests that Jesus’ reluctance to be open and proclaim God’s power withing in him was because he not only challenged the laws of nature, but that he challenged societal structure.  Jesus was no doubt aware that his very existence was going to continually challenge the entire fabric of the world he inhabited and he had to be careful about what to reveal, to who and how.  And this is one of the reasons Jesus is often mysterious, why he speaks in metaphors and pictures and doesn’t answer questions directly.    

For the last hundred or so years we have referred to this idea as the “Messianic Secret.”    The theologian William Wrede explored the idea in 1901; most of his ideas have been dismissed, but the name and the concept has stuck, and it is a puzzling conundrum.

There is tension in Jesus ministry from the very beginning.  He has a message to proclaim and he wants it to be heard.  But he doesn’t want the message to become about him.  This posed a huge problem for Jesus and he wrestled with it throughout his ministry.  I get the impression it frustrated his as time went on and he became more famous.  And one can argue that he failed in this respect, because  Jesus went on to become a celebrity.

When we are faced with conflict, we often see it become polarized in key figures.  Think of wars: Hitler and Churchill or Putin and Zelensky.  Think of politics: Albanese vs Dutton, or for us Brits, Thatcher vs Kinnock.  Think of our church for a moment, we even vest conflict in our church leaders.  Think for a moment of names like Glenn Davies and Kanishka Raffael.  These church figures are often posed against figures like Jeremy Greaves and Kay Goldsworthy.

Jesus had to know he would face conflict; Jesus vs the Scribes, Jesus vs the Pharisees, Jesus vs Herod, Jesus vs Pilate.  But he had to weigh the need to be humble, to be reserved, to focus on a message about his ideas and not himself.  We don’t often see this in our modern world.  It may be naïve to think we could achieve outcomes if we tried to emulate it.  But Jesus leaves us with this conundrum for us to ponder.    

Perhaps our leaders would do well to emulate some of Jesus’ ideas about when and who to reveal their thoughts too.  Perhaps they should take a little more care in choosing the battles they fight.   And Perhaps we would all do a little better if we stopped focusing so much on our selves and our message, but on others and the need to find the right language to communicate with them.

+Bill Ray on Advent 2 2023

It is good to be with you on this Second Sunday of Advent. I thank Fr Duncan for his invitation to preach this morning as well as inviting me to your Christmas Luncheon. 

At the start of Mass, the second Advent Candle was lit.  Yes, we have heard many times about the Advent  wreath, but there are three realities of our faith represented in the wreath. First the wreath is a circle and a circle has no beginning or ending; as God’s love for us has no beginning or end. God’s love is just abundant.

There are four coloured candles, one each for the four weeks of Advent. We lit one candle last week. Today is Advent 2, thus the second candle is lit.

You will note that there are three purple candles and one rose.  We light the rose candle at the start of the third week, next week. This year, Advent 4 falls on Christmas Eve, making  this Advent the shortest possible. This year Week Four of Advent is only one day. 

Now each of the coloured candle in the Advent wreath has a particular focus

Week One                   Hope

Week Two                   Peace

Week three                 Joy

Week Four                  Love.

Just a few comments about today - Peace.  We seek peace at several levels, acknowledging that peace can be very elusive.

We seek peace globally.  We are saddened at the moment that in some parts of God’s wonderful world peace is absent. We must constantly pray for the peace of the world and those who are suffering and grieving as result of war.

Each of us seek the peace of Christ in our daily lives.  Peace within us can be elusive. We all know that we need to be still and know God.  Advent is also about waiting and it is important we make time each day to wait on God

Also, many are seeking peace between family members and some among their friends.

The white candle in the centre is the Christ lit at the Christ Mass, reminding us that the babe born at Bethlehem is the Light of the World, and we are to be lights for Christ in world.

So, the Advent Wreath speaks to us about what we believe and how we live out our faith. 

The season of Advent has a two fold focus.  We focus on the Nativity of our Lord, Jesus, who came among us in human form as a baby in Bethlehem.  The birth of our Lord is recorded in only two of the four Gospels. 

First, Matthew’s account contains the birth and then goes onto the visit of the Wise Men which is the Epiphany that we celebrate on the 6th January or the Sunday closest to the 6th January. The visit of the Wise Men reminds that Jesus came from all people, Jew and Gentile alike.

Second, Luke  records the birth of Christ, from Mary’s point of view. It is only in Luke that we have the angel Gabriel visiting Mary.  It is only in Luke that Mary visits Elizabeth.  It is only in Luke that we have those glorious words spoken by Mary when she uttered The Magnificat.  It is only in Luke that we have the visit of the Shepherds.

The second focus of Advent is the second coming of Christ. We read in Mark 13:32-37.

“But about that day or hour no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. Beware, keep alert; for you do not know when the time will come. It is like a man going on a journey, when he leaves home and puts his slaves in charge, each with his work, and commands the doorkeeper to be on the watch. Therefore, keep awake—for you do not know when the master of the house will come, in the evening, or at midnight, or at cockcrow, or at dawn, or else he may find you asleep when he comes suddenly. And what I say to you I say to all: Keep awake.”

Each week at Mass - we say or sing:

Christ has died,

Christ is risen

Christ will come again.

As implied before, the birth of Christ is not recorded in Mark’s Gospel.  Mark’s Gospel is short, sharp and to the point. It starts off with “The beginning of the Good News of Jesus Christ, the Son of God”. Then Mark quotes the prophet Isaiah,

A voice cries out

“See I am sending you my messenger ahead of you who will prepare your way, the voice of one crying out in the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord’. (Mark 1:2&3)

John the Baptist, is the one who prepares the way of the Lord and Jesus is the one to come.

Or as John the Baptist said, “The one who is to come is more powerful than him.  John the Baptist said he was not worthy to untie the thong of his sandals.  While John baptised with water Jesus will baptised with the Holy Spirit.

This raises the question for each of us as Christians and as a Church. How did we prepare the way of the Lord? 

Three quick points:

First we have to be available - At times I went to the Mall in Townsville and just sat on a seat, dressed in my clerical colour.  I was surprised how many people came up to me and asked about the Christian faith, the Gospel.

Second, we have to answer the questions people are asking, not the questions we think they should be asking in terms of the faith.

Third, we need to walk with people at their pace, not our pace.

May we use this Advent to prepare the way of the Lord and may people see in us the significance of our Lord’s birth for each of us as disciples of Christ; as we wait for our Lord’s return in glory

I would like to close with an alternate Collect for this week:

O Lord Jesus Christ,

who at your first coming

sent your messenger to prepare your way before you:

grant that the ministers and stewards of your mysteries

may likewise so prepare and make ready your way

by turning the hearts of the disobedient to the wisdom of the righteous,

that at your second coming to judge the world we may be found an acceptable people in your sight;

for you live and reign with the Father and the Holy Spirit, one God now and forever.  Amen.

(APBA, page 466)