05
Feb
2015
Dear Inner Circle,
In the street this morning a young fellow stopped me for what looked like might be a friendly chat. Quickly he began to give me a sermon on how many ways his fight with addiction has failed. I had things to do and soon tired of hearing so much analysis of circumstances that lead to failure. Several times I actually turned to walk away only to see him walk a half circle so as to keep my attention. This conversation without much dialogue sustained for about 20 minutes when suddenly it occurred to me that this poor fellow had substituted reflection for realisation. He thought that endless analysis was the way to life. For a moment I stopped to gaze at this sincere man who seemed to enjoy finding all the reasons why he couldn’t live to the full just yet. It suddenly struck me how many times I’d heard people analyse the weaknesses of the church and the complexities of the culture that make these days so difficult. Suddenly I heard the echo of many social commentators who make a living from teaching others how hard it is to change culture and create community. I heard the echo of some friends who have explained to me how nothing should ever be done for the first time. Gosh, we’re surrounded by an explanation industry! I told this fellow that he had a good head but that it was of no use to him. It really doesn’t matter what’s going on in his head until there is something going on in his feet. Life is never in explanations; never in reflections; never in formulas; never in cognitive propositions; life must be done.
I’m carrying a heavy lump in my chest for the two young men in Indonesia. I respect the right of states to practice capital punishment even though I’m sure there is not a scrap of evidence to suggest that this practice has any deterrent value. I’m sad for all of humanity for there is nothing but loss for us all in the event of these deaths. I carry some sadness too for our...
[read more]29
Jan
2015
Dear Inner Circle,
The good people of Bombala hosted me for their Australia Day celebrations. Sydney’s Kings Cross to the little town of Bombala is quite a cultural contrast. I began my speech by saying, “I walked down your main street last night and I didn’t see a single strip club or massage parlour. What kind of town is this?” I met so many hard working, honest people who mostly reminded me of an Australia that has largely disappeared. The primary activity of the day was shearing sheep. They stopped for a brief speech from me and also from the local Mayor and then they returned to shearing sheep. The comedy act of the day was when they organised for me to shear a sheep. I didn’t want to hurt the poor animal that they shoved at my feet and so the job I made of shearing was just laughable. It’s an activity that is not kind on your back even to shear one sheep. How these folks are able to shear 200 and even 300 sheep a day is simply beyond my understanding. What an honour to speak with the locals and hear their concerns; to hear about the price of wool; the price of lambs; their vulnerability to weather; their understanding of the role of politicians; their fear about the threat of drugs to their young people. There were some clearly well-heeled people at the gathering and there were some young people whose fitness and strength left me in awe. There were many people who looked like they’d lived out in the weather for 40 years or who hadn’t removed their hats in that time. The main street literally had hundreds of 4x4 trucks and utilities and only one solitary small sedan. Even my car was something of a cultural shock to the street. I’m grateful to have met so many colourful characters and to have learned that should Wayside suddenly come to an end, that shearing is not a way that I might make an alternate living.
Chatting in the cafe yesterday, a homeless man insisted on buying me lunch. I tried to talk him into allowing me to buy lunch for...[read more]
The good people of Bombala hosted me for their Australia Day celebrations. Sydney’s Kings Cross to the little town of Bombala is quite a cultural contrast. I began my speech by saying, “I walked down your main street last night and I didn’t see a single strip club or massage parlour. What kind of town is this?” I met so many hard working, honest people who mostly reminded me of an Australia that has largely disappeared. The primary activity of the day was shearing sheep. They stopped for a brief speech from me and also from the local Mayor and then they returned to shearing sheep. The comedy act of the day was when they organised for me to shear a sheep. I didn’t want to hurt the poor animal that they shoved at my feet and so the job I made of shearing was just laughable. It’s an activity that is not kind on your back even to shear one sheep. How these folks are able to shear 200 and even 300 sheep a day is simply beyond my understanding. What an honour to speak with the locals and hear their concerns; to hear about the price of wool; the price of lambs; their vulnerability to weather; their understanding of the role of politicians; their fear about the threat of drugs to their young people. There were some clearly well-heeled people at the gathering and there were some young people whose fitness and strength left me in awe. There were many people who looked like they’d lived out in the weather for 40 years or who hadn’t removed their hats in that time. The main street literally had hundreds of 4x4 trucks and utilities and only one solitary small sedan. Even my car was something of a cultural shock to the street. I’m grateful to have met so many colourful characters and to have learned that should Wayside suddenly come to an end, that shearing is not a way that I might make an alternate living.
