Life is a Risk - Lent 1

Taking risks is often seen as the specific territory of teenagers, particularly teenage boys. Time and time again we are told the latest tragedy, accident or foolish behaviour is the result of young men responding to the adrenalin rush of going one step further than it was wise to do.

I would suggest we have all taken risks, foolish risks and survived, sometimes in one piece, sometimes a little battered and broken but still standing, mostly a little wiser, at some point in our lives. Looking back over my youth I confess to many such risky behaviours, but how else would I get the nickname ‘Loose’? I was given that name because I consistently went one step further than those around me at the time. I drove faster, drank more and took crazy risks others only talked about. Amazingly, I survived.

Yet, taking risks is a part of all of our lives.  It is dialled in. Perhaps not in the foolish way some teenagers and I have experienced it, but in a calculated and planned manner. No business succeeds without the risk of going broke. No athlete competes without the risk of not finishing. No politician leads without the risk of failure. No person loves without the risk of being rejected. Getting married and having children is a risk. Risk is hard wired into our lives as humans.

Therefore it is no coincidence the first thing God does with Jesus after his baptism is, he takes a risk with him. He sends him out into the desert for 40 days without food. He was fasting. Fasting is no easy task. 40 days without food would mean, not only were you hungry, but your mind would start playing tricks on you, you would start to think dangerous thoughts and begin to look for a way out of the situation you found yourself in.

At the end of the 40 days, ‘he was famished’ and that’s when the temptations begin. Not at the beginning when he was fresh, full of commitment and discipline. Not halfway through when he was hungry but still filled with the desire to get it right. But at the end. God places Jesus in a solitary aloneness where there was no consolation except his relationship with God. Would that hold? Could Jesus experience the desolation of his humanness and resist the temptations that arose with in and without him and hold onto God? Could he?

The temptations come in 3 distinct forms, but they are typical of the temptations we face everyday.

·      In the first Jesus is tempted to use his power to create food for himself, the ‘old rock into bread’ trick. If you have the power and you’re hungry, do something about it. This is the battle between Jesus’ divinity and humanity. If he succumbed he would have denied the Incarnation, he would no longer be human, just a divine actor on a stage called earth. He remained human.

We are challenged many times to do things just because we can, and by so doing, shortcut our experience of being human in exchange for less pain, suffering and joy. Just because we can, should we?

·      Secondly, Jesus is tempted to change sides. From where he is standing he can see the world and us tempted to get what he came for the easy way. This is the ‘old the end justifies the means’ justification. I am here to rule over the world, here it is being offered on a platter, why not just say yes and take it? Doesn’t matter how you get it, but if you get the outcome you need, that’s all that matters, isn’t it? Jesus is being asked if he can trust God with this task, even the process will be difficult, painful and risky. He does. He chooses to trust his relationship with God, even though he suspects that this is going to hurt, that it will cost him and without commitment, discipline and trust there will be no outcome at all.

This is a major temptation for us. We want to avoid pain, suffering and struggle and be happy all the time.  The temptations of the consumer world promise that. Wear the right clothes, buy the right car, live in the right street, use the right toothpaste and it will all be yours. Your can and will achieve the kingdom of happiness. Alas, we know from experience that’s not so and we either become bitter, sad or blame others (especially God), or we simply settle for less than the kingdom God promises. The kingdom of God is only accessible through the full journey of our humanity, a rollercoaster o pain, suffering, discipline, hope, good times, not so good times and more, but they all add up to that moment when we die to ourselves and are resurrected into a new way of being human.

·      Finally, Jesus is tempted to find out if God loves him as much as he says he does. He is asked to take the ultimate risk and leap to certain death, waiting for God to rescue him. He doesn’t.  He simply says don’t set God up; don’t let your expectations get in the way God works. He resists that temptation on the Cross, where people are taunting him and calling upon him to call upon God to save him, he doesn’t. In the midst of the pain of being a human who was deserted, brutalised and lost, he maintains his trust in his relationship with God.

This is a temptation we can easily fall for. When all has collapsed and we are desperate, how about calling God out, seeing what God will do?  Judas tried that and he got more than he bargained for. Like Jesus we are called on to stay faithful in our brokenness, trusting that God will be faithful to our relationship.  But at all times we are to be faithful. That was the purpose of the Incarnation. Jesus came to experience what it meant to be a human in relationship with God and other humans. Like him, we are to grow into it.

For Jesus it was a risk to become human, leaving his divinity behind; for God it was a risk to put Jesus in a place of great risk, that of being human (Jesus could have succumbed, it was always a possibility otherwise we have been deceived); and for humanity, us, it was a risk, for if that happened we would remain eternally lost.

Being human is the only way to live into the risk of God’s love. Go for it!

