Rev’d Peter Balabanski

Pentecost + 4C – 2K5 Ps 30 Gal 6 Lk 10

Out of the mouths of…babes you’ve prepared praise for yourself? Mt 21.16b – Psalm 8:2 Out of the mouths of babes these days describes the sort of innocent, but sometimes astounding comments young people make. A couple invited some people to dinner. At the table, Mum turned to their six-year-old daughter and said, ‘Would you like to say grace for us?’ The girl replied, ‘I wouldn’t know what to say.’ Mum said, ‘Just say what you’ve heard me say.’ ‘Okay,’ said the daughter, and bowed her head. ‘Lord, why on earth did we invite all these people to dinner?’

It’s an ancient phenomenon too. In today’s Bible stories, little people who tell an unexpected truth shake things up in a big way; little unnamed messengers.

In the first reading, there’s the wisdom of the captured Israelite slave girl who served Naaman’s wife, and then Naaman’s servants who tell him to swallow his pride and take the simple advice he’s been offered. In the Gospel, it’s seventy other disciples (not the twelve) who Jesus sends out to prepare the way for his final mission through Samaria and on to Jerusalem. Little people sent with a message to tell other little people – no money, no luggage, no sandals – just a simple greeting of peace, a message to tell, and simple trust that their basic needs will be met. Little people, called to share God’s love with others, and to trust in God’s care. Little people, called to share God’s love with others, and to trust in God’s care.

Those little messengers ask people to do the simplest things – the slave girl telling Naaman to go and see Elisha; Naaman’s servants – ‘go and wash in the Jordan’ – and he is healed. Jesus’ unnamed 70; told to go out, heedless of comfort or safety, and simply trust in God’s care and get people ready to meet Jesus. Little people telling the truth; trusting God and living it out. And we number among their harvest.

It’s such a contrast to the way the world of power and influence works. Naaman’s King, ignoring advice, didn’t send Naaman to visit the prophet in Samaria. He took over and sent him ‘straight to the top’; go and confront the unsuspecting King of Israel with an unheard-of demand for healing.

Naaman’s king couldn’t hear the message of the Israelite servant girl; she was just a nobody. He only heard as much as he did because her message came to him through his general – an important man. He ignored the girl’s simple advice and did things his way. What would a prophet who lives in Samaria know? Kings are the ones who get things done in this world. So, loading Naaman with a caravan of treasure and a wild demand, he almost provoked a war rather than a healing.

God works through little people. And today we see how God shows that respect to little people by trusting nobodies with the most wonderful responsibilities. Today’s stories show us little people doing small things that change the world. Yet even the 20/20 hindsight our stories give us don’t necessarily change the way we see things.

That certainly goes for me. When I’m confronted with a challenge, my instinct is often to go to the top; find an expert in the field. But so often, simply listening to God, or remarkably, listening to a child, will solve the challenge in the simplest way. If only the Aramean king had believed that girl’s message in the first place.

So when a person of simple, straightforward faith speaks, we should listen too. And if you have a simple straightforward faith, and you sense God prompting you to speak, you should speak. And if God has spoken to us through you – called us, prompted us, we should act on that prompting.

I was involved in a job review for someone who didn’t have enough self-trust – who was focussed far too much on what might go wrong, and on not making mistakes. It was a difficult review. Here was someone genuinely called to a job where they could make a real difference, but paralysed because of futile worry. I understand the impulse – I’m trying to serve God: do what God sends me to do, and I want to do the very best for God. I don’t want to get it wrong. So much rides on it. The danger is that I get paralysed with worry and get nothing done. But we can’t be like that. Jesus calls us – and if we look at the story today, he sends people out with the most basic preparation and resources imaginable, humanly speaking. We are to trust; trust him, and trust his assessment that we’re ready to do the job, and trust that God will be with us to see it through.

Has Jesus ever sent you and you’ve never gone? Don’t worry. It’s not too late. Trust that you have everything you need for his mission. Go ahead and do it.

Now, let’s solve the quiz from my weekly about Naaman’s two donkey loads of soil. As we read on beyond the official lesson, we see Naaman transformed. He tries to offer Elisha thank-you gifts. Elijah declines. But then Naaman asks for something very strange; two mule-loads of earth to take home with him. The quiz questions were a/ why does Naaman want to take this soil home with him? and b/ what do you think he’ll do with it?

Why? 17 your servant will no longer offer burnt-offering or sacrifice to any god except the Lord…” How does soil from Elisha’s land ensure that? Like most people of his time, Naaman believed gods were local to their lands. That’s still the case for people today who see local lands inhabited by local spirits.

So if Naaman wanted to worship Israel’s God, he needed some Israelite earth to do it on. This also explains the lovely bit where Naaman tells Elisha that as a general, he’d need to appear as if he were worshipping the Aramean god, Rimmon, in solidarity with his king. But he really wouldn’t mean it; would that be okay?

I imagine that Naaman secreted some of that soil wherever he had to be as he bowed beside his king appearing as if he were joining in the king’s worship of Rimmon. But in Naaman’s mind, standing on that soil, his worship could only be offered to the God to whom that soil belonged. Elisha, knowing what he must have been thinking, and also knowing better, nevertheless tells Naaman that’ll fine. Your new God is broad-minded Naaman: ‘Go in peace’.

We can go on mission for a God like that: and we’ll be fine too. Amen

Rev’d Peter Balabanski

Peter and Paul Apostles and Martyrs – Acts 12 1-12 Ps 34 1-10 2 Tim 4 6-18 Jn 21 15-22

In the year 64 CE in Rome, during the reign of Emperor Nero, Peter was crucified – upside down at his own request – and Paul was beheaded; Apostles, and martyrs for the faith they proclaimed. So our colour today is red for martyrs, and our liturgy celebrates their encouragement to us as saints of the Church. Peter and Paul were very different from each other: Peter a fisherman and Paul a Pharisee; Peter often vulnerable and uncertain of himself, and Paul feisty and opinionated.

