Tenison Woods and MacKillop Centre News

“The Spirit of the Lord is on me,
because he has anointed me
to proclaim good news to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners
and recovery of sight for the blind,
to set the oppressed free,
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favour.”

Luke 4:18f

These words were part of my reflection at the TCEC Awards Ceremonies in Ulverstone

and Launceston during Catholic Education Week.

The Brown Joeys of my childhood could be quite deadly serious, but there is no doubt that they loved teaching. They sang, they danced, they taught me to read, write, do my numbers and in doing what great teachers do, they reinforced how much I was loved by God and - how much we should care for others less fortunate than ourselves.

Most weeks I get to be in a school somewhere between Queenstown and George Town, and what I see each visit is living proof that the Good News is being proclaimed loudly and clearly and with great joy.

Jesus walked into his hometown synagogue, and while his fellow worshippers were amazed at his gracious words, they were unprepared to face the truth. The truth about themselves. They were shallow, it was all for show, the gracious words of Jesus hadn’t impacted on their hearts. Yet here was Good news being announced - but there was no joy. They had hearts of stone.

So, if I was looking to see how the Good News was spreading with joy, where would I see it, and what would it look like? And what does this Good News do when it is proclaimed? Jesus himself set the focus when he read from the scroll of Isaiah: I will see it when the Good News is proclaimed to the poor; when freedom for prisoners is proclaimed, when the blind recover their sight, and when the oppressed are free.

To be frank, if we were looking at Government to bring about God’s kingdom, we’d all be terribly disappointed. But if I was looking at us in this room, I know I wouldn’t be. Here in this room are people who love so much that lives are daily being transformed, ever so slightly, ever so real. There are principals here and school communities that are utterly committed to ensuring that a Catholic education is available and affordable to the marginalised of our society – through fee relief, providing uniforms, breakfasts, the support of counsellors and the provision of quality teaching and learning.

Yes, we have real prisons and prisoners in Tasmania, yet in our own neighbourhoods we have elderly and disabled bound to their homes, we have people whose ignorance binds them to close-mindedness, who would reject compassion for others, be they welfare recipients or refugees. God’s kingdom is close at hand when we see our students grow in awareness of the needs of others, when they take action to be inclusive, to be equitable, to visit the elderly, to value the contributions of everyone in our communities – and the doors of the imprisoned are thus opened. Our schools are committed to providing a key to opening those doors.

The blind are those who cannot see the enormity of the love God has for us, who cannot see the uniqueness of the gift we are to one another. That blindness prevents us from seeing the truth, from becoming who we are called to be. Again, our schools are deeply committed to the education of the whole child, and in so doing the scales of blindness fall away.

Marty Haugen, a composer of religious music captured the call to the Good News in Who will speak?

Who will speak for the poor and the broken
Who will speak for the peoples oppressed
Who will speak so that voice will be heard
Oh, who will speak if you don’t.

Our schools do speak, and they speak with a voice that will be heard. When our students leave the school yard for further education and work, that voice will continue to resonate, to make a difference. But, without love, without true compassion, with hardened hearts, there will be no joy. It takes devoted and faith-filled parents, dedicated and generous teachers and staff to grow the gifts that are our students and to nourish their hearts with love and compassion so that there may be joy.

Our schools bring a new heart to the narrative of education, and they do so because of their mission to spread and be Good News to all, but mostly, that new heart is because of the joy that dwells with in them.

Peter

Peter's whereabouts for the next 2 weeks

Meetings coming up

Please forward any agenda items for meetings (with some indication of time required and context) to Carole at carole.goodwin@catholic.tas.edu.au

From Marist Regional College

From Our Lady of Lourdes

From Our Lady of Mercy

From St Brendan-Shaw College

From St Brigid's

From St Finn Barr's

From Sacred Heart, Launceston

From Sacred Heart, Ulverstone

From St Joseph's Queenstown

From St Joseph's Rosebery

From Stella Maris

From Star of the Sea

From St Patrick's Latrobe

From St Patrick's College

From St Peter Chanel

From St Anthony's

From St Thomas More's

It was Peter who answered. ‘Lord,’ he said ‘if it is you, tell me to come to you across the water.’ ‘Come’ said Jesus. Then Peter got out of the boat and started walking towards Jesus across the water, but as soon as he felt the force of the wind, he took fright and began to sink. ‘Lord! Save me!’ he cried. Jesus put out his hand at once and held him. ‘Man of little faith,’ he said ‘why did you doubt?’ And as they got into the boat the wind dropped. The men in the boat bowed down before him and said, ‘Truly, you are the Son of God.’

Matthew 14: 28 – 33

I don’t possess the bluster that others do. If it is a difficult conversation that needs to be had, I’m not sure who it is more difficult for – me or the conversee. However well I prepare, as soon as the force of the moment, the encounter approaches, I do, in all honesty, begin to sink. I do have other strengths that will pull me through. I’m not sure I presume faith greater than that Peter’s, but I have been long convinced that the Lord’s hand will indeed save me.

Commentators view the heavy seas that struck Lake Galilee and the great head wind that faced the disciples’ boat as the chaos and turmoil of the early church - after the destruction of Jerusalem c 70 AD. The transition from a Jewish messianic movement to an independent religion was anything but easy. Peter’s tentativeness in stepping out of the boat (the church), his doubt, his panic and flailing in the Galilean water and his salvation by Jesus’ intervention is the experience of that early community as it struggled to find its place outside Judaism, but without entirely resolving the tensions between their adherence to the Mosaic law and the increasing demands of the Gentile converts. The key was the same then and the same now. It is indeed faith.

Since the Romanisation of the Church, the tension between law and culture has never been satisfactory. The Jesuit missionary efforts to Christianise the east met with rebuff after rebuff, and various liturgical innovations are often seen as aberrations (smoking ceremonies in Australia, kava ceremonies on the Pacific islands, the Maori Powhiri) despite the apparent generosity of Sacrosanctum concilium from Vatican II and Varietates legitimae (the 4^th instruction on inculturation and the Roman liturgy).

There is no doubt that the turmoil experienced by the Matthaen community is fresh and naked today: the various commissions and inquiries into sexual abuse in the church, the empty pews, the paucity of vocations, the tendency to the right, the rise and rise of Islam.

If we choose to meet the turmoil head on, we need to do so with faith. Yes, we might end up flailing about in our own doubts, but at its real centre, is trusting – and knowing – that Jesus will reach out his hand to us. And we will be saved.

Peter