Text: Luke 4:1-13

When are we Not Teachers?

Early on in my priesthood some asked, "Do you know when to be a priest and when to be yourself?" It seemed a weird question to me because my first answer was, "But I am always a priest!"

It has taken some years to come to grips with the magnitude of my reply, and I am still growing into it.  I am never not a priest.  Wherever I am that is who I am seen to be - God's representative in the pub, at the footy, on the beach, at work or at the shopping centre. Every thing I do is judged as the action  of a priest and not as Glenn Loughrey. It is a tough gig and anyone who says different is, I would suggest, not trying.

Now I have compounded the task by becoming a chaplain in a school - a 'teacher'. Teaching is not a job, it is a vocation, much like that of a priest. Teachers not only teach content in class, they model life for their students. They are responsible for the whole person and are therefore mentors of those whom they stand in front of. Everything they do, wherever they do it, plays a role in the effectiveness of their vocation.

For both teachers and priests this means they are to be:

• Mindful. Being mindful of who we are is our first task. Remaining in the present moment helps us to make this less frightening and more exciting, for you and for others. You are a teacher or a priest and others are looking to you for leadership. Your choices have set you apart for a life that is very different to those around you. It has it's cost but the benefits when lived to the full are mysterious and amazing.

• Disciplined. Yes, we are always free to do what we want to do, but just because we can, should we? We are called to a disciplined life with boundaries and responsibilities. If we embrace such a life we have the freedom to teach, mentor and pastor.

• Self-sacrificial.  Becoming a priest means I sacrifice my will for the will of God. I attempt to live in  a self-sacrificing manner exemplified by Jesus. No short cuts. Teachers have the same call. They are developing young people for the future and are challenged to sacrifice what they want to do for what they need to do.

• Other focussed. In both roles, life is not about you. You are not entitled to your own personal life.  It is a life lived in community and dialogue. You are now connected with those around you, for better or worse, and how you live will be noted by others, for you are there to show them the way.

• Aware of the '6 o'clock news' factor. How will what I am about to do, say or attend play out on the 6 o'clock news?  What will others say when they see or hear this? 

Vocations demand more of us than a job or a career for the raw material we are working with is far more precious than gold, money or prestige. What is in front of us is waiting to be moulded into the leaders and mentors of the future. Teenagers rarely listen to what we say, but they do learn from who we are.

No matter where we are, what we are doing or what we are saying we are always teachers and priests. Oh, by the way, if you're a parent, then  you have a three-fold vocation!

What a privilege!

How Did I Go With Him, Mate?

Recently my father passed away.  He had been sick for sometime but it is always unexpected.  Faced with the challenge of leading his funeral service, here is the homily.

"My dad was an ordinary bloke, sometimes a little difficult to get along with as he got sicker, but he provided us with many memories and laughs. Any one walking past our house these last few days would have wondered what was going on as we have been telling yarns and laughing raucously most of the  time.

Memories like the day we were playing junior cricket and Dad was umpiring. Peter Robinson bowled a fairly quick delivery, catching the batsman plumb in front. We all went up, and to our surprise, so did the umpire. Dad shouted louder than all, 'how's that?' Peter turned, with a big grin on his face, and asked, 'I guess he's out then, Mr Loughrey?' Sheepishily the finger went up and the batsmen was on his way.




Or the day we went eeling in the creek at the bottom of Doug Swords place with Maxy Carlisle. Dad caught eels by walking in the river, jagging the eel as it swam by. He carried a corn bag cut in half slung over his shoulder. This night he caught one and threw it in the bag. Straight away another went past, he got that one too. Immediately another went past, whoosh, he got that one as well. Next thing he gets one, throws it up the bank and marches ashore, swearing like a trooper.




The bag had a hole in it. He had caught the same eel several times as it fell through the bag back into the water each time. That was the end of the eeling expedition, we were all laughing too much to do any more.




Or the day I came home from school and he called from the top steps of the house for me to start the generator in the shed. I dropped my bag, and sprinted to the just opened door, shoved it open, only to come face to face with a 6 foot goanna laying inside the door. I yelled and jumped back only to see Dad laughing his head off. The goanna was dead, he had shot it pilfering the eggs in the chicken coop earlier and thought it was a great joke!




Father son relationships are often fraught with tension, ours was no different. Sometimes we agreed on things, sometimes not, but mostly we ended up laughing. Despite our differences, I valued our relationship and recognise I learnt much.




Growing up on the farm with him was the best of times, especially when we were wandering along behind a mob of sheep with King the dog and yarning.  He taught me about the land, subterranean clover, redlegged earth mite, the need for moisture in the sub soil, the value of the ubiqitous Currajong trees he used for feed during droughts, and more.




