I have found myself crying recently as I watch the news about the disaster in Nepal and Tibet: shocked by the images of people running for their lives, children orphaned,  and teachers saving school children; the devastation of lives, homes and communities as mountains react to a warming climate with avalanches and ice melts.   We are seeing huge wild fires across the world, not simply in the ‘usual’ places, but spreading in number, intensity and destructiveness.   Extreme heat is killing people as are floods and cyclones; the shifting climate is also killing wildlife and vegetation.  Water is precious and cities and communities are running out of this life-giving gift from God.  These stories meant I read the gospel this week with a child’s eyes and ears as I listened to Jesus speaking.   In Matthew’s gospel I found a description of God’s care for the least and the lost which is profoundly moving and it brought me to my knees. 

‍‍I was reflecting on our capacity to change our minds, to respond to new circumstances and new information which require us to see things differently, to look at the world with fresh eyes, to see someone and listen to their opinion, truly hear it and change the way we think, talk and act.  So often we struggle with change, resist its potential and block our capacity to stretch and be stretched.

‍‍I was reflecting on our capacity to change our minds, to respond to new circumstances and new information which require us to see things differently, to look at the world with fresh eyes, to see someone and listen to their opinion, truly hear it and change the way we think, talk and act.  So often we struggle with change, resist its potential and block our capacity to stretch and be stretched.

‍Jesus said to Peter: “You of little faith, why did you doubt?” The “little faith” of the disciples is a theme that runs through the Gospel of Matthew.  Matthew has Jesus using the concept five times always in relation to the disciples.

 Littleness of faith does not mean utter lack of faith; the disciples waver back and forth throughout the gospel.  The specific nature of the “little faith” varies from passage to passage.  In chapter 6, the problem is worry over material welfare; in chapter 8, it is fear in the face of physical danger; in chapter 16 it is lack of understanding; in chapter 17 it is lack of confidence in God’s power in the face of a demon.

Jesus experiences real sadness and grief as he hears about the murder of his cousin, John the Baptist, carried out on the order of Herod and his wife Herodias at a banquet to celebrate Herod’s birthday.  Their spite and anger at John’s judgement of their improper relationship had brought John to his death.  Herod had been unable to resist Herodias’ demands for John’s death with his reckless extravagant promises of rewards at the banquet.  John’s disciples came to tell Jesus the terrible news after they had collected his body and buried him. This part of the story is in the verses before we start our Gospel reading in Matthew 14:13-21 for this Sunday.

I expect all of you at some time has had to have a clear out of your belongings.  Getting rid of ‘stuff’ that is no longer as precious as it once was, no longer useful, or because you are moving – into a different house or phase of life.  I’ve moved so many times I’ve lost count, yet each time I am surprised at what I’ve managed to accumulate in the intervening time when I start to clear out cupboards.   I am able to pull out old and new treasures and relive memories and dreams.

I have recently returned from a family holiday in Japan. In the town where our family lives, the houses don’t have gardens, but in between almost every home are small blocks of land where vegetables and plants are planted and grow vigorously.  There are wild flowers and weeds tucked into every nook and cranny, very visible in among the plantings, also in the pavements and in all the corners of the land.  When I asked about this, I was told, the land holders don’t look on them as weeds; they are embraced as they attract birds and insects which help to keep the plantings fruitful. So, they are only pulled out, when necessary, at harvest time.  The local people frown on those who use chemical solutions to ‘kill’ the weeds, as this is seen as contaminating not only plants, but harming the larger food chain, polluting wildlife and even the air. 

I’ve been reading this last week about small Christian communities, sometimes called house churches, usually led by a combination of lay and clergy sharing the work equitably, informed by bible study and practice, by love of God, faith, daily discipleship and by people actively living both in the world and in God’s kingdom. 

Those of you with children or nephews and nieces, do you remember the frustration of never being able to make the world right for them when they were determined simply to cry.  I would try to cajole my children: with food, drink, a toy, songs, laughter, cuddles, or a nap – but sometimes whatever I did, it was never right.  Occasionally, it feels like this is what is happening with people around me, as a priest and friend.  It makes me think about how and why we are pressured to change our opinions and behaviours to suit others. 