Chatting in the cafe yesterday, a homeless man insisted on buying me lunch. I tried to talk him into allowing me to buy lunch for...[read more]
17
Dec
2014
Gosh its hard to get into the Christmas mood. The older I get the faster time moves and start of the Christmas season arrives to some considerable annoyance. It’s an inconvenience and perhaps even more than that as I struggle to see my life accelerating to its end. Another year is over. Where did it go?
When I was younger and more crass than I am now, I used to joke that Jesus could not be born in our time because there would be no hope of locating three wise men or a virgin. Closer to the truth is that if a 14 year girl presented, heavily pregnant, we’d call the Department of Family and Community Services and a psychologist.
Maybe there was never room at the inn; maybe its always difficult to stop the normal business of life to remember that the most important of all gifts is small, present and under our noses. First time round it was a little baby, born to Trevor from Blacktown and Sharleen from Mount Druittt. The birth was announced to some labourers on a building site. Is anyone impressed? The baby was sleeping in an animal feedbox. What made the wise men was the care they took about where they stepped. There could be no chance that this was a “Silent Night” but rather into the chaos of the smell and the noise came such a powerful presence that we’re told the sky illuminated with angels singing, “Glory to God in the highest”.
This season can be an ugly chapter of overspending and overeating. It can also be a season of great joy. The difference is between presents and presence. The first Christmas happened with ordinary people saw the Divine in the ordinary. Emmanuel, God with us, in the least likely people and place. If we could stop business long enough to see the divine in our nearest and dearest, what a blessing that would be in any family. If we could see the divine presence in a homeless man or a street kid; if we could see the Almighty seeking to break into our world as the child of a boat person, gosh, I think the heavens would...[read more]
When I was younger and more crass than I am now, I used to joke that Jesus could not be born in our time because there would be no hope of locating three wise men or a virgin. Closer to the truth is that if a 14 year girl presented, heavily pregnant, we’d call the Department of Family and Community Services and a psychologist.
Maybe there was never room at the inn; maybe its always difficult to stop the normal business of life to remember that the most important of all gifts is small, present and under our noses. First time round it was a little baby, born to Trevor from Blacktown and Sharleen from Mount Druittt. The birth was announced to some labourers on a building site. Is anyone impressed? The baby was sleeping in an animal feedbox. What made the wise men was the care they took about where they stepped. There could be no chance that this was a “Silent Night” but rather into the chaos of the smell and the noise came such a powerful presence that we’re told the sky illuminated with angels singing, “Glory to God in the highest”.
This season can be an ugly chapter of overspending and overeating. It can also be a season of great joy. The difference is between presents and presence. The first Christmas happened with ordinary people saw the Divine in the ordinary. Emmanuel, God with us, in the least likely people and place. If we could stop business long enough to see the divine in our nearest and dearest, what a blessing that would be in any family. If we could see the divine presence in a homeless man or a street kid; if we could see the Almighty seeking to break into our world as the child of a boat person, gosh, I think the heavens would...[read more]
11
Dec
2014
Dear Inner Circle,
Adam Goodes dropped in the other day. No cameras, no reporters, no agenda; he came to spend some time with our Aboriginal community. What a fabulous bloke and what a worthy Australian of the Year!
