Last sremon of Advent

Mary:

I was almost 14 when I became betrothed. I had never met this man, Joseph, whom I would spend the rest of my life with, but I knew that he was of a suitable age, about 30, and that he was a carpenter, so would have the means to look after me and my children. I was excited that I would finally be counted as a woman, no longer a child, but of course I was also a little scared – it is no mean thing to leave your family to live with someone you don't know.

When I found I was pregnant I was terrified. I knew, KNEW that this was a unique child, a blessing from God, one who would change the world now and forever, but it would be assumed that I was adulterous – and the penalty was death. So I made haste and fled to Judea some one hundred miles away when you bypass Samaria, which I had to do. If a Samarian had caught me, an Israelite, travelling through their territory they would have killed me without a second thought. The journey was dangerous – there were wild animals, bandits, and extremes of weather that a young girl travelling alone had to be brave and a little foolhardy to survive.

I was running for my life.

I needed Elizabeth’s protection.  This was no social visit.  This was not happenstance.  Elizabeth was the wife of a priest, a descendant of Aaron, and the matriarch of our clan.  She was distantly related to me, a girl from a related clan. I fled to see a distant cousin who she hoped would save her life. Had Elizabeth not blessed my pregnancy, and had the religious authorities condemned me as an adulterer, I might be put to death. It was a journey of faith, that would be made again so many times over my life – faith that God was, is and always will be with me, that God's purposes are ultimately fulfilled.

Elizabeth:

Had Zechariah been able to speak, he would have condemned Mary.  As a priest, he would follow the law.  He was known for following the law. As a man in a patriarchal culture with a patriarchal religion and institutions, there would be pressure to enforce the law.  The Law demanded death.

The law protected male interests.  Girls were property. For example, if a man rapes a girl, he was required under the law to pay the girl’s father fifty shekels and to then marry her. Having lost her virginity, the girl could not be married and no dowry could be collected, so the rapist has to marry the girl, and the girl had to marry her rapist. Conversely, a husband’s infidelity is punished only if he takes another man’s wife. But a wife who commits adultery commits a “great sin”. She would be severely punished. Her husband could forgive her, but he could then divorce her leaving her penniless and disgraced. It was a risk for me to accept an unmarried young woman with child into my house. Unlike for Mary, my pregnancy carried with it a rise in status – as a barren woman unable to produce a son for my husband, I was useless, less than a woman and of little value. Now I was able to stand proud and tall, knowing that I was fulfilling my duty not only to my family but to my God.

When I greeted Mary, I knew that she too carried a special baby. She carried the Messiah, the one for which we have been waiting for so many long years. I was filled with the Holy Spirit and cried “Blessed are you among women and blessed is the fruit of your womb.”

Then Mary begins her song. It’s full of joy and praise for reversing the power struggle between the lowly and the powerful. God fulfilled his promise to rise up the poor and scatter the proud. Mary’s escape from the limits of her situation and culture symbolizes the fulfilment of these promises.

Josie:

Obviously, this is a reconstruction of a possible encounter. We can't know what was going through Mary and Elizabeth’s heads as they carried. Brought up and eventually farewelled their children, those children that were, despite and within everything that was done in and through them, human and loved.

I have been struggling this advent season. Normally it is my favourite time of the year – a time to celebrate and prepare for Jesus, human and yet divine. A time to remember his beginnings, as a humble, illegitimate child with no claim to glory or status, unique and special in his mother's eyes but to the world, just another man. I think of my own children, feel a bond to Mary as a feed and love them, imagine what it was like for her, watching her oldest child grow and develop. I wonder what she wished for him, how she thought his story would be carried out, if she watched him when he was asleep and was overwhelmed with love and protection. I wonder if she prayed to take his burden, to carry his pain, to give him what he had not chosen for himself – a normal life.

But this advent has been changed for me. I can not rejoice the way I want to. I can't look forward with unbridled joy to the time when Jesus will come in every heart, because this Christmas there are hearts that will be forever empty. This Christmas there are 20 children, children the age of my little girl, and 6 adults, teachers who gave their lives in fear and heartbreak, who are not celebrating the way they should be – with their families, with their friends, with nothing on their mind but the lead up to Christmas.

I live in the faith that, as Mary sung, God has fulfilled God's promises. That the weak are made strong, the poor fulfilled in every way. I have to have faith in this because right now, I find it hard to believe. Once again, children have been torn from their mothers, their fathers, their families and communities. Once again parents who would do anything, suffer anything for the happiness and well being of their children are never going to have that opportunity again. Evil is at work in the world, and the darkness seems to be free. There are plenty of people who seem to know what God is thinking and planning in the wake of this tragedy – I wish I was one of them! But I turn to the Bible to try and help me make sense of this senseless act.

Mary’s words in Luke’s Gospel are probably not the speech of an unmarried girl contemplating her pregnancy. More likely, the author of the Gospel composed them as an interpretation of Mary’s situation. This is not to diminish Mary’s value or faithfulness; but it is a reminder that the author was looking retrospectively at Mary’s pregnancy, viewing it through a post-Easter lens to express a confident hope that God’s Messiah would yet complete the task of upending the world’s oppressive ways.

I am very suspicious, then, of theological statements that promise too much insight into the present. Theology that tells us what God is doing right now, and that definitively claims to understand tomorrow, usually is manipulative theology.

It’s not that we have no confidence in contemplating God’s future, or ours. But God’s future will be informed by who God has been in the past. Our talk about God should begin there, then.

In the end, Mary’s song remains outrageous. When the Gospel of Luke ends, the powerful remain on their thrones, and the rich have not been left empty. No historical event unambiguously confirms her claims; they remain statements of faith.

Advent is like this for Christians. It’s a season of standing up against “the way things are.” Advent rejects the assumption that humanity remains trapped in never-ending decline.

We light candles during advent “against” the night. Our tiny, vulnerable flames pose no threat to the darkness of the night. But we light them anyway, because they declare a different reality to come.

“Joy to the World” will not sound the same this year, not after funerals for twenty beautiful children and their adult defenders in Newtown. The carol, in declaring the “wonders of [Jesus’] love,” will sound fake to some. Ignorant to others. And in some places, hopeful. But I plan on singing it a little defiantly -- not in naïve, Pollyannaish hope, but in confidence that Mary, the author of Luke, and those before them who dared to speak about God saw with a perspective I can learn from.

On your marks...

We are lined up at the starting post. I cast surreptitious glances at the other competitors, checking their postures and assessing who to beat. I feel sick to my stomach, my extremeties are tingling, and the starter gun fires.

I watch my beautiful 5 year old girl trot down the field.

I am a sports mum. The worst kind. The kind that desperately wants her child to win, the kind that seriously considers pulling grotesque faces at the other kids to put them off, the kind that anaylses every race and competition in retrospect to try and improve for the next time.

Luckily, my daughter has no idea.

I think I do a pretty good job of hiding it. When she manages to run a whole race without looking behind her, I cheer and high five. When she slows down at the finish line to let the person behind her catch up, I say what a good friend she is. When she runs into the high jump rope instead of over it, I... ok, I ask her to please please try and jump next time, and she gives me puppy dog eyes and says "but mummy, I did!".

It's not easy being a sports mum to a kid who has no interest or desire to win. She really doesn't care. She quite likes the games, she loves playing with the other kids when she's waiting in line and she seems to have a talent for shot put. But suggest that she may like to beat someone and she'll look at you (ok, at me) like you're crazy. She just doesn't have that killer instinct. Which is just as well really, because she doesn't have any particular talent for it either.

