St Barnabas, Fendalton

Jesus says, “My sheep listen to my voice. I know my sheep. And they follow me.” How do we listen to God's voice? In the busyness of family life and social media life and school life and work life and hanging out with the other sheep life, how do we hear the Shepherd speak to us? It might be that you have a really good system in place, really good rhythms of daily office and of prayer and of worship and of walks in nature. Or it might that, a bit like Yvette and me, you sometimes need to be jolted so God can put you somewhere where he has your attention, where there's nothing more than four people, three horses, two shops, and one art gallery.

This week saw the election of a new chief Shepherd in God's Church, Pope Leo XIV, called to care for the sheep.

There is an old children's song that goes “it's from the old I travel to the new, keep me travelling along with you”. The Resurrection is really a signpost to the ‘new'. It marks out new territory. It even provides the garments to wear along the way. This story my grandfather told in his diaries of living as a missionary in China in the 1940s explains it best…

The message this Sunday is one of Peace.  Jesus appearing to his anxious disciples after his death and resurrection and offering them peace.  Once they realised it was Jesus, by seeing him and his scars, he then breathed the Holy Spirit upon them.  How hopeful for us all to hear and take in his peace at such times as these.  The scripture passage goes on to tell us of the disciple Thomas being absent, and so wanting to see Jesus for himself.  Here we get the saying 'doubting Thomas'.  And so Jesus did come to him to personally show him his scars and resurrection! Then on seeing he was able to say 'My Lord, My God'.  This is for us to believe and hold onto our faith.  May it continue to burn with fire within us so we too can stay strong - being able to know his love and peace for us.  Also realising that being in community encourages and supports us in our faith and with each other.  Jesus /Christ is Risen!  Alleluia!  He is risen indeed. 

Some of us are like Thomas who need to know that the risen Jesus still bears the scars of the cross

Easter Day - The tree of shame became the tree of glory - and an Easter egg tree!

For most of this past week, my laptop has had a small but really significant problem. The letter ‘e' doesn't work most of the time.T here are a lot of words in the English language with the letter ‘e' in them, including the words ‘English' and ‘language'! What started as a small annoyance quickly turned into a major impediment. Entire words, sentences, paragraphs, even sermons, risked being incomplete, which is another word with not just one, but two ‘e's! Two words, however, that are typable are ‘Christ' - no e's in there, and ‘is' - no e's in there either. But it's the next word where I needed help.

John 12:1-11 is the account of Mary's anointing of Jesus' feet.  It is a beautiful story that gives us insight into the nature of humble service and can inspire us with its stunning example of extravagant devotion.

We are coming now to the end of things. Six days away, we're told. The countdown has begun.And we have here a remarkable scene; a collage of characters, two of whom take our attention. There's Mary, this named woman with this extraordinary action. And there's Judas, this named disciple, whom we will meet again soon, and who here we get a thumbnail sketch that begins to tell us a little more about him.

This Sunday, we celebrated Harvest festival  and the bountiful crops that we receive, which tied in with the Gospel reading of the celebratory party given for the lost or returning son. This parable is about two sons and their father.  One who goes off and squanders all his money and comes back abject and sorry.  The other who is a faithful and hardworking son who gets jealous of the other brothers return and the fathers joy.  Jesus uses this to explain how it is with God. God is the loving, welcoming, rejoicing father to all of us.  We only have to remain faithful or turn back to face him when we have wandered away.  God is so full of joy - full of love for each of us - with ever open arms to welcome and enfold us.

The gardener in Jesus' parable of the fig tree understands me: “Sir, let it alone for one more year, until I dig around it and put manure on it.” The gardener believes that if he moves the dirt around, enriches it with fertilizer, and pays more attention to it, then something might happen. In other words, let me keep trying. Not for the sake of my ego, but for the sake of life. Give it another chance. Because, yes, I know what it means when someone doesn't give up on me, and when God doesn't give up on me.

Jesus raises the issue, and his answers aren't quite what you might expect...

In Lent, we might be thinking a lot about appetites, and how we have set aside our appetite for chocolate or wine or chips or whatever in the spirit of giving up for Lent, in the full knowledge that come Easter Sunday we can resume our gluttony with fervour.But there's something about appetite that we need to retain – it's not all fasting and sour faces. In giving up our appetite for some things we may, instead, grow our appetite for God.

Jesus compares himself to a hen with chickens rather than a fox!

We have in our gospel reading today the three temptations of Christ, like three knocks on a big door. The first temptation is to be relevant. The second temptation is to be spectacular. The third temptation is to be powerful.

As we read the passage today of Jesus being tempted in the wilderness, we too can relate to being tempted in different ways and at different times.  We can be tempted in letting go, giving in or saying 'whatever' especially as we are encouraged to try some fasting, extra praying and giving to others.   Jesus is our example of keeping strong in believing and hoping in God.  As Psalm 91 says 'My refuge and my fortress; my God in whom I trust'.