We seem to have very different relationships with Peter and Paul. We’re comforted by Peter’s bumbling fallibility. If he got the seal of approval in spite of everything, Mt 16.18 maybe we’re okay too. By contrast, we’re confronted by Paul’s direct, uncompromising tone in his letters; especially with anyone he thought undermined the faith of the vulnerable new Christians in his care.

Peter’s vulnerability is on show in our Gospel today. We see the one who denied his Lord three times before the crucifixion, now painfully rehabilitated. Jesus asks him three times to reaffirm his loyalty, and each time, Jesus reaffirms Peter’s commission to be a shepherd to his sheep. We also do time with Paul in gaol. He doesn’t expect to come out alive this time. He’s still busy with the networking that underpinned his team’s astounding mission to so much of the Mediterranean world. And he’s also perfectly clear about who must not be part of that network.

They’re so different; so why does the Church choose to remember both Peter and Paul in the one celebration? I’ve tried to hint at what I think by adding an extra verse to the end of the reading from Acts; the story of Peter’s remarkable escape from the clutches of Herod Antipas. That verse says as soon as Peter realized [he wasn’t just dreaming he’d been released], he went to the house of Mary, the mother of John whose other name was Mark, where many had gathered and were praying.

Apart from this verse bearing witness to the power of prayer – because they were surely praying for Peter’s safety – you may have noticed that someone called Mark was also mentioned in today’s reading from 2nd Timothy. 9bGet Mark and bring him with you, for he is useful in my ministry. It’s the same Mark. If this is Paul’s final imprisonment, he’s in Rome, 2,000 km away from the Holy Land. And despite that distance, Peter and Paul are working as members of the same intimate network.

So what does this collegial work of theirs have to say to the Church today? I stated the obvious when I said they were very different personalities, Peter and Paul. And as you might have guessed, they certainly had their differences of opinion.

But they worked to reconcile those differences and keep their communication channels open. They had to if their mission was to reach the world Jesus died for. And that’s the same for us. It’s really important that we work out our differences with fellow Christians. We are responsible to make sure our witness to the wider world is unified, clear, and welcoming to the world that Jesus died to save. Jn 17.20-21, Jn 3.16-17 We know Peter and Paul had their differences. But neither held the high ground. They’d both needed rehabilitation by Jesus – Peter as we saw today, and Paul on the road to Damascus. Acts 9 Honouring that sense of grace received, they both managed those differences to work as effective members of the same team.

One point of contention between them was Jewish food laws, which is interesting, because they both agreed these food laws weren’t binding on followers of Jesus. You’ll remember a few weeks ago we read Acts 10-11 that Peter had a vision from God that unclean foods were no longer unclean. So he ate with the centurion Cornelius, and saw the non-Jews there given the gift of the Spirit. That was a turning point for Peter. He realised – and he went and told the Jerusalem Church – that the Gospel was as much for Gentiles as it was for Jews, and very significantly, that laws about who you ate with, and what you ate, were irrelevant for Gentiles. Last week, we found Paul arguing much the same point to the church in Galatia; that whoever we are, we’re saved by grace and faith, not by obedience to the law. Gal 2.19f

They visited each other to discuss this and other matters. Paul writes in Gal 1.18 that he visited Peter in Jerusalem three years after his Damascus Road conversion. And again, fourteen years later he returned to Jerusalem for the Council which decided Gentiles were not subject to food or circumcision laws. Acts 15, Gal 2 But later, while Peter was visiting Paul in Antioch, concerned for the feelings of the Jewish Christians who joined them, he stopped eating with the Gentile Christians. Paul saw red and confronted him with this as hypocrisy. Both of them were doing their best to care pastorally for the people in their care. Both of them would die for doing so.

The message I draw from this today is that they were team players; networkers for a common cause. They had their differences, and like siblings do, they chipped away at each other’s rough edges. I think these are good examples to us to encourage us to persevere with ecumenism – visiting and listening to Christians of different kinds. We’re called quite clearly to strive for multi-faceted unity in the Church – for the sake of the world Jesus died to save. Peter and Paul were quite open about how hard that can be. But their example was that they kept at it ‘til the end.

Let’s say the collect again together. Almighty God, whose apostles Peter and Paul glorified you in their deaths as in their lives: grant that your Church, inspired by their teaching and example, and knit together in unity by your Spirit, may ever stand firm upon the one foundation, your Son Jesus Christ our Lord; who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen

Rev’d Peter Balabanski

Pentecost + 2 C – 1 Kings 19 Ps 42-43 Gal 3 23-29 Luke 8 26-39

Last week as I read today’s Gospel story about the Gerasene demoniac, I recalled a Sanskrit translation I had to do many years ago. The English version went like this. Once there was a cave in the mountains which was infested by a certain demon. The idea of a demon infestation tickled me. It domesticates demons; it puts them on a par with cabbage moths or head lice. The Gospel accounts of Jesus healing the Gerasene demoniac similarly domesticate the infestation that calls itself Legion – at least for their original audiences. But I’ll get to that in a minute.

Our Gospel is one of three of today’s readings that say God calls us to confront oppression. Elijah confronts the infestation of his people by the corrupt, violent regime of Ahab and Jezebel. Paul tears his hair out because his infant church in Gentile Galatia has been infested by reactionary preachers. They harass his new Christians with calls to obey Hebrew law about food and circumcision. And in the Gospel, we’ve seen Jesus confronted by a man suffering from a very severe demonic infestation calling itself Legion. A Roman legion was made up of 4,000 to 6,000 soldiers. Imagine having so many voices getting at you. It’d be like living on social media. Elijah’s sound of sheer silence would be such a healing blessing!

People these days tend to describe the demoniac’s condition as a mental illness – possibly along with an ice habit to explain his amazing strength. We might also wish there was an RSPCA for the pigs. There’s quite a gap in understanding between us and the stotry’s original hearers. NT scholar Ched Myers sheds a very interesting light on this story. ^{https://radicaldiscipleship.net/2016/06/16/confronting-legion/?utm_source=BCM+Email+List&utm_campaign=e3492ddd2e-EMAIL_CAMPAIGN_2021_05_05_10_06_COPY_02&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_a44c074ee8-e3492ddd2e-115903929#more-5405} Let me share some of his insights.

