WELCOME

WELCOME FROM THE GENERAL SECRETARY Connection and Care

REV. JANE FRY GENERAL SECRETARY

THE GENERAL SECRETARY IS APPOINTED BY THE SYNOD TO PROVIDE LEADERSHIP TO THE CHURCH BY ACTIVELY ENGAGING IN STRATEGIC THINKING ABOUT THE LIFE, DIRECTION, VISION AND MISSION OF THE CHURCH. Lately I’ve been remembering two people who were attached to a Uniting Church. Two unrelated individuals, two quite different life stories both of whom ended up separated from their families and effectively alone in the world. Hence, perhaps, their attachment to the church. I use the word ‘attached’ because ‘connected’, ‘included’, ‘befriended’ and other similar words aren’t quite right. I acknowledge that both were quite challenging – one person could be an absolute pest and the other was so trapped in his own grief and sadness that it was hard to get words out of him. There’s more to their stories, of course, I mention them because they were so alone in the world when they died. As we look back on the last two years of pandemic disruption and restriction and remember what it felt like to be separated from family and community, I’ve been very conscious of the very many people in residential aged care settings who have no family or no family contact. For such people, the community of their particular setting - made up of staff and other residents – is life-giving and life-saving. The pandemic has both revealed and intensified the systemic problems in the way aged care is delivered in this country. It bothers me (a lot) that there is so little sign of any intention to seriously address these issues emanating from those who have responsibility. We’ve all learned over the last two years how vulnerable we are when our ability to connect and care for each other is constrained or cut off. Human beings are social animals – connection and care for each other are fundamental to our wellbeing, not an optional nice-to-have. We appear to notice this most powerfully whenever community comes together in response to a threat or disaster as we experienced in the 2019 bushfire disaster and, right now, in the response to devastating floods in northern NSW. At such times, our dependance on the generosity and compassion of others is recognised, appreciated and celebrated for the enormous gift – blessing – that it is. It always strikes me that the gift of community should be remarked upon as something unusual, strange, surprising. I surmise that this reaction reflects the highly individualized, self-absorbed, self-obsessed culture in which we now live. In a book titled ‘The Life of I: The New Culture of Narcissism’, Alice Manne comments "Popular culture, in its relentless embrace of the addictions of consumerism, seduces ordinary people". Individualism, materialism, consumerism are dominant, inescapable threads in our cultural landscape and we’re all, consciously or unconsciously, tangled in them. So tangled perhaps that it’s become increasingly difficult to see or sense what might have been lost along the way and it now takes increasingly powerful wake up calls to remind us that we belong to each other, we need each other and to remind us of the blessing and gift of being connected in community.

CONNECTION

AND CARE FOR EACH OTHER ARE FUNDAMENTAL TO

OUR WELLBEING I have a – possibly idealistic – expectation that the church should ‘get’ this. After all, we live in a story that says it’s not about ‘you’, it’s actually more about ‘us’. We have been gathered into community to live differently together, to be ‘a fellowship of reconciliation through which Christ may work and bear witness to himself’ (Basis of Union par.3) One of the most profound ways that the church witnesses to Jesus Christ is when it reaches beyond its buildings to offer hospitality and genuine community as a reminder that we are not alone, we are all in this together; when it provides a caring sanctuary for those who are alone in this world, so they don’t die alone and disconnected from the human family. And, yes, it’s sometimes uncomfortable, painful, and costly. It's Ash Wednesday in the week that I’m writing this – the beginning of Lent when we usually talk of giving something up. Coffee, chocolate, wine are frequently favourite sacrifices. As we ‘give up’ this Lent, could we also reflect on what we might ‘give to’ forming and fostering a connected, loving community as a reminder for our disconnected, forgetful world?

14 Thoroughly Rural

Insights talks to Ministry agents in rural areas to share their stories and hopes for the future

REGULARS

3 WELCOME

6 YOUR SAY ONLINE

7 NEWS

32 BELIEF MATTERS

34 PULSE

40 LECTIONARY REFLECTIONS

46 ENTERTAIN ME

26 28

36 44

The Uniting Church in Australia is one of the country’s largest denominations.

Our vision is that it will be a fellowship of reconciliation, living God’s love, following Jesus Christ and acting for the common good to build a just and compassionate community of faith.

