In 1988 then-Archbishop Eric D’Arcy brought Renew to Tasmania. This was an invitation for the Church in Tasmania to reflect on its journey. Catholic communities met in small groups to tell their stories and their dreams. Almost 20 years later, I recall some of the pain that some expressed about how difficult it was for them to become members of the local parish and to feel at home with those with whom they worshipped. One lady still felt left out, a ‘foreigner’, after having spent fifty (yes, fifty) years in the parish.
There are still two communities of Samaritans still living in Israel to this very day. Their ancient heritage and religion is a fusion and result of Assyrian and early Israelite intermarriage (some 720 years BC). The Samaritans accepted the Torah (the Pentateuch or first five books of the Bible) as their sacred scriptures. After the refusal by the Jews to accept their assistance to rebuild the Temple at Jerusalem, the Samaritans built their own temple (it was destroyed in 128 BC). The Samaritans would not accept the books of prophets, the Psalms or the history of Israel’s kings, leading the Jews to consider them as foreigners. They were despised for their incompleteness.
In answer to the lawyer’s question: ‘And who is my neighbour?’ Jesus responded with the parable we call ‘The Good Samaritan’.
We live in a global economy. The peas we eat could come from China, our jam from Brazil, our oranges from California, our cotton clothes from India, cars from Korea and Japan, our tomatoes from Italy. The people who provide the necessities for our daily lives are not the neighbours next door, the farmer down the road, or the bootmaker in town, our neighbours truly are international. Yet we are not the same. We cannot compare the Chinese farmer, or the Asian child labourer with our next door neighbour. We share the earth and its economy, but there is no equity.
For all the energy and money we outlay to be more comfortable, we don’t even seem to be able to connect to the people we share offices and workplaces with, let alone a church pew. The invitation from this parable is to prove ourselves neighbours, not merely be neighbours. It is about actively participating and engaging in the world in which I live: my family, my school community, the people who live near me, my church, my town, my state, my country, my world – hungering after justice. And then I can offer generous and gracious hospitality.
Don’t let your neighbours wait 50 years for such an invitation, and don’t be afraid to be different.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Brought up in (the) faith
Long before I even knew the word, I used to stare up at the baldachin at St Mary’s Church. This canopy over the altar was painted blue and covered in stars, a reminder I suspect, of the Blessed Virgin Mary, Star of the Sea. I was fascinated. I stared a lot during mass when I was a child.
The mass was in Latin. The sea of ladies’ hats, scarves and mantillas, the rattling of beads, the smell of incense and wax, wooden kneelers, the Kyrie, Gloria, Agnus Dei and the special feast day singing of Panis Angelicus – it was the stuff of dreams. My father loved church. A whole morning could be spent yarning while we waited desperately to get home for Sunday lunch. We had fish and chips on Fridays, fasted for three hours before communion, bravely attempted the family rosary in May and October, tried desperately to collect indulgences to escape the ravages of purgatory, prayed for the poor babies in limbo, for the conversion of Russia, gave money to save black babies in Africa, kept stamps for the missions, admired my mother’s frosted glass statue of Mary and we had two sets of the Sacred Heart and the Immaculate Heart of Mary. Favourite gifts for special occasions were fluorescent crucifixes. Such was the culture and faith into which I was incorporated as a baby.
On the very same day I was baptised, a little baby girl was baptised in Launceston some 2000 kilometres away. We became members of God’s family that day in February 1955. Our proud families bustled with joy and it cause for great celebration. Many years later this little girl would be my wife. And we too would present our children for baptism.
We would bring up our children according to our faith, prepare them for Penance, Eucharist and Confirmation. Our hope is that what we provided by deed and word would be sufficient example to imprint upon their essential character, a drive to pursue a deep relationship with their God, a firm desire to explore their faith and the stories of their forebears. They began this journey where I did. In church. Discovering the faces and voices of churchgoers, growing in their familiarity with liturgical word and gesture, making meaning of the space in which we gather as a Eucharistic community. The inessentials have fallen away.
Undoubtedly the Catholic school can unveil part of the life of the church. But it is not the Church. To discover that richness means making the step to active membership. Don’t allow this opportunity to be denied to your children.