But that's ok. My daughter is extremely gifted in areas that are hard to measure. She is incredibly kind and really cares about other people. She shares her love and possesions equally freely. She has a finely tuned sense of social justice and is beginning to stand up for people who can't stand up for themselves. She happily asked her friends to bring presents for puppies and kittens that don't have any home instead of presents for herself - how many 5 year olds could do that? She loves her baby brother with all her heart and happily (and sometimes unhappily) helps look after him as much as she can. In this mix, does it matter that she can't run or jump as well as the other kids?

No. It doesn't. But I'm still getting Jason to take her to competitions from now on. My blood pressure can't handle it.

Sermon 18-11-12

I strongly suggest you go here
 http://www.textweek.com/yearb/properb28.htm
before reading this one! It makes more sense that way.



We all know by now how much I like stories. I'm a reader. I'm a talker. I like to think I'm a listener. And I believe that every person's story has something to teach us about God and the way God works through peoples lives.
Just as every person has a story, so every person has a family. Not necessarily the incompetent father, happy home-maker mother and 2.3 or 1.8 or however many kids that people like to hold up as an ideal when they are trying to sell us a product or an idea, but a family of origin and often a family of choice. Sometimes these are the same. Sometimes they are not. I realise that my family is an advertisers dream – we have a male and female parent (who are even married!), a male and female child and we are very close to our extended family as well. Of course, our ideality may start to crack a little when people who would like to hold us up as some kind of standard realise that my husband doesn't go to Church, my daughter is a 5 year old feminist, my son wears pink and we are all actively gay friendly.
We are one form of a family, one form that works for us. But not all people have a family that looks like ours. We know functional families who are estranged from their biological parents and dysfunctional ones who should be. We know families with 2 mothers, or one mother, or no father, or 3 fathers. We know families with no children by choice, or many children by accident, or, tragically, no children by circumstances beyond their control. And it was these people who were at the top of my mind and my heart when we read Hannah's story.
It’s curious to see how often in even the Bible (dare one say, in especially the Bible?) the purposes of God somehow move forward not just despite familial dysfunction but sometimes even through it. We’ve got a load of dysfunction coming up in the Samuel story through the shenanigans of Hophni and Phineas—and Eli’s hand-wringing inability to do a blessed thing about it all. But we’ve got nettlesome family issues right in this opening chapter, too.



Hannah was desperate for a child. Many of us will have felt that longing, that feeling that our lives, our hearts, our stories are as of yet incomplete. Added to that yearning was the cruel fact that in ancient Israel a woman's worth lay in her virginity or her motherhood. Without a son, when Hannah's husband died she would be at the mercy of Peninnah, and I'm sure we can well imagine how that mercy would play out. Elkanah also seemed to miss the point – “how could you possibly want a child”, he asks, “when you've got me?”. The Bible doesn't record Hannah's reaction, but I like to think it may have involved violence. Elkanah also seems oblivious to his other wife's constant taunting. Or maybe he thought it shouldn't matter what Peninnah said, after all, Hannah must know she was his favourite!



At first glance, God seems as cruel as Peninnah. Peninnah is obviously cruel with her taunts, yet God seems equally cruel to shut Hannah’s womb. Is God the cause of every barren womb? If we say yes, then it is an easy jump to say God is the cause of every barren and hopeless situation, of every disease and disaster.
I do not believe this. I believe we live in a broken world with several causes of trouble. Some are tied to God’s gift of free will, the consequences of our own choices and/or the consequences of other people’s choices. Some situations are the work of the evil one and some come from the general state of brokenness found in living between Eden and Heaven. It’s consistent with God’s character to bring birth out of barrenness, hope out of hopelessness, but I’m having trouble with the idea of God causing the barrenness to begin with. Was the closing of her womb a special case because God had a special plan? Was it merely a misunderstanding of God’s timing? Did Hannah have to pray in order to nudge God’s memory and resulting action?
This leads to the second difficult question. Why does God answer Hannah’s prayer with a child while so many other prayers for children receive a “no” answer? Is it because she is more faithful? (as seen in her fervent prayers) She doesn’t doubt? (as seen in her attitude change after her encounter with Eli) Is it because of the bargain she makes with God to give the child over to God’s service? In fact the bargain might not be a bargain at all, but rather an illustration of Hannah’s faithfulness since all first born are to be the Lord’s. God does not request anything of her, yet Hannah makes the vow and sees it through. She brings her precious toddler to Eli, a man who has failed miserably in raising his own children.
I know God is not genie awaiting magic words, nor is God’s favor bought with promises or acts of great sacrifice. Yet, I am left with many questions. And I struggle to find a way to make sense of what I read, to bring it in line with my understanding of a life giving God, a Spirit which connects us all and our friend and companion Jesus Christ.
But when we look to Hannah's response, to both her heart wringing trouble and joyous conclusion, maybe this is where we find our God. When Hannah is in need, she doesn't hide from God, or take refuge behind easy platitudes. She doesn't waste time finding the perfect words or making sure she has the right posture to talk to God. She doesn't wait for the Priest to help her or let him regard her as less. She speaks from her heart to the God of her heart, without artifice or posturing. Her words of praise ring out today just as they did thousands of years ago, the praise of a woman's deepest joy being found in the depths of God's compassion.
How often do we remember to give thanks to God? How often do we celebrate the everyday miracles of our lives?
Today, of course, is one of those celebrations. Today we have the privilege of welcoming into God's Church a very special child. Levi's family have heard God calling them to bring Levi to be a part of our family, and we are blessed for it. Like Hannah, this family is praising God in the best way they know how – with joy and thanksgiving, adding an essential chapter in Levi's story, the one that starts with God.
Hanna's story is paired today in the Gospel with Mark 13:1-8 and Jesus’ words about how even the tragedies of life in this world (like wars, rumors of war, and earthquakes) somehow manage to be—in God’s sovereign hands—things that portend the birth of something new and good and not merely the death of all that we have ever known.
That’s good news for all of us who are able to fess up that our own lives are hardly straight lines that always move in the direction of the godly and the good and the pious. Of course, this is no excuse for sloppy living or behaving like a witch such as Peninnah (or for being as foggy as Eli) but it does provide a light of hope that our lives can still be vehicles for good, for the constant working of God.

Let me finish with a story. Morgan Wooten was a basketball coach. He coached at DeMatha High School in the DC area. His teams won 1274 games while losing only 192 times. He was considered by everyone who knew him to be one of the great ones. Well, everyone except his grandson.

Wooten is one of only three high school coaches in the Basketball Hall of Fame. At his induction, he told a story about his grandson's first day of school. The teacher asked Nick, “What's your favorite sport?” “Baseball,” he said.
The teacher knew who Nick's grandfather was. She was surprised, “Not basketball?” Nick said, “Nope. I don't know anybody who knows anything about basketball.”

The teacher was even more surprised, “But Nick, a lot of people think your Grandfather Wooten knows a lot about basketball. Nick snorted and laughed, “Oh no! He doesn’t know anything about basketball. I go to all his games and he never gets to play.”

Sometimes we see God the way Nick saw his grandfather. Because we see the game of life going on and have a hard time seeing the hand of God anywhere in it, we think, “God knows nothing about it,” or, “God cares nothing about it,” or, “God can't do anything about it,” because, after all, we never see God get in the game.

The Scripture readings today talk about the art of having faith in a world gone mad, of seeing God's hand in the wild whirlwind of life around us. They are intended to bring us reassurance of God's love when we go through hard times and God seems to be very far away. So let us pray.

Lord of Hosts, there are so many things we do not understand. Our lack of understanding does not diminish your goodness or your power. Help us to follow you even when the situation is desperate and the way unclear. Build in us a faith that seeks you boldly and honestly, that will persevere in the midst of disrespect and ridicule. Teach us to stand and to defend our faith when others question and misunderstand. You are our only hope and salvation. We need you near. Amen.