On our walks, when asked why he walked around the farm, he would say, "if you walk your land and your stock, you will get to know it and it you, and you will hear what it needs." At the time I thought this a little odd and strange, and didn't take a lot of notice. Only later in life did this come to mean what I think it meant for Dad.




I learnt it was all about attention or mindfulness, the capacity to see what is, not what we want or hope to see, allowing it to educate and influence our response. Walking the land with his sheep allowed him to see them both for what they were, a part of creation with something to say.  He never fed stock grain during hard times, he lopped Currajong trees to do the job, he cared for his land and his sheep in such a way they cared for each other.




Often he would simply wander into the paddock and call the sheep, before turning and walking to the gate. With a little encouragement they would wander along behind him as if they knew that's what was required of them. I think they did.




This idea of walking the land has become a key to how I am a priest, whether it was on the streets of Fortitude Valley or Stafford Heights in Brisbane with street kids, in HMAS KUTTABUL or on board a warship with sailors in the RAN, and now at Lindisfarne school. Walking amongst young people, watching and listening; paying attention is the primary tool I use to discern what is needed. It could be called, loitering with intent. 




At school I stand at the bottom of the stairs, watching and listening as they dawdle to the next class, picking up cues, hints and ideas, simply by being awake and mindful. They are often amazed I know so much about them.




Walking the land mindfully was a key to Dad's understanding of his land and his sheep, doing the same is the key to my success as a chaplain.




Why? Because it is a spiritual concept as old as God. Psalm 23 reminds us God walks amongst us just as God did in the Garden of Eden, and does so to provide what we need as we need it. God sees what is and responds. The coming amongst us of Jesus, what we call the Incarnation, was so God could walk the land and see as a human being. By doing so, Jesus learnt what it meant to be human, and discovered what humanity required for salvation.  God became like us so we could become like God.




The description John uses for Jesus as the shepherd who knew his sheep and whose sheep knew him, could also describe my father. His affinity with the soil is the reason for the photo on the order of service, as to the weather beaten hat, it speaks of his rose garden and fresh veges. The hand polished walking stick, reminds me of how he cared for his trees and his sheep, the England golf team cap reminds me of his love for family, and the book of photos of this years Melbourne cup, his love of horse racing. In the coffin with him is a bag of his favourite chocolates which reminds me of ....... his love of chocolates. There are so many chocolates in our fridge there is little room for food!




As you leave here this morning, we invite you to take a chocolate from the back with you, and have one on Ron as you drive out the cemetery.




On behalf of Mum and the family I would like to thank Ron's 'community girls' and the team who supported both of them by cleaning house, taking Mum to morning tea and shopping, as well as the staff at the hospital, Spruces Chemist and South Surgery. I would also like to thank Bev Golden who is there every day, Aunty Lola and Greta - thankyou for your regular weekly, and sometimes daily visits, and to all family and friends who visited, asked after him and are here today; thankyou.

As usual I will let my Dad have the last word in the words of his favourite Slim Dusty song:




This is the tale of a mate I had

Back in those other days 

Thin as wire and just as tough

And woolly and wide his ways.




When the going was rugged and really rough

He would always cheerfully state

"Things are bad but they could be worse

So we'll see how we go with it mate."




There was a time when we busted our cheques

In a town on the long ago now
When a big gun shearer got on the tear 

And started to kick up a row.



And he picked on the smallest one of our lot 

And slaughter was plain to see 

Till our mate said "Listen you son of a gun

Come and fire a charge at me."


Ha! things really began to happen then because 


As he picked himself out of the dust an the dirt

Both eyes were the colour of slate
And he squinted a bit as he said to me

"How did I go with him mate?"




How did he go with him need I tell ya.

Another time in the sunny state

With both of us badly bent

With saddle bags empty and nothing to smoke



And between us we hadn't a cent.

When we saw on a poster stuck on a wall

News of a rodeo;

"Well here's our chance" he said to me

"We'll be kings of the wild west show."

But he drew the worse horse there was in the draw

Mean eyed and short in the neck

As he climbed up the chute he whispered to me

"Be ready to collar the cheque." 

Collar the cheque this is what really happened

As he picked himself out of the red Queensland dust

Just a few yards away from the gate

He looked up at me with a lop-sided grin and said

"How did I go with him mate?"

Now this mate of mine has gone to rest
The way he was destined to go

Wheeling the lead of the scrubbers that broke

From a camp on the overflow.

As I stood by his grave on that drear winters day

With the rest of the crew and the boss

I thought of his happy-go-lucky ways

And I knew just how great was our loss.



And I thought of him climbing those long golden stairs

With St Peter in-charge of the gate

And I'm certain I heard his voice at my side saying

"How will I go with him mate?"