MANAGING EDITOR Adrian Drayton EDITOR Jonathan Foye PRODUCTION/DESIGN Rana Moawad COVER ART Mary holding Jesus ©2007 Helen Barnes RSJ. From The Cross – An Australian Journey (Strathfield: St Pauls Publications)

EDITORIAL/ADVERTISING/ DISTRIBUTION INQUIRIES PHONE 02 8267 4304 FAX 02 9264 4487 ADDRESS Insights, PO Box A2178, Sydney South, NSW, 1235 EMAIL insights@nsw.uca.org.au WEB www.insights.uca.org.au

Insights is published by the Uniting Church in Australia, Synod of New South Wales and the ACT. Articles and advertising content do not necessarily reflect the views of the Editor or of the Uniting Church. Contents copyright. No material from this publication may be copied, photocopied or transmitted by any means without the permission of the Managing Editor. CIRCULATION: 12,000. ISSN: 1036-7322 Commonwealth of Australia 2020.

MODERATOR’S REFLECTION The heart of our faith

REV. SIMON HANSFORD MODERATOR

THE MODERATOR IS ELECTED TO GIVE PROPHETIC AND PASTORAL LEADERSHIP TO THE SYNOD, ASSISTING AND ENCOURAGING EXPRESSION AND FULFILMENT OF FAITH, AND THE WITNESS OF THE CHURCH.

Keep up with the Moderator by following these hashtags on Facebook and Instagram. #moderatorinsession #AllOfThisIsUs As Western Australia opens itself up to the rest of our country and, thus, to the world, we can reflect on two years of lines drawn on a map, of diseasedriven demarcation, and wonder what has happened. I have walked the empty offices and shops in Pitt Street, sponsored by sound health policy and amplified by fear. As people trickle back into the city, we all wonder what is next; confidence is yet to return alongside the workers. the connection for which we long becomes slightly more arbitrary. Someone finds a hairline crack and stamps their boot.

We gather in worship and at concerts (unmasked!) and test the distances between, not quite sure whether to shake hands, to nod and smile, or to embrace. Fiona and I danced and clapped and sang with all our might at an outdoor performance recently. Part of our exhilaration was simply to be amongst full-faced people elated around us, even with the uncertainty of everything. We know the wonder of being together, of contact, of connection. Introverts and extraverts alike have missed being in the room, around the table, gathered in relationship. The famished embraces of families at the airport echoes in every one of us. In our next breath we watch as people strive to find difference, to define and divide our communities. Election campaigns always bring this on, we are told, once more. So our faith, or our identity, or our gender, or our fear become focal points for political exploitation and The ash has barely been wiped from our foreheads and we watch our friends trapped in a flooding disaster on our state’s north coast and Russia trampling war into Ukraine. So much invested in finding enemies; people to accuse, or punish, or ignore. This story is not new; it is as old as sin itself. A colleague speaks of “powers and principalities” which are invested only in themselves and whisper temptations to power, to the distractions of bread and circuses. They are woven in our culture and use voices that we know, sometimes even our own. In this season, of all seasons, we must be able to proclaim mercy and justice, the essential hope we find in Jesus Christ. What song of life have we to sing to which people may want to dance, even with exhilaration? Of what hope might we speak that offers an embrace and not the pointed finger of accusation and blame? In a world which seeks to accuse others and create enemies, in order to distract from responsibility, our discipleship calls us to seek out our enemies in order to forgive them. The credibility of our proclamation is found in the integrity of our ministry, not in the beauty of our sanctuaries, or in the reputations of the past.

In a recent commercial radio interview about the floods, the journalist was astonished at the work of our Disaster Chaplains, sitting with people in their worst moments. They know that there is no easy solution to be offered, but the integrity of their presence, weeping with those who weep. The crucified Christ sits at the heart of our faith. Jesus, on the cross, is the marker of difference who embraces all those who are wounded – and those who create the wounds. In his final hours, the actions of Christ are to welcome a criminal and to seek forgiveness for those THE CRUCIFIED who nailed him there. CHRIST SITS AT THE HEART OF

OUR FAITH Not revenge, but mercy. When a preacher, or a politician, speaks of sin and forgiveness too quickly and too easily, check your wallet. The forgiveness which is found on the cross is not an exchange of contract or a bargain struck. It is never “a form of words”. It is the deliberate, compassionate act of God to restore the creation and all within it, and requires everything of God, even life. It is God with us, in uttermost suffering and injustice. The silence of the tomb echoes the impact of God’s engagement with us. Forgiveness is costly and borne in love.

The wonder of Christ’s resurrection is the assurance that the story of death which haunts our world is not the most powerful word spoken. Life is stronger than death’s demarcation. It is God, in Christ, making us entirely whole, and entirely welcome.