Romans was not written to provide "a theology of the Christian life," but Paul's larger argu­ment demands that at certain points he write more or less exactly that.  Chapter 6 is one of the two clearest examples of a theology of life and the other being chapter 12. 

The stories this week in Genesis and Matthew go to the heart of our relationships with one another, within our families and as a church family.  There is no comfortable place for us where we can retreat as we reflect on what happened in the Genesis story with Sarah, Hagar, Abraham, and their sons Ishmael and Isaac; and then with Jesus, his disciples and their families and the family of God.

We have just listened to a very familiar text from Matthew 28:16–20 as we reflect on God as Trinity, following on the Day of Pentecost.  It is the great climax to Matthew’s Gospel laying out Jesus’ invitation, plans, direction and reassurance until the end, but it’s so familiar we often miss how radical it is. It is known as the Great Commission and it is a counter-imperial announcement from the margins of occupied land, spoken to a powerless community which still includes the doubters.  It is not simply a call to institutional church expansion.

We celebrate today – a joyful day as we rejoice in the gift of the Holy Spirit and share the joy with those who gathered 2,000 years ago at the birth of Christ’s Church.

 There are two stories told today in our readings about what happened at the Day of Pentecost, the day the Church became visible, as the Holy Spirit came among us, gathering us into the body of Christ.  Most of us know both stories, from Acts 2 and John’s Gospel.  The story in Acts 2 stirs our minds and hearts, gifting us a wonderful, joyful, enlivening sense of the Holy Spirit, as she made her presence felt with wind and fire; with flames everywhere and three thousand people talking and sharing the news of God’s deeds of power in all the known languages of the world. It is an unstoppable story as we hear it two thousand years later. 

For almost three weeks I haven’t watched television, seen the news, read emails or engaged with world events, except with prayers and in church.  The noise of the world beating on the doors became quieter and I had time to breath.  It made a difference that I was in a foreign country with a different alphabet, so I couldn’t read or understand what was being said. So, I heard with greater clarity, the words of Jesus speaking with God and his disciples in John’s Gospel, reminding them they are in the world, even as he is leaving it.  Jesus is speaking with the disciples in the shadow of the cross and his crucifixion, the night before he is arrested. This is not a comfortable, comforting conversation. We need to hear it clearly.

Last Sunday the Gospel reading concerned Jesus telling his disciples that those who followed in his footsteps would find a new way to view God that was different to that which was taught by the Jewish faith, from which they were beginning to extricate themselves.  In fact the Jesus view of God was different to all other visions of God. 

There’s a poem by Leonard Cohen which starts: ‘You who pour mercy into hell’… it is from this perspective I start my reflection on today’s readings which bring together Peter’s instructions to the early Christians to be obedient to the authorities (1 Peter 2:11-25); Stephen’s martyrdom (Acts 7:55-60); and Jesus’ final teachings to his disciples as he prepares to step into the hell of betrayal, denial, torture and state sanctioned death (John 14:1-14).

Good Shepherd Sunday, the name that this Sunday usually goes by, has a special place in my memory.  Two things make it so.  The first thing that gives it a special place results from an occasion I preached on the theme in the Parish of Cooma, in southern NSW.  Cooma was my first appointment after ordination. 

This week we have had a funeral for a dear friend in the parish, and I am reflecting on how after a funeral, we focus on going back to our own homes, to try and pick up our daily lives.  The story of our loved one and friend is now finished.  The practical matters of organising a funeral, a burial or cremation is completed.  Paperwork is done, a home, or perhaps simply a room, is emptied of belongings, stuff is given away, shared out and memories held tightly for a little while, until we get into new ways of living and behaving, which shift the emphasis of our lives.  Grief is there, but life is continuing, whether we like it or not.  New meaning has to be found to make sense of the absence. We might even ask, ‘where is God in all this?’

We believe we’re hard to deceive.  We tell ourselves we can see the usual cons and when it comes to fancy stories and fake news, we can spot it quickly.  So, the story about Thomas and his reaction to the disciples’ news, ‘Jesus has risen’, is understandable.   He will not accept secondhand news. (John 20:19-31)

We read Matthew’s gospel story of the revelation of Jesus’ resurrection with joy, excitement and delight. After the pilgrimage of the last few weeks and days, it is an extraordinary, hope-filled story.  So much happens, it is hard to keep up as we react to the impact of what has and is taking place.