Two years ago Merrilyn and I returned to our first congregation in South Australia for a special anniversary. At the luncheon after the morning church service previous pastors of the congregation recalled special memories from their times there. One aroused great amusement about one of his members who was also present on the day, whom we will call by the unlikely Lutheran name of Colin Bloggs. The pastor recalled, “Ah, I see Colin here today, and I’d like to take this opportunity to ask him a question about something that I’ve always wanted to know. Colin always used to drive carefully into town on a Tuesday and park his Ford outside the manse to avoid the traffic of the main street, and walk from there into the centre of town. Without fail, Colin always carried a black briefcase patched up with masking tape. I was here eight years and every Tuesday was the same. I’ve always wanted to ask: Colin, what was in that briefcase?”

Around the room in the sea of faces people nodded and smiled. Everyone knew