School holidays are supposed to be fun. The kiwi response is the laconic “yeah right”, an economical statement which incorporates a bit of cynicism and a realism that characterises the New Zealand way. The weather in Wellington has been shocking. Windy and miserable in the extreme, the capital city has been virtually abandoned through the high season, and rightly so. Now that work has started again in the commercial world, the roads are not that deserted as they were. My own children spent the New Year in various locations. I guess we are getting ourselves ready to some extent for the empty nest phase. There is some ambivalence in this position of course. So much of what we are and what we have done has focussed on our offspring.
I am due to begin my fifth year at the College where I work in April. A wise man I know said recently that there is probably only room for one Chaplaincy in a ministry. The word “ministry” here only makes sense for those who are ministers – pastors in the biblical sense. Most of my work has been spent in church communities – “congregations” is what we used to call them. Here the Presbyterians use the word “parish” which is a dated and outmoded word really, as the concept of parish borders has long died (together with Mr Plod and the local Vicar visiting people in a specific area on a bicycle). The four years of full time school work have been very different, driven by bells and programmes in the extreme, and the desire to please the paying people, the parents of a private school who expect results. Church work is different – the customers are volunteers - and how does one keep volunteers focussed? There are no exams, no career plans at stake, no obsession with results and image. In the local church one can only hope that vision, passion, and enthusiasm will drive people along.
The truth is that the local churches in the traditional churches in New Zealand – certainly in the Presbyterian family – seem to be fading. A brief look at the statistics recently published show many smaller congregations fading away. The most glaring absence – children. And in many cases people under 60! The kiwi way, fiercely independent, has also become seriously secular. Whatever we say about post-modern manifestations of worship, with their DIY manifestations and new definitions of traditional terms (which may in fact manifest post-Christian tendencies but at least are an attempt to be more relevant), people are not that committed to institutions, and have not been for some decades. In Presbyterian terms, people resent a top-heavy system and the paying of any kinds of fees into a centralised black hole. The denomination in which I serve is trying to refocus its mission, and restructure its regional bodies in order to face the future. The changes are not being well received as people are naturally resistant to change where no benefit is offered. Consumers….
The truth is that without a vision for reaching others with the good news, the Church will stagnate and die away. It remains one of the few, or only, organisations that exists for its “not-yet” members. And here, at the beginning of the New Year, I find myself reflecting on choices and options for my future. Should I carry on working in a place where I don’t really fit (the mandatory or obligatory and “token” Presbyterian) – or should I more into “parish” ministry again? The local church, where it works, is the most wonderful place of hope and renewal. Where it doesn’t work, the local church can be a very dreary and sad place, where people hold on too tight to what they have, not realising that the boat is in fact sinking, or the tide is rising (if they prefer a landlubber’s metaphor).
My hope in the local church has been revitalised by our membership of a local church that does work. It’s not a perfect church – there is none. But it is a place where difference is accommodated – while Jesus remains at the centre. “All Saints” is a good place to be. There is a sense of God’s presence – and expectation, and a meeting with the Divine. That openness to renewal and to the power of the Holy Spirit is key to this life. That’s what I miss in chapel at school. There are moments few and far between where there is that sense of Presence.
“Presence” has to be redefined in the context of the school where I work. My own presence, and that of other Christians, has to remind people of a different way of seeing the world. This presence can be an isolating experience, especially where one is the sole prophetic voice at times. That ministry of “presence” of course is not the pre-requisite of paid ministers. It is the ministry of the “laity” (an unfortunate term implying lack of knowledge) – the ministry of every Christian.
The new decade is a time of grace – in a sense each day is a day of grace in which we are allowed to start again. New beginnings are great – we can offload the rubbish we have collected along the way, and ask God to help us re-frame the story of our lives. I have enjoyed a brief time of Epiphany – the celebration of the light of Christ shining into the hearts of the gentiles (which incorporates most of us - unless of course you are Jewish). May we be wise to seek the child Jesus – who confounded the powerful by surrender of all that he was to become one of us.
I will wait for the Lord. Wait on the Lord if you like, but I prefer the former as it is the Lord who acts. At best we respond to His working in our lives, in prayer and in praise; in worship – in the full sense of service.
May the new decade be a new beginning of some sorts for you – perhaps the best beginning would be the risk of an invitation to God to enter your world again – to shine new light on your circumstances, your thoughts, your hopes and your dreams.
Come, Lord Jesus.
Wednesday, 6 January 2010
Monday, 21 December 2009
Christmas in New Zealand
It's a Southern Hemisphere thing, Christmas in New Zealand. Snow is not entirely impossible of course. On 27 December 1897 there was some snow low on the hills near Masterton, which is really part of greater Wellington. And on 13 December in 1872 a Mrs Snow sailed from Wellington to Napier on the St Kilda, a 91 ton vessel. I guess that the probability of a white Christmas is somewhat remote. We look at our European and American cousins and breath a sigh of relief. The non-occurence of snow here is re-enforced by the fact that a local choir Nota Bene produced an evening of entertainment called "A Snow-free Christmas" about which a local critic quipped "nothing new there".