Massive, gigantic and an extra large thank you to all of you who have “donated a plate” for our Christmas Day street party. Over the years this party has become more expensive and we could only achieve it with the help of good and generous people. You can still donate a plate here. For those of you who haven't experienced a Wayside Christmas, we close the street and throw a big party. We start the day with a Church Service at 10.30am and last year almost 450 people joined us to sing carols and be part of the magic of the day, then a generous lunch is served with all the trimmings at 12.30pm.
The importance of the Christmas street party has grown over the years. We don’t say its just for the poor any more but we invite lonely people from all walks of life to come and join us. The result is street dwellers, elderly people who rarely go out, the working poor and any manner of person who might be on their own on Christmas Day is welcomed and will find a place at our table. Also a big thank you to the hundreds of people who have registered as volunteers on the day. If you wanted to volunteer and missed out, come anyway and add YOU to the day. Come and talk to people; that’s a wonderful job that anyone can do. By about 2 pm, you’ll see street people dancing in the street. It causes my heart to leap for joy every time I see it.
....Read on here.
Adam Goodes dropped in the other day. No cameras, no reporters, no agenda; he came to spend some time with our Aboriginal community. What a fabulous bloke and what a worthy Australian of the Year!
Massive, gigantic and an extra large thank you to all of you who have “donated a plate” for our Christmas Day street party. Over the years this party has become more expensive and we could only achieve it with the help of good and generous people. You can still donate a plate here. For those of you who haven't experienced a Wayside Christmas, we close the street and throw a big party. We start the day with a Church Service at 10.30am and last year almost 450 people joined us to sing carols and be part of the magic of the day, then a generous lunch is served with all the trimmings at 12.30pm.
The importance of the Christmas street party has grown over the years. We don’t say its just for the poor any more but we invite lonely people from all walks of life to come and join us. The result is street dwellers, elderly people who rarely go out, the working poor and any manner of person who might be on their own on Christmas Day is welcomed and will find a place at our table. Also a big thank you to the hundreds of people who have registered as volunteers on the day. If you wanted to volunteer and missed out, come anyway and add YOU to the day. Come and talk to people; that’s a wonderful job that anyone can do. By about 2 pm, you’ll see street people dancing in the street. It causes my heart to leap for joy every time I see it.
....Read on here.
27
Nov
2014
Dear Inner Circle,
One of the most patient people I’ve ever met has a habit of telling me everything they would say to all kinds of people if they had the courage. It’s a bit hilarious because there is little risk that she’ll actually dump on anyone because she is pathetically kind. Even so she always seems to live with the fear that her mouth will run out of control. This week she told me of someone who is habitually cranky even though they have wealth that is well out of the reach of most. She gave me a big dose of, “What she would have said”. I asked her, “How come you can say all of this stuff to me?” She replied, “You are like the inside of my car”. Her car is nothing flash but I trust that it’s a comfortable, safe place and so I expect I was given a compliment: I hope.
My daughter has become an official volunteer at Wayside. She stepped outside of her comfort zone and joined our Twilight Team this week. She spent her time manicuring nails. Most of her night was spent with a group of 14 year old girls. I’m so proud of our Twilight Team and I’m so proud of my daughter. We created this team only this year because we recognised that a whole new skill set and special level of patience was required at the end of the day, between 5pm and 8pm. At Twilight, those who’ve not found a bed for the night, aren’t going to find one. At Twilight, those who’ve spent the day fighting the medical system or bureaucracy in government and non government agencies, face the worst time of day. Social workers have gone home; agencies have closed and the world feels cold and empty. In this context we do some of our best work. Our people get along side. They encourage people to connect with one another. Activities such as music, painting, bingo, garden games, hand massages, make up sessions and the like become ways of bringing comfort and making connection. Maybe this doesn’t sound impressive but for me I could not be more awestruck if I was poised...[read more]
One of the most patient people I’ve ever met has a habit of telling me everything they would say to all kinds of people if they had the courage. It’s a bit hilarious because there is little risk that she’ll actually dump on anyone because she is pathetically kind. Even so she always seems to live with the fear that her mouth will run out of control. This week she told me of someone who is habitually cranky even though they have wealth that is well out of the reach of most. She gave me a big dose of, “What she would have said”. I asked her, “How come you can say all of this stuff to me?” She replied, “You are like the inside of my car”. Her car is nothing flash but I trust that it’s a comfortable, safe place and so I expect I was given a compliment: I hope.
