Sermon 1 March 2020

Sermon 1 March 2020

Matthew 4:1-11

Every year on the first Sunday of Lent we hear a version of this story, and this year’s version has at least five characters. There’s Jesus, of course, we know him. There’s the Spirit – Pneuma – who compels Jesus into the desert. Then there’s ho diabolo, which our English bible translates as ‘the devil’ and whom Jesus addresses as Satana which our English bible unhelpfully translates as ‘Satan’ as though it is a proper name. Then there’s a couple of angels who appear right at the end to serve Jesus.

Sermon for Ash Wednesday

Sermon for Ash Wednesday

I noticed it first in the classroom as a child, the way we took on assigned roles. I’m sure an expert in group dynamics would have a data set and peer-reviewed analysis. But just based on non-scientific observation as a student and teacher, it seemed that - no matter who ended up in a classroom, and even if half the class was away - there was always a clown, always a goody two shoes, always someone deeply compliant, always a rebel. There was always a couple of kids who were the top of the social tree, and always a couple who were excluded. We took on the roles that were convenient, or were assigned to us, or were forced upon us.

Sermon, Sunday 23 February

Sermon, Sunday 23 February

Let me start with a story, it is a pretend story so don’t worry.

There was this young couple, who tried desperately hard to have children. After years of no success finally the young woman got pregnant and the couple were blessed with a son. They loved their little boy and did everything they could for him. However, as the young boy aged, he didn’t speak. They tried everything to make him talk, cajoling, asking him questions, surprising him. Eventually they were so worried that they took their son to the doctor and specialists who could find nothing wrong with the boy, he just didn’t talk. This greatly affected the couple, who longed to have a conversation with their son. After years, of trying, the boy was 5. The mother, woke up tired and served her son breakfast......it was cold porridge. After one mouthful, the boy said ‘Yuk’. The mother was shocked! She asked her son, why now? Why did you choose to speak? He said, ‘Well up until now, everything was satisfactory’.
This is called, a ‘cold porridge moment’. Have you ever had one of these moments? Where you suddenly felt you had to use your voice? When you reflect on what was and realise that life now has to change? That dissatisfaction has caused you to use your voice?

Sermon, Sunday 9 February 2020

Sermon, Sunday 9 February 2020

This is the second of (only) two sermons on the topic of Giving. Every year around this time – early in the calendar year, but before Lent begins – we take some time to reflect on our financial giving. There is, let’s be honest, a pragmatic element to this. Today after the service, regular parishioners will receive a brochure, and a form to return to the Parish Council with your commitment for the coming year. They’ll trickle in over the next few weeks, then next month the Finance Committee will try to cobble together a feasible budget to be presented to the Parish Council in April, then to the Annual Meeting of Parishioners in June. The purpose of the commitment forms is to declare our intentions for the year ahead, so that the budget can be drawn up with confidence. I usually explain it by inviting people to imagine that you have a job where the boss says they will certainly pay you something, but they won’t say when and they won’t say how much. If all we did was rely on passing around the plate and hoping people would throw in enough to make the place function – well, there would be no functioning. Planned Giving is our mechanism for establishing confidence in our income, and also for enabling all parishioners including me, to make a firm commitment.

Sermon for Epiphany 3A 2020

Sermon for Epiphany 3A 2020

Many years ago some friends prevailed upon me to go and do one of those massed Messiah sing-a-longs, where you have one rehearsal then put on a concert in the Sydney Town Hall. By the end of it I had lost the will to live. I am a fan of Handel, and a fan of the messiah, but I can’t stand Handel’s Messiah. I don’t know why the Hallelujah chorus is so popular and I can’t stand the setting of today’s reading – for unto us a child is tiddly tiddly tiddly tiddly tiddly tiddly tiddly tiddly tiddly tiddly tiddly. What’s with all the tiddling? It really gets on my tiddlies.

Sermon for the Feast of the Baptism of Our Lord

Sermon for the Feast of the Baptism of Our Lord

On 20 December 1940 the first comic book edition of Captain America went on sale. In the first edition, Cap had a shield shaped like, well, a shield. But that made him look too much like The Shield, so in the second edition his shield became round, and has remained so throughout every incarnation of Captain America ever since. The creators of Captain America, Joe Simon and Jack Kirby, were quite clear that their character was consciously political. They supported US involvement in WWII and wanted to advocate for US intervention in the unfolding war in Europe (this was before Pearl Harbour). So the first edition featured Captain America punching Adolf Hitler in the face. A subtle message.