So we are gearing up towards a fairly Yuley Christmas - without the Yule log but with the pleasure of a hot meal that does not kill you from heat fatigue in the kitchen while cooking. In Africa an annual collapse of just a nature led us to go for cold gammon and salads for some years while melting like snow in the hot humid east coast climate. At least here it is cool enough to eat hot!
In short we are fairly well prepared. Armed with various delicacies and goodies waiting for their demise (waiting in the fridge or freezer) we wait. And what is this waiting for? Anticipation of the secrets hidden under Christmas wrapping? Children wait for this. We are still children in part - it is actually quite nice ripping open the presents even when you know what they are and probably wrapped them yourself.
Waiting - for those special services at church - the candles and traditional warm songs and words - the readings that take you back to your youth and childhood - the songs of angels and the persistence of foreign travellers following a star.
Waiting - for a chance to be with family and friends again - knowing that some family you may never see again anyway. Yay for facebook - at least we see one another and share a cyber-Christmas.
Advent - the Christian season we are enjoying - is about anticipation and expectation - looking to God to breakthrough again into a troubled world. A whole lot of preachers will produce profound new angles on this (yes angles not angels). Some will look for new stories to re-tell the Christmas thing in a far too secular fashion. How sad that we can reduce the angels' words to some form of contemporary nursery rhyme or folk tale.
The angels are key to all of this. They are literally messengers. They bring eu-angelion - ευαγγελιον - good message, a good announcement.
So my Christmas wish to you is simple. There is good news. We need to be good news - just as Christ is God incarnate - literally God in-flesh, we need to be in Christ and Christ in us - living examples of Jesus who encapsulates the good news. It's not just his birth that was good news to humble shepherds (who by the way told people very quickly what had happened!!). His life is good news - a second Adam, a real prototype for the rest of us not to be cloned into his image, but transformed into his likeness! (But we all, with our face having been unveiled, having beheld the glory of the Lord as in a mirror, are being changed into the same image from glory to glory, even as by the Lord Spirit. 2 Corinthians 3:18)
Has this good news grabbed your heart and captured your imagination? At school we have a chapel-ianity, where I fear too many miss the point. A Friday going-through-the-motions. If only they would hear -and yes they may hear still. This good news is drastic, dramatic, and requiring daring response. Listen to the words of an aging prophet who saw the baby Jesus: "And Simeon blessed them and said to Mary His mother, Behold, this One is set for the fall and rising again of many in Israel, and for a sign spoken against." (Luke 2:34)
The gospel life was the life He lived. The gospel death was the death that he died, a death in which he reached out to absorb all death and danger, and dread which drives men and women to hide away from life's challenges in depression and desperation - or to end their own lives in horrible ways. His gospel death absorbed the pain of suffering and sickness, and the septic influence of selfishness and sin. His gospel resurrection vindicated God's "yes" to life and Jesus' faith expressed in self-emptying and surrender to the grave.
The gospel Jesus brings hope - and greater expectation of a new future. A good message.
For goodness sake, go somewhere this Christmas where you will hear this gospel - a fresh reminder of the light of the world shining in our darknesses.
A very blessed Christmas - may the good news re-enliven your heart and re-capture your imagination. Wait on this God - for He is still near. God with us.
our love in Jesus,
Robin
So we are gearing up towards a fairly Yuley Christmas - without the Yule log but with the pleasure of a hot meal that does not kill you from heat fatigue in the kitchen while cooking. In Africa an annual collapse of just a nature led us to go for cold gammon and salads for some years while melting like snow in the hot humid east coast climate. At least here it is cool enough to eat hot!
In short we are fairly well prepared. Armed with various delicacies and goodies waiting for their demise (waiting in the fridge or freezer) we wait. And what is this waiting for? Anticipation of the secrets hidden under Christmas wrapping? Children wait for this. We are still children in part - it is actually quite nice ripping open the presents even when you know what they are and probably wrapped them yourself.
Waiting - for those special services at church - the candles and traditional warm songs and words - the readings that take you back to your youth and childhood - the songs of angels and the persistence of foreign travellers following a star.
Waiting - for a chance to be with family and friends again - knowing that some family you may never see again anyway. Yay for facebook - at least we see one another and share a cyber-Christmas.
Advent - the Christian season we are enjoying - is about anticipation and expectation - looking to God to breakthrough again into a troubled world. A whole lot of preachers will produce profound new angles on this (yes angles not angels). Some will look for new stories to re-tell the Christmas thing in a far too secular fashion. How sad that we can reduce the angels' words to some form of contemporary nursery rhyme or folk tale.
The angels are key to all of this. They are literally messengers. They bring eu-angelion - ευαγγελιον - good message, a good announcement.
