riessendj's avatarBordertoBeachKayakSolo

The Final day arrived!! After a harrowing day on Thursday…the 13kms paddled on Friday was a different story with light winds and milpond conditions as Des made it to Clayton with only 23kms to go!! it was great to share an encouraging phone call from IGF Chief Admin John Paul and The Amazing Irene Gleeson… Dinner at ‘Sails on Clayton’ (you’ve gotta try it) Des was ready for the final challenge.

He couldn’t have asked for better weather conditions as he followed the markers through the last part of the lake as it once again narrowed into the river and then the Murray Mouth.
He was overwhelmed as he came under the Hindmarsh Bridge at Goolwa cheered on by a boat load of strangers. As he came up towards the jetty he could see his grandson waiting “Puppa is coming in a boat, maybe, somewhere”, other supporters and …wait…. that’s…

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See a wrong and right it

English: Murray River at Murray Bridge
English: Murray River at Murray Bridge (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

My brother-in-law, Des, is preparing a 665km kayak trip down the River Murray.  It’s not just his love of kayaking that prompts this venture; there’s been a fire in his belly ever since he visited Kitgum, Uganda, with my sister Janet, who had previously delivered relief to the school and orphanage there, a place of refuge and rehabilitation for many orphaned by AIDS and war. A number of the children there are previous child soldiers.

So Des has initiated a sponsored fund-raising trip for the foundation that runs the village. Details are at http://www.irenegleesonfoundation.com/content/events/gjj8i0

 

I  reflect on this as I prepare tomorrow’s message on The Power of Lament. The passage is Luke 13:31-35 where Jesus laments over Jerusalem. He recognises the short fallings of places of power that are meant to be places of healing. The imprints of rejected and murdered prophets and sages are here, and their ghosts continue to cry out the summons to healing, wholeness and peace. Jesus will be the next to meet his end, but he embraces his path willingly, for his end is not defeat, but teleos, accomplishment.

Jerusalem can be a symbol for wherever we are. We are called to embrace the pain of the world, but not in defeat. We engage suffering, not in self-indulgence, but in purposefulness. It is to accomplish expression of the shalom of which the prophets spoke and which Jesus achieved in completeness.

I suspect this is something of the drive behind what Des is attempting. May we all have occasion to reflect and respond similarly where we see opportunity.

Rethinking The Wedding at Cana

The hall mark of the first sign in John’s gospel – the wedding at Cana where the wine ran out and Jesus , seemingly reluctantly, changed copious amounts of water into the best wine ever – is a celebration of abundance.  The fourth gospel sets the scene: the coming of the Divine and Human One is against the background of community celebration, even transforming a mundane panic event (“there’s no more wine”) into a surprising expression of the messianic banquet (“the best wine saved for last”). The point is not the mechanics of the transmogrification, but the launch of Jesus’ public ministry in the context of kin, friends and familiar community, announcing the flavour of the fulness of celebration he means to inject into the quality of ordinary living. The story is thick with layers of meaning., but this is the salutary starting point. How good it was this morning to have Kath & Ray, two of our exemplary diamonds, celebrating their diamond wedding anniversary against the background of this reading.

wonderingpilgrim's avatarWembley Downs Church of Christ

Exploring the abundance and joy of the first sign in John’s gospel with Ray and Kath’s 6oth wedding anniversary added some zip to this morning’s service!

 

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Place and Time: Peterson’s Pastoral Imagination

Sinai Sunrise
Sinai Sunrise (Photo credit: Ernie Reyes)

Some of the most evocative reading I’ve engaged over the Christmas/New Year break has been from Eugene Peterson’s The Pastor: a memoir . The development of what he has famously described as “pastoral imagination” is to the fore throughout the telling of his autobiographical pilgrimage.

His opening section, Topos and Kairos, I found immediately compelling. The title invites consideration of place and time as markers of the pastoral journey, using biblical metaphors that are not so much the tools of trade of pastoral practice, but windows of awareness.

I found myself easily recognising such associations: Moses in the ordinary work of minding sheep encounters the burning bush at Midian. My “Midian” was the small electrical warranty and repair counter in Myers bargain basement in Adelaide. Who would have thought that the insistent call of the great “I AM” could occur in conversations with customers bringing in their broken toasters and burnt out irons?

Elijah’s Horeb cave and the discovery of the power of the “still small voice” was an Eremos retreat in a monastery on the outskirts of Canberra. The headiness of innovative outreach and dialogue amongst some of the movers and shakers of the land had ceased to satisfy. Elijah’s depression descended. The opening to a quieter more contemplative approach to ministry was literally a God-send.

