On his October 15 posting from Rome, Archbishop Dew noted that there had been vigorous arguments in the small group discussions taking place this week.

"The arguments are very strong as to whether this should be about doctrine and truth, or about mercy and compassion for those who struggle or for whom life is difficult," he said.

But the Archbishop of Wellington stated that doctrine is not being done away with.

"We are saying that the Church needs to be warm and welcoming - showing the mercy and kindness of Jesus."

Archbishop Dew also noted another bishop referring to the parable of the wheat and the weeds and saying that we need to admit we are all in this together.

"Sometimes we are the wheat and sometimes we are the weeds, but whatever happens, life will be full of both," Archbishop Dew said.

He also observed that some synod members only want to use scripture passages that support their own arguments.

In his October 16 posting, Archbishop Dew mentioned media portrayals of the competing factions at the synod, and admitted there is some truth in these.

"[But] it seems to me the majority [at the synod] are very aware of the need for the Church to reach out in new ways to many who do struggle," he wrote.

"I am sure that the mission of Pope Francis - even though some don't like it - is to make the Church a place of love and welcome, a community where people know they are accepted and cared for."

Archbishop Dew was sure this would come through when the small group discussions were to be reported back.

The blog is being updated daily with Archbishop Dew's postings on the New Zealand Catholic Bishops Conference website.

Sources

• Archbishop Dew synod blog
• Archbishop Dew synod blog
• Image: NZ Catholic

What about Catholic jokes? Will that do?

I usually enjoy religious humour. It seems to come from solid faith that is without doubt or fear.

And sometimes the laughter it evokes, unwraps a little parable that stays with me.

I still carry an old Marist Messenger confessional joke about a man who worked in a timber yard. For twenty years he had been stealing timber to build himself a house and outbuildings.

The priest was concerned at the enormity of this theft. He said. "My son, that is a serious sin and it requires serious penance. I want you to make a retreat."

The man brightened. "Sure thing, Father! You show me the plans and I'll get the timber."

So where is the parable?

Foe me it is a warning about repetition, the laundry list, the attempts to dismiss wrongdoing before learning from it.

At a superficial level, reconciliation can be partly about self-protection and partly our desire for goodness; but we know there is much more to it than that.

Spiritual awareness grows through the tension between darkness and light.

Our shadow is light unborn.

We should not be afraid to be human, although sometimes we need help to work with the way God has made us.

I believe I can't not dismiss my failure with a few Hail Marys.

What I call sin, will keep on repeating itself if I don't see the shadow as a teacher.

There's no getting away from this because every strength has its own shadow. We can't separate the two: although we try to focus on the strength.

The tension between light and shadow seems to work like this:

• The high energy person who has a gift of leadership, is also likely to have a quick temper.
• Discernment is a gift, but it can tip over to judgemental attitudes and be ready to condemn others.
• Those who seem to have infinite patience can fall into inertia.
• Good communicators can be poor listeners.

My own strong maternal instincts have their place but when the shadow emerges, I become the caricature of the controlling Yiddish mother.

How do we identify our shadow? That's not too difficult. Other people with the same shadow, will be a mirror for us.

When someone who tries to mother me, I want to run for the hills.

Every shadow has one thing in common. It is attached to that "ne first" survival instinct we call the ego.

The good news is that the more we work with the shadow, the more it will come over to the light.

However, we can never entirely lose that "me first" instinct.

Beating one's chest and proclaiming "I am a sinner!" Still comes from "me, me, me."

So what can we do about the egoic nature of the shadow?

Clearly there is no point in being like the old Jewish rabbis who loudly lamented because they could not escape selfishness.

So perhaps the answer lies in that good old tool of Catholic humour.

We can laugh at ourselves.

• Joy Cowley is a wife, mother, grandmother, great-grandmother and retreat facilitator.

We call such stories parables because the telling sits on layers of deeper meaning, much of which cannot be put into language.

Not all parables are in sacred scripture, but they can become sacred with reflection.

I like an old Japanese fable about a man who lived alone in a house on a hill.

The man grew apple trees, and in season would take baskets of apples to the people who lived in the village below.

It was a small village, a few houses huddled between the sea and the hill. The man knew everyone who lived there, and sometimes would sit in front of his house, watching his friends.

Then came the day of the big earthquake. The hill shook, the man's wooden house rattled and groaned, and apples rained down from the trees.

The quake was over in less than a minute. but the man knew worse was to come.

He tried to yell a warning to the village, but the people didn't hear him. They were too busy sorting the damage caused by the quake.

The man beat an empty tin drum with a stick. It made a lot of noise, but still no one down there, noticed.

There was not time to run down the hill and warn the villagers. Only one option was left.

The man's house was made of fine cherry wood. He had built it himself and it was much admired.

He set fire to it.

When the villagers saw the smoke and flames, they ran up the hill to help the apple grower. They were very surprised to learn he had deliberately lit the fire. "He must be mad!" they said. "Living on his own has made him crazy."

