Anzac Day - how will we see peace?

Today is Anzac Day, the day Australians and New Zealanders remember the battle at Gallipoli, Turkey, and the many service men and women who have served their country, fallen, or survived with visible and invisible scars, and come together to pray for peace in our world. 

This morning at Christ Church, our message came from Bob, an ex-serviceman who flew helicopters in the Army in Korea and Vietnam, before becoming a minister in the Uniting Church. He's retired from that too, now, but continues to serve defence force, church and the general community with passion and energy. Bob and Jenny have been involved with the Esther Project from the early days, bringing their passion for story, faith and creativity, and considerable gifts of love, joy and friendship. 

Bob's message addressed a question he is often asked - how, as a Christian person, could you fight in a war? Well, we can pray, we can call for others to help, and then pray, or we can act. If we don't believe in an interventionist God, we must act for our neighbour in distress. This is the message in the life, teaching, death and resurrection of Jesus. This is how we will see peace in our world. It is the task of all of us. 

Lest we forget. 

Taize at Pilgrim

Friends from The Esther Project, Julia and Michelle, are involved with a new ecumenical worship community gathering for Taize style prayer at Pilgrim Church in Adelaide. 

I am yet to make it along, but am looking forward to participating in a gathering very soon. 

Their blog is here - keep in touch with this community's story, join them for worship, a meal, and friendship. 

See, it is possible ...

Today we spent the last day of our Victorian holiday at the Tahbilk Estate Winery. The Cellar was built there in 1860, and there's a lot of history in that place. There are wines you can purchase from vines planted in 1860, 1927, the wines have won hundreds of awards over the years, on open days you can see a museum that is on the property, and there is an elegant memorial to the people have lost their lives on that land, from Indigenous Australians in the early years of white settlement, to workers in various accidents and health conditions. 

The vineyards are extensive, and you drive through a lot of them to get to the cellar door tasting and cafe. It's a little removed from the rest of the world, and you feel yourself slowing down as you enter the atmosphere of the place. 

The wines were very nice, and my dad and uncle even purchased a bottle each of the 1860 vine shiraz ... I particularly liked the semillon and the sparkling wines. 

Then we had lunch in the cafe, on the bank of the wetlands. This is part of the winery's move to a carbon footprint of zero. Yes, zero. They have been working towards it for some time, but have made the significant commitment to a responsible relationship with their environment and are now a carbon neutral business. The wetlands are part of some university research projects, too, I think, including research into the impact introduced carp have on native fish and ecosystems. 

Now there's a winery you can feel good about supporting! 

art and community

Today I was in Benalla. We spent time in the art gallery, where I saw more of the Australian Impressionists & the Heidleberg School, which was great. Then we went across the lake to the museum and saw collections of women's dress from the 19th and early 20th century (love it!), and a really good history of the bicycle, which is appropriate given that one of our premier cyclists comes from Benalla (Bayden Cook). 

They also had exhibitions on Ned Kelly and Weary Dunlop, both associated with Benalla or the region. 

Then I went over to a community art project that caught my interest. I'm not sure that the aesthetics of it captured me as much as the idea of it. This is a project that has involved local artists, architects and students. I took many photos, hoping to capture something of the project that might be inspirational for me and communities in which I serve in future. Art has such fantastic power to unite, to bring people together, to inspire the fullness of humanity, to create community. That's what I saw in this installation, though I'm not sure I necessarily saw art that I liked for the sake of the art ... 

making space

today's outing was to Echuca, which used to be one of the biggest ports in Australia, and I think the biggest inland port. It's on the Murray River, and is now not an active port for trade and produce, but it is a wonderful tourist destination. We were there out of school holiday time, so the mood was relaxed, though there was by no means a ghost town feel. We wandered down Port Echuca, which has old buildings, no cars, restaurants, and booking offices for the paddle steamers. There are some of the oldest paddle steamers in the world operating from Echuca, and we saw one which had burnt to the water years ago, and over the past 10 years has had millions spent on it to restore it very faithfully to its era. 

We took a one and a half hour cruise on a paddle steamer, and though there wasn't much to see, it was wonderful primarily for the slow pace, for the relaxing over a glass of wine, the fresh air and friendly smiles and waves of passengers on passing steamers. 

We entered into the story of the river, the traders, and an ex-convict who set up a punt on which he carried the stock of farmers across the river until the river flooded and they set up a punt on a higher part of the river bank. We saw the mark on a bridge at the height of a 20th century flood - and noted with dismay that it's been a long time since the water was any where near that level. The river has water in it, and it seems the Victorians are happy with their situation (sorry, don't want to be bitter, but I live at the other end of the river) with the weirs maintaining a helpful level of water for them. But my parents and I have noticed that there are many creeks and rivers through Victoria without water, and some with - those with appear to be the ones not used for irrigation. We were disappointed with the number of fields utilising open flooding, and the open irrigation canals. The technology for better water management is available, why are farmers not being resourced and encouraged to use it? 

oh, dear, this was going to be a post about making space, and it's turned into a rant about water (mis)management. sorry. 

the other reason I was thinking about making space is that I've been doing some work on the worship resources for Advent for Seasons of the Spirit. I've been wondering about how we might equip our congregations for making space in the midst of the busyness that accompanies Christmas and end of year celebrations and preparations. What would it be like to establish a retreat space in the church? or to encourage families to establish a retreat space in their homes? might Christian community have something to offer from our tradition in the way of prayer, silence, meditation - stillness? And how might this gift enhance life for people caught on the treadmill of busyness, noise, endless movement? 

