In post election Australia, eyes will be on the diligence of the successful party in keeping the promises they have made. The unsuccessful party will be under similar scrutiny. How disposable are the radical policies not bought by the public in maintaining the vision of an alternative way of governing our national affairs? How feasible is it, in opposition, to continue to promote a rejected platform based on an alternative political commitment? How will policies be remoulded over the next three years to become more electorally palatable?

Followers of the Way have no such wriggle room, it seems from this coming Sunday’s reading in John 14:23-24 “Those who love me will keep my word, and my Father will love them, and we will come to them and make our home with them. Whoever does not love me does not keep my words; and the word that you hear is not mine, but is from the Father who sent me.”

In John’s Gospel, “keeping the word” is not blind obedience, but discerning response to the Spirit of Christ that dwells within and amongst followers of Christ. The wider context emphasises over and over again the essential binding unity that is energised by the love of God revealed in the life, ministry, death and resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth.

Perhaps the challenge and role of the Church in post-election Australia is to maintain its witness to this reality in its dialogue with those who represent us in Parliament.

Today is “democracy” day in Australia, the official polling day that comes around every three years or so. I dutifully set out for the 2 km walk (and a scaled fence!) to the nearest polling booth (generally closer but our suburb is still being established.) It was a marvellous opportunity to reflect on our process, a comprehensive and safe system involving opportunity for all to have a say in the governing affairs of our nation – as despairing as one gets at the manipulation of powerful vested interests. The system itself, as complex as it gets, has an independent scale of integrity that compares well with voting systems throughout the world.

Anyway, here’s some snapshots I took while on the way.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

In the midst of the bright glow of the Easter season, this Sunday’s text from John’s Gospel takes us back to the eve of Jesus’ darkest hour, where he farewells his disciples and leaving a legacy in his words,

… I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.

But is it a legacy?  The Cambridge dictionary defines legacy thus:

legacy definition: 1. money or property that you receive from someone after they die: 2. something that is a part of your history or that remains from an earlier time: 3. something that is a result of events in the past…

We may be inclined to think that meanings #2 and #3 fit the bill. The problem is that it promotes a “past” orientation in our thinking. John’s Gospel is very much a text of the present. Even though the text has Jesus speaking of his impending absence and “going where you cannot go” the import of his words is infused with his abiding presence. In the mere act of “loving as Jesus loves” we are being Christ to others. To the degree I see Christ in the other, even the stranger, and act accordingly, Christ is present, as in the words of the Benedictine benediction, “As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end.”

Easter is more than back to the future. Because of Jesus’ resurrection, all of time collapses into the eternal now.  Legacies become redundant.

I recall a moment, not much reflected upon, from a time long ago, sometime in early adulthood when I was in formation for ministry, where I stood atop a ridge in the Grampians, Victoria. The moment comes back in a flash from time to time, a kind of instantaneous remembering that is somehow in the present. Just as quickly, it disappears.

It was a moment of feeling at one with the universe in all its splendour, engaging all five senses and more – that inexplicable sixth sense. Although I was alone on the ridge, I had a deep consciousness of the presence of all the people I had ever met and those that I would meet. They, too, were part of this wholesome union.

It comes to mind again as I hear the words of Christ in this coming Sunday’s Gospel lection:

²⁷My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me. ²⁸I give them eternal life, and they will never perish. No one will snatch them out of my hand. ²⁹What my Father has given me is greater than all else, and no one can snatch it out of the Father’s hand. ³⁰The Father and I are one.”

I have often been asked, “How can you know you’ve heard God’s voice?” There is a long answer, but I also supply the short one which is the question of how it lines up with what is revealed in our sacred text and faith community.

I have just started reading Richard Rohr The Universal Christ: How a Forgotten Reality Can Change Everything We See, Hope For, and Believe.

I have a feeling my Grampians event will be visiting me a little more often in the days to come!