He reminds us that the area on the ‘opposite’ side of the lake from Galilee was a Roman colony called the Decapolis (Ten Cities). The colonists there were veterans who’d been granted other people’s land by the Roman Empire as payment for their military service. The man who confronts Jesus is a refugee displaced from his home – by what? He lives among the tombs in haunted exile. Myers sees in this story a parable of colonised peoples and those who displace them. The man’s been shackled and kept under guard. But he breaks free and escapes into the wilderness. We are to hear an echo of Israel’s escape from slavery in Egypt.

The demoniac addresses Jesus by title, Son of the Most High. When Jesus asks the demoniac to name himself, the demon gives his title as Legion. This is significant.

When the Gospels were being written, four Roman legions controlled the eastern border of the empire. And the one which controlled Israel and Judah was the 10^th Legion.

Now you may know that Roman legions had animal mascot symbols – like some sports teams today. The symbol of the 10^th Legion was – you guessed it – a running boar; a pig! So Luke is telling a double story; one of the healing of a man as a sign of hope for healing of a people? The Greek word that Legion uses to ask Jesus to send them into the pigs – agelē – is a common military expression – like the word dismiss can be used in English. And the now infested pigs run into the lake and drown themselves. The evangelist reminds us of Pharaoh’s army drowned in the Red Sea. Luke doesn’t feel our compassion for pigs. Unclean interlopers anywhere around the Holy land – pig or colonising army – were just not welcome.

But after the healing, the colonised locals are frightened. They ask Jesus to leave … now! Because Rome had taught them any rebellion would be met with ferocious revenge. They feared returning demons more than they marvelled at the healing. So Jesus left the healed demoniac to serve as his evangelist. It was a dangerous job.

This Gospel and our other scriptures today summon us to follow Jesus in bringing healing to those who need it. Ched Myers’ reading of today’s Gospel takes us from debating whether we can accept first century cosmology. Luke was perfectly capable of seeing parallels between the story of the Gerasene demoniac and the unjust political, military landscape of his time, and encoding the story with one of political rebellion. He had plenty of precedents in the Hebrew Scriptures. Elijah was called to anoint kings and a prophet who would end the rein of Ahab and Jezebel.

And Paul fiercely defended his flock from infestation by false, would-be alternate leaders. He proclaimed a new freedom in baptism that, strangely, the Church has always struggled to afford new Christians. As many of you as were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. ²⁸ There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus. ²⁹And if you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham’s offspring, heirs according to the promise. Gal 3.^27-29 You and I, God’s people, are called to resist infestation by the kinds of demons who are seizing power today.

We’re called to set people free from demons. Demon infestations take many forms – bad government, unjust social or financial structures, fears, lies, addictions – anything that chains people from within themselves. It’s a dangerous job. Amen

Rev’d Peter Balabanski

Trinity Sunday C – Prov 8 1-4  22-31, Ps8, Rom 5 1-5, Jn 16 12-15

After this sermon, we’ll say the Nicene Creed together. On May 20^th, the Christian world marked the 1,700^th anniversary of the Ecumenical Council which gathered in Nicaea in the year 325 CE. That council gave us the Nicene Creed. It’s the creed which [with some extra words added in 381 CE at the Council of Constantinople] we say most weeks during our Sunday Eucharist. The Council of Nicaea was convened in 325 by the Roman Emperor Constantine to resolve the controversy of Arianism. Bishop Arius of Alexandria taught that Jesus was not divine but only a created being. As we’ll be reminded when we say the Creed, the Council concluded that Jesus is divine; God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God, begotten, not made, of one being with the Father.

So, starting like that, am I suggesting that on Trinity Sunday, we simply gather to confirm a doctrine – an agreed teaching? Or are we here to do something else? I think we’re not here to confirm doctrine, but to explore a complex friendship – how we get to know God together; how beautifully Jesus and the Spirit reveal God’s nature to us, and even through us. Our encounter with God is a relationship that God has started with us. God reaches out to us, whoever we are; wherever we are.

There are some experiences of God that we all share – like the wonder of creation. But even that each of us experiences uniquely. Trying to talk about our experience of God reminds me of that old Indian parable of the six blind friends who came across an elephant. They’d never encountered one before. What’s an elephant like?

They decided each should touch the elephant and then tell the others what they found. Together, they’d surely come to a clear understanding. So first, one of them felt the elephant’s trunk and said an elephant is like a python; another it’s leg – like a tree; another its ear – like a fan; another its side – like a wall; another its tusk – like a spear; and another, its tail – like a rope. Some versions of this parable have them arguing and accusing each other of lying. That’s like people arguing that their description of God is the only true version. The blind friends were on to something. They all said how their encounter was like something that everyone did know about – a leg, a wall, a fan, a rope. All of them told as much of the truth as they could using analogies. And that’s the only way we can talk about God too. The best we can do with God is tell the truth we can perceive, and believe that each other’s partial sense of God is also real and true – however incomplete. Because we won’t all experience God in the same way. It’s a good argument for ecumenism.

How might this partial perception idea help us read our sentence for today? God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying, ‘Abba! Father! ^{Gal 4.6} If we work through that from the general to the specific, we start with the general truth that we all have fathers. But our experiences of our fathers are as various as we are; some wonderful, but others of us won’t necessarily want to call God by that name.

God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying, ‘Abba! Father! Whether we call God ‘Father’ or Mother’ or use another analogy, today’s sentence says God is the Source of our Being. That’s important. Everyone seems to agree we’ll feel more whole when we know where we come from. Think of that SBS TV series – Who do you think you are? – where people’s true ancestry is revealed to them. We hope these people will end up feeling more whole when they know where they really come from. I believe we are more whole when we can say where we come from too; from the Source of our Being. The voice that cries out from inside us says we share that Source with all of creation in its infinite diversity. We belong!