So my Christmas wish to you is simple. There is good news. We need to be good news - just as Christ is God incarnate - literally God in-flesh, we need to be in Christ and Christ in us - living examples of Jesus who encapsulates the good news. It's not just his birth that was good news to humble shepherds (who by the way told people very quickly what had happened!!). His life is good news - a second Adam, a real prototype for the rest of us not to be cloned into his image, but transformed into his likeness! (But we all, with our face having been unveiled, having beheld the glory of the Lord as in a mirror, are being changed into the same image from glory to glory, even as by the Lord Spirit. 2 Corinthians 3:18)
Has this good news grabbed your heart and captured your imagination? At school we have a chapel-ianity, where I fear too many miss the point. A Friday going-through-the-motions. If only they would hear -and yes they may hear still. This good news is drastic, dramatic, and requiring daring response. Listen to the words of an aging prophet who saw the baby Jesus: "And Simeon blessed them and said to Mary His mother, Behold, this One is set for the fall and rising again of many in Israel, and for a sign spoken against." (Luke 2:34)
The gospel life was the life He lived. The gospel death was the death that he died, a death in which he reached out to absorb all death and danger, and dread which drives men and women to hide away from life's challenges in depression and desperation - or to end their own lives in horrible ways. His gospel death absorbed the pain of suffering and sickness, and the septic influence of selfishness and sin. His gospel resurrection vindicated God's "yes" to life and Jesus' faith expressed in self-emptying and surrender to the grave.
The gospel Jesus brings hope - and greater expectation of a new future. A good message.
For goodness sake, go somewhere this Christmas where you will hear this gospel - a fresh reminder of the light of the world shining in our darknesses.
A very blessed Christmas - may the good news re-enliven your heart and re-capture your imagination. Wait on this God - for He is still near. God with us.
our love in Jesus,
Robin
Sunday, 4 October 2009
A view from the ends of the earth
Moving to New Zealand has got to be one of the craziest things we ever did. Emigration was never really our intention or desire. I'm not sure how it really started. So many people plan this for years - researching options and possibilities, and counting the cost in every possible way. I used to joke about it - not in a disparaging way. People from our home country have all kinds of reasons for moving on. Many suffered various forms of trauma. Some ran from South Africa anticipating the inevitable changes that were needed and right as democracy eventually arrived. I joked about the idea of New Zealand because I was a shepherd - a pastor, and would quip that there were too many sheep on these islands. Then it all happened and we were on our way. Looking back it all seems surreal now.
We were enticed by family in one sense. They seemed to be drifting over towards this part of the world for their own reasons. Some have come here and gone back. They didn't get the permanent residence required. Others have thrived and been drawn into the kiwi way – the life of peace and the safe suburban way.
The kiwi way. I’m still not sure what that really is. It is inspired by All Black success – and when the national team fails people shudder and mention quietly that domestic violence increases after an All Black rugby loss. It has a peculiar passive-aggressive flavour. A nation which stands for egalitarianism and fair play, with great consumer rights and a pleasant socialist flavour that keeps one paid when unemployment persists (with some requirements attached of course like actually looking for work and developing skills) – remains a little tentative about its raison d'être. It is a dominion – with a Governor General, and the Queen at the helm, and few blatant republicans. And curiously we were able to vote in a new government not long ago – a National government. Imagine us voting NP!
In March we will celebrate four years on these islands. We haven’t captured the essence of the kiwi way. It is a slippery customer. Something reserved like the English – with an added colonial zest and DIY ingenuity. I grasp something of the young peoples’ essence, working with them. They’re much like the South African kids I worked with in Port Shepstone – energetic, intelligent, and great fun. They have such a great passion for the future, and laugh a lot in the present about how silly adults can be.
The fault lines below Wellington were never spoken of when we planned this move in 2005. Like the kiwi way they are invisible and a bit unpredictable. In fact there was a sign on one of the main roads indicating that the fault line was right there – until last year. It seems they took the sign down because they aren’t sure where the fault is any more.
The jolting of earthquakes is terrifying. The last one that really shocked us was just 25km south of Wellington. It sounded like a freight train hitting the house at 2 in the morning. This last week earthquakes have caused devastation across a wide range or communities with untold death and destruction. Our Samoan neighbours are mourning as are New Zealand families whose dear ones went away on holiday and have to be brought back for burial.
The picture of our Prime Minister standing in mourning with local folk in Samoa is a deeply warm one and reveals another facet of this intriguing people. There is, despite the frozen English legacy, a warmth and compassion and a genuine kindness and generosity when it comes to these kinds of disasters. There are wonderful New Zealanders who give time and money to make a difference in the lives of others. My hope is that the boys I work with will take up the challenge to do a different OE year – on another continent and for different reasons from the usual fun and games – to continue the amazing work of peacemaking and kindness that is a rich manifestation of the kiwi way.
