A Holy Meal

Just finished this marvelous little book, A Holy Meal: The Lord's Supper in the Life of the Church.
It is a brilliantly constructed, brief, insightful, holistic discussion of the significance of, what we at my church call, Holy Communion.
I think anyone would be hard pressed to find such an accessible and thorough treatment of the topic.
Smith takes time to explain the importance of the sacraments as symbols in the life of the church.

"Like a sign a sacrament points to another reality without necessarily looking like that reality. A sacrament is an external symbol that is visual an sensory, but its primary significance is that it is a gesture, a communal act, or a ritual that points to and enables a community to join together in something of spiritual significance. What is noteworthy is the close connection between the symbol and what is symbolized, so close, indeed, that in human speech they are identical, as with a photograph. I can hold up a picture of my grandsons and say, "These are my grandsons," and no one wonders whether I am confused by a little piece of coloured paper. We understand this kind of language; it is customary in our common life to use photographs and speak of symbols in this way. To take this kind of language literally would miss the point and would rob us of both the capacity to use language well and the wonderful gift of symbols. Without symbols our lives would be flat and one-dimensional. Symbols and sacraments enrich our lives, enabling us to engage spiritual reality with heart and mind, indeed, with our whole selves."*

He then proceeds to celebrate the meaning of this sacrament of the Lord's supper using 7 words; Memorial, Communion, Forgiveness, Covenant, Nourishment, Anticipation and Eucharist. Here is one of his lovely summary statements;

"When we celebrate the Lord's supper, the ascended Lord Jesus Christ himself is in our midst as one who will ultimately host us at the marriage supper of the Lamb. We believe in the "Real Presence," one might say. But as Jesus himself stresses, he is among us as one who serves. This is the wonder of this table. Jesus meets us and hosts a meal; he forgives us and feeds us. Through intimate communion and fellowship with him and with our sisters and brothers, we look back (in remembrance), but we also look ahead to the kingdom that is yet to come. We renew our baptismal identity and vows as people of the new covenant. And with hope we identify with the Lord himself, who is the servant of all."**

Excellent read.


* Gordon T. Smith. A Holy Meal: The Lord's Supper in the Life of the Church. pp24. Baker Academic, Michigan USA (2005).
**Gordon T. Smith. A Holy Meal: The Lord's Supper in the Life of the Church. pp98. Baker Academic, Michigan USA (2005).

Home

Isn't it great to feel comfortable somewhere; to feel secure and relaxed; to be grounded in a place and know your surroundings; to be familiar with the smell, colour, sounds.
I've been at home for a couple of days recently.
I know that on a sunny day I can lie on the bed and read in the afternoon and watch the trees sway in the breeze, see a couple of rosella's fly by and doze off for 20 minutes or more.

It's challenging to feel out of place; to be not at home; to be surrounded by the unfamiliar. You find yourself hyper-alert, forced to make uncomfortable decisions out of necessity.
I just started a new job this week; working with new people; in new places; with new expectations placed upon me.

It must be strange to be at home, but not at home at the same time.

Here's some thoughts from the Apostle Paul in 2 Corinthians 5:1-10.

"Now we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, an eternal house in heaven, not built by human hands. Meanwhile we groan, longing to be clothed with our heavenly dwelling, because when we are clothed, we will not be found naked. For while we are in this tent, we groan and are burdened, because we do not wish to be unclothed but to be clothed with our heavenly dwelling, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life. Now it is God who has made us for this very purpose and has given us the Spirit as a deposit, guaranteeing what is to come.

Therefore we are always confident and know that as long as we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord. We live by faith, not by sight. We are confident, I say, and would prefer to be away from the body and at home with the Lord. So we make it our goal to please him, whether we are at home in the body or away from it. For we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, that each one may receive what is due him for the things done while in the body, whether good or bad."


This reminds me of, tunes me into, the discordance that is part of our experience as Christians. Somedays I feel it intensely. Other days, I need to be encouraged not to forget it.

