Heavy dust

Therefore by this the guilt of Jacob will be expiated,
   and this will be the full fruit of the removal of his sin:
when he makes all the stones of the altars
   like chalkstones crushed to pieces,
   no sacred poles or incense altars will remain standing.

Isaiah 27.9 (NRSV)

It has been a very busy March.

I have started a Bachelor of Theology, Priestly Formation, and a parish placement. All in a new city.

Anyway, it is all going well. Blogging seems like a luxury compared to essays on Aboriginal spirituality, Origen, Christology, and OT exegesis. The upshot of all of this is I am coming to terms with my vocation as a priest. 

Being at uni has been an eye opener. Discussing theology with fundamentalist Christians and athiests is great fun, and rewarding. To know that I am neither is a relief, and understanding both is blessing.

At morning prayer and eucharist last Wednesday, I noticed a small cross in white chalk upon a brick. It was tiny, maybe 2 cm, and about 5 metres from where I was sitting.  As I gazed upon it, and the Great Thanksgiving Prayer was happening, I began to experience the great weight of the little cross, like it was holding up the entire world. Eternity was being focussed onto it's arms. It was a reoccurrent sensation. It would disapate then focus. Looking at it again this morning, it was just a small white chalk cross. These little moments and recognising them, staying with them, and allowing them to be is a part of the journey. Realising that they won't neccesarily be repeated is the balancing factor.