Dear Friend

Dear Friend,

This is a very hard letter to write. It is a letter that you will never see, because it would cause more hurt than I am willing to inflict. But it is a letter that needs to be written, because I am sore in my heart about what is to come.

You are a great person. You are kind, smart, very funny! You really care about the people around you and you are generous with your time and your gifts. You are Godparent to my child because I really thought we would be part of each other's lives forever. I still hope that, but I think it's not going to look the way I thought it would 5 years ago.

The thing is, with all you give (and it is a lot) you expect a lot in return. A lot of time, a lot of energy, a lot of pain. I am a very easy going person and I don't particularly like making waves, but you seem to need to hurt me whenever I hurt you, and I seem to hurt you fairly often. And I seem to just accept it. I never fight back, because I know that it's not worth the turmoil that would follow. I don't want to hurt you, offend you or cause problems for you, but it seems that that is what is happenning more and more often at the moment. As I grow as a person, as a Christian and as a woman, I seem to be less and less who I was when we met. This isn't a bad thing - we need to grow and change! - but it does seem to be a problem for you. I think we are too close, literally! I think a bit more physical space will help us to remain closer than when we see each other too often. Maybe we take each other a bit for granted? What I really mean is, maybe you take me a bit for granted. Maybe you assume that I will take your barbed comments and ignore them because that's what I do, that I will ignore the fact that you treated me with silence over something I still don't know but expect me to jump for you when you need me again. I wonder really how much you can like me when you often seem to assume the worst out of everything I say.

I am a harder person now than I used to be. I have more faith in myself. A lot of this is down to your friendship. You have helped make me who I am and I am better for it. I know you have noticed the distance i am putting between us and are resenting it. I know you are punishing me for it. I don't know if you are aware of this - I hope not. Because it isn't worthy of you.

You are my friend. I hope you will always be a part of my life. But right now I am going through a very introspective time and I am an introvert by nature. I am not willing to spend the time and energy that you desire or think you deserve. This is a time when I am looking after myself, my family, my relationship with God. I don't have the energy, or the inclination, to check everytime I speak to make sure I don't offend you, to worry everytime I call that you won't speak to me because of something I have done without ever knowing what it is.

I really, truly love you. I am thankful for all you have done for me. I hope and pray we will continue to be close for many years to come. Change is hard. Life is hard. But I hope we will both be the better for it.

I love you.

Woman Wisdom, Lady Sophia.

A sneak oeek at my semon for Sunday! I strongly suggest you read the proverbs and Gospel reading before hand though, it makes much more sense in context!

http://www.textweek.com/yearb/properb20.htm

Today in our readings we are celebrating. And we are celebrating some of those who were, and still are, the lesser and least in our society. Today we are celebrating women and children. We are celebrating servants and slaves. We are celebrating Woman Wisdom, Sophia, and all that she brings. We are celebrating a good and obedient wife... hang on. Let's back up a bit and have a closer look at this well known reading. What is the Spirit saying to the Church today?

We recognise in ancient texts the power dynamics that allow men to idealise female virtue in terms that benefit men and often harm women. Notice that this text cannot even imagine a virtuous woman who is unmarried, that is, who is not in relation to a male as wife. It is easy to dismiss this, “oh well, that was then and this is now, we're over that sort of thing” (ha, I wish) or “another disgraceful example of the patriarchy at work! That poor ideal woman is working all the time, from dawn till dusk, in every place for every person! Outrageous!”. But neither of these approaches do justice to what is in a lot of ways a critical understanding about the way we think about God and each other.

Proverbs is a book of instruction, helping us learn how to live in a way that brings us closer to God. They are much concerned with the gaining and keeping of wisdom – what can seem like foolishness to the wider world. These texts put much of this teaching about wisdom in the mouth of "Woman Wisdom," the personification of wisdom in Hebrew Scripture as well as in much of the ancient world. She calls upon humans to walk in her ways and follow her path. Proverbs 31, then, is set in the larger context of wisdom literature, and the more immediate context of Woman Wisdom.

There are some unusual aspects to this text that can go unnoticed. Firstly, a lot of the work this ideal woman is doing is not contained to the sphere traditionally allowed for women. While she clearly takes care of her husband and household and excels at domestic activities she is quite active outside the home as well. She is a successful businesswoman, considering a field and buying it , and is a viticulturist to boot. She is an entrepreneur who works late into the evening , who plans ahead , and who is not idle . She knows how to dress for success and how to sell goods for a profit. Her work compares favourably to merchant marines , and one suspects that the reason her husband is well known is because of her, not vice versa!

But this amazing paragon of virtue is not merely successful in worldly matters. She is no uncaring tycoon, instead she “opens her hand to the poor and reaches our her hands to the needy”. She does not remain silent – her voice is filled with wisdom and the “teaching of kindness”.

Truly this woman is a paragon of virtue. One wonders how far a young man in ancient Israel would have had to look to find such perfection. And also, what exactly he was planning on offering in return.

So we've had a look at what this text does say, now let's have a look at what it doesn't.

No where does it say anything about this paragon being subject to her husband. She is not obedient. She does not submit. She leads her own life rather than following someone else's. She pursues her own ends rather than obeying orders. There is no hint that her industry is not her own, that she is demure or deferential, or that her pursuits are directed by others. This is an independent individual who is reliant on no other human for her success or worth.

Secondly, there is nothing mentioned about pregnancy or childbirth, traditionally key credentials for womanhood in the ancient world. No where is she identified or given status by her children. She is notably not dedicating her life to them, not deriving her sense of being from them. Being a mother is but a small part of her identity. Times change hey?

Finally, nothing is said about he appearance. Nothing. She could be tall, short, big, small, botoxed within an inch of her life (although I suspect we are in the wrong era for that) or gray haired and loving it. Her appearance is completely irrelevant. This may be because we are talking about a mythical figure – what could Woman Wisdom look like? Interestingly, the scriptures contain many descriptions of what God is like, but never any describing God's appearance... whenever my RE students ask what God looks like, I explain that without a physical body it is hard to look like anything!

So when we look at this ideal, this aspiration, what we find is a woman who answers to no one but God, who is praised and loved by her family but not defined by them, who works hard in many spheres not normally considered suitable for her sex and who throughout it all has an aura of kindness and generosity. We find someone who we can all look up to, someone who can not be contained within the boundaries of her sex and situation but who breaks through them in the power of love. A revolutionary, a seer, a woman. Someone with no power in the world, but all the power from God.

So how do we get there? How do we become such a person, or mythological figure, ourselves?

Let's look to the gospel for help with this one. We all know that Jesus rebuked his disciples and told them they should be as a child. I'm sure we've all heard sermons about how pure and innocent these lovely children are. I'm sorry, have you MET my children? Adorable, yes. Lovable, certainly. But pure? Perfect? Without flaw? Not so much. What is it about children, what is this quality that allows them to be so close to God?

I would like to go back to verse 32 to answer this question. “But they did not understand what he was saying and were afraid to ask him,” They were afraid to ask. Think about it. They were afraid of looking stupid, of getting it wrong. In our own time, no one wants to look uninformed, confused, or clueless. We withhold our toughest questions, often within our own churches and within Christian fellowship. We pretend we don't have hard questions. Yet the deepest mysteries of life do indeed elude us. Why do good people suffer? Why are humans so brutal to one another? Why does evil succeed? If God's own Son is betrayed and killed, then no one is safe. Why did God set up a world like this?

Why ask our hard questions? Because we withhold these questions at our own peril.

Verse 34 reveals what happens to the disciples when they sidestep the real questions they are afraid to ask -- they turn to arguing with each other, squabbling among themselves over petty issues of rank and status (verse 34). There is a direct line drawn from verse 32 to verse 34. When the disciples avoid asking hard questions, they focus on posturing about who is right.

