Richard's Ramblings

In our Revised Common Lectionary, today, the Sunday before the beginning of Advent, is Christ the King. The liturgical colour is white. But I shan’t be wearing a stole, and we’re not going to change the lectern frontal only to have to change it again to Advent purple next week. But for centuries, before the advent (unintended pun) of the RCL, today was known in the English-speaking world as “Stir up Sunday”. The soubriquet derives from the opening words of the  Collect for the Day in the 1662 Book of Common Prayer  (Document of blessèd memory 😊 ) "Stir up, we beseech thee, O Lord, the wills of thy faithful people; that they, plenteously bringing forth the fruit of good works, may of thee be plenteously rewarded; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen” And by tradition, it was when families gathered together in the kitchen to mix and steam Christmas pudding. Parents taught their children how to mix ingredients for the pudding. Everyone took a turn to stir the pudding mix an...

Before you tell me, I know it’s unhealthy, but I’m partial to sugar-free cola. Better still, no sugar and no caffeine. Coke and Pepsi both sell sugar-free, caffeine-free cola, but my preferred brand of Que doesn’t. Their sugar-free is half the price of the major brands, with no noticeable difference in taste. Being a small player, Que is pushed out of sight to the top shelf in Coles’ drinks section. Where I, also a small player and shrinking with each passing year, can’t reach. On Thursday, straining on tiptoe to grasp a carton, I pulled three down, scattering cans all over the aisle. And all over me. Remember the story in Acts 1 of Matthias being chosen to replace Judas as an apostle? “They drew lots, and the lot fell on Matthias” That was me, on Thursday. The lot fell on me.   You might think that’s a strange way to pick a new apostle, smacking as it does of gambling. But it was how the ancient people of Israel chose priests, musicians, many sacred offices. They viewed it as a me...

When I cook, I am an extravagant pourer of sauce, sprinkler of herbs, splasher of oil and wine. If a recipe says, ½ a clove of garlic, I’ll squeeze in two. If it calls for a tablespoon of red wine, well, clearly the cookery writer hasn’t got the foggiest, in goes a cupful. At least. What brought this to mind is the lovely old hymn “O, the deep deep love of Jesus, vast, unmeasured, boundless, free” to the equally lovely Welsh tune, Ebenezer. And what brought that to mind, is the prospect of a crab roll at Cardwell’s Café Vivia for morning coffee break en route to Presbytery in Innisfail on Friday (Friday just gone as you read this). Because I sit outside, gazing across the broad sweep of Hinchinbrook Passage and humming “Rolling like a mighty ocean, in its fullness over me”. Here's a great version of the hymn. God goes in for extravagance.  Remember the Sunday School chorus, “Running Over”? From Luke 6, “A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over …“  Of e...

The first thing I do in the morning (apart from the usual), after Leisa has brought my tea  🥰  is read email, then BBC (for world), ABC (for Australia) and the Townsville Bulletin (for local) news. Then Facebook and Twitter. All on my iPad. Did you know that iPads are mentioned several times in the Bible? Well, the generic term, tablet, which is what copycats like Android and Microsoft call their devices, ripped off from the original. The Ten Commandments on tablets of stone are most familiar, but the closest to how I use my tablet in those first moments of the morning pops up in Habakkuk 2:2: “Then the LORD replied: "Write down the revelation and make it plain on tablets so that a herald may run with it.” I mean that when I encounter an interesting snippet of news, or a Facebook update from a friend, or a funny tweet, I run out into the kitchen or bathroom or wherever Leisa is, holding my iPad and reading to Leisa from it. While what God via Habakkuk means is “Here, I have a...

I confess to a little conceit, which is invisible to all but Leisa. For most of my adult life, my handkerchiefs (for any pedants out there, handkerchieves as the plural is archaic) have borne the monogram, R. In the days when I wore suit jackets, I would sometimes sport a breast pocket handkerchief, coloured or patterned, to match my tie, but the monogram would be artfully hidden. What brought this to mind is that one of those very old handkerchiefs died during the week. It predates Leisa, is riddled with holes from overseas hotel laundry staple-tags, and is threadbare. It’s the first one which I have brought myself to throw away, though (reverently disposed is the preferred term).   There is an instance in the Bible of a handkerchief being associated with resurrection, new life, not  decay. The familiar story of Lazarus in John 11, you know it well: His sisters tell Jesus that if He had been there, their brother wouldn’t have died. And then when Jesus orders the stone to...

We haven’t had many COVID mask mandates in Townsville, but whenever one is promulgated (I wholeheartedly approve, by the way), three things happen. First, I forget that the measure is in force, walk masklessly up to Coles front door,  see a masked shopper emerging, utter an unpastoral imprecation - sotto voce, I hope - go back to the car and retrieve my mask. Second, when I try to scan the Queensland check in QR code, my phone won’t unlock because it doesn’t recognise my face with a mask. So I rummage through my ageing memory for the phone’s PIN. Third, when it’s time to pay, I can’t use Apple Pay because, you’ve guessed it, my face isn’t recognised. There are instances in the Bible of masks - or veils, same thing - being worn.  Exactly as in the Middle East today, women wore them for reasons of modesty and to indicate that only a husband or close male relative may see their unveiled face. I’m glad that Leisa wasn’t wearing a veil when I beheld her for the first time...

Harold Kushner is a Jewish rabbi who wrote When Bad Things Happen To Good People (Anchor paperback 2004). His 3yo son had been diagnosed with a degenerative disease which meant that he wouldn’t live beyond his early teens. It’s a go-to book for hospital chaplains, for anyone really who asks themselves why do bad things happen to good people? Which is all of us, I guess, asking that question. Kushner no more comes up with an answer which settles the question than anyone else has in the history of thought. But his book is still worth reading. He wrote from a Jewish perspective. Isaiah’s Suffering Servant (Ch 53) is the archetype of a blameless person suffering undeservedly. We interpret the chapter to allude to Christ, God’s sinless Son. The Jewish Wisdom story of Job shows us another archetype of undeserved suffering. Neither of these accounts gives us that elusive answer to the question, I’m afraid, but they do show us a God who suffers with us and who weeps with us. God’s pain, like o...