The Patmos of John is a little harder for me to place – it seems most of my 40 years in ministry has been unravelling the essence of the “heavenly city” from its cultural accretions. The empire is all-pervasive. Sometimes I know John’s exile, but mostly I find myself complicit.

As the book unfolds, other places come to mind – David-king-in-waiting’s Ziklag, where resource-starved marginalisation constrains the vision splendid; the Sinai wilderness wastelands survived through the providential gifts of manna, quail and hidden springs; the place of congregational formation as tent, rather than cave or fortress.

With all these, I can make immediate association – and thus tap into the richness of the salvific direction of such events, times and places.

Peterson, retired now and spending much time in his beloved Montana cabin, swims against the tide of much Western ecclesiological management theory. I still find his voice a firm and clear (and, I might say, saving) call to the filling of pastoral vocation.

Joy in the midst of tragedy?

English: Advent wreath, First Advent Sunday
English: Advent wreath, First Advent Sunday (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Church had a challenge wrestling with the Advent theme of Joy today. Already keenly attuned to this world’s dark places, many were processing the still-fresh news of the Connecticut school shooting tragedy. Today’s worship leader, Linda, was thoroughly tuned in.  As we focused on the Lord’s Supper, itself a connection between the sad sorrow of maniacal destruction and the communal Eucharistic joy of fellowship with the Risen One, we heard the words of Kahlil Gibran:

Then a woman said, “Speak to us of Joy and Sorrow.” And he answered: Your joy is your sorrow unmasked. And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears. And how else can it be? The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain. Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter’s oven? And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives? When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy. When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight. Some of you say, “Joy is greater than sorrow,” and others say, “Nay, sorrow is the greater.” But I say unto you, they are inseparable. Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed. Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy. Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced. When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver, needs must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall.

We later reflected that tragedy is the norm for human life. Utopian visions of progress are a Western construct of the last 300 years. The biblical tradition holds in tension the realities of gain and loss, despair and hope, death and life, sorrow and joy. Richard Rohr, in Falling Up, reminds us that the Greek word for tragedy is “goat story” – it follows the path up, down, backwards, forwards with lots of learning along the way. The answer to the questions of life’s tragedies lies not in definitive statements but in holding life’s contradictions in creative tension.

So how do we respond to the Advent theme of joy? Not by pretending the tragic is not there, but by engaging and responding to it the best way we know how.  A father walked in on his son glued to the TV news of the aftermath of some natural disaster. The destruction was wide and the lament of the survivors overwhelming. “Look for the helpers, son, look for the helpers,” said the father.

Joy cannot be forced, nor can it be chosen in the way one can choose hope or peace. But it can surprise us in the midst of sorrow.  And this is gift.

 

 

 

Peace is a Pair of Shoes

deprimo-homelessI love preaching at my church – it opens up so much thoughtful dialogue.

This week we tackled the Advent theme of peace in relation to charitable giving.

It had been the week of a photo of a NYPD cop buying a pair of shoes for a homeless vagabond. It had gone viral. Something of the juxtaposition of officialdom, destitution and the approaching season of good will touched our collective hearts. Within a few days investigative journalism had done a number on the homeless guy, raising cynical questions of his worthiness and the naivety of the “do-gooder” charity dollar.

But Advent Peace, announced in the words of John the son of Zechariah, comes in the phrases “Prepare the way of the Lord… make his paths straight…” – and those who hear have to work out an immediate response when need confronts them.

Will I be ripped off? And if so, does it matter?

The question exercised our very generous congregation somewhat as we examined the protective measures in our charity giving and whether they diminished or enhanced the spirit of hospitality without which charity is simply an exercise in condescension.  This was the topic of post-sermon coffee conversations.

This morning, a church member sent me a link, part of which follows:

James Doty, neurosurgeon and philanthropist, discussing the science of compassion on Radio Australia, speaks of the need to keep an open heart

James Doty: To put it in context, I had made a donation, a significant donation, to a charity that had misused my donation and I was so infuriated by that that I actually sued them. At the time this incident occurred I’d just left this lawyer’s office, and I was actually chastising myself because I gave this money away, these people misused it, am I just a fool? I always believe in people and I’ve been taken advantage of and now I have to deal with this situation which is creating my own stress. And I was walking along in this not so great neighbourhood with my head down actually contemplating about how foolish I was, and I was tapped on the shoulder by an Afro/American young man in his 20s who was not dressed particularly well, and this was in an Afro/American area, an area of poverty. And whether any of us like it or not we have prejudices and my immediate response was this is probably a drug addict who’s trying to get money, who’s just going to take it and spend it on drugs. And the individual said to me, ‘You know my car broke down and could you give me money for the bus, so I can take my mum and I so we can get home?’ And I saw no mum, I saw no car. So now I’m stuck with another dilemma because I’ve just beaten myself up for giving this money away and I’ve got this kid in front of me who I’ve already decided is a drug addict and I think to myself for a few seconds and I go, you know, am I going to believe in the innate goodness of people and just give him the money, and giving him the money regardless of how he uses it, is it going to change my life? No.