We know this too well in the church. How would this story be different if the disciples had asked Jesus their questions? What kind of conversation might have ensued between Jesus and the disciples? What kind of relationship would it have engendered with each other?

How would our stories be different if we ask Jesus our questions? What kind of conversations might we pursue with Jesus? How would our life as disciples together be different as a result?

There may have been a time or two when I've gotten heartily sick of my daughter's questions. There may have been times when I've said the words I always promised myself would never cross my lips; “because I said so!”. But to ask is to learn, and to learn is to grow. If we don't ask the questions because we may not like the answers, we are doing ourselves a disservice. If we are too afraid of how we will look to take a risk, to venture outside the boundaries we have set for ourselves or had set for us by those around us, we lose the opportunity to come closer to the God who is our truth and our light.

The good news is that Jesus welcomes us even when we do get it wrong. We have the example of Woman Wisdom in front of us, an example that none of us can ever live up to, but it is in the trying, the questioning, even the falling, that we are most authentically ourselves and most authentically children of God. So let's ask those hard questions. Let's take that risk. And let's do it in the knowledge that no matter what, God has our back.

Amen.

I have copied this directly off another blog - with permission of course. Now I'm going to print it off and read it to Abby. Every year.

Dear Chase,
Hey, baby.
Tomorrow is a big day. Third Grade -- wow.
Chase -- When I was in third grade, there was a little boy in my class named Adam.
Adam looked a little different and he wore funny clothes and sometimes he even smelled a little bit. Adam didn't smile. He hung his head low and he never looked at anyone at all. Adam never did his homework. I don't think his parents reminded him like yours do. The other kids teased Adam a lot. Whenever they did, his head hung lower and lower and lower. I never teased him, but I never told the other kids to stop, either.
And I never talked to Adam, not once. I never invited him to sit next to me at lunch, or to play with me at recess. Instead, he sat and played by himself. He must have been very lonely.
I still think about Adam every day. I wonder if Adam remembers me? Probably not. I bet if I'd asked him to play, just once, he'd still remember me.
I think that God puts people in our lives as gifts to us. The children in your class this year, they are some of God's gifts to you.
So please treat each one like a gift from God. Every single one.
Baby, if you see a child being left out, or hurt, or teased, a part of your heart will hurt a little. Your daddy and I want you to trust that heartache. Your whole life, we want you to notice and trust your heartache. That heartache is called compassion, and it is God's signal to you to do something. It is God saying, Chase! Wake up! One of my babies is hurting! Do something to help! Whenever you feel compassion -- be thrilled! It means God is speaking to you, and that is magic. It means He trusts you and needs you.
Sometimes the magic of compassion will make you step into the middle of a bad situation right away.
Compassion might lead you to tell a teaser to stop it and then ask the teased kid to play. You might invite a left-out kid to sit next to you at lunch. You might choose a kid for your team first who usually gets chosen last. These things will be hard to do, but you can do hard things.
Sometimes you will feel compassion but you won't step in right away. That's okay, too. You might choose instead to tell your teacher and then tell us. We are on your team -- we are on your whole class's team. Asking for help for someone who is hurting is not tattling, it is doing the right thing. If someone in your class needs help, please tell me, baby. We will make a plan to help together.
When God speaks to you by making your heart hurt for another, by giving you compassion, just do something. Please do not ignore God whispering to you. I so wish I had not ignored God when He spoke to me about Adam. I remember Him trying, I remember feeling compassion, but I chose fear over compassion. I wish I hadn't. Adam could have used a friend and I could have, too.
Chase -- We do not care if you are the smartest or fastest or coolest or funniest. There will be lots of contests at school, and we don't care if you win a single one of them. We don't care if you get straight As. We don't care if the girls think you're cute or whether you're picked first or last for kickball at recess. We don't care if you are your teacher's favorite or not. We don't care if you have the best clothes or most Pokemon cards or coolest gadgets. We just don't care.
We don't send you to school to become the best at anything at all. We already love you as much as we possibly could. You do not have to earn our love or pride and you can't lose it. That's done.
We send you to school to practice being brave and kind.
Kind people are brave people. Brave is not a feeling that you should wait for. It is a decision. It is a decision that compassion is more important than fear, than fitting in, than following the crowd.
Trust me, baby, it is. It is more important.
Don't try to be the best this year, honey.
Just be grateful and kind and brave. That's all you ever need to be.
Take care of those classmates of yours, and your teacher, too. You Belong to Each Other. You are one lucky boy... with all of these new gifts to unwrap this year.
I love you so much that my heart might explode.
Enjoy and cherish your gifts.
And thank you for being my favorite gift of all time.
Love,
Mama

Out and Proud

It seems it's not 'cool' or 'done' to be proud of yourself anymore. We aren't supposed to say or think 'good' things about ourselves, in case people think we're 'up ourselves' or that we are judging people who don't do things the way we do.

Well, stuff that.

I've had enough negativity for the moment. I've had enough of reading about how people are making stuff up on facebook just to make themselves look good (really?) or about how I shouldn't mention any of my own successes because they might make the person I'm talking to feel inadequate. I make mistakes (oh Lordy, do I make mistakes) but you know what? There are some things I am damn proud of and I own them. Here's a few.

I am proud that I have such a great, adult relationship with my parents and my brother. My mum is my best friend. My Dad will always do what is best for me and my brother always has my back. And you know what? It's because we've ALL worked at it. Relationships are hard work. We have chosen to put the time and energy into ours and it has paid off.

I am proud that my husband and I still love each other. More all the time. And I am proud that we are honest with each other and that we do work through our issues... eventually.

I am proud that my big girl has lovely manners and has a God awareness that enhances her life.

I am proud that my baby boy has never had formula or cried for more than a few minutes without a cuddle. That he has been carried, not pushed, and that he is really securely attached to his family. And that he sometimes says 'da' ('Ta'. We're working on it.)

I am proud that I have my black belt. Come on, how cool is that?

I am proud that I have two full degrees. I worked hard for those degrees, and I get good marks.

I am... humbled and overwhelmed that I will probably be ordained. There is no pride there, that is nothing that I have done that has made this happen... there is nothing to be proud of in trying to follow God's will. Not proud, but... satisfied. Deeper than pride. More meaningful. Soul deep.

That's my list. The things I am most proud of in my life. And there will be more, because I live my life in a way that lets me be proud of what I have achieved. And you know what? I don't think I am any better than a formula mum who used a pram from day dot and is divorced with no higher education. I really don't. Because being proud of MYSELF does not make me 'unproud' of anyone else. I can enjoy my successes without needing you to share them. Because wouldn't life be boring if we were all the same?

Clinical Pastoral Education... revealed!

So this is my final evaluation for CPE. We were told we could get creative, so instead of writing yet another boring monologue I wrote it in the form of a radio interview. I've edited out the bits about my peers - confidentiality, doncha know. But this may give some kind of idea what I spent more than 400 hours doing over the last 6 months.

Announcer: Good morning everybody, and welcome to “The CPE Final Evaluation Show!”. This morning we will attempt to enlighten you as to the significant journey Josie has been on as part of her CPE training. Let's start off with a bit of context. Josie, what prompted you to take this course?

Josie: Well, initially it was purely as a requirement for preparation for ordination. Basically, if I want to be ordained, I have to do it! But I had heard mysterious stories of personal growth and sleep deprivation from previous attendees so I was pretty keen to find out what this was all about.

Announcer: So you're an ordination candidate. Does that mean you're hoping to become an ordained priest?

Josie: Yes, if all goes well I'll be ordained in February 2013. I'll start off in a parish but hope to eventually move into a school.

Announcer: Sounds good! Let's move on to you learning goals. I hear you are quite a goal orientated person. How did you choose what goals you wished to work towards?