Sunnymeade garden

I'm on holidays in Victoria this week, and just had a fabulous day catching up with a mutual friend of my parents' mine, Charlene. We had lunch in Euroa, and because we had arrived a bit early, mum and I got to check out a shop called the Naturally Made Store, at which I purchased a bangle with a Degas art feature. Lunch was in the lovely garden of The Pickled Olive, among beautiful red roses. 

Then we went to check out an open garden that Charlene had heard about, just outside of Strathbogie. Driving through the area, it's very reminiscent of Scotland, in the names of towns and roads and also the rocky countryside. Gorgeous area.

As we drove there we moved from straight flat country roads to a windy climb through hills, where the trees closed in and the undergrowth grew thicker, which always makes me feel as though I'm entering a magica

l otherworld. 

Then we reached the garden, which is fabulous - a series of garden rooms with different themes, features like statues, structures, ponds, topiaries, hedges. Everywhere you turned there was something to look at, something to draw you on, a path to lead you to the next room. 

It was a wonderful couple of hours of wonder and awe at the creativity and artistry of the gardener, who works at the garden full time. 

Sunnymeade garden is only open four times a year, and is tucked away off the main roads. We would not have gone there if our friend hadn't invited us, and we were delighted to have been shown this remarkable work of art. 

I love my job

I just updated my facebook status with Sarah 'loves my job'. 

And I do, as much as being the leader of The Esther Project is a 'job', or being a minister / biblical storyteller is a job (I tend to find it more helpful to think of it in terms of vocation or way of life, since in this role, the boundaries between 'work' and 'play' are so often blurred ...) 

Anyway, as I drove home from the Easter Day service at Christ Church this morning, that's what I was thinking, that I love my job. What I love is that in telling the stories of the anointing of Jesus, Jesus' washing of his disciples' feet, his arrest, the trials, crucifixion, and resurrection, I have had the privilege of inviting people to encounter these pivotal stories of their faith in Jesus, their relationship with God, in new, fresh, ways, so that they may be transformed once again by the story, by God's reconciling love and grace. I don't say it glibly, either, that it is a privilege. I honestly feel that it is a privilege to be there in the story with people as it moves them, stirs their hearts their souls, brings tears to their eyes, brings hard stories and joyful stories from their lives to the surface. I am honoured that God would ask me to do this for God's people. I am thrilled to, at last, after much searching, have found the vocation, the way of life that brings my ecclectic eccentric gifts together, when for so long I felt as though they pulled me in different directions almost tearing me apart and becoming more curse than gift. 

And I have been moved by the stories myself, once again. 

Thursday's space with the Esther Project was odd for me, one of those times when I had clearly done my work through the reflections in the preparation of it, and found myself somewhat distant from it as I led others through the reflections. But the buzz of conversation after, the drying tears on people's cheeks, and the feelings people shared with me, assured me that the Spirit continued to work through these words, the silence, the song, the people. It was an incredibly collaborative process, which was such a joy and is one of the many things I value in the Esther Project's way of living and being in community. 

Friday was quite moving for me. I told the story of Jesus's arrest, trial and crucifixion as it appears in the Gospel of John. Towards the end of the first part, I had invited three men to represent Jesus and the soldiers at the cross, so Phil carried red and black material across his shoulders as the cross (there was a cross standing in the centre of the worship space already); Ken and Don, the 'soldiers', took the material off his shoulders and draped it over the cross and Phil fell to his knees. As I narrated Jesus' words to the beloved disciple and his mother, Phil gestured with his hands ... and he bowed his head as I narrated Jesus bowing his head and dying. 

For the second part, John and I narrated Joseph of Arameathea and Mary taking the body of Jesus and laying it in the tomb, with some music in the background. We carried a white shroud to the cross, laid it out, lifted the red and black material off the cross, wrapped it in the white, carried that to an alcove that Christ Church has, and laid it in there. As I carried the material, I felt the weight of Jesus's death, not as I have in a past more conservative community as my guilt at having put Jesus on the cross, but the sorrow of Mary and his followers at losing this important person in their life, their bewilderment, sense of lost hope ... 

And this morning I was Mary, recounting her experience of Jesus resurrected, and Thomas, telling his story of unbelief and belief. 

I have been telling the stories from the Gospels throughout Lent, and these past six weeks, and this weekend, have been such a gift from Sean and the Christ Church community, enabling me to continue to reflect on the stories themselves, but also on the role of story in our communities of faith, and to continue to discover the power of story to move us and to reveal God to us. I am more committed than ever to the pursuit of ways to help all people who communicate the biblical story to communicate it from their heart, not just the page or their head, so as to communicate not simply the plot and characters, but meaning and invitation.