Maybe the temptation this year is just to give up for Lent...

The gospel reading today gives us these four images: The blind leading the blind. The speck of dust in another person's eye and the log of wood in our own. The good tree that bears no bad fruit. The house that's built on sand and the house that's built on rock.

I find it enormously helpful to have a view of people, including myself, that recognises that all of us have the range of human vices within us. All of us, too, are also, simultaneously, being renewed daily by God's mercies that are new every morning. And both of those things exist at once. This is the truth of the human condition and the grace of God's compassion.

What's it really mean to love our enemies?

What we have here in Luke's gospel is the grittier version of the Beatitudes we find in Matthew's gospel. There, it's the Sermon on the Mount. Here, it's the Sermon on the Plain! And here, poor means poor. We may want to sanitise it and say that it really means only the poor in spirit, which is a phrase we find in Matthew's gospel, but not here. Luke isn't going to do nuance. He isn't going to spare blushes or avoid offence. He's grounding the message and driving it home.

As we marked Waitangi Day on Thursday, I recalled an event that involved my dear friend and colleague, the late Kāumatua (Elder) Huikakahu Kawe, from whom I learned so much. I've shared some of this in this week's Connect – so if you've read that, then you can take this opportunity to have a nap! But I do want to say a little more here, how it connects with our lectionary readings for today, and how we might respond.

I've seen a couple of good video clips lately about mercy, one in Washington and one at Waitangi...

The story of Simeon and Anna, perhaps even your own story, perhaps even the story of this parish on the cusp of its sesquicentennial, is a story of “by faithful waiting and being guided in prayer and patience to the point where they recognise the glory of God in the child they see.”

Farewell Jo! Our deep thanks and appreciation for your ministry with us over the last 5 years as our Pastoral Care Co-Ordinator. Go well in your new role!

Jesus is in the change business, we can be not so keen on that, but Jesus changes us for good!

What's going on here? Well, it's what's been going on for so long that we sometimes don't even notice it. But we should. We really should ‘be alert', as the gospel tells us to be. Be alert to what?! To God at work in the world.

‘Everything is going to be alright' in neon lights at our Art Gallery – that's the hope we hold out before us in this season of Advent

What sort of King? Have Kings had their day or is Jesus going to model another kind of King altogether?

Today is Christ the King Sunday and the readings from Daniel and from John have that in common: they both, in their way are telling us a story about kingship or, we might say, God's reign, or God's power.

Today is Young Adult's Minister Andy Dickson's last day with us at St Barnabas before he is Ordained a Curate and commences his Curacy at All Souls Merivale. In his message this morning, Andy reflects on the story of the Good Samaritan and what it might mean for us about finding out who our neighbour is, and loving those around us that we might find difficult to love. Andy, thank you for your time at St Barnabas. May God guide your next steps, and may he always provide for you and your whanau. As you continue to lead and grow with others around you, we pray that your next chapter at All Souls will be full of growth, aroha and fun. May you be as much a blessing to all at All Souls, as they will be to you and your family. Amen.

The Temple, as Jesus knew it, was one of the great ancient monuments. It had the reputation of being the most beautiful building in the whole world, and the largest and most imposing structure for hundreds of miles in any direction. It inspired awe. The disciples admire its glory. Jesus predicts its end. The disciples assume, here, that there's going to be a catastrophic event that will cause the Temple to be destroyed and, as part of this, those who follow Jesus will be put at great risk. Jesus knows that he will not always be with them. He knows that they will face what he has faced, and all because of their allegiance to him. He knows, far more than they do, what we might nowadays call the cost of discipleship.

We take our container of food and our jug of water, and whatever they represent, and we say this is all we have and no more, this is all we do and no more, this is as far as we go and no further. This Elijah figure he knows something we don't. He knows about miracles. He knows about provision. He knows about abundance. He knows about overflowing goodness, grace, mercy. He knows about food that never runs out and water that never runs dry.  He knows this. He's seen it. He persists.

Jesus asked him – and us – what do you want me to do for you?

In the Nicene Creed, which we recite here often, and will after this sermon, we say this: “We believe in one God, the Father, the Almighty, Maker of Heaven and Earth, of all that is seen and unseen…”Jesus asks Bartimaeus in the gospel ‘what do you want me to do for you?' You would think the answer would be obvious: to see! But in lots of ways Bartimaeus already did see. He saw, really before the disciples did, that Jesus is the ‘Son of Man'; he saw, in Jesus, someone who could grant mercy. He saw who Jesus really was while the disciples were still figuring it out. Like how in Shakespeare's plays, the character of the ‘fool' is often the wisest of all, so this blind man in the story has the clearest sight.

Inheriting eternal life requires relinquishing control over this life's treasures and adhering to a new master; Jesus.