Josie: My first two goals I decided on very early in the course. My first came from a certain awkwardness I felt when praying in the company of others. Isn't awkward such an awkward word?

Announcer: Um, yes. So that first goal, can you remind us what it was again?

Josie: To be comfortable, confident and articulate in offering and sharing prayer in a pastoral context.

Announcer: I see. So where did this discomfort you felt come from?

Josie: Well, growing up in an unchurched family I was never exposed to prayer. And as I started to explore prayer for myself I found it difficult to find my own voice. I was always worried I was doing it 'wrong' if I didn't seem to pray like everyone else did. So although I was comfortable praying in a prepared manner, like at Church, I did not have any experience in offering prayer in a more intimate, pastoral situation.

Announcer: But later on you felt you had achieved this goal. What changed?

Josie: Partly practise. I mean, when you do something often enough you do start to get used to it. And I met some lovely patients who received my prayer with grace and thanks, for example Sally in verbatim #3. But the main thing that helped was finding my own voice in prayer.

Announcer: Was there someone in particular who helped you with this? (knowing look)

Josie: Why yes actually! Marjorie always seemed to comfortable and confident in her prayers. As first I thought I should try and pray like she does, because that seemed so effective. But Noela pointed out that Marjorie was so well loved because she was so authentic, and that finding my voice should prove the same. So I learned to offer prayer and if this offer was taken up to pray about what myself and the patient had been speaking about in my own words and those of the patient. And viola! It works! I do feel comfortable, confident and articulate in offering prayer because it is in my voice and with my understanding.

Announcer. That's great Josie.

Josie: But wait, there's more! About the same time I achieved this goal I also achieved the other one I set at the same time, to become secure in identifying myself as a pastoral carer.

Announcer: Oh?

Josie: Yeah, after a few (or maybe a few more) weeks of training it seemed silly to deny that I was fulfilling this role to others. When I was coming to people, in their beds or in their homes, it was as a pastoral carer and they accepted me as such (for example, Fred in verbatim 13). They were willing to share intimate parts of their lives with me. To deny my identity was also to deny their faith in me and in Christ. I came to realise that being a PC was not about me, it was about the patients. Kinda obvious really!

Announcer: Quite. So after you'd fulfilled these goals, did you set more?

Josie: Of course! I find setting and achieving goals to be very building of myself, and it is something I will continue with. My final two goals were to be accepting of my weaknesses, to see mistakes as opportunities for growth rather than misfortunes; and to use my newly found reflective listening skills in my intimate relationship as well as my professional ones.

Announcer: And how are they going?

Josie: Oh, I think these ones are going to take a little longer. As someone with a tendency towards perfectionism I can be quite hard on myself when I think I've stuffed up. Doing verbatims has been really helpful with this, because I've been able to listen, receive and give suggestions as to better practise in ministry without any anger or shame. It's occurring to me that a mistake can provide a learning you may not otherwise have found! As for my listening skills... well, that's something I will continue to work on. Practise makes perfect!

Announcer: Indeed it does. So, moving on to your Outcomes for basic part time CPE. Could you articulate for us some central themes of your religious heritage and the theological understanding that informs your ministry?

Josie: Probably.

Pause

Josie: Oh, you mean now? Sure. As an Anglican, a major part of my pastoral understanding is that we live through the via media, the middle way. We don't have a central ruling body that tells us what we have to think and believe, and this is very important to me. It means that even though we may have vastly different theological beliefs and understandings, mine is no more valid or real than yours. It means that though we may disagree, sometimes vehemently, in the end we are all brothers and sisters in Christ and connected in and through the Spirit in the power of God. I am comfortable and curious about differing views – and I find that my own can change as a result of new experiences and learnings.

Announcer: For example?

Josie: Well, I had never considered myself to be an embodiment of Christ, although I had professed to believe and live it. After all, in the creed I do say that I believe in the resurrection of the body, and to me that occurs every day in our lives as people of the Book. But it wasn't until I started CPE and we started talking about who we are to our patients that I saw how this reality is played out in a tangible way. It is humbling and scary and such a profound act of worship to be in this position – there are really no words to describe it.

Announcer: You've moved on a bit past where we were going here Josie. Shall we go back to outcome 2 in a moment and stick with number three, what have you learned about yourself as a minister and person?

Josie: Okey doke! When I started CPE I considered myself to be quite self aware, but as it happens I was quite mistaken. In good ways as well as not so good, actually. A big one is my relationship with my own mortality. I had thought that after my cancer journey I was quite comfortable with the concept of my own death, but reading a wonderful book called 'May I walk you home?' showed me just how much I was avoiding that particular topic. I was also forced to confront the issue of rejection and what it means to me. What I was able to discover is that a patient can not reject me as a person because they don't know who I am – what they are rejecting is who they think I am, what role I am playing in their head. When I understood this it became easier to distance myself from feelings of resentment or grief following a rejected offering of myself. On a more positive note, I cam into CPE thinking that I would really struggle with handling criticism, but this has not been the issue that I thought it was going to be. I think it is because any criticism levelled my way really was made in love and with my own best interest at heart, given to build me up rather than bring me down. I found I welcomed it as it gave me an opportunity to look at things in a different way. And I learned that if I disagreed with it, after thought and prayer on the issue, then I didn't have to own it. That was liberating as well.

Announcer: You've touched on your cancer journey – can you share some other major life events, relationships and cultural contexts that influence personal identity as expressed in pastoral functioning?

Josie: Yeah, sure. I was brought up in a house that embraced difference and have worshipped in churches that do the same, from Sudanese refugees to parents of children with disabilities to our older citizens struggling with loneliness and loss. This means I am comfortable in many situations, not much phases or shocks me (yet). I have experienced mental illness in my life as well as those around me, and addiction as well. I understand that these issues run much deeper than can be seen or explained. Journeying with my father in law in his final months has given me an understanding and love for the dying. And of course having children gives me an automatic bond with anyone who has or loves children in their own life.

Announcer: So, do you feel more confident/competent in your ability to interact and communicate with patients/parishioners?

Josie: Absolutely. When presenting my verbatim about a woman with little sight or hearing, I discovered the importance of observing body language for permission for physical contact. It seems to be best not to ask too many questions, but to mirror the other's language and/or to put an emotion to what they are feeling, and people will often underrate their own emotions, for example they may say 'worried' instead of terrified (CPE 16/5/12). I am less worried about initiating a visit because the worst that can happen is that they will refuse. That's certainly not the end of the world! And we did some good work with Lynda about how to end a session to.

Announcer: You've mentioned initiating pastoral encounters. How hard/easy was this for you? What were the situations where this was difficult?

Josie: The longer I have been doing PC, the easier initiating a pastoral relationship gets. I can only offer myself, my presence and my time. I don't have to worry about not doing enough – I am not there to 'do' anything! I am certainly not there to 'help', as the guidelines for this evaluation seem to imply in this question.

Announcer: Ok, we'll keep that in mind. You've already touched on receiving feedback, saying that you found it easier than you expected. How about offering that feedback yourself?

Josie: That is something I struggled with at first, I must admit. I wanted to give feedback but I was worried I would come across too mean, so to speak. But when we reached a point where we trusted each other, it became natural to give feedback that I thought would help. It also became more about the other and less about me – if I failed to offer feedback because I was worried about how it would make me look I was doing no one any favours.

Announcer: So you found that when you focussed less on yourself it became easier to give and receive critique.

Josie: Exactly. I have never been in a small group situation like this one, and at first it felt very... confronting. I am a naturally open person so it wasn't that I didn't like sharing, but I did worry sometimes that I talk too much!

Announcer: You? Talk too much?