The mass was in Latin. The sea of ladies’ hats, scarves and mantillas, the rattling of beads, the smell of incense and wax, wooden kneelers, the Kyrie, Gloria, Agnus Dei and the special feast day singing of Panis Angelicus – it was the stuff of dreams. My father loved church. A whole morning could be spent yarning while we waited desperately to get home for Sunday lunch. We had fish and chips on Fridays, fasted for three hours before communion, bravely attempted the family rosary in May and October, tried desperately to collect indulgences to escape the ravages of purgatory, prayed for the poor babies in limbo, for the conversion of Russia, gave money to save black babies in Africa, kept stamps for the missions, admired my mother’s frosted glass statue of Mary and we had two sets of the Sacred Heart and the Immaculate Heart of Mary. Favourite gifts for special occasions were fluorescent crucifixes. Such was the culture and faith into which I was incorporated as a baby.
On the very same day I was baptised, a little baby girl was baptised in Launceston some 2000 kilometres away. We became members of God’s family that day in February 1955. Our proud families bustled with joy and it cause for great celebration. Many years later this little girl would be my wife. And we too would present our children for baptism.
We would bring up our children according to our faith, prepare them for Penance, Eucharist and Confirmation. Our hope is that what we provided by deed and word would be sufficient example to imprint upon their essential character, a drive to pursue a deep relationship with their God, a firm desire to explore their faith and the stories of their forebears. They began this journey where I did. In church. Discovering the faces and voices of churchgoers, growing in their familiarity with liturgical word and gesture, making meaning of the space in which we gather as a Eucharistic community. The inessentials have fallen away.
Undoubtedly the Catholic school can unveil part of the life of the church. But it is not the Church. To discover that richness means making the step to active membership. Don’t allow this opportunity to be denied to your children.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Incarnation, becoming flesh, being human
What can it mean for human history when God chooses to become like us? Not like us in some ways, but in every way. To enter his own creation as a helpless infant. He was fed by his mother, learned to recognise her voice, uttered first words and made first steps. He was taught to love with an open heart. He was introduced to the landscape of the Holy Land and heard the stories of his Hebrew people. He grew, over time, to come to understand who he was and what he was called to be. No doubt this child Jesus along the way, said or did things he may have regretted, been hurt by what others may have said, fallen, been saddened, bereaved, admonished, corrected, admired, celebrated. To be anything less, is to be less than human.
What purpose do the infancy narratives in Luke and Matthew’s have? Why are they so plainly different from each other? What do they tell us about the mystery that is the Incarnation?
We know that the narratives are later constructions in their respective communities and that they respond to very specific circumstances in those communities. The three Magi of Matthew, for example, emphasise the Christian mission to the gentiles and the primacy of Israel among the nations, how these men from foreign lands are able to ‘read’ the stars, follow the star to Bethlehem and then worship the child as Lord. The choice of Bethlehem as the child’s birthplace has already been determined by the prophets (Micah 5:1). The flight into Egypt and the Holy Family’s return to Nazareth mirrors the Hebrew’s migration to and subsequent flight from Egypt. Luke uses a rich tapestry of images from the scriptures, his Jesus is wrapped in swaddling clothes like a child born to poverty, his shepherds remind us of the church ready for the coming of the Lord, awake and watching, again mirroring the life of Israel as it awaits its own saviour, the Christ.
What feelings for her son Jesus did Mary possess that each of you has not felt at the birth of your own children? What heartfelt joy, what protectiveness, that flows from deep within us. You each know the healing and warmth that comes from a newborn child. As you hold your child you dream of futures unknown, of potentials yet to be unleashed, of returns that promise to be savoured.
Were Mary and Joseph aware of what they were heading into? I cannot imagine they knew anything more about parenting than we did when we became parents. Were their moments of satisfaction and relief accompanied by choirs of angels and visits from shepherds and Magi? In reality I don’t know, and for me they are just incidental to this wondrous and most beautiful and godly sacrament we call the miracle of life. Jesus has come amongst us. Come, Lord Jesus, come.
What purpose do the infancy narratives in Luke and Matthew’s have? Why are they so plainly different from each other? What do they tell us about the mystery that is the Incarnation?
We know that the narratives are later constructions in their respective communities and that they respond to very specific circumstances in those communities. The three Magi of Matthew, for example, emphasise the Christian mission to the gentiles and the primacy of Israel among the nations, how these men from foreign lands are able to ‘read’ the stars, follow the star to Bethlehem and then worship the child as Lord. The choice of Bethlehem as the child’s birthplace has already been determined by the prophets (Micah 5:1). The flight into Egypt and the Holy Family’s return to Nazareth mirrors the Hebrew’s migration to and subsequent flight from Egypt. Luke uses a rich tapestry of images from the scriptures, his Jesus is wrapped in swaddling clothes like a child born to poverty, his shepherds remind us of the church ready for the coming of the Lord, awake and watching, again mirroring the life of Israel as it awaits its own saviour, the Christ.