Top Five - Music Albums

I love music. There a great songs, there are great artists, and there are great albums; when all the songs combined create a tone, a shape, a feel that surpasses the achievement of each individual song.

Top five music albums I own.

1. U2 - The Joshua Tree.
2. Bruce Springsteen - Born to Run.
3. Miles Davis - Kind of Blue.
4. Norah Jones - Come Away with Me.
5. Bon Jovi - Slippery When Wet.




[I know this is cheating, but some others that could have made the list...
Oasis - What's the Story Morning Glory.
Pearl Jam - Verses.
Radiohead - The Bends.
Texas - White on Blonde.
Sting - Brand New Day.
Counting Crows - August and Everything After...]

Idol worship?

Check out this article - 'Ten slaps gag on Idol worship' - in the herald today. Most of you would be familiar with the 'Today/Tonight' segments exposing the so-called AOG church affiliations of the Australia idol finalists.
I quote from the article;

"After television reports suggested some finalists were being supported by a huge Christian voting audience, the makers of the show have tried to distance themselves from the issue.
Although no wrongdoing has been proved (most Idol contestants have huge communities supporting them, whether it be a country town or a church community) television chiefs are concerned about the effect of the stories on the "street cred" of the show."

Is it just me, or is this so typical of our secular-materialist society. Vocal community support of individuals in sport, music, the arts is widely praised unless it comes from a religious organisation. Then it is weird, subversive, conspiratorial. People have been taught to be paranoid about organised spirituality. Thoughts?

Underground

Big night last night.
I can't remember her name,
but her face lingers in my mind.
Another piece of me wrapped up
in our selfish history.
Another scar burned deep in my soul.

Big night last night.
I can't remember the place,
but the beat lingers in my mind
Another piece of me wrapped up
in the laserlight ecstasy.
Another scar formed deep in my soul.

We go round and round and round and round;
we're twisting through this underground.
Where it stops nobody knows,
and all the while destruction grows.
Round and round and round and round and...

Big night last night.
I can't remember the reasons,
but the pain lingers in my mind.
Another piece of me wrapped up
in our brokendown dependency.
Another scar burnt deep in my soul.

We go round and round and round and round;
we're twisting through this underground.
Where it stops nobody knows,
and all the while destruction grows.

Round and round and round and round;
we're ducking, weaving through this underground.
Where it stops nobody knows,
and all the while destruction grows

Ugly death

I write this post having just been involved in the care of an adolescent that died soon after coming to hospital. The experience is raw.

Having watched the life of a person extinguished before my eyes despite our attempts to save that life, I cry with the Psalmist,
"My heart pounds in my chest.
The terror of death assaults me."*

Having watched a family overwhelmed with grief clinging to the lifeless body of their loved one, I weep;
"...you have crushed us in the jackal’s desert home.
You have covered us with darkness and death."**

With the teacher, I am perplexed;
"I have seen everything in this meaningless life, including the death of good young people and the long life of wicked people."***

With the apostle, I exclaim,
"Oh, what a miserable person I am! Who will free me from this life that is dominated by sin and death?"
With sober joy, and sympathy for the lost, I trust;
"Thank God! The answer is in Jesus Christ our Lord."****

Like creation, I groan,
"...with eager hope, the creation looks forward to the day when it will join God’s children in glorious freedom from death and decay. For we know that all creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time."*****

And I wait;
"Then, when our dying bodies have been transformed into bodies that will never die, this Scripture will be fulfilled:
“Death is swallowed up in victory.
O death, where is your victory?
O death, where is your sting?”
For sin is the sting that results in death, and the law gives sin its power. But thank God! He gives us victory over sin and death through our Lord Jesus Christ."******




*Psalm 55:4.
**Psalm 44:19.
***Ecclesiates 7:15.
****Romans 7:24-25.
*****Romans 8:21-22.
******1 Corinthians 15:54-57.