My daughter has become an official volunteer at Wayside. She stepped outside of her comfort zone and joined our Twilight Team this week. She spent her time manicuring nails. Most of her night was spent with a group of 14 year old girls. I’m so proud of our Twilight Team and I’m so proud of my daughter. We created this team only this year because we recognised that a whole new skill set and special level of patience was required at the end of the day, between 5pm and 8pm. At Twilight, those who’ve not found a bed for the night, aren’t going to find one. At Twilight, those who’ve spent the day fighting the medical system or bureaucracy in government and non government agencies, face the worst time of day. Social workers have gone home; agencies have closed and the world feels cold and empty. In this context we do some of our best work. Our people get along side. They encourage people to connect with one another. Activities such as music, painting, bingo, garden games, hand massages, make up sessions and the like become ways of bringing comfort and making connection. Maybe this doesn’t sound impressive but for me I could not be more awestruck if I was poised...[read more]
26
Nov
2014
Much of what looks like critical thinking is nothing more than a shift in fashion. We like to think ourselves wiser than previous generations but the evidence is not always conclusive. Maybe this generation is wiser in some respects but not all change indicates progress and not all progress indicates an increase in wisdom.
So much of what forms the foundations of Western society, comes to us from generations long since forgotten. Much of what forms our cultural bedrock has never been examined because it is indeed, the ground upon which all our judgement is exercised.
One of the most fundamental ideas passed to us through history is the idea that there is such thing as a single human being. Every part of our culture accepts that the basic human unit is the individual. Our education system teaches that individual effort will reward and bring advantages over those who are less able or less willing to learn. All of our law is based on the idea of the responsibility of the individual for their behavior. Our popular culture preaches the power of one at every opportunity. Most movies begin by revealing an injustice of some sort and then a story unfolds of how an individual saves the day, often with the assistance of that instrument most able to confirm this illusionary idea of the power of one; the gun. Even our attempts to heal social dysfunction mostly leave people more isolated in the process. We give people pills, pamphlets and programs and we form individuals as patients, clients and cases but “One” is lonely; it isn’t human.
To see the illusion and rethink the situation will cause us to look afresh at every aspect of our human arrangements. What if the fundamental number in the basic human unit is two? What if we are radically, hard wired as social beings? If the fundamental human unit is two, there is no human presence until there is community. The word, “I” could only ever at most describe, half of something.
An individual is only half human....[read more]
So much of what forms the foundations of Western society, comes to us from generations long since forgotten. Much of what forms our cultural bedrock has never been examined because it is indeed, the ground upon which all our judgement is exercised.
One of the most fundamental ideas passed to us through history is the idea that there is such thing as a single human being. Every part of our culture accepts that the basic human unit is the individual. Our education system teaches that individual effort will reward and bring advantages over those who are less able or less willing to learn. All of our law is based on the idea of the responsibility of the individual for their behavior. Our popular culture preaches the power of one at every opportunity. Most movies begin by revealing an injustice of some sort and then a story unfolds of how an individual saves the day, often with the assistance of that instrument most able to confirm this illusionary idea of the power of one; the gun. Even our attempts to heal social dysfunction mostly leave people more isolated in the process. We give people pills, pamphlets and programs and we form individuals as patients, clients and cases but “One” is lonely; it isn’t human.
To see the illusion and rethink the situation will cause us to look afresh at every aspect of our human arrangements. What if the fundamental number in the basic human unit is two? What if we are radically, hard wired as social beings? If the fundamental human unit is two, there is no human presence until there is community. The word, “I” could only ever at most describe, half of something.