I am happy to celebrate the craziness of our move to these wobbly islands. The world is rich and diverse, and despite the trauma of our journey over these nearly four years, I have been greatly enriched along the way.
As a final coment - like the fault lines, all the nations across the planet have deeper aspects of their history and ethos. One can never really know the whole story, and one can all too easily make assumptions on the basis of what you see. Tomorrow we will continue to walk around this capital city, trusting that things will not fall down about us. You just never know, of course.
We were enticed by family in one sense. They seemed to be drifting over towards this part of the world for their own reasons. Some have come here and gone back. They didn't get the permanent residence required. Others have thrived and been drawn into the kiwi way – the life of peace and the safe suburban way.
The kiwi way. I’m still not sure what that really is. It is inspired by All Black success – and when the national team fails people shudder and mention quietly that domestic violence increases after an All Black rugby loss. It has a peculiar passive-aggressive flavour. A nation which stands for egalitarianism and fair play, with great consumer rights and a pleasant socialist flavour that keeps one paid when unemployment persists (with some requirements attached of course like actually looking for work and developing skills) – remains a little tentative about its raison d'être. It is a dominion – with a Governor General, and the Queen at the helm, and few blatant republicans. And curiously we were able to vote in a new government not long ago – a National government. Imagine us voting NP!
In March we will celebrate four years on these islands. We haven’t captured the essence of the kiwi way. It is a slippery customer. Something reserved like the English – with an added colonial zest and DIY ingenuity. I grasp something of the young peoples’ essence, working with them. They’re much like the South African kids I worked with in Port Shepstone – energetic, intelligent, and great fun. They have such a great passion for the future, and laugh a lot in the present about how silly adults can be.
The fault lines below Wellington were never spoken of when we planned this move in 2005. Like the kiwi way they are invisible and a bit unpredictable. In fact there was a sign on one of the main roads indicating that the fault line was right there – until last year. It seems they took the sign down because they aren’t sure where the fault is any more.
The jolting of earthquakes is terrifying. The last one that really shocked us was just 25km south of Wellington. It sounded like a freight train hitting the house at 2 in the morning. This last week earthquakes have caused devastation across a wide range or communities with untold death and destruction. Our Samoan neighbours are mourning as are New Zealand families whose dear ones went away on holiday and have to be brought back for burial.
The picture of our Prime Minister standing in mourning with local folk in Samoa is a deeply warm one and reveals another facet of this intriguing people. There is, despite the frozen English legacy, a warmth and compassion and a genuine kindness and generosity when it comes to these kinds of disasters. There are wonderful New Zealanders who give time and money to make a difference in the lives of others. My hope is that the boys I work with will take up the challenge to do a different OE year – on another continent and for different reasons from the usual fun and games – to continue the amazing work of peacemaking and kindness that is a rich manifestation of the kiwi way.
I am happy to celebrate the craziness of our move to these wobbly islands. The world is rich and diverse, and despite the trauma of our journey over these nearly four years, I have been greatly enriched along the way.
As a final coment - like the fault lines, all the nations across the planet have deeper aspects of their history and ethos. One can never really know the whole story, and one can all too easily make assumptions on the basis of what you see. Tomorrow we will continue to walk around this capital city, trusting that things will not fall down about us. You just never know, of course.
Saturday, 5 September 2009
Father's Day
Father's day in my home country was always in June - usually quite close to my dad's birthday. It provided a useful and economical day for joint gifts - much like my birthday in December ("we got you this real bargain, and it's a JOINT present for your birthday and Christmas! Aren't you LUCKY!").
Here we are enjoying Father's day in September. A bit odd in one way, but hey it's Spring. New life abounds on these islands in Spring - and soon we will have daylight saving which will give us more time after work to enjoy the sun!
The family had lunch together for Father's day. It was nice to be together (we do all live under the same roof of course but at times are lax about eating at the table at the same time as each other). Lot's of laughter and joking which was really nice, and chocolate brownies which helped us recover from the chicken recipe's large dose of chillies.
The best thing this morning was the worship and ministry time at church - the focus was on healing and there was time for healing ministry and people available at different places in the church to pray for others. It is neat, as they say here (and "sweet") that our Heavenly father knows our needs in great detail. The lady who prayed for me was a South African (ubiquitous as we are) and she had a Psalm for me which was a kind of take-away at the end. The whole of Psalm 40 is powerful. The first verses reminded me of my sons learning scripture at Liberty Christian college in Witbank - this memory verse was one we all had sorted:
Psa 40: 1 I waited patiently for the LORD; he inclined to me and heard my cry.
Psa 40:2 He drew me up from the desolate pit, out of the miry bog, and set my feet upon a rock, making my steps secure.
Psa 40:3 He put a new song in my mouth, a song of praise to our God. Many will see and fear, and put their trust in the LORD.
There have been many losses since coming to these islands. I know in my heart of hearts that God will restore what we need in our deepest places of grief and separation. The losses are not primarily of identity, but at a deeper level through trauma and pain. There will be a new song in our mouths. That process has begun already. The Psalm goes on to say:
Psa 40:9 I have told the glad news of deliverance in the great congregation; see, I have not restrained my lips, as you know, O LORD.
Psa 40:10 I have not hidden your saving help within my heart, I have spoken of your faithfulness and your salvation; I have not concealed your steadfast love and your faithfulness from the great congregation.
We don't have a great congregation, but certainly have a great assembly at which to proclaim the faithfulness of the Lord! And we do and will continue to.
We continue to trust the Lord for his guidance and provision as a family! With the Psalmist we continue to say - You are my help and my deliverer; do not delay, O my God.
Here we are enjoying Father's day in September. A bit odd in one way, but hey it's Spring. New life abounds on these islands in Spring - and soon we will have daylight saving which will give us more time after work to enjoy the sun!
The family had lunch together for Father's day. It was nice to be together (we do all live under the same roof of course but at times are lax about eating at the table at the same time as each other). Lot's of laughter and joking which was really nice, and chocolate brownies which helped us recover from the chicken recipe's large dose of chillies.
The best thing this morning was the worship and ministry time at church - the focus was on healing and there was time for healing ministry and people available at different places in the church to pray for others. It is neat, as they say here (and "sweet") that our Heavenly father knows our needs in great detail. The lady who prayed for me was a South African (ubiquitous as we are) and she had a Psalm for me which was a kind of take-away at the end. The whole of Psalm 40 is powerful. The first verses reminded me of my sons learning scripture at Liberty Christian college in Witbank - this memory verse was one we all had sorted:
Psa 40: 1 I waited patiently for the LORD; he inclined to me and heard my cry.
Psa 40:2 He drew me up from the desolate pit, out of the miry bog, and set my feet upon a rock, making my steps secure.
Psa 40:3 He put a new song in my mouth, a song of praise to our God. Many will see and fear, and put their trust in the LORD.
There have been many losses since coming to these islands. I know in my heart of hearts that God will restore what we need in our deepest places of grief and separation. The losses are not primarily of identity, but at a deeper level through trauma and pain. There will be a new song in our mouths. That process has begun already. The Psalm goes on to say:
Psa 40:9 I have told the glad news of deliverance in the great congregation; see, I have not restrained my lips, as you know, O LORD.
Psa 40:10 I have not hidden your saving help within my heart, I have spoken of your faithfulness and your salvation; I have not concealed your steadfast love and your faithfulness from the great congregation.
We don't have a great congregation, but certainly have a great assembly at which to proclaim the faithfulness of the Lord! And we do and will continue to.
We continue to trust the Lord for his guidance and provision as a family! With the Psalmist we continue to say - You are my help and my deliverer; do not delay, O my God.
Wednesday, 1 July 2009
The Quad - Easter 2009
Easter - hope springs eternal
I met an amazing man recently who had come over to Wellington for a short break. It was more like a time of recuperation. Do you remember the novels you read at school? Often people went to the seaside, or across to the continent (in those very English books) for health reasons.
Coming to Wellington was meant to be a tonic for him. He has some family here. His immediate family, sadly, died in the recent bush fires in the State of Victoria - his wife and his fifteen and thirteen year old children. Children the same age as the secondary students we see charging around the place each day at Scots.
This man came to church to connect with people of common faith and vision. It was a humbling experience to meet him. I had a great sense of admiration that he was standing there, sharing such a deep loss with me. He seemed so grateful for the ministry that had been offered. He was encouraging and full of faith. He was reflecting on what to do with the life – his life - that had been spared.
For many of us, life seems easy sailing. Others, however, experience the most devastating troubles and challenges. From the depths of our very being, through courage and often through faith, we seem to find the resources to cope, and to remain hopeful about the future.
As the celebration of Easter approaches in the Christian church, the season of Lent is a time when people deliberately go without ordinary things – a particular favourite food or drink, or a pleasure they may enjoy. The purpose of these disciplines it to focus the mind on the greatest sacrifice - the death of Christ Jesus on the cross
Now I know that our children (and we too, I suspect) are rather fond of the chocolate eggs and hot cross buns that come at Easter. But there is a deeper message of hope and new life. Christ’s example of courage in the face of what was clearly an unwarranted punishment and execution speaks of hope too – He entrusted His life to the Creator in the hope of resurrection, a fundamental pillar of the Christian faith.
Easter of course is a northern hemisphere celebration that coincides with spring.
The writer Alexander Pope who gave the English language phrases like “For fools rush in where angels fear to tread” also produced this: “Hope springs eternal in the human breast.” Optimism, hopefulness, faith and confidence are all important in our human journey. Perhaps gratitude is the most important. When things are tough, we are never alone. The Easter message is about hope. May you be blessed and supported in whatever challenge you may face at this time.