Sermon for Epiphany

Sermon for Epiphany

When I first started singing lessons, one of my party pieces was Imagine by John Lennon. It contains the lines ‘Imagine there’s no countries, it isn’t hard to do, nothing to kill or die for, and no religion too, imagine all the people living life in peace’. It is, in many ways, a beautiful song – though these days I would have some critiques of its assumptions. But the reason I’m mentioning it today is because of today’s useful fact in the sermon series on Isaiah.

Christmas Sermon 2019

Christmas Sermon 2019

On Thursday afternoon, Izzy and her Dad rode the bus to Kirribilli House. Izzy is 13 years old and, after breathing smoke for days on end, she wanted to demand real action on climate change from our leaders. She and her Dad joined the peaceful protest outside the gates, where obviously the Prime Minister was not in residence because he was in Hawaii. As the day wore on, and after the speeches and chanting, 25 armed riot police showed up in a van and started targeting leaders, arresting them and taking them away. One police officer approached Izzy to demand that she leave. He threatened her with arrest, and told her that ‘force may be used’ if she didn’t comply. The interaction was filmed, and it shows a large, loud police officer standing over this small-framed girl who nevertheless maintained eye contact, and refused to be intimidated. It is a powerful set of images, as this young woman clutches her home made sign, holding back tears but stoically holding her ground.

Sermon, Sunday 22 December 2019

Sermon, Sunday 22 December 2019

Isaiah 7:10-16

As we work our way through pieces of the Book of Isaiah, we are learning useful facts together!

The first useful fact was that the book of Isaiah is in three sections. First Isaiah is from before the exile to Babylon. The bit we read this week is from First Isaiah. Second Isaiah is from during the exile. The bit we read last week, about building a highway in the desert to lead the people home to Jerusalem, is in Second Isaiah. Third Isaiah is from when the People of God return from exile and start to rebuild Jerusalem. One famous part of Third Isaiah is ‘The spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me; he has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed…’

Sermon, Advent 2

Sermon, Advent 2

Isaiah 11:1-10

Before one is ordained as a deacon or priest, one goes to visit a psychologist for a battery of psychometric testing, which includes drawing up a kind of family tree of dysfunction. I was reflecting on that experience this week as I celebrated 16 years of ordained ministry, and I remembered explaining to the friendly shrink that both my grandfathers were alcoholics who abused their wives, probably had post-traumatic stress disorder from their war service and who were both remembered as toxic, aggressive, unkind men with few redeeming features. By contrast, my own Father who this week celebrates 45 years married to Mum, is a gentle and kind man who is beloved by everyone he knows. It is no accident that his two sons are a nurse and a priest (albeit a rather cynical and jaded nurse and priest) and that his grandsons are intelligent, creative, kind and respectful young men. While I’m conscious of the privilege of being white and living in Australia, I’m also conscious that in many families trauma begets trauma from one generation to the next, and I count myself very fortunate that the violence and pain of my forefathers is almost entirely absent from the lives of my nephews.

Sermon for Advent Sunday

Sermon for Advent Sunday

Today is the beginning of the church’s new year. Advent Sunday begins the new year, and the beginning of the season of Advent. It also means that we change the pattern of scriptures we read each Sunday at the Eucharist. For the past year, we’ve been hearing from Luke because it was Year C in the three year cycle. For the next year, we’ll be hearing gospel readings mostly from Matthew because it is Year A. Year A also gives us a heavy dose of Isaiah during Advent and Epiphany, so this year, throughout December and January I will be preaching a sermon series on the book of Isaiah. What with one thing and another, it will work out at six sermons. I’ve had to resist the urge to drop too much information in the first sermon, and instead I’m going to try to give you one useful fact about Isaiah in each one. By the end you will have six useful facts, which I’m sure you’ll agree is a good number of useful facts to have about anything.

Sermon for Christ The King

Sermon for Christ The King

Resistance, Sedition and Treason, anyone?

Luke 23:33-43

The practice of saying the Lord’s Prayer and the Nicene Creed has fallen out of custom in some churches. Indeed, when I came here nine years ago, the custom of saying the creed each Sunday had lapsed. I heard of a speaker recently who visited an Anglican school who launched into the Lord’s prayer and expected at least some people to join in, and had to do an unexpected solo.