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There are moments when even angels weep. This is an article I wrote for another publication and have permission to reproduce here. I write as: * The CofE House of Bishops change direction on services of blessings on Same Sex couples and their acceptance of SS clergy who have entered into a civil marriage contract. * The  Anglican Diocese  of Ballarat in Synod at the  Anglican Cathedral Church of Christ the King - Ballarat  receive and debate a motion in relation to the place of GBLT in the local church. Moments when wings feel too heavy, when the light they carry dims beneath the weight of sorrow or silence. In those moments, another angel comes — not to preach, not to fix, but simply to be. To sit beside, to listen, to hold the space sacred and still. Too long have many of our brothers, sisters, and siblings been told that heaven has no room for them — that their love, their truth, their song is somehow “less.” But I say this: the divine is found wherever love abide...

🕊️  The Feast of Saint Francis: Beyond the Fluff and the Fur Every year on October 4th, the Feast of Saint Francis of Assisi comes around with wagging tails and flapping wings. Churches fill with Labradors and lorikeets, poodles and parrots, all queued up for their annual blessing. It’s a delightful sight — a moment when even the most hardened church-shy neighbour will wander in, dog leash in hand, for a photo-worthy moment with the local vicar. And yes, The Vicar of Dibley captured it perfectly: chaos and holiness mingled in equal measure — goats bleating, cats hissing, and Geraldine Granger standing there with that divine mix of amusement and exasperation. It’s a scene that could happen in any parish hall, really. But beneath the comedy lies a deeper question: have we turned the blessing of animals into a feel-good marketing event — or are we genuinely hearing the call of Saint Francis to honour creation itself? Saint Francis: The Radical, Not the Romantic Saint Francis wasn’t ...

This Sunday’s readings for mass/holy communion from the Revised Common Lectionary are anything but comfortable. I have already written about them but I find myself going back and re-engaging with them I have also written a hymn that can be sung to the tune Tallis’ Canon (443 in togeather in song). Amos thunders against those who lie at ease while the poor go unnoticed at their gates. The psalmist reminds us that God raises up the lowly and calls His people to justice. Paul urges Timothy to fight the good fight of faith with perseverance. And then comes the parable: a rich man feasting, blind to the misery of Lazarus lying right outside his door. It is a hard mirror to look into. These passages don’t allow us to hide behind a purely private faith. They make it plain: to follow Christ is to notice the neighbour at the gate, to let compassion disturb our ease, and to act. And yet, despite their sharpness, there’s something hopeful in them too. The scriptures never expose our fa...

Beauty for Brokenness: Singing Lazarus’s Song Readings: Amos 6:1a, 4–7; Psalm 146; 1 Timothy 6:11–16; Luke 16:19–31 ⸻ The Hymn as a Prayer When Graham Kendrick wrote Beauty for Brokenness (TIS 690), he wasn’t simply writing a hymn — he was penning a prayer of lament and hope. It cries out on behalf of the poor, the dispossessed, the voiceless: “God of the poor, friend of the weak, give us compassion we pray.” Singing it today, with fresh voices or even a recording made long ago, it becomes a living commentary on the Scriptures appointed for this Sunday. When reflecting on the readings, this hymn and a recording I made of it some 16 years ago kept bubbling to the surface.  ⸻ Amos: Woe to the Comfortable The prophet Amos is fierce: “Woe to those who are at ease in Zion… who lie on beds of ivory… but are not grieved over the ruin of Joseph” (Amos 6:1a, 4–7). The words slice through complacency. It is not wealth itself Amos condemns, but indifference — the numbing of the heart to suf...

🎶 The Joy of Singing: Harmony Across the Generations 🎶 There’s something profoundly human about singing — the way it bypasses logic and leaps straight to the heart. Yesterday, at the Ballarat Choral Festival, that joy was not only heard but felt, filling Saint Patrick’s Cathedral with warmth, unity, and a sense of something far greater than the sum of our voices. From the youngest prep student, juniors shyly clutching their iPads , to our silver-haired sopranos and basses who have sung through decades of life’s seasons, the day was a true celebration of the ages — a musical tapestry that told the story of our community. Each choir brought its own flavour: ensembles with bright, eager tones; seasoned chamber groups offering polish and poise; community choirs brimming with heart and character. The repertoire ranged from sacred classics to toe-tapping spirituals, and yet, in the end, it was one song that brought us all together. As the final notes of “Walk on the Water” rose and fell...

Shining a Light on the Future: A Conversation with James Carroll This week, as part of my podcast  A Week at the Clinic , (a new series from An Englishman Downunder ) I had the privilege of sitting down with James Carroll, founder of THOR Photomedicine and one of the world’s leading advocates for photobiomodulation (PBM) therapy. What began as a simple interview,  evolved into a rich and spontaneous exchange that I believe many in our field—clinicians, researchers, and curious patients alike—will find illuminating. James shared his remarkable journey, from stumbling upon laser therapy in 1986 to building THOR into a globally respected name in PBM. Our conversation explored the evolution of laser and LED technology, the development of treatment protocols, and the ongoing challenge of navigating regulatory pathways that often lag behind scientific innovation. A key theme that emerged was the disparity between academic interest in PBM and its uptake in clinical settings....

“Trooping the Colour: Memories of a Young Lieutenant” by Kevin Harper – An Englishman Downunder As the Trooping of the Colour returns this week to Horse Guards Parade in London, I find myself recalling, with a mix of pride and poignancy, my first time in attendance—not as a tourist or television viewer, but as a serving officer. The year was 1982. I was a young Lieutenant in the Royal Army Medical Corps, newly pressed and marching tall. My mother and father were with me that day, seated among the guests, beaming. I remember glancing toward them just before the parade began and seeing something in their faces—love, yes, and pride—but also a quiet knowing that their son was now part of something older and greater than any one generation. Trooping the Colour is not merely ceremony. It is an inheritance. In those days, Her late Majesty Queen Elizabeth II would still take the salute on horseback, astride the ever-faithful Burmese. The music swelled, the regiments moved with clockwork ...

Review: Jesus Christ Superstar – Melbourne, Saturday 29 March, 2pm Matinee Starring Michael Paynter as Jesus Returning to Jesus Christ Superstar after more than five decades, my last encounter being the original London production in 1972, I was eager to see how this timeless rock opera had evolved. Accompanied by colleagues from the clinic—avid followers who’ve attended various Australian renditions featuring renowned local talents—I approached the 2pm matinee at Melbourne’s Princess Theatre with a blend of nostalgia and curiosity. This production was undeniably spectacular, yet it cast a darker, more somber tone reminiscent of medieval mystery plays. This stood in stark contrast to the original’s lighter, more minimalist approach. The emphasis on shadow and symbolism added depth but also a heaviness that diverged from the narrative clarity I fondly remembered. Vocally, the cast delivered powerful and dramatic performances. Michael Paynter’s portrayal of Jesus was emotionally charg...

“Fiat” In the hush of ruined stone and lilies’ breath, He kneels—bare feet upon cracked earth, Not for conquest, nor for praise, But to bear a message older than time. She, cloaked in quiet blue, No crown, no veil, no trumpet sound— Only the steady gaze of a girl Who listens, and then says: yes . No questions. No falter. Just the unshakeable stillness of grace. And he—Gabriel— Stilled not by the words he delivered, But by the wonder of her reply. He looks upward, Bathed in the golden beam of his Master’s light, And knows: He has pleased the One who sent him.