Rev Robin Palmer
I met an amazing man recently who had come over to Wellington for a short break. It was more like a time of recuperation. Do you remember the novels you read at school? Often people went to the seaside, or across to the continent (in those very English books) for health reasons.
Coming to Wellington was meant to be a tonic for him. He has some family here. His immediate family, sadly, died in the recent bush fires in the State of Victoria - his wife and his fifteen and thirteen year old children. Children the same age as the secondary students we see charging around the place each day at Scots.
This man came to church to connect with people of common faith and vision. It was a humbling experience to meet him. I had a great sense of admiration that he was standing there, sharing such a deep loss with me. He seemed so grateful for the ministry that had been offered. He was encouraging and full of faith. He was reflecting on what to do with the life – his life - that had been spared.
For many of us, life seems easy sailing. Others, however, experience the most devastating troubles and challenges. From the depths of our very being, through courage and often through faith, we seem to find the resources to cope, and to remain hopeful about the future.
As the celebration of Easter approaches in the Christian church, the season of Lent is a time when people deliberately go without ordinary things – a particular favourite food or drink, or a pleasure they may enjoy. The purpose of these disciplines it to focus the mind on the greatest sacrifice - the death of Christ Jesus on the cross
Now I know that our children (and we too, I suspect) are rather fond of the chocolate eggs and hot cross buns that come at Easter. But there is a deeper message of hope and new life. Christ’s example of courage in the face of what was clearly an unwarranted punishment and execution speaks of hope too – He entrusted His life to the Creator in the hope of resurrection, a fundamental pillar of the Christian faith.
Easter of course is a northern hemisphere celebration that coincides with spring.
The writer Alexander Pope who gave the English language phrases like “For fools rush in where angels fear to tread” also produced this: “Hope springs eternal in the human breast.” Optimism, hopefulness, faith and confidence are all important in our human journey. Perhaps gratitude is the most important. When things are tough, we are never alone. The Easter message is about hope. May you be blessed and supported in whatever challenge you may face at this time.
Rev Robin Palmer
From the Quad - the end of 2008 - a reflection on life
There is a children’s song you may well remember about a certain Duke from York who marched ten thousand men up a hill and then down again. At one point in the song the weary troops were only half way up, an experience described by the song writer as “neither up nor down”. The song is said to refer to one or more dukes who did badly in battle. It appears to have developed as a kind of post-battle mockery, deriding the hapless military commander (whichever one it refers to).
Perhaps life is a bit like that – climbing up the challenging hills, going back down the easy ones, or getting stuck half way. Much of what we do is repetitive and even mundane or ordinary. And when we’re stuck people are not necessarily kind to us. As I write this I am up a mountain. Skiers go up the lifts, and then hurtle down the bright white snow-clad slopes. Armed with the right gear, the correct ticket, and proper training, it is usually pretty safe, and most people get back home in one piece.
Education is meant to prepare us for life. The truth is that even with the right gear and ticket, we just don’t know what life will throw at us. Nothing really prepares us for real life in its entirety.
The Christian faith attempts to give more purposeful guide for this journey of life than merely the ability to climb up and down our challenging hills. It presents a meta-narrative – a bigger picture or story which gives cause, purpose, and destiny to the followers of Jesus. This faith journey is not definitive or prescriptive. It involves a sense of appreciation of life as a gift which is not to be squandered, but rather received and lived with gratitude. We are meant to be gifts to others along the way.
Much of our time at the College is spent on processing results – winners and losers in games, and successful or less successful students in assessments. To focus only on success of course is to mislead the boys in our care. Life’s richest lessons are often learned in the face of adversity and human failure, where we have to choose to try again, to forgive, or to move on to new opportunities.
As the end of the year approaches, there will be frantic studying, stressful exams, much marking and the usual prize givings and celebrations. For some students it may be the case of little work and extensive repentance afterwards. But for the majority of our boys, the year will end well because they have had the support of so many through their year’s journey. They have had the encouragement they’ve needed when stuck half way up their hills!
Our human care on the journey is an important consequence of our Christian faith. How we treat others along the way is as significant as the final grade on our reports and certificates. Regular thanks to those who help us, human kindness towards those who may be different from us, and good stewardship of our time and gifts, are signs of real learning and true growth.
I trust that this reflects your life and the life of your sons. The good news is that for many of us, life does not have to remain a battle. It can become more like a dance as we celebrate together all that is good in this community. May God bless you as you too strive towards a life that goes beyond the routine to the extraordinary.
Rev Robin Palmer
Perhaps life is a bit like that – climbing up the challenging hills, going back down the easy ones, or getting stuck half way. Much of what we do is repetitive and even mundane or ordinary. And when we’re stuck people are not necessarily kind to us. As I write this I am up a mountain. Skiers go up the lifts, and then hurtle down the bright white snow-clad slopes. Armed with the right gear, the correct ticket, and proper training, it is usually pretty safe, and most people get back home in one piece.