So I went ahead and gave him money, and then he thanked me and walked away and then I started the walk to this restaurant where I was having lunch and I was going again through the whole exercise—now I’m doubly beating myself up because I’m saying I’m even more of a fool because I’ve been used by this one group of people and now I’ve just given money away that’s going to be obviously misused.. And then I feel a tap on my shoulder and I turn round and this young man is there and he’s got his mother, and he says to me, ‘You know, I just wanted to introduce you to my mother, I’m so thankful to you for giving me that money.’

You know, so it reinforced of course my basic belief in humanity, you know it brought a tear to my eye, but I think you can always try to keep an open heart as much as possible.

Peace is always linked with the figure of John, the son of Zechariah (aka John the Baptist) during the Advent season. The “peace” associated with his stormy transforming ministry that called for repentance and cleansing is based on the Hebrew concept of shalom – wholeness in relationship with others, oneself and the Divine.

Donating a pair of shoes or a bus fare, no questions asked, may be naive in the eyes of the cynical – but it may also be a nudge from the Divine!

Peace is a Pair of Shoes

deprimo-homelessI love preaching at my church – it opens up so much thoughtful dialogue.

This week we tackled the Advent theme of peace in relation to charitable giving.

It had been the week of a photo of a NYPD cop buying a pair of shoes for a homeless vagabond. It had gone viral. Something of the juxtaposition of officialdom, destitution and the approaching season of good will touched our collective hearts. Within a few days investigative journalism had done a number on the homeless guy, raising cynical questions of his worthiness and the naivety of the “do-gooder” charity dollar.

But Advent Peace, announced in the words of John the son of Zechariah, comes in the phrases “Prepare the way of the Lord… make his paths straight…” – and those who hear have to work out an immediate response when need confronts them.

Will I be ripped off? And if so, does it matter?

The question exercised our very generous congregation somewhat as we examined the protective measures in our charity giving and whether they diminished or enhanced the spirit of hospitality without which charity is simply an exercise in condescension.  This was the topic of post-sermon coffee conversations.

This morning, a church member sent me a link, part of which follows:

James Doty, neurosurgeon and philanthropist, discussing the science of compassion on Radio Australia, speaks of the need to keep an open heart

James Doty: To put it in context, I had made a donation, a significant donation, to a charity that had misused my donation and I was so infuriated by that that I actually sued them. At the time this incident occurred I’d just left this lawyer’s office, and I was actually chastising myself because I gave this money away, these people misused it, am I just a fool? I always believe in people and I’ve been taken advantage of and now I have to deal with this situation which is creating my own stress. And I was walking along in this not so great neighbourhood with my head down actually contemplating about how foolish I was, and I was tapped on the shoulder by an Afro/American young man in his 20s who was not dressed particularly well, and this was in an Afro/American area, an area of poverty. And whether any of us like it or not we have prejudices and my immediate response was this is probably a drug addict who’s trying to get money, who’s just going to take it and spend it on drugs. And the individual said to me, ‘You know my car broke down and could you give me money for the bus, so I can take my mum and I so we can get home?’ And I saw no mum, I saw no car. So now I’m stuck with another dilemma because I’ve just beaten myself up for giving this money away and I’ve got this kid in front of me who I’ve already decided is a drug addict and I think to myself for a few seconds and I go, you know, am I going to believe in the innate goodness of people and just give him the money, and giving him the money regardless of how he uses it, is it going to change my life? No.

So I went ahead and gave him money, and then he thanked me and walked away and then I started the walk to this restaurant where I was having lunch and I was going again through the whole exercise—now I’m doubly beating myself up because I’m saying I’m even more of a fool because I’ve been used by this one group of people and now I’ve just given money away that’s going to be obviously misused.. And then I feel a tap on my shoulder and I turn round and this young man is there and he’s got his mother, and he says to me, ‘You know, I just wanted to introduce you to my mother, I’m so thankful to you for giving me that money.’

You know, so it reinforced of course my basic belief in humanity, you know it brought a tear to my eye, but I think you can always try to keep an open heart as much as possible.

Peace is always linked with the figure of John, the son of Zechariah (aka John the Baptist) during the Advent season. The “peace” associated with his stormy transforming ministry that called for repentance and cleansing is based on the Hebrew concept of shalom – wholeness in relationship with others, oneself and the Divine.

Donating a pair of shoes or a bus fare, no questions asked, may be naive in the eyes of the cynical – but it may also be a nudge from the Divine!