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.

Things I know

Because it sometimes feels like I make the same mistakes over and over again, I thought I'd write down some of the lessons I've learned from life so far.

1) Everything always looks better in the morning.
2) And after a meal.
3) If it's not in the house, it's a lot easier not to eat it.
4)When in doubt, black pants/skirt and white top with closed black shoes is always acceptable.
5) Better to be early than late.
6) Always bring a gift for the host.
7) No one is looking at you, they're all too busy thinking about themselves.
8) Impulse buys only work out well if you've had the impulse for a long time.
9) Sometimes, it's a good idea to just shut your mouth and ask questions later.
10) Of course, sometimes you're better off asking questions right away.
11) Before you speak in public, take a deep breath, look up at everyone and smile.
12) When someone compliments you, say 'thank you'.
13) Everything savoury tastes better with cheese, garlic and vegemite. For sweet stuff, add chocolate.
14) If you're telling a joke to people you don't know very well, make sure you make it very clear you're not serious.

Anything I've missed?

Regrets, I've had a few...

...too few to mention, really.

I've been doing a lot of thinking lately (and this is unusual how?). I've written this post many times in my head. I think though (see!) that writing it down will help clear my thoughts a little. Sometimes I think about maybe opening up this blog to a wider audience, but I like that the only people who read it are my friend, my brother and my parents. Immediate family only.

Anyhoo, it all started when I had a 'coffee' with the principal of St Francis. He prides himself on being an open door kinda chap, so this is not an unusual request. It was, however, the first time I've been invited down, so I was a little worried. I couldn't think of anything I'd done wrong though...

Turns out that I was fine, he really did just want to chat and give me some things to think about. No matter what I say about Steven (and I do) he really does care for his students and does his best to help us. And he practices what he preaches to! I know we (the formation students) sometimes whine about being forced into a narrow idea of what it is to be priest (and wine as well, but that's a different matter), but Steven does care for and appreciate us as individuals. And even I, who am the last defense of the defensiveness team, was so well handled by him that I didn't even feel bad! Steven's point, reached after MUCH ego stroking on his part, was that he feels that I use my intelligence, humour and articulateness (see what I mean) as a barrier to avoid allowing people, including myself, to really get below the surface. Well, that's kinda hard to deny.

I was a little aware that I do that, but not enough until he brought it up to do anything about it. And I'm realising I need to do a lot of work on myself, on how and why I react the way I do, before I can start to help others.

I am very much a 'no regrets' person. I live in the present, which can be great. Certainly it's something that pop psychology likes to promote - 10 things about life I learned from my dog and so on. But I think I do it to avoid thinking about things that are unpleasant. De Nile - not just a river in Egypt. So I managed to avoid thinking about having cancer till it went away, and I really haven't faced Mick's death. I don't know if that's because I grieved while he was alive, or if I'm just gazing at the sand. And I avoid planning too far into the future because that involves... I don't know, worry? I haven't got that far yet, maybe I try not to because that way I can't be disappointed when things don't work out. I know that although in some ways I am a risk taker, it's only when I am risking life and limb rather than face. I try way to hard to prevent anything that may make me look ignorant - you know, the whole better keep your mouth shut and have people think you're a fool thing.

So it's time to woman up. Hear me roar.

Critical Thinking

I am not good at taking criticism. I know it, I own it. But I still suck at it.

In my profession (a student) I get things wrong or just don't so them as well as I should. That's the point! And in some circumstances I'm really ok with that. Tae Kwon Do, I stuff up, no problem. Teaching, I get something wrong, I apologise to the student, it's over. A learning experience, not something to stress about. But as soon as it gets vaguely personal, I fall apart.

I have read people say they thrive on criticism, that it gives them the motivation to change and grow. I wish I could say the same! After a meeting with my supervising rector last week when she gave me some helpful advice about ministry, I felt all of about 2 feet tall. I've been thinking about why I was affected like this - after all, I am there to learn and making mistakes and misjudgements is part of the process. I think I am worried that when someone criticises me they are looking at me differently, as if I am less of a person, or less reliable or trustworthy in their eyes. One of the things life is teaching me is that none of my experiences are unique to me, and most of them have been addressed in some way in the scripture or tradition of the Church. Funnily enough, the reading this week was when good old Peter, worried about what Jesus would have to go through in the lead up to Easter, suggested he run away. Why would you put yourself through such suffering if you didn't have to? Jesus rebukes Peter with one of the most well known sayings in the Bible: "Get behind me Satan, for you see through the eyes of humanity rather than of God". So here is Jesus using the harshest of language to criticize Peter. Peter, once called Simon, who later became the 'rock' that Jesus was said to have built his Church on. Peter, one of Jesus' closest friends, whom Jesus loved and trusted even with, because of?, his mistakes.

Peter has always been special to me. I see so much of myself in him. He lets his imagination run away with him, he is full of enthusiasm but sometimes falls of on the follow through, his head/mouth filter is often a little faulty... and Jesus rebukes him. But Jesus still loved him. Respected him. Honoured him even. And Peter didn't let it stop him from going on to make more mistakes in the future.

So maybe I can do the same. I will never like doing things wrong. I won't enjoy hearing about it afterwards. But maybe I can begin to stop internalizing it to the point where it effects my relationship with my teacher, whomever they may be.

Amen.