Someone looked down and saw a great swell of water coming towards the shore. The tsunami caused by the earthquake swamped the entire village.

Water covered the rooftops and came halfway up the hill.

Then the people understood what had happened.

The apple man had destroyed his house to save his friends.

It's a good story. We can sit quietly with it and look at the times we have needed to sacrifice something precious to us, to serve the greater good.

This tension between self and other, causes pain.

But we've all been called to do it. It can be somethings as small as a desire put aside for rightness of living, or as big as personal ambition abandoned for another's welfare.

Such sacrifice is never easy, but when it's done, we make a remarkable discovery.

It hasn't been about personal loss. It's about gain. Somehow, part of who we are, has grown bigger.

From that reflection, we can go with the story to an even deeper level.

We know who the apple grower really is. We have always known him. And perhaps we can call that hill Golgotha.

• Joy Cowley is a wife, mother, grandmother, great-grandmother and retreat facilitator.
• Image: Stuff

In the homily, Fr Bill Edebohls of Malvern East in Melbourne took aim at lawyers and media at the Royal Commission into Institutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse.

He said he was concerned the royal commission would not give victims an opportunity to heal.

"Why? Because both the media and the lawyers, like the baying crowd of men in the Gospel ready to throw stones, don't understand the need for a justice that is drenched in mercy."

Fr Edebohls was preaching on the Gospel account of Jesus and the woman caught committing adultery.

"Maybe to get the real drama and effect of the story we ought to replace the adulterous woman with a paedophile priest," he stated.

The priest's homily went on to say: "That does not mean there is no condemnation of the sin, no punishment or consequences for the perpetrator or an institution that protected him. But it does mean justice with mercy."

"Condemnation alone leaves the person with their sin with no way out, so nothing is lost by repeat offences."

The statements were printed in the local parish school's March newsletter. The school regularly puts homilies in its newsletter.

One parent said it was abhorrent to compare a crime like paedophilia with a moral issue like adultery.

Bernard Barrett, a researcher at victims support group Broken Rites, said Fr Edebohls' comments downplayed serious crimes.

Catholic Archdiocese of Melbourne spokesman Shane Healy said Fr Edebohls had replaced the adulterous woman of Jesus' time with the worst sinner in our time, the paedophile priest.

Mr Healy said Fr Edebohls was "absolutely not" comparing paedophilia to adultery.

But the spokesman added that "lazy people who didn't go to the trouble of reading the thing fully might very well land there".

Fr Edebohls wrote an explanatory note that was sent home to parents of St Mary's primary school last week.

Fr Edebohls was once the Anglican Dean of Ballarat and was Melbourne's first married priest to run a Catholic parish.

Sources

• The Age
• The Guardian
• Image: Orthocuban

In the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent to a town in Galilee called Nazareth, to a virgin engaged to a man whose name was Joseph...

Arguments about the virgin birth have no place in spiritual journey. We all have a virgin space in our lives. It is a restless space, a hunger in the heart that only God can fill. Men and women alike, we are made to become pregnant with God. That is our destiny.

And he came to her and said, "Greetings, favoured one! The Lord is with you!"

First there comes the nudge of a greeting, a tug of love at the heart, so gentle that we wonder if we are imagining it. We may feel vulnerable and confused. What does this mean?

The angel said, "Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favour with God. And now you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus…"

The movement in the heart is stronger. It is a call of some kind and we are expected to respond. Our feeling of vulnerability increases. Our head is saying, "No! This is a lot of nonsense!" But our heart has tasted sweetness, and it clamours, "Yes, yes, yes!"

Mary said to the angel, "How can this be since I am a virgin?" The angel said to her, "The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the most High will overshadow you…"

Our yes has turned into a presence that is beyond our limited sensate system. It is both within us and outside us, filling and guiding, and always it is love. But our celebration is tinged with timidity. "How can I? I'm not qualified to do this? People will laugh or criticise."

Love, always patient, says, "Trust me and see," and we find ourselves growing into that trust.

Then Mary said, "Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be done to me according to your word.

This is not to say the path will be easy. We may still object. "This is too difficult." But the call will keep coming back, each time stronger, until we say, "Okay, let it be done to me."

… Mary set out and went with haste to a Judean town in the hill country where she entered the house of Zechariah and greeted Elizabeth.

Faith nurtures faith. We do not walk alone. When we meet another pregnant with God, the love within us leaps in recognition, light sensing light, truth acknowledging truth.

And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.

The call is about being real, knowing who we are.

The birthing of Christ is not in an inn but a stable. It's not about silken robes but bands of cloth. Not a royal cradle but a manger. While we have honoured the birthing story with cathedrals, jewels and fine vestments, the reality of it in our lives is always very simple.

It is in this utter simplicity, that we know God.

• Joy Cowley is a wife, mother, grandmother, great-grandmother and retreat facilitator.