Back in our scripture sentence, it says that the Spirit of God’s Son cries out from within our hearts. In his Confessions, St Augustine of Hippo wrote, You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our hearts are restless until they rest in You.

That cry from our hearts guides us to seek our belonging in the Source of our Being – and so find where we have come from; who we really are. We can enter into this quest full of hope, because we do all know what Jesus is like: God from God, Light from Light, the Son who has revealed God’s nature most perfectly and beautifully to us.

Christ has sent the Spirit to dwell within our hearts. Her voice is calling from within us – we children of the Source of All Being. There’s a voice of great goodness and wholeness and love crying out from within our own hearts. It’s happening. Be sure in the hope that your deepest cries for love and belonging and wholeness are on the lips and in the ear of God. That hope can help transform us into the likeness of our Lord Jesus. Sandy gave me a quote from a book she’s reading by Pope Francis. Hope is the most divine thing that can exist in a human heart.

Let’s pray that we can accept Jesus inspiring – breathing that hope into us, that we might be steadily transformed into a belonging that is whole, kind, and beautiful, and that we may inspire other hearts in all their wild diversity to find wholeness in the heart of God, the loving Source of our Being.  Amen

Rev’d Dr Elizabeth McWhae

Readings: Acts 2:1-21, Psalm 104:26-36 , Romans 8;14-17, John 14:8-17

Introduction:

Here we are again on another Day of Pentecost. Why is it called this?

Because Pentecost is the Greek number for 50, and Pentecost falls 50 days after Easter. Why is the colour for this day red? Because of the mention of tongues of fire in the reading from Acts we will listen to. And here is another fun fact. There is a Jewish Festival called Pentecost or Shavuot which also falls at this time.  The Christian Pentecost marks the giving of the Holy Spirit to the believers gathered on the day of Pentecost at Jerusalem. It signifies the beginning of what we now call the church.

Point 1:

Now, a little bit of information about the Jewish Feast of Pentecost, also called Shavuot or the Feast of Weeks. It occurs 50 days after the Jewish

Passover, which corresponded to the time that Christ was crucified. Remember Jesus had a passover meal with his disciples shortly before his death. That is why the two festivals overlap. Initially the Jewish Pentecost celebrated the end of the grain harvest, but later morphed into a celebration of the giving of the Torah (the first 5 books of the Old Testament) to Moses at Mount Sinai. This was a very important Jewish festival. It involved thousands of Jewish people gathering in

Jerusalem and travelling there from the countryside.

So, when we read in Acts when the day of Pentecost had come, and they were all together in one place, this reference is to the Jewish feast of Pentecost that had resulted in good Jews being in Jerusalem for the feast. Now remember, all the earliest Christians were Jewish, all the disciples were Jewish, so they were gathered for this Jewish festival. But it took a rather abrupt and unexpected turn. It then became what we call the day of Pentecost.

Point 2:

And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages ……. The onlookers were amazed, perplexed, and the cynics and sceptics suggested that they were all drunk. So Peter felt obliged to give an explanation. He said this is what was spoken through the prophet Joel; ‘in the last days it will be, God declares, that I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh, and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy …… And Peter continued to proclaim the message of Jesus and many people were convinced. We are told 3000 people were baptised that day. Well, it must have been mayhem and chaos and celebration and wonder and confusion. But in the end it transformed those early christians into a community of faith, led by the Holy Spirit.

Point 3:

And it was the beginning of what we now call the church because from this day onwards the early church literally exploded. Doubting Thomas sets out to preach the message of Christ in southern India and founded the Church of St. Thomas, which exists to this day. Peter goes to Antioch and Rome, spreading the message of Christ throughout Europe. Matthew goes to Syria. John goes to Turkey and Greece. In a short matter of years Christian communities have sprung up all over Europe and the Middle East. From these beginnings, the message of the gospel even made it to the southern hemisphere and yes, even to us. And all because God decided to do something unexpected yet prophesied about in the Old Testament on the feast of Pentecost.

I often wonder what the average Anglican makes of this account of the day of Pentecost? My sceptic’s heart tells me that a number think it a quaint tale. Others may think, I wish our church was more like those early Christians. 3000 baptisms in one day would be a bit much perhaps! So I will tell you what I think happened.

I think that God did manifest something to those people gathered for the feast of Pentecost. What was significant was not the loud wind or tongues of fire, but that these believers knew, beyond a shadow of doubt, that the Holy Spirit had given them power from God to testify to the risen Christ and to worship him and to form an intentional community of faith called the church. Something had been galvanized in their hearts and minds and now they knew for certain that their faith was not mis-guided or delusional but a reality that would determine the direction of the rest of their lives.

That first day of Pentecost was a day of mystery, enthusiasm and power. Mystery because those first christians had the experience of Christ’s presence with them in a new and different way. Enthusiasm because things were really beginning to happen with all those tongues and baptisms. And power, because at long last they did not have to rely on their own resources, but had been given the gift of the Holy Spirit, as Jesus had promised, to help them in their work for the kingdom of God and the establishment of christian communities, ie. the church. Recall our gospel reading, when Jesus says to Philip, And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever. This is the Spirit of truth…..You know him because he abides with you, and he will be in you.

Conclusion:

The real miracle of the day of Pentecost, is that it is still happening. Over 2000 years after that event at Jerusalem there are still people who are followers of Christ, there is still a church, although manifest in many different forms, there are still people being baptised, and in some parts of the world there are still martyrs. The Holy Spirit Jesus promised is still being poured out upon the earth and in people’s lives today. This Holy Spirit lives in each one of us. Now, don’t you think that is remarkable.

Rev’d Peter Balabanski

Ascension – Acts 1 1-11, Ps 97, Eph 1 15-23, Lk 24 44-53

Our prayer of the day for Ascension is quite startling and wonderful. Let’s turn back to it again – it’s just before the Bible readings. O God, you withdraw from our sight that you may be known by our love: help us to enter the cloud where you are hidden, and to surrender all our certainty to the darkness of faith in Jesus Christ.