An individual is only half human....[read more]
20
Nov
2014
Dear Inner Circle,
With a bit of luck, I thought my birthday might pass unnoticed this year. An astonishing outpouring of love lasted all day. Early in the morning on the phone I said to my granddaughter, (9 years old) “If I’m counting correctly, I think I’m turning 37 today”. She said, “Papa, if you count correctly you’ll find you’re turning 63 today”. “Gosh Georgie” I said, “You’ve become so smart I can’t trick you about anything anymore”. “Now you’ve said something right” she said.
At my age it is hard not to acknowledge the end is coming. This is so counter cultural that it’s difficult to discuss. I had people telling me all day how young I was and how a long life laid yet before me. People want duration, dependability and predictability. Our blindness on this matter does us no good. Life has a rhythm to it and we do better to go with the flow than fight it. I have never loved life more than I do today and yet the thought of the end comforts me and fills me with anticipation. I know its a bit primitive and naive to believe in heaven but when facing the end and with so little information, I’m happy with the primitive and the naive. I nurse a deep longing to throw my arms around my son again and this hope has loosened my grip on the many things we are inclined to hang on to, too tightly. I’ll love every minute between here and then but what a day that will be. I’m hoping there will be dancing at my funeral.... Read the rest of here.
With a bit of luck, I thought my birthday might pass unnoticed this year. An astonishing outpouring of love lasted all day. Early in the morning on the phone I said to my granddaughter, (9 years old) “If I’m counting correctly, I think I’m turning 37 today”. She said, “Papa, if you count correctly you’ll find you’re turning 63 today”. “Gosh Georgie” I said, “You’ve become so smart I can’t trick you about anything anymore”. “Now you’ve said something right” she said.
At my age it is hard not to acknowledge the end is coming. This is so counter cultural that it’s difficult to discuss. I had people telling me all day how young I was and how a long life laid yet before me. People want duration, dependability and predictability. Our blindness on this matter does us no good. Life has a rhythm to it and we do better to go with the flow than fight it. I have never loved life more than I do today and yet the thought of the end comforts me and fills me with anticipation. I know its a bit primitive and naive to believe in heaven but when facing the end and with so little information, I’m happy with the primitive and the naive. I nurse a deep longing to throw my arms around my son again and this hope has loosened my grip on the many things we are inclined to hang on to, too tightly. I’ll love every minute between here and then but what a day that will be. I’m hoping there will be dancing at my funeral.... Read the rest of here.
13
Nov
2014
Dear Inner Circle,
Not satisfied with the normal life-rhythm of love; its move from potential to actual to potential again; its move from intimacy to longing and back - a young woman told me just now about how she is strangling the bloke she loves. She wants to possess him. She wants him to be on call all the time. She wants him to be more predictable than a machine. She wants assurance, that he can’t give. No amount of control can change the nature of love; it is born and it dies and is born again. For this young woman however, the natural end of a loving event, threatens the end of love itself. I saw a learner driver the other day make a right turn and mount the footpath, knocking down a small tree. As I passed by, the driver was still so frozen to the steering wheel that I could see how she wasn’t in a good place to be moving and adapting and coping with all the shifts required in a task like driving. The young woman I just spoke about is in a similar spot. Stiffness and anxiety will not get her around the corner. Even if the woman could turn her partner into an object that could be controlled, the object wouldn’t be the man she loves but a shadow; a thing.