To the last Ridge - IV

At the battle of Villers-Bretonneux. April, 1918.

"Several men arrived at a chateau on the outskirts of the town. It had belonged to a millionaire, and was regally furnished. There was an aviary in the grounds where birds from all parts of the world were kept. They were all dead - killed by the gas that the Germans had poured into the town before their attack. The men entered the chateau, found a billiard table, and with a typical gaiety began to play while bullets smacked through the window above their heads. They sniped the enemy through a hole in the wall between shots. One of them was pounding ragtime choruses on a grand piano."

To the Last Ridge, W.H Downing. p 123. Duffy and Snellgrove, Sydney (1998).

Top Five - Sydney Tourist Activities.

As a bit of light relief (and because I think it's fun) I'm going to start a new series called 'Top Fives'. It will be a broad ranging tour of things I think are good and will hopefully get you thinking about things you like (things to be thankful for?).

To Begin...


The Top Five Activities for tourists/visitors in Sydney.

1. Bronte to Bondi Walk.
2. Circular Quay to Manly Ferry.
3. Fish and Chips at Balmoral Beach.
4. Picnic in the Royal National Park at Wattmolla Beach.
5. Dinner then whatever's on at the Opera House.


You can see I have a bias for beaches...

Jerusalem, my happy home!

Jerusalem, my happy home!
Name ever dear to me;
When shall my labors have an end,
In joy, and peace, and thee?

When shall these eyes thy heaven built walls
And pearly gates behold?
Thy bulwarks, with salvation strong,
And streets of shining gold?

There happier bowers than Eden’s bloom,
Nor sin nor sorrow know:
Blest seats, through rude and stormy scenes,
I onward press to you.

Why should I shrink at pain and woe?
Or feel at death dismay?
I’ve Canaan’s goodly land in view,
And realms of endless day.

Apostles, martyrs, prophets there
Around my Savior stand;
And soon my friends in Christ below
Will join the glorious band.

Jerusalem, my happy home!
My soul still pants for thee;
Then shall my labors have an end,
When I thy joys shall see.

O Christ do Thou my soul prepare
For that bright home of love;
That I may see Thee and adore,
With all Thy saints above.



This hymn by Joseph Bromhead and was published in 'Psalms and Hymns for Public or Private Devotion' ( Brittania Press, Sheffield, 1795). Bromhead is thought to have been a Catholic priest who reportedly based the hymn on the writings of St. Augustine.

To the last Ridge - III

Of being shelled at Polygon Wood, the third battle of Ypres. September, 1917;

"By the red and flickering light of the sheelbursts men could be seen running and staggering, bent low. They dropped into what had been a trench, into shellholes, enduring, enduring with tautened faces, lying close to the ground, crouching as they burrowed for dear life with their entrenching tools, while the storm of steel wreaked its fury on tortured earth and tortured flesh. There were on all sides the groans and the waling of mangled men. A seargent ran around his platoon. He saw by the flashes bodies twisted and doubled and still, and dying men with eyeballs protruding and slightly wavering, blowing bubbles of blood from their lips as they breathed. Then the top of his skull was lifted from his forehead by a bullet, as on a hinge, and his body fell on two crouching men, washing them with his blood and brains. We were in the front line, but did not immediately know it. The din was frightful. A man with a blackened face and shattered arm ran bleeding towards the rear. A officer was seen in flashlights yelling in a corporal's ear. The answer was unheard. The corporal moved hither and thither, found what men he could, and motioned them forward. We stumbled from shellhole to shellhole by ones and twos with panting breath and shiny faces. One fell writhing. They disappeared in the flickering luminous smoke. The smell of burnt explosive was thick and pungent. Bodies, living and dead, were buried, tossed up and the torn fragments buried again."

To the Last Ridge, W.H Downing. p 76-77. Duffy and Snellgrove, Sydney (1998).