O God, you withdraw from our sight. We’ve reminded ourselves of that just now by putting out the great Easter candle. We lit it on Easter morning to be a sign among us of Jesus resurrected. And we’ve lit it at every one of our gatherings throughout the season of Easter. But today, after we read in the Gospel about Jesus taken up from among his disciples – taken out of our sight, we put that candle out. Like the physical presence of Jesus was taken from the first disciples, our sign of his presence among us – the light on the Easter candle – was taken from our sight.

Our prayer of the day gives us a reason for this. It’s so that [God / Jesus] may be known by our love. Now, you and I are the ones who have to make God’s love known. Jesus did it; he made people know God’s love for them. He loved people that no-one loved; he forgave people what no-one would forgive them, he healed people that no-one could heal. And now our prayer of the day says that’s our job. We are called to be God’s messengers of this love. Putting out the Easter candle says the job is now ours. You and I are to be the Christ-light for this world to see.

An older priest I knew used to describe Jesus’ Ascension as his moving from the here and now to the everywhere and always. And that means us. We’re everywhere. Jesus wasn’t everywhere at once during his ministry on Earth. But we – his Church – we are everywhere at once. We are called to make God’s love known everywhere and always. But where do we start? Our remarkable prayer of the day has more to say about that too. Help us to enter the cloud where you are hidden, and to surrender all our certainty to the darkness of faith in Jesus Christ.

Enter the cloud where you are hidden!? We saw a cloud take Jesus up out of their sight in this morning’s reading from Acts. If you remember the Exodus story, you’ll remember how God went in front of the people in a pillar of cloud by day, and a pillar of fire by night. They couldn’t see God; only a cloud or a fire. But they were led by God’s presence in that cloud and in that fire, and they followed God’s leading. Enter the cloud where you are hidden. What might that mean for us? God is invisible to us. Jesus is invisible to us. And we’re meant to make them known?!

There’s an old story about a child in a kindergarten busily painting a huge picture. The teacher asks What are you painting? The child says God. The teacher says But no-one knows what God looks like! The child replies They will when I’ve finished.

Enter the cloud where you are hidden. Our prayer of the day challenges us to enter the mystery of how we are to get on with helping people know what God is like: how we are to get on with helping people experience God’s love. We prayed not only that we might enter the cloud where Christ is now hidden, but that we might also surrender all our certainty to the darkness of faith in Jesus Christ.

This prayer seems inspired by The Cloude of Unknowyng, an anonymous English work of Christian mysticism written in the late 1300’s. It’s a guide to contemplative prayer. Its basic message is stop making up theories about God, and just be brave enough to enter the place of unknowing. And there, begin to glimpse God’s nature.

So, surrender all our certainty!? Heavens! We’re people of the modernist era. With our fixation on evidence-based certainty, we’re deeply challenged by this part of the prayer. We’re the ones most shocked by our crazy world where grotesque influencers and political fools seek to get ahead by replacing scientific certainties with their empty wishful thinking so they can amass power and wealth. Maybe they are the reason we find this bit of the prayer so challenging. But those influencers and political fools are empty counterfeits of what this prayer is on about; deceivers.

We are called to surrender all our certainty to God; not to liars. To Christ who we can trust, because we know what he’s like. Instead of the greedy lies of influencers and fools, we celebrate Jesus for his self-emptying love. We can safely surrender all our certainty to him. We can trust him. With him, we can let go safely.

Even so, the most challenging words of this prayer are kept for last; surrender all our certainty to the darkness of faith in Jesus Christ. I avoid the word darkness wherever I can in church because of its unconscious associations for some people with racism. So I’ve struggled with that word in this prayer. But deep in the night, I was given the Easter association with it; a vision of a seed planted in soil – there to die, but in doing so, bearing much fruit. ^{John 12.23-26}

This prayer challenges me; challenges us all to risk burying the precious seed of our certainties in the rich, dark soil of faith; to trust God will help us bear the Spirit’s fruits of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness and self-control because they’re how people meet Jesus. So we can pray this prayer with hope, not fear. Or to return to today’s other metaphor, when we put out the Easter candle today, we surrendered the certainty of that light before us, hoping that very light might shine in us and from us. And that’s what we’ll see next Sunday at Pentecost.

Let’s pray the prayer again.   O God, you withdraw from our sight that you may be known by our love: help us to enter the cloud where you are hidden, and to surrender all our certainty to the darkness of faith in Jesus Christ. Amen.

Rev’d Peter Balabanski

Easter 6 – Acts 16 9-15; Ps 67; Rev 21 10—22 5; John 5 1-9

In the National Church Life Survey, there’s a question that asks us, ‘How often during church services do you experience Inspiration, Joy, Awe or Mystery, A sense of God’s presence, Growth in understanding of God, Being challenged to take action, Being strengthened spiritually?’ These are the sorts of experiences we see happening in today’s readings. They’re filled with hope in God’s power. Yet they’re not questions we often ask ourselves. Our Zoom study group pondered similar questions last Tuesday and it was a very precious time of sharing.

In our part of the Anglican Church, talk about visions from God, seeking God’s direction and sensing God’s presence can seem to some of us as though it’s a different dialect. Same basic language, but expressions we don’t tend to use. It means we can be puzzled by symbolic language and imagery like the book of Revelation uses, while such things seem to speak directly to other Christians.

Is the sense of God’s presence and power in the book of Revelation more the province of pentecostal and charismatic worship? No. In our prayer together, we also ask God to intervene in our lives and in the affairs of the world. The music and singing in our worship takes us to that place too. And sharing communion is the most important thing for many St John’s folk. So our language is symbolic too.

How often during church services do you experience Inspiration, Joy, Awe or Mystery, A sense of God’s presence, Growth in understanding of God, Being challenged to take action, Being strengthened spiritually? Quite often, actually.

I remember as a teenager hearing preachers who said how wrong it was just to be a Sunday Christian – to pray and sing about peace and love and good will and be near God one day, then go out the next day and dance to the tune of a cruel, competitive world. That tension’s still true today. And it’s not meant to be that way.