Education is meant to prepare us for life. The truth is that even with the right gear and ticket, we just don’t know what life will throw at us. Nothing really prepares us for real life in its entirety.
The Christian faith attempts to give more purposeful guide for this journey of life than merely the ability to climb up and down our challenging hills. It presents a meta-narrative – a bigger picture or story which gives cause, purpose, and destiny to the followers of Jesus. This faith journey is not definitive or prescriptive. It involves a sense of appreciation of life as a gift which is not to be squandered, but rather received and lived with gratitude. We are meant to be gifts to others along the way.
Much of our time at the College is spent on processing results – winners and losers in games, and successful or less successful students in assessments. To focus only on success of course is to mislead the boys in our care. Life’s richest lessons are often learned in the face of adversity and human failure, where we have to choose to try again, to forgive, or to move on to new opportunities.
As the end of the year approaches, there will be frantic studying, stressful exams, much marking and the usual prize givings and celebrations. For some students it may be the case of little work and extensive repentance afterwards. But for the majority of our boys, the year will end well because they have had the support of so many through their year’s journey. They have had the encouragement they’ve needed when stuck half way up their hills!
Our human care on the journey is an important consequence of our Christian faith. How we treat others along the way is as significant as the final grade on our reports and certificates. Regular thanks to those who help us, human kindness towards those who may be different from us, and good stewardship of our time and gifts, are signs of real learning and true growth.
I trust that this reflects your life and the life of your sons. The good news is that for many of us, life does not have to remain a battle. It can become more like a dance as we celebrate together all that is good in this community. May God bless you as you too strive towards a life that goes beyond the routine to the extraordinary.
Rev Robin Palmer
Friday, 27 March 2009
The ends of March
Greetings from our far flung islands. The ends of March are rather fragmented. Just a snippet of this and that to update you.
Our family's greatest sadness has been the demise of our very resilient and communicative cat called Alex. I have written of her before. She climbed into our lives soon after we arrived in New Zealand - visiting the garden when we were putting washing on the line and treating our legs like a tree - literally climbing up for some TLC. Alex was a generic and non-gender confusing open kind of name as we were not sure what she/he was. You will recall our Witbank cat in the old days called Suzy, named after the street where she lived before moving into our house. Suzy, when we thought she was pregnant, turned out to be a male cat with a hernia. So you can see why we were avoiding that kind of dilemma.
Alex, Alexi, or Alexi Stukoff, as she was known by various members of the family, would virtually speak when in need, and tap me on the arm in bed each morning with her paw - requiring a visit to the kitchen of course. She ran away when we were in Brisbane some time back, and was found by advertising on "Pets on the net". She was more like a dog in some ways, waiting for us to return, and following us around the house. A real family member.
Friday morning I found her dead in the street after returning from an early drive into the city taking a student to a street collection for the local MS society. A very distressing thing indeed, followed by a very hastily arranged funeral in the back yard before going to school. I have spoken about grief a thousand times, and understand all the tricky things when we lose someone in tragic ways. Who would have thought how intense it would be in the loss of Alex. The feeling that she would walk around the corner. Looking twice at her favourite places each day to see if she wasn't perhaps there. Dreaming of her arriving back again as I have done through the years when death has taken special people in my life.
The house has been eerily quiet and subdued. My middle child didn't come out of his room for the first five days. I found things that were usually quite manageable almost impossible. In short, I was surprised by the level of trauma. Of course it's all very subtle. She was the constant factor in the irritating moving from house to house over the last three years. And the unconditional and uncomplicated love of a pet cat puts human complexities into an interesting perspective.
Blessed are they who mourn - says the sermon on the Mount. I am hardly happy, to use the unhelpful English translations of that line. And yes we are blessed - our lives are so rich in many ways. But our losses tear a bit away from the securities and certainties which prop us up and steady the ship, so to speak.
I have mourned with so many over the years. Perhaps not giving enough time to my own mourning. I have written often about the tearing of immigration, the losses of work conflicts, and the tragedies of separation and anger that I have seen. We have suffered terrible consequences when people have had too many ends - the ripping away of that which defines one, the dehumanising of those who subject you through the dominant discourses of another land to a sense of being foreign, strange, or unwelcomed.
The end of Alex the cat seems an unnecessary indignity. I share the lives of so many boys at school who have had these ends - lost pets, parents, friends, dreams, and loves. It all requires such courage, of course. Courage to risk the chance of love again, courage to journey with parents on their travels towards new partners or spouses, new homes and jobs, courage to try again when others have boxed you in, using the kind of language that grinds and grates, consigning you to the emotional bins and trash heaps of life.
There are many South Africans still rolling onto these shores - all with their ends and hopeful beginnings. They bring their luggage and their baggage, and bravely start again with new and stuttering beginnings. Such is the ebb and flow of life. T S Eliot wrote of his "burnt-out ends of smoky days". I always remembered the line from his Preludes in my overloaded head as burnt-out ends of lonely days.