What feelings for her son Jesus did Mary possess that each of you has not felt at the birth of your own children? What heartfelt joy, what protectiveness, that flows from deep within us. You each know the healing and warmth that comes from a newborn child. As you hold your child you dream of futures unknown, of potentials yet to be unleashed, of returns that promise to be savoured.
Were Mary and Joseph aware of what they were heading into? I cannot imagine they knew anything more about parenting than we did when we became parents. Were their moments of satisfaction and relief accompanied by choirs of angels and visits from shepherds and Magi? In reality I don’t know, and for me they are just incidental to this wondrous and most beautiful and godly sacrament we call the miracle of life. Jesus has come amongst us. Come, Lord Jesus, come.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Despised prophets
We love celebrities. Especially when we they are from up the street, we’ve known them since they were born. We know their aunts and cousins or went to school with them. They’ve really done well for themselves. And we. Well, we have bathed in their reflected glory and let our acquaintances know of our outstanding luck in our relationships and we can pass on titbits of intimate information. Then, well, you know what happens. You can’t believe that they snubbed you when your ‘pal’ made a guest appearance at the school fair, or looked at you with disdain. What a snob. And how the mighty fall.
The tall poppy syndrome is alive and well in our neighbourhoods, towns and cities. We just love winners. But, quite surprisingly, we take a pretty unhealthy interest in their fall from grace. Alan Bond, Mark Latham, Richard Butler, Michael Jackson, Shane Warne, Peter Hollingsworth. Do they ring a bell?
Jesus tells the people in his hometown (Mark 6:1ff), ‘A prophet is only despised in his own country, among his own relations and in his own house.’ We must beware, that in holding up or putting down others, that we do not lose sight of the truth – their true gifts to us: financial wisdom, political leadership, arms reduction, popular music, sportsmanship on the field, social commentary. This does not deny their wrongdoing, only that we are all more than act of stupidity or criminality. Our neighbours’ gifts could well be companionship or friendship, laughter, encouraging support, independence, fellowship or prayerful presence.
Paul, in writing to the Corinthians exclaims, ‘to stop me getting too proud I was given a thorn in the flesh, an angel of Satan to beat me and stop me from getting too proud.” In reality it is not our job to beat up people to stop excessive pride, it is the acceptance of others. What surprised Jesus was how little his relatives really knew about him. All they could see was the outward person, not the inner person. For him it was their lack of faith – in God, in their story, in his message, but mostly, I suspect, in each other. You and I could make a difference. Believe it.
The tall poppy syndrome is alive and well in our neighbourhoods, towns and cities. We just love winners. But, quite surprisingly, we take a pretty unhealthy interest in their fall from grace. Alan Bond, Mark Latham, Richard Butler, Michael Jackson, Shane Warne, Peter Hollingsworth. Do they ring a bell?
Jesus tells the people in his hometown (Mark 6:1ff), ‘A prophet is only despised in his own country, among his own relations and in his own house.’ We must beware, that in holding up or putting down others, that we do not lose sight of the truth – their true gifts to us: financial wisdom, political leadership, arms reduction, popular music, sportsmanship on the field, social commentary. This does not deny their wrongdoing, only that we are all more than act of stupidity or criminality. Our neighbours’ gifts could well be companionship or friendship, laughter, encouraging support, independence, fellowship or prayerful presence.
Paul, in writing to the Corinthians exclaims, ‘to stop me getting too proud I was given a thorn in the flesh, an angel of Satan to beat me and stop me from getting too proud.” In reality it is not our job to beat up people to stop excessive pride, it is the acceptance of others. What surprised Jesus was how little his relatives really knew about him. All they could see was the outward person, not the inner person. For him it was their lack of faith – in God, in their story, in his message, but mostly, I suspect, in each other. You and I could make a difference. Believe it.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
How great is gratefulness
There are missed opportunities in life. They happen every day. The compliment you didn’t give when it flicked past in your mind. The note of thanks for a kindness offered. A gesture, a smile. They don’t matter in the great picture, but they do matter to the people who missed out.
As a first year student at Massey University my lecturer in social anthropology was Professor (later Sir) Hugh Kawharu. He possessed an awesome intellect and my dream was to apply my learnings in some distant, faraway land. I didn’t expect that it would be Tasmania! Apart from my immediate family I have little to do with that portion my life. But quite extraordinarily, into dreams and into some wakening hours come recollections of friends, good times and bad, growing up, ever optimistic. Most of all, the missed opportunities are plainly before me. Not being there for the past 30 years has meant I have not been there to thank the people who contributed to me being the person I am. Having spent the last 20 plus years on the North West Coast, I see the advantage that so many of you have. Your lives have been spent nourished by family and friends, you are connected to each other, to your community and to the soil under your feet.