Our gatherings are meant to help us recall that our whole lives are lived in God’s presence. We learn songs and hymns and prayers so we can take them everywhere with us. Our prayers are about justice and mercy and faithfulness and we’re called to take them out with us so we make a difference. What we do here shapes us to keep the conversation with God active at all times and wherever we are. But it’s one thing to say that we want to practise God’s presence in our daily lives; it’s quite another to do it. That’s where our scriptures come in; they model this discipline.

In today’s episode from Acts, Paul, Silas and Luke follow God’s leading in very challenging circumstances. They’ve been in south and central Türkiye visiting some of the young churches they’d founded earlier. They long to carry their mission into other parts of Türkiye too. But the lead-up to today’s passage sees the Spirit veritably herd them across Türkiye to its north-western seaboard, repeatedly preventing them from going elsewhere. They get herded to the port city of Troas (a little south of Troy and Gallipoli), and there, one night, Paul is given a vision of a Macedonian man pleading with him to come to help them.

Paul and the others respond immediately, sailing across the Aegean Sea to Macedonia. There they seek out the sort of people who pray. And today, we see them find a group of women who gather to pray outside the city. Luke calls people like these women ‘God-fearers’; that means they’re people who aren’t Jews, but they are attracted to the Jewish idea of the one-God-over-all.

These women pray together. But they do it out of the public eye, likely for fear of persecution by the Romans. Our story tells us that this secretive little group of inquirers has caught God’s attention. One woman in particular, Lydia, responds to Paul’s and Silas’ teaching by accepting Jesus and being baptised together with her household. She and her household have become the bridgehead of Christianity’s first arrival in Europe. I marvel at all this, but maybe I shouldn’t. Now that the Church has so much more experience of the work of the Holy Spirit, why should we be surprised any longer that the prayers of Lydia and her friends are heard by God. Why should I marvel that God sends Paul and Silas and Luke a thousand kilometres over land and sea in answer to the prayers of a small group of women.

It’s Luke’s grand theme of people joining in God’s mission. And when God calls us to join in, that call brings with it an invitation to begin something new; something you could hardly have predicted. We at St John’s need to be awake to God’s call. What’s God’s mission to the people of this parish district, and how are we meant to get on board? Like Paul, we’re on a journey. And like him, we’re sometimes confronted with dead ends. Where do we turn then? Is anyone among us being given a dream; a vision? It’s a different dialect, but it is our language. So let’s give this dialect a try. Maybe we need to wait for a dream, wait intentionally. Maybe someone’s already been given a dream. Either way, we’re called to discern God in it, and if we do, we’re to be obedient and follow where the dream calls us. Amen

Rev’d Hiliary Reddrop

Matthew 25:31-45

Thank you, Peter, for giving me this opportunity to speak about my ministry, a ministry that is a privilege to engage in, hospital chaplaincy.

May was set aside in the diocese a few years ago to celebrate and give thanks for the ministries of hospital, Anglicare, welfare and community chaplains. This year all chaplains, including school chaplains, have joined together to celebrate our ministries. During the month some of us are talking about chaplaincy in parishes across the diocese.

I am one of the chaplains in the Southern Adelaide Local Health Network, commonly known as SAHLN. SALHN covers the Flinders Medical Centre, Noarlunga Hospital, the Repat Health Precinct and Jamie Larcombe, the mental health unit for veterans and first responders. I’m based at Flinders. In SALHN the Chaplaincy team works on a ward basis. My wards are Laurel Hospice and the Older Persons Mental Health Unit. When an Anglican chaplain is requested across the hospital, I visit these patients. I also respond to requests  to visit from across the hospital when I’m on call.

Team members are known as Spiritual Care Chaplains, offering more than religious care. When I introduce myself to patients, with the greeting Hello I’m Hilary. I’m from Spiritual Care, many people respond with, I’m not religious, I’m not spiritual, I don’t go to church, or something similar. Some are surprised and others sceptical when I say, I haven’t come to visit you to talk about religion, and allow conversation to flow from there. A few do understand that spirituality is more than belief in a deity.

Spirituality, simply put, is about what gives us meaning and purpose in life, the reason for getting up in the morning, what motivates us into action, our values and our hope. Some people I meet will say they believe in something but are unable to express it in words. For others they believe in God in their own personal way but don’t go to church. Others tell me that their family and pets, their various activities such as walking on the beach or in the bush, gardening, craft work or tinkering in the shed are what gives them purpose in life. The majority of people we visit do not have a faith tradition, some describe themselves as lapsed but our ministry is not to separate the sheep from the goats, we are available to all patients, their family, carers, friends and all staff.

Chaplaincy is about relationship. We go to people who don’t know us, nor we know them, and somehow we build a relationship of trust often in a very short space of time. We are often told things that have been long forgotten, deep hurts from the past or perhaps more recent hurts, things they’ve never shared before with anyone. For all who we interact with we are the hands of Christ, at the bedside, in the corridor, and occasionally in the Chapel. Our main role is to listen, to deeply listen to what is being said, and unsaid, observing what is happening for the person as they talk to us, as they share their needs, their life stories, their joys and sadnesses, their fears, their determination, their hope.

My ministry in the Hospice brings me alongside people with a life limiting illness, approaching the end of their life, which could be months, weeks, days or hours away. They are receiving palliative care. Their big questions may be, Why me? What have I done with my life? What do I do with my life now? Or they may express sadness, I don’t want to leave my family. Elderly patients are often worried about their partner, How will they manage when I’ve gone, I’ve always done everything.  Another question might be, What’s going to happen now? That question might mean what’s going to happen right now or for those who are imminently dying, what is after death. Some of these questions and thoughts are no different for patients in other wards. They may have been in an accident or have an illness that has changed their quality of life. What will I be able to do? What work will I be able to do? I’m going to be a burden.

