Temptations come in sneaky ways!   The Gospel story this week tells us about Jesus’ wilderness experience when he was tempted.  I have wondered what his wilderness was like during those extraordinary 40 days and nights; what demons harassed him as he thought through what was being asked of him and how he would respond following his baptism. 

I recently attended training on restorative practices – which is about making and building peace and justice with one another and across the world – and one of the sessions explored our emotions and how they are reflected on our faces. 

Last week we heard God’s heartfelt wish for all of us from the prophet Micah, who reminded us what God requires of us: to act justly, love tenderly and to walk humbly with God (Micah 6:8). It’s an extraordinary expectation of each of us and is without any ambiguity.  This week Isaiah speaks similar words as he urges his listeners, to hear God say clearly:

 Is this not the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke?’ Isaiah 58:6

I read a story recently about a woman who had lived in one of our major cities, was well educated, ran her own business and was doing well.  Life became complicated in Covid times, and in the end, she had to sell, and within three years, she had lost her work, her home, her income and she is now homeless, living in her car.   As our parishes try to work out how we might help homeless people this winter, some ask councils to move them on instead, blaming the homeless for creating this dilemma as their neighbours feel unsafe.  But if you had been treated badly and tipped out of society because of unjust laws, insufficient welfare, inequitable rents and housing policies, rising prices, domestic violence and insufficient mental health services, do you think you would continue to behave politely in such circumstances? 

I have been thinking about hope and where we find it these days.  The world feels uncertain and unsafe for many people.  Many of us have friends in different countries, telling us about their concerns for justice and peace, their sense of oppression, experiences of violence and their determination to survive, often at considerable cost when compassion appears in short supply.  People search for certainties and hope by choosing a side, and shouting loudly, drowning out other voices, it means they will have the final word. 

I saw a picture recently in social media, of three men and women in battle fatigues scrambling across ruined buildings with torches searching out and finding in the dark night, a mother and a new born baby.  The torchlight revealing a crumpled, weary young woman holding tight a small baby, keeping safe in a ruined bomb shelter, while bombs were dropped on the city.  The context of the picture was likely intended to remind us of Ukraine or Gaza or Sudan, but it could have been anywhere in our world today, where war and terror have laid waste and all that was known is now unrecognisable. 

Today we reflect on an ancient massacre, a murderous rampage, driven by fear and the overwhelming desire by the perpetrator to hang onto power at all costs.  Herod, together with those around him who enabled this terror in all its aspects.  

Mary’s Song, known as the Magnificat and it is offered as the Psalm in our Lectionary.  Swelling with new life by the power of the Spirit, and affirmed by her kinswoman, Mary sings the Magnificat, a hymn of praise joyfully proclaiming God’s grace-filled, compassion and mercy at the advent or birthing, the beginning of the messianic age. 

The readings today from Isaiah, Paul and Matthew are disconcerting.  They are intended to make us think and pay attention to the idea of peace, the theme for the 2^nd week of Advent. 

As I look at the attempts of peace being made around the world at the moment, as leaders try to bring an end to the most terrible of conflicts, it is really clear peace is not easily achieved.  Enemies don’t become friends overnight, long held injuries, injustices and the desire for vengeance, bring a range of calls for justice and judgement, making us realise there aren’t many people in the world who might be capable of such wisdom and courage.

Today we celebrate Christ the King – and – ‘Breaking the Silence’ Sunday about gender-based violence.  In the sermon preparation, I checked Government websites to see what progress is being made to prevent gender-based violence, to see if fewer women and children are being killed, and if incidents are reducing; and I explored again the ideas of Christ the King.  I read and reread the lectionary readings for this Sunday.

I watched an ABC programme this week about the reconstruction of Norwich Castle, in East Anglia, a favourite city and place in my childhood.  Originally the refurbishment of this Norman building was meant to take 3 - 4 years and cost just over $13 million pounds.  It was finally completed in 2025 after 7 - 8 years and cost $30 million pounds.  The whole building had been deconstructed and then rebuilt, and as original Norman construction emerged from centuries of decay and more recent rebuilds, the refurbishment was adjusted, some things had to be redone, and differently, and always to absolute exactness for fit and truthfulness for the original building.  The building is now admired as an outstanding example of Norman architecture, of skill and extraordinary crafting by stonemasons, carpenters, blacksmiths, weavers, embroiderers and painters. 

As soldiers, pilots and sailors went off to war in the first and second world war, and in all the conflicts since then, the presence of chaplains was of great value and support, and I know it continues to be so today.  In Queensland we have a significantly higher number of serving men and women in the armed forces and consequently a good number of chaplains including Anglicans, who serve with them, either as active personnel or who are on the Australian Defence Forces reserves list. 

Our reflection this week starts with Luke’s Gospel and the discussion Jesus has with his followers about living into the Kingdom of God (Luke 18:15-30).  There are two encounters described for us as we think about what we mean and what Jesus meant about the Kingdom. 

I have three god-daughters, all adults now. Lucy, the eldest, is English, and grew up in Wales. Then there's Cecilia, in Melbourne. Finally Jessica, who moved from Geelong to China with her teacher parents. The distance between us limited my involvement in their lives, but, when they were children, I always sent them carefully chosen birthday and Christmas gifts. Lucy would respond with a card which I learnt to open over newspaper as it was always filled with stars, or hearts, or glitter. Cecilia preferred the phone: 'Hi Auntie Cathy. Thanks for the ... whatever. Here's Mum.' Short and sweet – that's Cecilia.

I have three god-daughters, all adults now. Lucy, the eldest, is English, and grew up in Wales. Then there's Cecilia, in Melbourne. Finally Jessica, who moved from Geelong to China with her teacher parents. The distance between us limited my involvement in their lives, but, when they were children, I always sent them carefully chosen birthday and Christmas gifts. Lucy would respond with a card which I learnt to open over newspaper as it was always filled with stars, or hearts, or glitter. Cecilia preferred the phone: 'Hi Auntie Cathy. Thanks for the ... whatever. Here's Mum.' Short and sweet – that's Cecilia.

Today is Father’s Day.  We give thanks to all fathers, grandfathers, adopted fathers and all the men who have helped to mentor and support children and young people.  Richard Rohr reminds us how precious is the relationship between parent and child, between father and son, just as it is between mother and daughter, and between father and daughter and mother and son.  The extraordinary opportunity many people have, to love a child, to raise them, to bless them in their daily lives, supporting and encouraging, guiding and enabling them, is life-giving and life-changing for everyone.