Well there it is. The ends of March. Words have always been good friends. In deepest moments of loss and disappointments I have scraped together attempts in verse and song. Today I tap these out while sitting on a bed. It's the end of Friday. The end of week 10. How organised the school terms are. The end of the term eagerly awaits us. The end of Lent will bring the beginning of a new Easter celebrating the end of a another life of far greater impact and significance than our insignificant bumps in the road of life.
Easter will see us travelling back to the Hawkes Bay to visit good friends and rest at Glen Innis, the Presbyterian Holiday home. As winter approaches the thought of cold wet southerly winds and our fourth winter in Wellington is an interesting one. The end of March officially - the 31st - will be the celebration of our third anniversary here in New Zealand. Not far after that in May, we have our 25th wedding anniversary. We remain immensely grateful for all we have shared. Thanks for journeying with us,
Blessings at this Easter tide.
The Palmers.
Our family's greatest sadness has been the demise of our very resilient and communicative cat called Alex. I have written of her before. She climbed into our lives soon after we arrived in New Zealand - visiting the garden when we were putting washing on the line and treating our legs like a tree - literally climbing up for some TLC. Alex was a generic and non-gender confusing open kind of name as we were not sure what she/he was. You will recall our Witbank cat in the old days called Suzy, named after the street where she lived before moving into our house. Suzy, when we thought she was pregnant, turned out to be a male cat with a hernia. So you can see why we were avoiding that kind of dilemma.
Alex, Alexi, or Alexi Stukoff, as she was known by various members of the family, would virtually speak when in need, and tap me on the arm in bed each morning with her paw - requiring a visit to the kitchen of course. She ran away when we were in Brisbane some time back, and was found by advertising on "Pets on the net". She was more like a dog in some ways, waiting for us to return, and following us around the house. A real family member.
Friday morning I found her dead in the street after returning from an early drive into the city taking a student to a street collection for the local MS society. A very distressing thing indeed, followed by a very hastily arranged funeral in the back yard before going to school. I have spoken about grief a thousand times, and understand all the tricky things when we lose someone in tragic ways. Who would have thought how intense it would be in the loss of Alex. The feeling that she would walk around the corner. Looking twice at her favourite places each day to see if she wasn't perhaps there. Dreaming of her arriving back again as I have done through the years when death has taken special people in my life.
The house has been eerily quiet and subdued. My middle child didn't come out of his room for the first five days. I found things that were usually quite manageable almost impossible. In short, I was surprised by the level of trauma. Of course it's all very subtle. She was the constant factor in the irritating moving from house to house over the last three years. And the unconditional and uncomplicated love of a pet cat puts human complexities into an interesting perspective.
Blessed are they who mourn - says the sermon on the Mount. I am hardly happy, to use the unhelpful English translations of that line. And yes we are blessed - our lives are so rich in many ways. But our losses tear a bit away from the securities and certainties which prop us up and steady the ship, so to speak.
I have mourned with so many over the years. Perhaps not giving enough time to my own mourning. I have written often about the tearing of immigration, the losses of work conflicts, and the tragedies of separation and anger that I have seen. We have suffered terrible consequences when people have had too many ends - the ripping away of that which defines one, the dehumanising of those who subject you through the dominant discourses of another land to a sense of being foreign, strange, or unwelcomed.
The end of Alex the cat seems an unnecessary indignity. I share the lives of so many boys at school who have had these ends - lost pets, parents, friends, dreams, and loves. It all requires such courage, of course. Courage to risk the chance of love again, courage to journey with parents on their travels towards new partners or spouses, new homes and jobs, courage to try again when others have boxed you in, using the kind of language that grinds and grates, consigning you to the emotional bins and trash heaps of life.
There are many South Africans still rolling onto these shores - all with their ends and hopeful beginnings. They bring their luggage and their baggage, and bravely start again with new and stuttering beginnings. Such is the ebb and flow of life. T S Eliot wrote of his "burnt-out ends of smoky days". I always remembered the line from his Preludes in my overloaded head as burnt-out ends of lonely days.
Well there it is. The ends of March. Words have always been good friends. In deepest moments of loss and disappointments I have scraped together attempts in verse and song. Today I tap these out while sitting on a bed. It's the end of Friday. The end of week 10. How organised the school terms are. The end of the term eagerly awaits us. The end of Lent will bring the beginning of a new Easter celebrating the end of a another life of far greater impact and significance than our insignificant bumps in the road of life.
Easter will see us travelling back to the Hawkes Bay to visit good friends and rest at Glen Innis, the Presbyterian Holiday home. As winter approaches the thought of cold wet southerly winds and our fourth winter in Wellington is an interesting one. The end of March officially - the 31st - will be the celebration of our third anniversary here in New Zealand. Not far after that in May, we have our 25th wedding anniversary. We remain immensely grateful for all we have shared. Thanks for journeying with us,
Blessings at this Easter tide.
The Palmers.
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