Do chaplains have the answers to any of these questions? We might have some answers, but we’re there to listen. We can guide the conversation to help the patient think things through and allow the patient to come to their own conclusions, but it’s not our role to give direct answers, especially if they are asking about their illness and treatment. We are not allowed to give medical advice. What has your dr told you? Have you asked your nurse? are questions I put to the patient. Or I might suggest they ask to see the social worker if that is more appropriate.

Chaplains are not allowed to proselytise. If a patient asks questions about faith matters we can talk about religion in general terms, but only in direct response to their conversation. We can’t disagree with their theology or try to change their beliefs or thoughts. We are there to support them, not add to their anxiety or vulnerability. If I’m asked a direct question about faith I try and reflect it back to them, I’m interested in hearing what you think. Occasionally I will be challenged and asked about my belief in the nature of God. That’s when I tread very carefully and don’t disagree or agree with their theology even if it is different from mine! Some push back and ask very direct questions, especially about a God of judgement. I simply say in many situations that I believe in a loving God, adding more to that according to what lead up to me saying that.

Recently in the hospice I was asked to visit a patient in her 90’s who had asked for a visit as she was frightened about dying. I’d learned prior to visiting her that she believed in God. I visited her and she told me quite a lot about her life. After a while I asked her what she had hoped for from a visit from Spiritual Care. She was unable to give me an answer. She wanted me to visit again. At this visit as I thought our time together was coming to an end she said, I have a question. I thought here is her reason for wanting visits. What will happen after? What will it be like? I want peace. I’m a firm believer in the action of the Holy Spirit as I often find appropriate words coming out of my mouth and I have no idea where the words have come from. Into my head came the words of John’s Gospel, and I said, In John’s Gospel we are told ‘In my Father’s house there are many mansions. May be some of these mansions are for people who want peace and other mansions are for people who want to sing with the angels and the archangels.  We don’t know what it will be like, but we will be with God in a better place. Your place may be one of peace. We have our hope and our trust in God. It satisfied her. I visited her a couple more times before she was discharged back home and nothing more was mentioned about dying except she told me she wanted me to visit her on her next admission because that would be her last admission.

Some patients spend weeks, sometimes months, in hospital. These are the metaphorical prisoners we visit, trapped in a bed, some attached to medical equipment, others just not healing due to their illness or their age, perhaps recovering slowly in rehab.  They might hunger and thirst for some company. Staff often ask us to go and visit these patients. We have the time to be at the bedside, to be present and listen. We aren’t under the time pressure other staff are under. We might stay only minutes, or it may be an hour or more. Some visits are just one-off visits while others may go on over a matter of weeks. One of the privileges I have of being in the Hospice is getting to know some patients, their family and friends, spending time with them listening to their life stories. Families or friends can’t always be present all the time. I visit sleeping or unresponsive patients if they are on their own. If I haven’t met the patient or family, I don’t presume they will want me to be present. I stand by the bedside and pray silently for a few minutes. For those I’ve spent time with I’ll sit with them in silent prayer or pray aloud if I’ve gained their permission to pray with them on a previous visit. On Friday I went to a patient who was unresponsive and actively dying. She has no next of kin. I stood beside her and introduced myself and told her I’d been asked to visit her. She had a beautiful crocheted blanket on her bed. These blankets are given to patients who are end of life, in the hospice it’s a quilt. I described the blanket to the patient. A couple of nurses came and attended to her and after they left, I told her that I was going to pray for her and hoped that was alright. Usually I ask permission to touch a patient while I pray but she couldn’t give permission so I didn’t touch her. Most people don’t refuse but some don’t want to be touched.

Recently I have had nurses in the Older Persons Mental Health Unit tell me on different occasions that when Spiritual Care has visited the patients are calmer, more peaceful, which makes it easier for them. What a gift, to be told you make a difference and to know the difference is not just for the patient but for the staff as well. Very humbling.

I’m fortunate that I am part of a supportive team. We listen to each other and encourage each other to care for ourselves when we know we’ve reached our limit for the day.

I know, like me, my fellow chaplains within SALHN, and across the diocese, feel so privileged to be involved with Chaplaincy ministry, spreading God’s love to all we meet, not only in words but also in actions, prompted and guided by the Holy Spirit, to go where we need to be, often arriving at the perfect moment for the patient or their family member, or meeting a staff member who just needs to talk.

On Thursday 29^th May at 4.00 pm in St Andrew’s Walkerville chaplains are gathering to celebrate our ministry. You are invited to join with all chaplains and chaplaincy volunteers in the celebration and to join us in refreshments after the service which the Archbishop and Bishop Sophie will both be taking part. Please come if you are able. Amen

Rev’d Peter Balabanski

Good Shepherd Sunday C – Jn 10 22-30

My sheep hear my voice.  I know them, and they follow me. ^{John 10:27} Jesus knows us and loves us.

When you think about it, how many people really know you, warts and all, and still love you anyway? We deal with lots of people every day – people who don’t know us, but want something from us – or we want something from them. Most of those relationships are superficial. How many people in our lives really know us and love us anyway?

Caro spoke to parish council last week about the many people in our community who are so isolated that it’s a significant health risk to them. Their loneliness is up there with obesity, smoking and heavy alcohol use as a mortality risk; particularly younger people! Why are people in any community so isolated that it puts them at risk of dying? How many people really know them? Who do they love? And who loves them? For these people, isolation is a matter of life and death. And yet their situation can be improved so simply –with genuine friendship.

Eugene Petersen describes a moment when … someone enters our life who isn’t looking for someone to use. They make time to find out what’s really going on in us. They’re secure enough not to exploit our weaknesses or to attack our strengths. They recognise our inner life and understand the difficulty of living out our inner convictions. They confirm what’s deepest within us. They’re a friend.  ^{Eugene H. Peterson ‘Leap Over a Wall’}

Who really knows us? We just heard Jesus say My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me. ^{John 10.27} Jesus declares his friendship for us as being of that very rare quality we’ve been thinking about. ‘I know them.’ To let anyone get to know us at a really deep level, we have to trust them; trust them with our deepest feelings; know we’re safe with them even when our most embarrassing weaknesses are disclosed; trust them to deal gently with our very strongest convictions; our greatest passions. And that goes both ways.