Josie: Silly, I know. But I had to become aware of the potential for me to dominate the conversation. Sometimes I really had to bite my tongue when I wanted to cut in or say something but realised that I needed to allow people time to think. I also was forced to become more comfortable with conflict. I know that it is a necessary and constructive part of life and relationships but it was something I needed to witness being used in a positive way to appreciate how it could be an effective communication tool.

Announcer: As we draw this segment to a close, is there anything you would like to say to the other participants in this course?

Josie: Why, yes!

Announcer: Well, that's enough talking from you, Josie. You are way over your word limit you know! Any final thoughts? Briefly?

Josie: I just want to thank everyone so much for joining me on this journey. It has been a privilege sharing it with you all, and I do strongly feel that God has a plan for all of our lives and that we are following it. Thanks be to God.

So what is a verbatim anyway?

This. Only not nornally with yourself. Ahem.

Name: Josie

Age: 30

Gender: Female

Marital Status: Married

Religion: Anglican

Date of visit: 6^th August

Place: Patient's home

Date when Written: ^{6th August}

Length of Visit: 10 minutes

Background:I know and trust this particular patient extremely well. We have no secrets although she does have hidden depths.

Plan: To be a pastoral presence to the patient, to see if there was anything she wanted to talk about and pray with her as indicated.

Impressions: Josie seemed to have something bothering her. She looked a little disturbed. There was a small child playing on the floor beside her.

Pastoral Call:

C1: Good morning Josie. I can see that something is bothering you. You look quite disturbed.

P2: I am disturbed. I am finding myself at odds with some of the core tenets of my faith and I just don't know what to do!

C3: You're finding yourself in disagreement with some of the core points of Christianity?

P4: I don't know, that's the problem.

Pause.

Basically, my faith and my identity are tied together intimately. My body, my mind, my soul – all these are part of my self as part of God's creation. And obviously being female, a woman, is a huge part of that. But so much of what we say in Church is tied to a masculine understanding of God. In the creed, we talk about the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, who we call the Lord. Three male entities. How I can I be part of something that is male? How can a God that is understood as male be a part of me, a female?

C5: You sound very distressed. It's hard when you feel like you are being denied a place in God.

P6: Yes! That is how it feels, like I am being denied, like my essential femaleness is somehow less than important. I know that people say that it shouldn't matter, that God is essentially genderless, but a central part of Anglicanism is 'what we pray is what we believe'. So when we pray to a male God we are internalising this message that God, and Godliness, is male.

C7: You are conflicted.

P8: Yes. When I am on my own I can understand God as genderless or Father or Mother or Spirit or anything really, depending on who I need God to be at that time. God is fluid and ever changing. But when in a group I feel like I need to pray to God the father. And that's when I feel like I am betraying a part of myself. I wouldn't mind if this was one of a number of ways we image God, but it seems to be the predominant one.

C9: So when you are praying in Church or with a group of people, you feel like praying to a male God is separating you from God. That sounds terribly upsetting.

P10: It is. And then I start to wonder how I can belong to a Church, be ordained into a Church, when I disagree so strongly with so much of our tradition.

C11:You worry that if you don't agree with the party line you shouldn't be part of the group?

P12: I guess so. And how can I, who know so little, be right and the whole historical Church be wrong?

C13: You feel like you aren't equipped to make this decision.

P14: But that's silly thinking. No one except me can tell me how I should or shouldn't be feeling. And nothing would ever change if no one ever questioned the status flow. We are celebrating 20 years of women priests this year and that would never have happened if someone, somewhere, hadn't challenged however many years of tradition.

C15: Every change starts small, I guess.

P16: Yes. And I'm not forcing anyone to change the way they talk or think about God, I'm just using my God given gifts and spirit to choose the way I talk and think about God.

C17: You sound a little more positive about that. That you can only be faithful to yourself and God.

P18: I think I am. We don't have to agree with everything our denomination does to be a member of it, especially Anglicanism! I can dislike the gendered language for God and change it within my own sphere and talk to others about it and still be a faithful Anglican, and more importantly a faithful child of God. I really don't feel like God wants me to change who I am in that regard – I am a woman and I am concious of those who find gender a barrier to God. Maybe one of God's paths for me is to challenge this understanding! It's very biblical, after all.

C19: Maybe you are someone who will change the way we understand God, even on a small scale. That sounds exciting.

P20: It is. Exciting and a little daunting. But I know God will lead me, one way or another. I can only do what I feel drawn to do, and hope God will correct me if I go too far astray.

C21: Faith and hope. An excellent combination.

P22: I think so.

At this point the baby needed attention so we wrapped it up.

Analysis:

What happened or was happening in me during the visit? How was I responding?

This is an issue which is close to my own heart, so I felt I really understood where the patient was coming from. It was hard not to give advice or validate what she was saying, but that's not why I was there. It's not about whether or not I approve of what she is doing, but how she feels about it that matters.

Theological Evaluation:

This was one of the rare encounters (for me) which is explicitly theological. I am reminded that Jesus challenged many centuries of tradition in understanding God – and gave us a relational term for speaking to God , 'Abba'. I think it was the relational rather than male aspect of this that is important. And Moses also had trouble defining his role when God summoned him. Maybe it's ok to be confused!

Pastoral Opportunity: I found this very helpful, to have a discussion with myself and dig deeper into how I was feeling. I think this is something I can continue to do.

Supervisory Request: Is speaking to yourself the first sign of insanity? Or is it just using the skills I have been given to grow in God?

Weight(y) Matters

This has been spinning around in my head for some time. Over the last 8 years I have lost a total of 43kg. When I started weight watchers for the first time I weighed 104kg and was a size 18-20. This morning I weighed 61kg and I'm a size 10.

People keep asking me how I did it. Well, as the above states, it took a fair amount of time. But not as long as it looks, because it's not like I was trying to lose weight for all those years! I started weight watchers in (I think) 2004. I have no idea what prompted it - maybe watching Dad struggle with his weight I realised I didn't want that for myself. Mainly I suspect it's because I was sick of struggling to find clothes that fit - I must admit that I am quite vain. It is really hard being 22 and unable to wear any of the clothes that you would like to because they don't exist in your size. But that's a whole 'nother story (rant). That first time on WW I lost 20kg over about 9 months, got down to 84kg and a size 14, and was very happy with that.

When I was pregnant with Abby I went a little overboard on the eating (comfort eating mainly, I do bad pregnant lady) and put on 15kg. When she was 10 weeks old I went back to good old WW and got down to 74kg. Still a size 14 though, which drove me bonkers. But hey, I was fit and healthy and could buy clothes from 'standard' stores, so I was happy.

With William, I was soooo sick and tired all the time I just couldn't face the thought of eating. So I only put on 8 kg the entire pregnancy, 6 of which I lost within weeks of him being born. But now I was determined to get down to my 'healthy' weight, which for me is (apparently) between 51-64kg. I know, I KNOW that the whole BMI thing is a load of crap, that it is meant to be used as a measure of population change not as a perscriptive guide to an individual's weight, but I'm a goal orientated person and I needed a number. So I chose one.

How did I do it? Good question. I think what it comes down to is that I wanted to lose weight more than I wanted to eat more than I needed to. Seriously, that's all it was in the end. I could exercise, meditate and affirm myself to my hearts content but as long as I was eating more than I needed to my weight was not going to change. I wanted to lose weight for me - not because society told me I 'should', not because my best friend or work colleague or random celebrity was, but because I felt that it was time. Time for me to make some positive changes to my life. And I had to want it badly enough to override all the other parts of me that would say 'oh come on, just one slice won't hurt' or 'I'll go for a walk tomorrow and that will make up for it' or 'but I really really want it and denying youself never works anyway'.

William is now 10.5 months old and I am a size 10 for the first time in my life. I've maintained this weight for 2 months so far and it looks like I'll stay this way, The wierd thing though is that despite my size and weight, I'm still the same person I was when I was 22, just 8 years older.