In her book Revelations of Divine Love, Julian of Norwich says this: “God, of your goodness, give me yourself… If I ask for anything less, I shall always be in want. Only in you do I have it all.”[1] I was drawn to this lovely saying through the very pastoral, well-known comforting words of today's gospel passage, which are unique, by the way, to the gospel of Matthew, words that find themselves set to music in Handel's Messiah and put into spoken word in our Book of Common Prayer, in our funeral liturgy, and this St Francis Day. When Jesus is saying his yoke is easy and light, he is speaking into those contexts: a well-understood agricultural image about oxen sharing the burden of their labours, so that together the task is lighter than done alone; a burdensome following of the Law that deprives life rather than gives it; and an economic and political system that diminishes people rather than fulfils them. [1] Quoted in Jane Williams Liturgical Reflections, p.89

The disciples are preoccupied with their place in the world, their place in the pecking order. Like everyone else, they've got egos, and they know how to use them. But Jesus does something extraordinary. He takes a child, puts the child among them, and says, not just be like this child, as in use this child as some kind of model, but be this child.

We celebrate God the Creator, and the Spirit calls us to be creative too!

C.S. Lewis described Psalm 19 as “the greatest poem in the Psalter and one of the greatest lyrics in the world.” Lewis identifies its structure as “six verses about Nature, five about the Law and four of personal prayer”.

Guest speaker, Rev Rosie Fyfe, National Directory of NZCMS, speaks to us at our morning services today about overseas missions.

While we celebrate those who built the Anglican Church here, we also celebrate those who have contributed in profound ways to its evolution. Those first builders, and those that have followed, and will follow still, sought to exercise wisdom and came to learn that wisdom is not just the sum of knowledge plus experience, it is a relationship with Jesus, in whom we find wisdom personified.The history of the Anglican church in New Zealand, our own family histories, have both glory and grief, joy and sorrow and, through today's lectionary readings, we are invited to infuse, even reframe, our reading of those histories in light of this message of Christ.

Wisdom calls us to a life of discernment, to choose the paths that lead to life, peace, and righteousness. The Beatitudes invite us to embody the values of God's kingdom in our everyday lives, to live in a way that reflects the character of Christ.

We have the reading from the Ephesians 5, where we are directed to be filled with the Spirit. And the language here is of a continual filling rather than just a one-off experience. Being filled with the Spirit is contrasted with being filled with wine, which makes us drunk, gives us a hangover, isn't life-giving – and too much of it can be very damaging on us and those around us. “Instead”, Jesus says, “be filled with the Spirit.” Being filled with the Spirit on a continuous basis means we are always watered.

Right here in the gospel of John. It's right here in John's telling of the meal where it's one of the feature ingredients. There's the wine – and there's the bread. It's the story of the Eucharist, gospel-of-John style. Jesus says, as the bread of life, he always satisfies our hunger; in him, we will always find life.

As Christians we feed on Holy Scripture: it is nurtures and sustains us. We listen to Scripture each week as we gather here. We read Scripture. We use Scripture. We study Scripture. But we do more than that too. We assimilate it. We take it into our lives so that it goes from being a text to an act: an act of God's grace, an act of God's revelation to us, an act of the Holy Spirit speaking to us afresh each time we hear, read, and study it. A church that hears Holy Scripture does not do so passively but, in response, engages in visible acts. Holy Scripture goes from text to action each time we act in love, each time we give water to the thirsty, food to the hungry, comfort to the mourner, friendship to the lonely, hope to the despondent, justice to the dispossessed, healing to the sick, good news to the poor.

I don't know about your Bible, but my personal Bible, which I've used since 1993, also serves as something of its own filing cabinet. Inserted among its thin pages are notes I've made, bits of paper on which I have scribbled things I can no longer read, and verses and other such material that I've once been given that would have held meaning for me at the time and so I have slipped away. Well, as I was preparing the sermon for today, one of those slips of paper fell out, and so I picked it up. It said this: “Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for He who promised is faithful”. It's from Hebrews 11:23 and, having just re-read the gospel and the epistle, in which there is much to despair, I found, as indeed the note promised, a reason to hope. The wider context to today's message is that it's also Refugee Sunday, in which we mark those who, often involuntarily, are weak and go to places in which they are not welcome. Overlaid onto that is the troubling rise of political parties around the world who reinforce an attitude that says “you're not welcome” to the weak and dispossessed.

Matariki invites us to do three things: Remember the past and honour those we have lost. Celebrate the present and gather together to give thanks for what we have. Look to the future and the promise of a New Year.

New beginnings

Life doesn't always go according to plan. We might, when we're younger, or even when we're older, have mapped out what we expect will happen, even how we expect God may work in and through our lives. And, as the readings today show, it can be in poverty that we find ourselves richest of all.

Look for the green shoots of what God is doing in our midst and in the world…