Perhaps you know the very beautiful little poem of W.B. Yeats: ‘He wishes for the cloths of heaven’.

Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths, / Enwrought with golden and silver light, / The blue and the dim and the dark cloths / Of night and light and the half-light, / I would spread the cloths under your feet: / But I, being poor, have only my dreams; / I have spread my dreams under your feet; / Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

Yeats somehow captures the beautiful, vulnerable friendship that Jesus our Good Shepherd offers us – where he’s as vulnerable as we are. Whatever predicament we’re in, he’s in it with us; shivering in the cold; wilting with heat and thirst; facing our fears with us.

We’re completely safe offering Jesus our feelings, our weaknesses and our passions because he knows us and yet he loves us anyway. He knows how dangerous we can be to a friend, and yet he’s come to be that friend. He hasn’t come to condemn us, but to save us. ^{John 3.17} We’re safe with him.

He’s entered our world in utter vulnerability as the baby. He’s faced our shame and helplessness as the naked man hanging on the cross. He has come fully into our world so that we might enter fully into his.

Jesus, our good shepherd, calls out to us to follow him on the path that leads to that place of green pastures and still waters, to a living hope in the face of danger – even in the face of death.

My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me. ^{John 10:27}

Follow. We had that word in the 23^rd Psalm too. Jesus the good shepherd calls us to follow him. King David tells us what will happen when we respond to this call – Surely your goodness and loving-kindness will follow me all the days of my life; and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.

Prayer

Jesus our Good Shepherd, we know your voice. You call and we follow you. Jesus, gate of the sheepfold, you are our doorway into life. You are the doorway through death into eternal life. You call and we follow you.

Jesus our Good Shepherd, you have laid down your life for us. There is no greater love than this. You know us – you know the danger – and yet you love us. Grant us the courage to love like you do, and to do it bravely in your precious name. Amen

Rev’d Peter Balabanski

Acts 9 1-6, Psalm 30, Revelation 5 11-14, John 21 1-19

There’s a recurrent theme in the today’s scriptures. In the readings from Acts, the Psalm and the Gospel, we see a person being brought back from the brink to a place of safety and healing. That’s central to the issue we’ve been called to focus on today. We’ve been called to think, pray and act on the horrifying epidemic of domestic and family violence against women and children. And we have to make sure this parish is a place of safety and healing for anyone who needs us.

Domestic and Family Violence is abusive behaviour that’s used to control or harm someone in an intimate relationship. It endangers their safety and well-being. It has many faces: coercive control, emotional abuse, verbal abuse, financial abuse, psychological abuse, spiritual abuse, physical abuse, and sexual abuse. And a child witnessing Domestic and Family Violence is suffering child abuse.

Domestic and family violence is rife in Australia and around the world. There’s a world-wide social-media epidemic presenting misogyny and the sexual degradation of women and children as normal; undermining their dignity and their humanity. We Australians export it to more traditional societies through tourism, the internet, and even through some distortions of our Christian teaching. This must stop!

Domestic and family violence is a terrible cause of suffering for many people in the Australian community, and we know the Church is not exempt from this. In fact, a 2021 survey revealed that in our churches more than one in three women and one in seven men report that they have experienced violence. That’s in our churches! And women are far more likely to be impacted by sexual and physical assault and sexual harassment. And yes, this is in the Anglican Church of Australia.

Some church leaders compound the abuse suffered by survivors of domestic and family violence because they wrongly counsel these people to stay in their abusive marriages – telling them to go back and forgive; try to prevent the violence.

Forgiveness should never mean accepting the continuation of violence. And nor is it anyone’s duty to manage how another adult expresses their anger. Everybody feels anger. But to express that anger through violence is a choice. So domestic violence is emphatically not the responsibility of its survivor. It’s the choice, the action and entirely the responsibility of its perpetrator. No ifs or buts!

Some church leaders give wrong advice to stay in an abusive marriage because they read, in a simplistic, literal way, four or five passages from the New Testament. ^{1 Cor 14:34-35, Eph 5:22-23, 1 Tim 2:11-12, 1 Pet 2:18-3:7, Matt 19:3-12} On the basis of this handful of first-century Mediterranean cultural teachings, some church leaders insist that even where there’s domestic violence, wives should submit to their husbands; should forgive; should obey. We know this is often lethal advice. The 2021 survey showed that domestic violence is actually worse in some church contexts than in the wider community, often in the name of these scriptures. If this advice to submit and forgive has ever been given to you or to anyone you know, please hear my apology on behalf of a very fallible Church. Jesus would never have done that to you.

The patterns of Domestic and Family Violence tell us that it is not a one-off matter of the perpetrator losing it or snapping – doing something out of character. No, it’s part of a pattern of controlling, belittling, abusive behaviour; an attitude which is the choice of the perpetrator. It’s a reflection of the perpetrator’s true character.

Domestic Violence is a vile thing and it has no place in any family or relationship – ever! And that goes even more emphatically for the Church, which must be a place of safety and healing. We know how Jesus cared for abused and suffering people. He defended them and challenged their abusers. We are committed to follow his example and teaching; called to follow him, as we saw in today’s scriptures.

We are called by Christ to be communities of healing, of safety, of generosity and respect; called to believe and advocate for survivors of this violence. And we are called to defend survivors from perpetrators, and to challenge perpetrators to turn from the attitudes and actions that they’ve chosen to live by. We are called to help such people re-form their characters into the image of Christ – just as we should all be striving to do with our own lives.

The Anglican Church’s Families and Culture Commission have launched this first Domestic and Family Violence Awareness Sunday to call everyone in the Church to shine a light on this issue. Because abuse thrives if it can hide in shadows. If we turn our backs and say it doesn’t have anything to do with us, that’s to condone it. And we know all too well what happens then. The Church has done that for years to innocent children. We have to make sure the Church is not a safe place for abusers to hide. No, we must be a safe place where survivors are believed, supported, healed and protected; given back a chance at wholeness and hope. Amen