What do you want me to do for you?

In the last twenty years we become somewhat inured to the plight of the poorest of the poor. We are bombarded with images of volcanoes, floods, landslides, earthquakes, tornados, bush fires, hurricanes, tsunamis – not to mention Iraq and Afghanistan. These images bring an immediacy not present where cultural, political and climactic change is slow, but progressive, where entire provinces lose populations to neighbouring provinces and countries, where searing poverty and its sister, hunger, overwhelm remaining populations. Education, health, water supply, women’s rights, freedom of religion, of movement, of occupation, of origin, of political persuasion are critical indicators not only of human rights, but of humanity itself.

We fight so many battles, and many we win. But some battles that we ‘fight’ on African continent or the Indian sub-continent appear unwinnable.

The Gospel this week is unequivocal about its message. Mark (10:46 – 52) records the story of Bartimaeus, a blind beggar. On hearing that Jesus was passing nearby, he called out, ‘Son of David, Jesus, have pity on me.’ Those accompanying Jesus attempted to silence him. Jesus approached him and asked, ‘What do you want me to do for you?’ Bartimaeus replied, ‘ Master, let me see again’. Jesus responds, ‘Go, your faith has saved you.’

You see, it is we who are passing by who must hear the cry of the poor and the lame, and it is they who cry for pity (that is, sorrow and compassion). And what do they want us to do for them? They want healing, they want wholeness, they want life – and we do have the capacity to provide for many of their needs, and that is why our response must also be unequivocal: we must make a difference.

Last Sunday was also Mission Sunday. The invitation we received through its celebration was for each one of us to commit to action, in prayer, through the gift of money, time or goods to make real the mission given to the Church by Jesus. It’s a tough call. The bottom line is that this is a response that arises from our baptism, no more no less. We are empowered by baptism to hear God’s word with clarity, entrusted to respond with generosity and impelled to proclaim God’s saving power and love.

So whether the ‘voice’ comes from the devastation of Samoa or Indonesia, or the ruin of Sudan or Sri Lanka, we must ask: What do you want me to do for you?

Peacethinker Obama

Like many others, I was surprised by Barack Obama’s Nobel accolade. Should we compare him to other peace prize laureates such as Jimmy Carter, Jose Ramos-Horta, Nelson Mandela, Shimon Peres, Aung San Suu Kyi, Mikhail Gorbachev, the Dalai Lama, Desmond Tutu, Mother Teresa, Lech Walesa, Martin Luther King, Albert Schweitzer? In 120 years the prize has been awarded 97 times to individuals and organisations. Many of the laureates had already found great fame, and had been recognised as world class leaders, bureaucrats, emissaries, politicians, churchmen, freedom seekers. Their combined impact on world affairs is immeasurable. But Obama?

In my first real job as a junior clerk, I wondered how I would ever make it up the ladder to success. My bosses seem to have such extraordinary knowledge, could pay such attention to detail, and commanded the respect of staff. Yet, in hindsight, they were ordinary human beings, had lived and worked hard to achieve what I now see as modest success. They had hopes and dreams, visions for a better world, for prosperity, to see their children’s children grow to adulthood. My father was one of these men. So, Nobel laureates are human beings like us: they eat and sleep, go to work, have families, watch their spending, negotiate traffic, watch TV.

I want to say that each of us is a potential laureate: we might never receive recognition for the contributions we make, but I can assure you, that in the right places it will be counted.

The gist of Mark’s Gospel this coming 30th Sunday in Ordinary Time (10:35 – 45) is that the ‘Son of Man himself did not come to be served but to serve and to give his life as ransom for many. The Christian is not to lord his authority over others, those who want to be great (or successful) must be the servant of others. Here Jesus turns our understanding upside down. Service is the key to success. Not power. This is what makes a great boss, this is what makes a great leader – the capacity, the ability, the drive to serve others: but when the motivation becomes selfish, self-aggrandising and conceited, it is no longer service.

The letter to Hebrews (4:14 – 16) equally reminds us that when service in performed in the name of the Son of God, that we should ‘be confident … in approaching the throne of grace, that we shall have mercy from him and find grace when we are in need of help.’ Great leaders know they are the recipients of great mercy and grace, for they are called to do great things. And you and I are no less worthy recipients, for we have our own parts of God’s kingdom to build.

So Obama? Why not? Much is expected, much will be asked, and divine and human assistance will be fundamental to his success as a peacethinker and as a peacemaker.

Words of wisdom

If I were to distill my mother’s philosophy of life, it would probably be, ‘Live, and love life to the fullest.’ It is more than apparent to me that this is how she has lived her life. Married at 18, mother of 11, widowed at 45. After raising her children she sold up and travelled the world. Now freshly returned from Canada where her grandson married, she takes Tai Chi classes, tends her vegetable garden, helps out at netball, spends time on the internet communicating with her diaspora of descendents. Now 78, she is the wise and most loved mother, grandmother and great-grandmother.

Most of us have a healthy skepticism about those who would present themselves as possessors of wisdom. Indeed, the political and retail industries are adept at the selling of wisdom – beautifully packaged as policies, health, well-being, satisfaction. Then there are the gurus of every persuasion, there’s one for every cause – some well meaning, some necessary, some radical, some conservative, maybe religious, economic or environmental. They all have something to offer, a view into the world in which we live, an understanding of the way that things come together. We certainly take on the views that make sense to us, and we seek to be informed by those who share similar views. Each of us needs this kind of wisdom to get through life. Today we would call these ‘ethics’.