So. When you are a member of such a small community, do you let the opportunities pass you by?
Gratefulness and thankfulness are such rich qualities for successful living and yet we use them sparingly rather than lavishly. Our children today have so much and yet they find it hard to offer compliments and express gratitude that lasts more than an hour! Why is this so?
In the story of the healing of the ten (Luke 17:11-17), only one whom Jesus heals returns to give thanks to God. Jesus rewards this foreigner, this Samaritan saying, “Get up and go; your faith has made you well.” The other nine had also been healed. But they had been healed by the power of Jesus, whereas the Samaritan was made well by his own faith. Are we among those who wait to be provided for, or among those who use their own initiative and receive the blessings that come with it? Gratefulness and thankfulness need to be a part of our living, daily vocabulary. Let’s teach our children to be just so.
As a first year student at Massey University my lecturer in social anthropology was Professor (later Sir) Hugh Kawharu. He possessed an awesome intellect and my dream was to apply my learnings in some distant, faraway land. I didn’t expect that it would be Tasmania! Apart from my immediate family I have little to do with that portion my life. But quite extraordinarily, into dreams and into some wakening hours come recollections of friends, good times and bad, growing up, ever optimistic. Most of all, the missed opportunities are plainly before me. Not being there for the past 30 years has meant I have not been there to thank the people who contributed to me being the person I am. Having spent the last 20 plus years on the North West Coast, I see the advantage that so many of you have. Your lives have been spent nourished by family and friends, you are connected to each other, to your community and to the soil under your feet.
So. When you are a member of such a small community, do you let the opportunities pass you by?
Gratefulness and thankfulness are such rich qualities for successful living and yet we use them sparingly rather than lavishly. Our children today have so much and yet they find it hard to offer compliments and express gratitude that lasts more than an hour! Why is this so?
In the story of the healing of the ten (Luke 17:11-17), only one whom Jesus heals returns to give thanks to God. Jesus rewards this foreigner, this Samaritan saying, “Get up and go; your faith has made you well.” The other nine had also been healed. But they had been healed by the power of Jesus, whereas the Samaritan was made well by his own faith. Are we among those who wait to be provided for, or among those who use their own initiative and receive the blessings that come with it? Gratefulness and thankfulness need to be a part of our living, daily vocabulary. Let’s teach our children to be just so.
Friday, December 5, 2008
Thirsting for God
“My soul is thirsting for you, O Lord my God.”
I just love Psalm 62. It speaks of our utter dependence on God, just as a dry, weary land needs water, so we long for God. Some of church’s greatest spiritual writers have echoed these words, St John of the Cross and St Paul of the Cross. They experienced the wretchedness of the absence of God, and in their depths of despair, they uncovered themselves, discovered themselves and found the face of God.
We are busy every day. Our lives are filled up with being here and being there. So few of us find time to be with ourselves – not alone, but in our own company. We can so often be totally unaware that we have drives, callings and yearnings that seem beyond our understanding, that remain unfulfilled. This longing leaves us somewhat bereft, mourning for something lost and yet unknown. For such struggles this psalm was sung.
Some are born with an uncanny awareness of the presence of God, sensing him in quiet, in company, in the world that surrounds us. They possess a self-assurance, a self-knowledge borne of confidence and faith. Like the psalmist they cry out, “My mouth shall praise you with joy!”
So many young people have never entered this sacred space. And yet, here it is, constantly inviting, welcoming. The darkness that bedevilled the saintly mystics need not distract us today, for the face of God can be seen in each other, mirrored in the beauty and magnificence around us.
Come to prayer. Place yourself before him and find yourself.
I just love Psalm 62. It speaks of our utter dependence on God, just as a dry, weary land needs water, so we long for God. Some of church’s greatest spiritual writers have echoed these words, St John of the Cross and St Paul of the Cross. They experienced the wretchedness of the absence of God, and in their depths of despair, they uncovered themselves, discovered themselves and found the face of God.
We are busy every day. Our lives are filled up with being here and being there. So few of us find time to be with ourselves – not alone, but in our own company. We can so often be totally unaware that we have drives, callings and yearnings that seem beyond our understanding, that remain unfulfilled. This longing leaves us somewhat bereft, mourning for something lost and yet unknown. For such struggles this psalm was sung.
