You too must stand ready, because the Son of Man is coming at an hour you do not expect.
Luke 12:40
There are a few
International Days over the next few days and weeks: International Day of the World’s
Indigenous People, International Youth Day, World Humanitarian Day. Shortly we
will celebrate Catholic Education Week in Tasmania and not long after
Children’s Book Week. Add to this the Feast of the Assumption of Mary and we
have a calendar of events that would test the skill of a private secretary.
Each of these days has a message for us; each has its own significance. Our
world today is a demanding place. We manage with the frenetic pace by buying 'smart'
phones that keep us in constant contact with anyone and everyone, diaries thick
with appointments and multiple family vehicles for transporting our equally
demanding cargoes to their next venue.
Life was simpler
once upon a time (it is said) when you didn’t have to plan your children’s play
days because they were too busy climbing trees, making go-carts and tin canoes,
putting on plays and cycling until you were exhausted. The calendar was
consulted for birthdays and Christmas and nothing was more important than being
home for tea on time, summer days on the beach, winter footy, raincoats and
gumboots.
Our world has
provided us generously. Good jobs are there to be had and the rewards from hard
work ensure we do better than merely provide for food and shelter. With this
wealth come greater demands. Not only providing attention to our families but
to the many charities, committees, organisations, schools, clubs, interests
that envelope us. The evangelist Luke (12:48) writes: “When a man has had a great
deal given him, a great deal will be demanded of him; when a man has had a
great deal given him on trust, even more will be expected of him.”
And so it is
equally demanded of us. In our full lives, rich as they are, we are plainly
called to give more, though I strongly suspect that Luke does not mean more of
the same, but more deeply, more richly, more passionately, more willingly. For
those who fail to respond to the gifts so freely offered, they will not be
prepared “because the Son of Man is coming at an hour you do not expect (Luke
12:40).”
Be prepared, but
be prepared to give.
Peter Douglas
HEAD OF SCHOOL
SERVICES, NORTH
One Summer Day
on the Number One Train
When
the doors of the express opened at 72 Street,
the
local was waiting. She entered with me,
tall
and angular as a crane, her expression alert,
violin
poised against her clavicle like a wing.
The
train was half-empty, the passengers dozing
or
absorbed in their smartphones.
She
stood at one end of the car, her gaze
swiftly
appraising us, while the doors slid shut.
Closing
her eyes, she lifted her bow
and
dipped her chin, and into that pause
went
all the years of preparation
that
had brought her to this moment.
The
train accelerated in a rush of cacophony,
her
music welled up, and I recognized
a
Bach concerto blossoming to fullness
like
an ever-opening rose. Suddenly
I
was crying for no reason and every reason,
in
front of strangers. I thought of the courtroom
where,
an hour ago, I’d sat listening to testimony
with
fellow jurors, charged to determine the facts
and
follow the law. But no matter how we tried,
we
couldn’t reverse damage or undo wrong.
The
music was contrast and balm, like sunlight
in
subterranean air. The tears wet on my cheeks,
I
broke into applause, joined by fellow passengers.
We’d
become an audience, her audience,
just
before the doors opened and we scattered.
Making
my offering, I exited, too shy to catch her eye.
But
she’d seen the effect her music had wrought.
Its
echo resounded in my memory, following me
into
the glory of the summer afternoon.
It
is with me still.
Peter's Whereabouts for the next two weeks: