My Treasures

My Treasures
Pentecost 9; Luke 12:32-40
Jesus says:
“Where your treasure is,
there your heart will be also.”
Where now are my treasures
that draw my heart like magnets?

I treasure the scribbling
of words on a page,
trying to touch a truth,
then sharing those words with others.
I find treasure in stories,
read, heard and told,
stories lived and imagined,
shaped and revisited
by words old and new.
Such words are treasures,
though some say enlightenment comes
from wordless contemplation.

There is treasure here for me also
in this small retirement house,
built with the last of our savings,
shaped by our son’s design.
It’s a treasured shelter
for us in our ageing,
and for our unpartnered son
who, like so many others,
can’t yet afford a place of his own.
We muddle along willingly together
through the challenges of life and relationships.
Yet Jesus says:
“Sell your possessions and give alms.”
Are shared possessions a form of alms?

There is treasure in the garden,
native bushes I have planted
and long to see mature and flower
to feed the birds and bees.
Between them, yellow soursob flowers
gather the scanty winter sun
and lift my drooping spirits with brightness,
though no doubt they are weeds,
and our garden unkempt.

There is treasure in a little cat
who comes to rest on my chest
as I lie on the couch reading stories.
She rubs her nose on mine.
We comfort each other – 
as I stroke her cotton wool fur,
she purs her appreciation
and reaches a gentle paw
to touch my hand.
If she is my possession,
then I am hers as well.
Her precarious health relies on medication
and both of us are old.
No doubt in time we will fail,
though no thief comes near 
and no moth destroys.
Though I fear her loss,
and hope I last to care for her,
I do not begrudge
investing my heart in hers.

Jesus says:
“Do not be afraid, little flock,
for it is your Father’s pleasure
to give you the kingdom.”
Did he not also say
that the kingdom has come near?

Sacrifice of thanksgiving I bring,
though I cannot deny my heart
is drawn to these treasures,
these gifts and possessions.
If my response is love and gratitude,
is that also treasure in heaven?
	Barbara Messner 7/08/2025


There’s another cat in our household, but that is more of a master/servant relationship – guess who is the master? I provide food and water, clean up her eccentric toileting, and provide entertainment by turning on the bath, preferably daily, for her to watch the water run in and later reach down and sip. I am reminded several times when she considers it food or bath time. Her main display of affection is when I am anchored in place on the toilet!

Take Care

Take Care
(can be sung to the tune Sally Gardens, Irish traditional, used in the Iona song Inspired by Love and Anger in Heaven Shall Not Wait (Iona Community 1987) pp.124,125, also Together in Song (HarperCollinsReligious no.674) 
Pentecost 8; Luke 12:13-21
Take care! Be on your guard, friends,
against all forms of greed!
Why try to claim possessions
far more than what you need?
The rich store up abundance
to squander lavishly,
but when their life is over,
their souls will bankrupt be.

Relax, eat, drink, be merry –
sometimes, not life-time’s goal!
A life filled with indulgence
will empty out the soul.
Then when this life is over,
what treasure will be left?
If greed spends all the harvest,
what hope for those bereft?

When lifestyle makes us greedy,
we are not spirit rich.
So much of on-line buying
is just expensive kitsch.
Buy wisely for the Earth’s health
and give to those in need.
Such choices have more meaning
than any rote-said creed.
	Barbara Messner 31/07/2025

Ask, Search, Knock

Ask, Search, Knock
Pentecost 7; Luke 11:1-13
Ask and it will be given you!
While I was still a child,
I was drawn to words, 
music and performance,
so, as a young woman,
I asked to be a singer,
and that was given to me, 
but there’s another saying:
Be careful what you wish for,
 you might get it.

The door to singing 
opened into loving,
both the ill-starred kind
that closed my throat
with tension and tears,
and the kinder kind that led
to marriage and motherhood,
a door that opened unexpectedly,
though I don’t remember knocking,
and a door that closed gradually
on the would-be singer.

Having found the gift
had been overtaken by life,
I began a search
for the meaning of me,
beginning with words 
both studied and written.
I found the living Word
and a door opened in me
through which I heard a voice calling.
I began to write poetry once more
and journeyed further into Scripture
which seemed a rainbow arch
that promised a pot of God,
although always moving onward
as my search drew nearer.

I found and went on finding
that neither the meaning
of God or of me
is contained in any pot,
nor can be pinned down
any more than the rainbow,
which forms when the light
is refracted by raindrops,
or in the case of God
by the rays of insight
passing through clouds
into awe-filled sight. 

Knock and the door will be opened!”
And so it was,
although sometimes doors opened
for a period of time,
and closed gently behind me
when the room became cramped,
or I had worn out
my inner welcome.
I went through what opened
and didn’t look back.
Once I heard God say,
in that small amused voice:
“I call in the opening
and closing of doors.”

Sometimes it’s a matter of timing –
the front door that was closed
swings open at last
if the knocking persists.
Thus, a door finally opened
and I stepped into the priesthood,
late and with some reluctance
on both sides.

There at last I find
the evolving meaning of me and God.
Singer and wordsmith are reborn
not into churchiness personified,
not in the mould
I was formation-ed to fill,
but in the coming together 
of the parts of me,
opening into what I become
in the rainbow light of God 
which is multi-hued and elusive,
appearing at times through clouds
or beyond an opening door
when I ask, search, knock.
	Barbara Messner 23/07/2025

For Those Who Sometimes Feel like Martha

For Those Who Sometimes Feel like Martha
Pentecost 6; Luke 10:38-42
He said that Mary chose the better part
but not because she sat to contemplate.
She’d acted on the promptings of her heart
despite the voices that would remonstrate.
But Martha felt she had no power of choice,
constrained by what they said was woman’s role.
At least with Jesus she could raise her voice,
believing he would help her to be whole.

Like Martha, women may feel sore at heart.
when left to cope with all the chores alone.
“If all are equal, let all do their part!”
we growl, and chew on our resentment’s bone.
Then Jesus says: “By duties you feel bound
and fear self-blame for what remains undone.
Discern real need; let other ways be found.
Too many things distract; you need but one.

At one with me, you’ll be at one with you.
Then open-hearted work will not demean
and service need not be a choice you rue.
Sit still or act in peace that will be seen.
From contemplation, you’ll know how to act.
From following, you’ll find your way to lead.
You’ll value meaning more than so-called fact
and let the truth of me in you be freed.

Then you will share with me the risen life
and learn to live the love my words reveal.
Let child or elder, woman, man or wife
receive respect as hurtful habits heal.
Let everyone of every place and race
be safe from cruel injustice that defeats.
Then freedom lies within, if you make space
by letting go of ego that competes.”
Barbara Messner 6/07/2025

A Tale to Open Ears

A Tale to Open Ears (written during NAIDOC week which celebrates indigenous history, culture and achievement)
Pentecost 5; Luke 10:25-37
We may not share their long historic spite;
now “good” Samaritan’s a common term,
but Jesus’ listeners thought the opposite.
Religious difference spurred each side’s disdain.

“Samaritans praise God on mountain top,
the Jews in temple at Jerusalem,”
said woman of Samaria at the well
when Jesus broke taboo to ask for drink.

Disciples would have brought down heaven’s fire
on village that refused their band a bed -
rejection not of them but of their goal,
Jerusalem where temple rule prevailed.

The priest and Levite bent upon their path
were bound by laws of ritual purity:
touch blood or corpse and they could not fulfil
their duties in the temple on their day.

How radical the theme of Jesus’ tale
to challenge prejudice and righteousness
and show compassion as true godliness
where one we hate may dare to save our life.

Now hear it not from distant place and time,
but from our nation’s shameful history:
First Nations robbed and beaten by the whites,
while privilege walked past averting eyes.

For sixty thousand years their culture thrived,
attuned to country and its spirit lore,
cut down by those who thought that white was might
and other races ripe for victimhood.

It turns out some who intervened weren’t good:
they thought it best to make the mixed race white.
They took the child from mother, mother tongue,
left families and culture torn by grief.

The White Australia Policy is gone:
white privilege, however, still persists,
and prejudice remains that will not see
the good and wisdom in a darker face.

Let Jesus’ tale reach our complacent ears,
as once it challenged them to turn and see
a man who braved the risk of hurt or death
to bind the wounds, find haven for a foe.
	Barbara Messner7/07/2025

Song based on Psalm 30

Song based on Psalm 30
Pentecost 4; Tune Sussex Carol (On Christmas night all Christians sing) English traditional melody
1.We cry to you! You draw us up
from depths to healing light again!
You bring us back from silent lands!
You save our lives and make us whole!
	Sing out with all the faithful ones!
	Grateful hearts never silence praise.

2.Complacent in prosperity,
we may yet find ourselves dismayed.
Our heaviness may last a night,
but hearts lift up with sun at dawn.
	Sing out with all the faithful ones!
	Grateful hearts never silence praise.

3.Though you may seem to hide your face,
we find your mercy once again.
Our lamentation turns to dance:
amidst our grief you bring us joy.
	Sing out with all the faithful ones!
	Grateful hearts never silence praise.
		Barbara Messner 3/07/2025

The Rebuke

The Rebuke
Pentecost 3; Luke 9:51-62
See how Jesus is set on this journey
to the city that slaughters the prophets.
He’ll be threatened by temple and empire,
but he’s willing to suffer and die there,
at the hands of the fearful and powerful,
for the sake of God’s love and forgiveness.

When they ask in a village for shelter,
the Samaritans will not receive them:
they reject all to do with that city.
Then his followers want to bring fire
from the heavens to punish those people.
It’s no wonder he turns and rebukes them.

Jesus’ way is respect and compassion.
It’s ironic and tragic at present
that some leaders who claim to be Christian
think that missiles will force a surrender.
They are bullies demanding submission:
those who crucified Christ made such choices.

Jesus chose to be humble and homeless
with no claim to high status or palace.
If you follow him, try to tread lightly
on this Earth so that all have sufficient.
Far too many are addicts of plenty
and will sacrifice welfare for winning.
	Barbara Messner 26/06/2025

The Voice of Sanity

The Voice of Sanity
Pentecost 2; Luke 8:26-39
At times we chafe at chains
and shiver in our nakedness
and life among the tombs
can come to seem like home.

We know him, Jesus Christ,
but what he comes to offer us
torments us with a hope
too often snatched away.

We dare not answer “Yes!”,
but he’s intent on healing us.
Our demons, dispossessed,
ride swine into the depths.

Now clothed and in right mind,
we’d go with him to Galilee,
but Jesus bids us stay
and make our healing known.

The city folk in fear
ask him to leave the neighbourhood,
but we must stay and speak
where demons still abound.

We pray his name avails
to help us keep our sanity
alone amidst a crowd
too settled in their chains.
	Barbara Messner 18/06/2025

Now Woman Wisdom

Now, Woman Wisdom
Trinity Sunday; Proverbs 8:1-4,22-31
Now, Woman Wisdom, call!
Raise your voice again!
Take your stand at the crossroads
for there are many mis-directions,
and many rush headlong,
though they know not where.

Your cry is to all that live,
for you were brought forth
before the beginning of the Earth.
You were the delight of the Creator,
and joyful partner in the master work.

What now, Woman Wisdom?
Can you rejoice in the inhabited world
and delight in the human race,
or do you weep and warn,
seeing this world and its people
damaged and distorted?
Do you long to teach your ways
before it is too late for healing?

Where now are the wisdom seekers?
Once there were wisdom schools
and rulers renowned as wise.
Now some are posturing bullies
acting out their prejudices
on the hapless populace.
Many deny and abuse
the wise work of the Creator
and close their ears and eyes
to the insights and guidance
of the Human One and Holy Spirit,
to the wise words of sages,
poets and prophets of all ages.

Now Woman Wisdom, 
Universal Christ and Holy Spirit,
wisdom of country and First Nations,
call us back to the ways of wholeness!
Teach us to rejoice before the Creator
and delight in the world and humanity
for their rich design and diversity
and potential to become
expressions of love and wisdom.
	Barbara Messner 13/06/2025

Holy Spirit Come!

Holy Spirit, Come!
Day of Pentecost; Acts 2:1-21
Holy Spirit, come
in storied metaphor
like rushing wind
that shakes the house
and tongues (or bush) of flame.

If I could choose your form 
when we connect, I’d say: 
“Please be embodied as a bird: 
be like the dove descending,
or the wild goose of Celtic art,
or perhaps the mythic phoenix, 
consumed and reborn in fire.”

Some time after my father’s death,
a little friendly bird came to my mother,
a jaunty willy wagtail, flitting and flirting,
sitting on the clothesline as she pegged,
and once upon her shoulder, tender joy.
That bird was God’s love for a time. 
The wilderness of grief awaited still,
but the bird brought comfort to go on.

First Nation’s people say that birds bring messages
which ears attuned to country can hear.
I am too dis-located to listen well,
but you in me can sense a sign.
You come to me in black cockatoos,
their soaring flight a ray of the divine
that lights me up with love and awe.
The urban wilderness still waits,
but see! black cockatoos find food
in front yard trees, sustaining hope.

Holy Spirit, come
in breath of risen Word
bestowing peace
enlarging call
and gifting words to speak.

Yes, come to me as word,
the Spirit’s word of sight,
a poet’s word, a prophet’s word,
word in a sleepless night
that gets me up to write,
to wrestle until dawn.
Then wounded, blessed I stumble on,
pursuing insight’s light.

Attune me to your breath,
the rise and fall, the rhythmic need,
breath from four winds and seasons,
the vision in the wilderness
that rouses desiccated bones
and reconnects to life.

Holy Spirit come,
creative inspiration
in words and art,
in drama, dance, 
in worship, prayer
and music’s stirring heart.

Teach me to breathe and sing,
sing of creation made to share
for nurture and delight,
and not to plunder for reward,
for power or fame or greed.
Teach me to listen quietly,
so I commune with animals,
with country and with stars.

The wilderness awaits,
temptation, revelation still.
Like Jesus, let us breathe and pray,
remember Wisdom’s word,
and gratefully be tended there
by angels and wild beasts.
	Barbara Messner 4/06/2025