You see, to me, a size 10 was like the holy grail of weight loss. Somehow, when I reached it I would become taller, blonder, smoother, more tanned... because size 10 is model material. People who were small didn't have any body problems - I'm not talking about those sad souls who struggle with eating disorders but those who are naturally (or unnaturally) built small enough to fit into this magic size. I would look at all the beautiful clothes in the magazines, and the even more beautiful people wearing them, and imagine that I would be just like them if I could only shift that last 20/10/5kg.

Of course, I didn't realise all this was going through my head until I reached my current size and was a little bemused to discover that I'm still me. I have horrible skin. I have brown hair and I'm so pale I practically grow in the dark. And you know what? I still have a wobbly, saggy tum. I still have flaps of flesh under my arms. And my butt still looks like an undercooked cake covered in lumpy frosting.

And I still love my body.

I can do high kicks and break boards. I can lift my children and squash them till they're breathless. I can run quite a distance (in an appropriate bra) and I can kick the arse of any foolish teenager who thinks I'm an easy target because I'm short and (now) slight. (You see this black belt? You SEE this black belt? You wanna take me on? HUH?).

Am I healthier, fitter, stronger now than I was as a size 14? I don't know. I will always get sick a lot, that's just the way my body works. But I sure eat a hell of a lot better than I used to, and if I have eaten half a roll of uncooked peanut paste/choc chip biccies today I'll work it off tomorrow. I no longer beat myself up about the occasional slice of pizza or piece of cake, because it really is occasional. And if I know I want to comfort eat I'll reach for the apricots or the nuts instead of the chips or chocolate.

I'm more flexible now. I can kick almost over my shoulder, which is a new and somewhat frightening experience. I can run further, although I'm not sure how much of that is general fitness and how much is because my poor breasts are finally starting to get a little smaller.

I guess the most important thing is though, am I happier?

Am I?

You know what, I think I am. Because I am finally treating my body the way it deserves to be treated. Because I know my kids will grow up seeing a mother who is comfortable an secure in her body and who eats well, not to lose weight but as a natural response to hunger.

And I can fit in to size 10 skinny jeans. So you'll have to excuse me while my size ten butt walks over to the oven. There's some biccies a-bakin'.

Sermon for Pentacost

We know that the whole creation has been groaning in labor pains until now; 23 and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies. 24 For in hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what is seen? 25 But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience. 26 Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words. 27 And God, who searches the heart, knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God.

Today we are given three different pictures of the Holy Spirit. It blows through the house like a violent wind and dances on heads like tongues of fire, empowering people to speak in other languages so that all might hear what God has done in Jesus Christ (Acts).  It stands beside us as the Advocate who speaks from God in order to guide us into the truth (John). 

And when all those words are inadequate, when all that speaking cannot express what is deepest within us, the Spirit intercedes on our behalf with wordless, inexpressible groans (Romans).  It was true in the time of Paul and the Gospel writers, and it remains true today: the Spirit is as close as wind and words and no words.  The Spirit in this passage hovers over two equally true realities.  On the one hand, our adoption papers have already been served; we have a place in the family of God.  Together with the whole of creation, already we are caught up in God as heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ.  Already we have tasted the fruits of the Spirit, the life-giving, life-altering reality of living within God's embrace. 

What does this look like to you? Where in your life have you seen the changes that living in the sure knowledge of the eternal love and of Christ brings? This is not a rhetorical question. It is one that I would really like you to think about, and maybe to share if you feel comfortable. I'll go first.

In 2010 I was diagnosed with bowel cancer. It was a scary time – I was only 28, I had a 3 year old daughter and obviously I was terrified! It made me confront my own mortality in the most real way for the first time. I had always said, both to myself and to others, that in my personal prayer life I did not pray for God to influence external events but internal realities. So, to use a rather trivial example, I would not ask God to help me pass my exams but to give me the mindset to study and the focus to retain. Suddenly, I was confronted with a situation that was not at all trivial. There were two weeks between finding out I had a tumour and the surgery that would both remove it and tell us how serious this was going to be. Those were the scariest two weeks of our lives.

And I prayed. I prayed a lot. But to my surprise, when confronted with the possible end of my life, with leaving my daughter and husband and family, I didn't pray for God to take the tumour away, or to minimise it's effects on me. In my world, God doesn't work like that. I prayer for strength, for courage, for serenity, for wisdom... for myself, my family and the wonderful team of doctors who were responsible for my wellbeing.

And God answered my prayers.

We made it through that terrible time, we were incredibly lucky that the skilled surgeon was able to remove the tumour before it spread, and I am now living cancer free, hopefully for the rest of my life! But it was with the God's grace shown in and through me in the Holy Spirit that made our cancer journey, and I say our because as I'm sure you know it is never just one person affected by such an illness, what it was. Through all the pain and fear it became a life giving, life affirming experience, not just for me but for the people around me. If I hadn't had God to carry me through, if I hadn't felt the Spirit at work in and around me, this would have been a much harder time that it turned out to be. I thank God daily still, not just for my healing but for the way the Spirit filled me and the people around me to ensure I was surrounded by divine love shown through human hands.

Would I do it again? Well, yes... and no. I can put a positive spin on it as much as I like, but although the surgery itself went well, the recovery was long and sometimes brutal. It took well over a year before I really felt back to normal. There were times when I did feel deserted. There were times when I couldn't find the words to talk to God – me, for whom words are such an integral part of my being! And there still are. Times when something so unbelievably hard happens, when we can't find the words to call on God. Times when creation itself must be groaning in immeasurable pain at what is happening to her, when the words to call God just aren't there.

And it is then, in those very times when we feel most alone, that the Spirit is at hand. When we are mired in the darkest of despair, when humanity seems to be failing ourselves and the world around us – that is when the Spirit intercedes on our behalf.

Because standing in the middle of this passage is hope. Hope that this dark time will end, that no matter how wrong it seems there is some right that will come of it, hope that we are all God's children, in our despair as well as in our joy. And when we can't find this hope, when all really is lost, when we are forced to contemplate a life or even a death that is so different from what we had planned, the Spirit hopes on our behalf, the church endures with us, the whole creation groans in solidarity.  We are not alone.

Knowing that God is present in the midst of our greatest need is good news that enables us to endure.  What does that look like where you are?  For me it came in the reassurance that should something happen to me, my children are surrounded by people who will love them and support them. That the God I love will never separate me from them for as long as they need me – if not in body then in spirit. Thinking of the floods, I can see so many ways the Spirit has flowed through others in order to help others endure. Sometimes it is with food, money, shelter, hope... sometimes with a presence who will just listen and be. Sometimes the Spirit is at work through me in a way that I don't even recognise at the time, in a way that I may never know – we touch people's lives every day through actions or words that are small and meaningless to us but Christ like to others.

When we have our morning tea together today, when we bond through fellowship and Spirit, why don't we try and share a way the Spirit has helped us through our labours. Let's own it. Let's share it. And in the words of Paul, “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that you may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit”.

Amen.

Death and the Maiden.

OK, so I haven't been a maiden for... ahem... quite a while. But death is on my mind at the moment.

After CPE on Wednesday I borrowed a book from one of the facilitators. It was a book of stories, experiences really, written by a lady who has been a palliative care hospice worker for many years. I devoured it all. In about 2 hours. To be honest, that was probably a really baaad idea. Hey Josie, let's read a whole heap of stories about death right before you go to bed! Sweet dreams!

Actually, it wasn't that bad. Most of the stories were... beautiful. Death is a very natural process, and by the time you are in a hospice you are prepared for the journey. There were stories of gentle endings, permission being given and accepted, people leaving this life in love and faith. But there was one that I can't find the beauty in.