As I walked in this morning a short man, perhaps in his fifties rushed over and put his arms around me. I like this man. I could take him home. He told me that he’s sleeping rough again. Our team over the past year have done a brilliant job for this fellow finding accommodation but a couple of times, after achieving the impossible for him, the placement has broken down and he finds himself on the street again. I love this bloke. “It’s my anger” he said. I only know him as a sweet man but others have told me that he can fly into a rage. I had to leave him because I was due in a meeting but my heart is heavy for him and I’m keen to see him...[read more]
06
Nov
2014
Dear Inner Circle,
Exactly one year ago I told you of a young woman who walked into Wayside and asked to see me. Her head was covered by a veil and she couldn’t look me in the face. Her speech was difficult because her whole body was shaking. She told me that she was in trouble. A lot of trouble! In order to escape a situation of unspeakable domestic violence, she had set fire to a home while her husband was asleep. The end result was serious damage to property, serious burns to a large percentage of her own body and an uninjured but insanely angry husband. Her world had crumbled to the extent that this drastic action seemed like more or less her only option. She would have been content to lose her life in the fire. She walked into Wayside on the day she was released from hospital; she had no plan and no where to go. I remember holding her in my arms as I said an ancient prayer and wondered if she would ever see better days.
This same woman walked into Wayside last night to show herself to me. I was struck dumb by this beautiful, vivacious, outgoing woman and I really struggled to believe it was the same woman that I met one year ago. She didn’t have to say a word for me to recognise a rare miracle before me. All evidence of burns on her face are gone and instead her eyes literally dance with life and speak without need of words. She is employed full time and she has a secure place to live. She visited yesterday only to show me how far she had come. She told me that the prayer I said a year ago was her turning point and she quoted it back to me. I get quite used to seeing people in the worst moment of their lives and it was a rare and beautiful moment for me to talk to this young woman and rejoice in a life recovered and discovered. Read on here
30
Oct
2014
When I was just a young father, I asked my own father once, “Can you love your children too much?” My Dad loved questions that gave him opportunity to give a bit of a speech. Dad was pretty good at putting questions into a context so that the question could be refined and then he’d often give a lecture about the history of the words we were using at the time and then finally he almost always found a way to cite bible passages and give a theological punch at the end of his speech. I recall there being a long, rather awkward pause as Dad gathered his thoughts. Finally, he said, “No”. I was so stunned that it felt like follow up questions would only prove I hadn’t listened to his single word answer.
I enjoyed being a father more than any other man I’ve met and now I’m a grandfather, I still worry a little that my love for my grandchildren might feel at times for them like I’m trying to pour the ocean into a thimble. It looks a bit like they accept that their grandfather is a bit mushy and pragmatically, they know well how to use this to their advantage. My 9 year old suggested recently that she might like a T shirt that said, “My grandfather never says ‘No’”. It’s a quality esteemed by my girl to the extent that she would like to advertise on her shirt yet she knows her Grandmother and her Mother are not so deliriously keen.
“How come it turned out that the world’s most beautiful kids became my granddaughters”, I asked my 7 year old while she was busy organizing the next bit of fun. The only way to talk to this girl is in middle of action. She would normally ignore my soppy rhetorical questions but this time, without even turning her head toward me, she said, “Cause you loved James.”
Listen to this little girl. For those of you with little kids, I promise you that every bit of love you pour into your children is forming your grandchildren and your great grandchildren. You may never meet these children and yet their life...[read more]
I enjoyed being a father more than any other man I’ve met and now I’m a grandfather, I still worry a little that my love for my grandchildren might feel at times for them like I’m trying to pour the ocean into a thimble. It looks a bit like they accept that their grandfather is a bit mushy and pragmatically, they know well how to use this to their advantage. My 9 year old suggested recently that she might like a T shirt that said, “My grandfather never says ‘No’”. It’s a quality esteemed by my girl to the extent that she would like to advertise on her shirt yet she knows her Grandmother and her Mother are not so deliriously keen.
“How come it turned out that the world’s most beautiful kids became my granddaughters”, I asked my 7 year old while she was busy organizing the next bit of fun. The only way to talk to this girl is in middle of action. She would normally ignore my soppy rhetorical questions but this time, without even turning her head toward me, she said, “Cause you loved James.”
Listen to this little girl. For those of you with little kids, I promise you that every bit of love you pour into your children is forming your grandchildren and your great grandchildren. You may never meet these children and yet their life...[read more]
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