Some are born with an uncanny awareness of the presence of God, sensing him in quiet, in company, in the world that surrounds us. They possess a self-assurance, a self-knowledge borne of confidence and faith. Like the psalmist they cry out, “My mouth shall praise you with joy!”
So many young people have never entered this sacred space. And yet, here it is, constantly inviting, welcoming. The darkness that bedevilled the saintly mystics need not distract us today, for the face of God can be seen in each other, mirrored in the beauty and magnificence around us.
Come to prayer. Place yourself before him and find yourself.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Advent of forgiveness
In 2005 much was spoken and written about the execution of Van Tuong Nguyen. There were varying reports which suggested that anywhere from 50 – 65% of Australians supported his execution and indeed supported the death penalty. It is not so surprising that we have all become so disconnected from each other, that our capacity to forgive and to be truly compassionate has diminished. These past few years have brought us Australian Idol, Dancing with the Stars and Big Brother. We have learned that our singular voice can add weight to the demise of our least-liked contestant or instantly reward our favourite. Our opinions matter. Our judgments matter. The humiliation and pain of those who lose is not our problem. Their broken lives are lived out beyond the screen. I feel for the families of these young people.
We don’t trust our neighbours. We fear strangers.
The Palestine into which Jesus was born was remarkably similar. His country was under occupation by the Romans. The likes of Matthew the tax collector were collaborators with the Romans. The Zealots, the underground; the Pharisees the right wing, conservative politicians. The penalty for defying the Romans was death. Execution by crucifixion. The call for Jesus’ death is a cry from the people of Jerusalem, they speak with one voice. Their greatest fear is that Jesus’ teaching undermines everything they understood about their relationship with God and with their overseers. Fear drives persecution.
Yes, Jesus was guilty of the charges brought against him.
Our Catholic heritage is not pristine, yet in our recent story we have such heroes as Melbourne Archbishop Daniel Mannix (1864 - 1963) who fought conscription in Australia. The Church itself is rigorously anti-abortion. The Catechism of the Catholic Church (2nd edition) published in 1997 accepts that the state has a right to execute those who commit the most serious of crimes, with the proviso that execution should rarely, if ever, be used. Recent popes, including Benedict XVI have pleaded with government after government to spare the lives of those about to be executed.
None of us is perfect, nor are our children. Being human makes us capable of making mistakes – small ones, and big ones. I will always accept that my God loves me and will always forgive me. There will be consequences, both in my relationship with God, and with those I have hurt. But the value of my life can never be undermined by the errors I make as a human being. I look at Van Tuong Nguyen as my son, or my nephew or my grandson, maybe my neighbour, or a child I have taught. Could I look into his eyes and wish him dead?
Advent celebrates the coming of Jesus, both as the event of Christmas and as the ultimate event – the completion of the Kingdom of God. Such celebrations of life only make sense when life itself is valued above all else.
We don’t trust our neighbours. We fear strangers.
The Palestine into which Jesus was born was remarkably similar. His country was under occupation by the Romans. The likes of Matthew the tax collector were collaborators with the Romans. The Zealots, the underground; the Pharisees the right wing, conservative politicians. The penalty for defying the Romans was death. Execution by crucifixion. The call for Jesus’ death is a cry from the people of Jerusalem, they speak with one voice. Their greatest fear is that Jesus’ teaching undermines everything they understood about their relationship with God and with their overseers. Fear drives persecution.
Yes, Jesus was guilty of the charges brought against him.
Our Catholic heritage is not pristine, yet in our recent story we have such heroes as Melbourne Archbishop Daniel Mannix (1864 - 1963) who fought conscription in Australia. The Church itself is rigorously anti-abortion. The Catechism of the Catholic Church (2nd edition) published in 1997 accepts that the state has a right to execute those who commit the most serious of crimes, with the proviso that execution should rarely, if ever, be used. Recent popes, including Benedict XVI have pleaded with government after government to spare the lives of those about to be executed.
None of us is perfect, nor are our children. Being human makes us capable of making mistakes – small ones, and big ones. I will always accept that my God loves me and will always forgive me. There will be consequences, both in my relationship with God, and with those I have hurt. But the value of my life can never be undermined by the errors I make as a human being. I look at Van Tuong Nguyen as my son, or my nephew or my grandson, maybe my neighbour, or a child I have taught. Could I look into his eyes and wish him dead?
Advent celebrates the coming of Jesus, both as the event of Christmas and as the ultimate event – the completion of the Kingdom of God. Such celebrations of life only make sense when life itself is valued above all else.
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