A young, single mum to a nine year old boy was dying. By the time the carer was there, she had only hours to live. She was in a coma, but she wasn't peaceful. The carer describes herself as a midwife to the dying, and she described this woman as having contractions when she would get very distressed, calling out her son's name as her body spasmed. These grew shorter and softer until she died. The carer stayed with her, reassured her that she was not alone in this journey, that God was waiting for her... but as she died she was still calling for her son. He was on her mind to the end, she felt that she couldn't leave him... but she had to.

This hurts.

I can't help but put myself in her place. She didn't KNOW that her son would be taken care of, loved and cherished as she did.  Or maybe she did. I have to read the story again (probably many times) but I'm going of my impressions for this one. The thing is, she did not die at peace and with acceptance, she fought right up to the end... for her son.

I spoke to my facilitator about this story today. Clearly I am identifying very strongly with this mum. I don't want to die. Obviously I'm not expecting to, but we don't get a choice as to when death comes. She suggested that I write down would I would feel as a loss if I were to die today.

So what would I lose?

My children. That's the thing. I would lose my children, helping them grow up, sharing their stories, kissing and hugging them, feeding their minds and souls, loving them. I would lose my family, my friends, my husband.... but mainly my children.

But would I?

I believe in God. I believe that life doesn't end when we leave this world. I believe that God wants what is best for us. So I MUST believe that death could NOT separate me from my children.

There is no way I can lose my babies. Even if I am not physically present, I WILL be there, loving them, nurturing them, teaching them. Nothing can separate me from them, nothing in this life or the next. God CAN NOT do that, not the God of love that I know and worship. I know that one day my babies will be grown up and they will move on and have families of their own. I know that one day (hopefully many, MANY years from now) I will be ready to let them go. But that time is not now.





There is another difference between me and that mum. I was thinking about all the people that would have to die before my children would not be loved with the same intensity I do. Jason, my parents, Jason's mum, Tim and Cath, Jen, Bill, Margaret, Britta, Dee and Chris, James and Emily, Mel, Warren, Ethan and Eliza, the Jordans, Elizabeth...  and that's just the start. My children are blessed with so much love they will never lack for it. If I have to die I would fight it for as long as I can, but when I couldn't fight anymore I think I could leave in peace knowing that I was only leaving in body, that I will be there for my little ones as long as they need me, and that they will never lack for deeply passionate Mother love.

Wow.

I love you Abigail. I love you William. Now and forever.

To my boychick

I love you baby boy.

My favourite time of day is when I'm giving you your last feed of the night. I go to bed around 8pm and your Daddy brings you in to me about 9pm. You're a little asleep, a little awake and very dopey. You're wearing your sleepsuit and you smell like baby. You lie beside me and feed, your little starfish hands stroke me or hold me. You make little happy noises in your sleep.

Some nights when you've had enough you roll over onto your other side. Then you change your mind, roll back and have some more. Other nights you feed and suck and suck and feed till your daddy comes back at 9:30 and takes you back to your bed.

I love you baby boy.

Sermon 25/3/12

As a race, sometimes humans suck. We lie, we cheat, we steal... and that's just our politicians! As a rule, we are not a pretty bunch of people. You have to feel sorry for God sometimes. I mean, God goes to all the trouble of writing the rules down for us on stonking big pillars of stone – hard to miss, you would think – but even that isn't enough to keep us on the straight and narrow. At the time Jeremiah was writing, God's people Israel were in a pretty sad state. God had made them a promise – I will be your God and you will be my people. They had agreed – until times got tough. And then they started looking for a better way – an easier way. A great deal of covenantal water had flown under the bridge since the Exodus event. Israel had not been faithful, had not stuck to their side of the covenant.

Rescue and release...restoration and return...Jeremiah speaks of God's promises to the people of Israel while they are still in captivity, still in exile, steeped in loss and grief that have broken their hearts and their spirits, too. Their city has been destroyed and their conqueror Babylon has carried away their leaders to the far-off capital of its powerful empire. By this 31st chapter, Jeremiah is no longer scolding the people for their sin and their lack of faithfulness to God. Instead, Jeremiah brings the people a new message from God. God is trying to tell them something, Jeremiah says, and it's good news, a word of comfort and hope. God has had compassion on the people; God's heart has been touched by their suffering, and God forgives them.

In this time of exile God makes sweeping promises to the people of Israel, promises of restoration and return and, most importantly, of relationship, too. Once again, as in so many covenant stories before this one, God promises to be in relationship with the people - like God's promises to Noah, to Abraham and Sarah, and to Moses and the people at Sinai - God promises to be a presence with the people, abiding with them, and promises that they will even belong to each other: God says, I will be your God, and you…you will be my people.

For ancient Israel, and for most Western society too up until the last couple of hundred years, the heart was primarily understood to be the center of intellect and values, how we understand and respond to God, each other, and the world around us.
So when God says in Jeremiah that the new covenant is written on our hearts, God is not saying we will "really feel it this time." Instead, it is that the new covenant would inform everything we see, say, and do "from the inside." When speaking of our heart, we may be speaking of our soul.



Consider now the primary image from John's gospel. We are speaking of a grain of wheat, the 'heart' and centre of the plant. This heart, or should we call it soul? must 'die' and be transformed if it is to be fruitful. And that isn't the end of it. The fruit of the seed will become in turn a seed again, then fruit, then seed... a never ending circle of life. It occurs to me to ask how the seed feels about this cycle. Probably nothing... it's a seed. But for me, in the constant small dying and renewal in my life, sometimes it hurts. And sometimes, often even, I can't see the renewal for the pain.



In a lot of ways, the last 18 months have been really hard. I have been to, either assisting or mourning, 11 funerals including my grandfather and my father in law. Some have been a joyous celebration of a life well lived and continued with God. Others have been following a sad and senseless death cutting short a promising life. But throughout this process I have been forced to confront my own perceptions and belief about what comes next.



One of the saddest funerals I went to was for a 24 year old man who was killed near the beginning of a promising career as an internationally renowned violin player. His funeral was large and beautiful and well attended, but it was empty in its heart because his family couldn't, or didn't find or somehow didn't express God in the experience. It made me realise how much comfort I find in the 'outer trappings' of my faith, the scripture and words and sacraments that help bring us closer to God. Later, journeying with my father in law through his final months, we spoke a lot about death and dying and what is to come. We didn't come up with any definitive answers, which I know he wasn't too impressed about, but he taught me not to fear death. He didn't want to die, he wasn't ready to go, but he knew that death is not the end but a new beginning. I had never been in a position before where I was trusted with guiding a soul to their eternal life. I had to take stock of the words I was saying and see if I truly believed the. If I didn't at the beginning, I did at the end. God's grace saw me transformed from the person I was into the person I can become. And this continues all the time. I need to give up the safety of what I think I know or believe and let it die in order to become new.



Another example very recently of a death leading to new life has been played out in this very Church over the last few weeks. We know Reverend Tania and her team are constantly looking for new ways to bring people into our Church family. It was with great hope and expectation that a new, open door service was initiated. I think it's safe to say it crashed and burned. This was certainly a death. And death is never easy, or pretty. But from death comes new life. And with the failure of this particular venture brought new fruit in the ideas for what families really need from this parish.



I believe that God uses the small deaths of our existence to bring us closer to God's will. I believe that the closer we get to living by God's will the closer we get to walking in the light. The deaths in our lives may seem huge, meaningless, of total loss. We may feel like we are lost in the darkness. But when we accept Christ in our lives, the darkness can not remain. God will work within us to transform our darkness to light, our fear to hope, our death to new and better life. And so Jeremiah speaks to us still, as he tells us that God is our God, and we are her people.



Amen.