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Rex A.E. Hunt presented this beautiful, but scary, address on 2 August, 2026:

“To know the seasons, look to plants. Wildflowers, especially, are excellent teachers.
Their extravagant displays catch our attention. Their small, delicate bodies are beautifully,
frighteningly permeable to the changing pulses of the world.
Plants feel seasonal changes in light, moisture, and heat like few other living beings.
Plant cells feed on sunshine. Water wraps every root and coats the spongy interior of leaves.
The body temperatures of plants fluctuate with those of their surroundings.
This openness makes plants the primary interpreters of the seasons.”

(David George Haskell)

I sit on my front verandah enjoying a home-brewed skinny cappuccino, looking out at our now skeletal Japanese Maple tree.

Gone are the leaves—that gentle chlorophyll green sea-of-life-filled foliage, a miracle of evolution, to its chosen autumn orange and burgundy seven-acutely pointed, lobe leaves… Gone! Not an all-at-once process. But a gradual must-do life-saving transition, as its energy from photosynthesis is diverted to the roots, resulting in autumn technicolored leaves pirouetting to the ground in a light wind, to become crisp brown leaf litter and our garden’s spring fertiliser. Plop! Plop, plop!

The full address can be found here.

If children live with criticism
they learn to condemn.
If children live with security
they learn to have faith.

In talking to children, and in correcting them, we need to convey caring, not rejection. We need to avoid critical comments such as
When will you learn?
What’s the matter with you?
How many times have I told you?
Didn’t you hear me?
Why did you do that?

We need to deal with the situation, not with the person. We need to avoid attacking the child.

This sermon on the question of how children learn and how we may help them was given by the Rev Geoff Usher and can be read in full here.

” And when he had taken the five loaves and the two fishes, he looked up to heaven, and blessed, and brake the loaves, and gave them to his disciples to set before them, and the two fishes divided he among them all . And they did all eat, and were filled .”

Prayer is a common theme throughout the Bible. That’ s not really surprising. But — perhaps surprisingly – there is something else that is mentioned in the Bible more often than prayer is . Think for a moment: What is it that is mentioned in the Bible more often than prayer?

Any suggestions?
The answer is : Eating and drinking.

Jesus often made a point of welcoming people who were outcasts: he welcomed them, not by praying for them, or by offering to pray for them, or by ‘ telling them to pray – but by eating with them. Then, as now, the meal – the act of eating with another person – was a sign of acceptance. The shared meal was a common feature of the Jewish tradition .
It was a powerful part of the practical expression of Jesus’ ministry. The final meal he shared with his twelve disciples — the Last Supper — became the basis for the Communion Service of the Christian Church. The shared meal was so typical of Jesus that, according to-the story in Luke’s Gospel, when he was raised from the dead, the disciples recognised him in the breaking of the bread.
The feeding of the five thousand was open to all of them. Jesus did not offer to feed only a select few of them. No one was excluded. Certainly, no one was excluded on the grounds of colour, or race, or religion , or social class, or level of wealth. He said simply: “Give ye them to eat . “
And, of course, there was more than enough to go around, as there is more than enough to go around today, when there is enough for everyone’s need but not for everyone’s greed.

In this sermon the Rev Geoffrey Usher considers the sharing with others in the building of communities. The full text can read here.

by Rev Geoff Usher

A troubled man paid a v i s i t to his rabbi: a wise and good rabbi, as a l l rabbis try to be.

 “Rabbi,” said he, wringing his hands, ” I am a failure. More than half the time I do not succeed in doing what I must do.”

 “Oh?” said the rabbi.

 “Please say something wise, Rabbi,” said the man.

 After much pondering, the rabbi spoke as follows: ” Ah, my son, I give you this wisdom: Go and look on page 930 of The New York Times Almanac for the year 1970, and you will find peace of mind maybe.” “Ah,” said the man, and he went away and did that thing.

 Now this is what he found: The listing of the life-time batting averages of all the greatest baseball players. Ty Cobb, the greatest slugger of them all, had a lifetime average of only .367. Even Babe Ruth didn’t do so good.

 So the man went back to the rabbi and said in a questioning tone: “Ty Cobb – .367 – that’s it?” “Right, ” said the rabbi. “Ty Cobb – .367. He got a hit once out of every three times at bat. He didn’t even bat 500 – so what can you expect already?”

 “Ah,” said the man, who had thought he was a wretched failure because only half the time he did not succeed at what he must do. Theology is amazing, and holy books abound.  That story comes from Robert Fulghum’s book, All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten.   

This sermon is continued here.

by Rev Geoff Usher

Well; we’ve made i t . We have got past all the pre-Christmas rush and bustle:- the shopping; the writing and sending of cards; the opening and reading of cards received; the sorting out what to do with all the cards: stand them on mantelpieces and tables and other flat surfaces, and try to remember not to open or shut doors energetically enough to blow them over; or hang them from strings; or staple them to hanging ribbons; or … the wrapping and labeling of presents while trying to remember whether you have over-looked someone important; the lunches and parties and carol services and mince pies and more parties and tables of food and more mince pies; and the special family rituals related to Christmas; and Christmas Day itself, with the exchanging of gifts, and too much food, and more mince pies, and the afternoon siesta, and television repeats, and clearing up afterwards, and lots of dishwashing, and perhaps another mince pie.
We’ve made it. The rush and bustle calmed down, and there was that quiet holiday lull between Christmas Day/Boxing Day and New Year’s Eve, and perhaps an opportunity for more celebration, although perhaps less hectic.
Think about the conversations you have had over the last week’ or two. Not the really serious “meaning of life ” conversations, but the inform al “passing the time of day” conversations with friends and acquaintances, people you have met in the street or at the shops or at social events. What sorts of things have you said, or heard?

The sermon is continued here.