In the Book of Wisdom that comes to us from the 1st or 2nd century BC we catch a glimpse of how wisdom was understood by our ancestors in faith. Wisdom was sought after, highly valued, almost deified. Writes the author: I esteemed her more than sceptres and thrones; compared with her I held riches as nothing. In our Catholic tradition we have attributed this wisdom to the person of Mary. But we can already see that this wisdom is unlike the ethics of today. It is multi-dimensioned and many layered.

Within 150 years of the writing of the Book of Wisdom, Mark (10:17 – 30) tells us the story of the rich young man and his dilemma: he asks Jesus, ‘What must I do to inherit eternal life?’ to which Jesus replies that he must keep all the commandments. Mark writes: And he said to him, ‘Master, I have kept all these from my earliest days.’ Jesus looked steadily at him and loved him, and he said, ‘There is one thing you lack. Go and sell everything you own and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me. We know what the young man’s response is.

The wisdom we possess must have a bottom line. If our ethics are fuzzy and full of exceptions to our general rule of life, what will get past the keeper? The bar that Jesus set is obviously very high. Is your bar suitably high? Is your wisdom strong enough and deep enough to enable you to live out the remainder of your life with fidelity to yourself and the Gospel? How would others summarise your philosophy? What wisdom will they see in you – from your actions and your words?

Complete in marriage

I spent my 25th wedding anniversary on my own in Tokyo on a stopover. I’d rather have been home, of course. It’s the first anniversary, and quite likely the last, that I have missed.

One of the favourite texts chosen for weddings comes from Genesis (2:18 – 24): it tells the story of how woman was created from one of man’s ribs. There’s a poignancy and a richness to this story. It is folkloric, it’s an explanatory text – not scientific, yet it is at the heart of understanding of our relationship with our creator and with each other in marriage. The making of man is incomplete until woman is created. Man and woman are bound to each other in this moment; woman is ‘bones from my bones, and flesh from my flesh’. This account is about marriage, how this story relates the marriage of man and woman as they become one body. And present in this marriage is the divine hand of God which draws one from the other and then brings that back together.

Quite rightly we can point to this story as being part of the theology of marriage, but it is all to easy to dismiss it in the face of the reality we face each day. The Gospel this week (Mark 10:2 - 16) proclaims Jesus’ teaching on the sanctity of marriage, and his stand on divorce. Divorce is very real. Though our theology provokes a desire for perfection, more often than not, we have our own experience, the experience of our families, our friends and neighbours, or our own. We find it difficult to resolve the issue of where we stand when our marriages fail. The Gospels appear unequivocal – Do not judge, do not condemn. The Church on the other hand seems to exclude the very people who need its understanding.

In another time divorcees were pariahs. Today, separation and divorce are common. In his exhortation, The Sacrament of charity, Benedict XVI earnestly prayed that such tragedies could be avoided by better preparation and discernment before marriage. This may well be little comfort for those who have already been through a marriage breakdown, and yet like most things in life, while preparation is the key to success, there will be situations unforeseen and unimagined.

We aim for perfection, and oftentimes we just make it. I’ll be home on 22 October as we celebrate our 26th anniversary. May our marriages and our loving relationships continue to be blessed.

Faith and action

This is my first entry as principal of my new school in northern Tasmania.

Letting go is never easy. The difficult farewell as you leave your child for the first time in the hands of carers or teachers is, for some, wrought with stress and emotion. My children never looked back. They loved their carers, they loved their teachers. I especially wanted their teachers to know about their unique gifts, about the things that were important in their lives. I wanted to know if they cared about my kids, if they would listen to their idle chat and make sense of their worlds for them as we had.

Well, their teachers did care and love them in their own way. My sons were ‘characters’ (which is the best way to put it) and my daughter somewhat reticent. Yet they all left school well prepared to take on the next stage of their lives. As parents, we never quite totally let go. I still tell my grownup kids how much they are loved. We need to. That’s our job.

For the last four weeks, the letter of St James has featured in the lectionary. Since the Reformation this letter has been attributed the title of ‘Catholic’ since James, a Jewish Christian in the mid-first Century AD taught that faith alone is insufficient for salvation. Good works flow from faith, and they are the evidence. This certainly contradicted the conclusion to which Martin Luther arrived. Our Catholic tradition has maintained this understanding, and from it flows a great sense of, and commitment to social justice.

And so Mark (9:40) reminds us that we are not alone, that anyone who is not against us is for us. It’s hard to swallow, I know, because we can get hung up on what we consider to be immovable principles; it’s hard knowing that if I do let go of my anxieties, my kids will still do well at school, they will (and need to) develop resilience and fortitude. The world is not black and white, not St Kilda vs Geelong; there is plenty of grey in between, the realm of collaboration and compromise, and of course, compassion.

Mark does give fair warning, however, if we become obstacles to the truth, to the Gospel, promising apocalyptic terror to those who would destroy another’s faith. Such is the seriousness of the responsibility to nurture and grow faith. This is the same faith which calls us to act with justice, in accordance with the Lord’s decrees.

Global warming, third world poverty, child labour, or just trusting my child’s carers and teachers to engage with them and to open their eyes to the wonder that is life will always be a challenge, but it is a challenge that we should all take, that we should all should act upon. Now. It’s a matter of faith and action.