Hollywood lends from a Biblical literary device - part 1

Michael Bull’s Bible Matrix (and the Dominion tool) uses a seven-fold structure derived from the Hebrew creation week and the Tabernacle layout. It maps out a process of "maturation" where a hero or a nation moves from a state of emptiness to a state of glorified authority.

Here is the plot of A New Hope mapped onto the seven steps of the Dominion matrix:

1. Sabbath (Transcendence)

The Call to Light: The story begins with a "Spirit hovering over the waters" moment. We are introduced to the vastness of space and the dualistic nature of the Force. The discovery of R2-D2’s message and the intervention of Obi-Wan Kenobi represent the divine call. Luke is invited to leave his "dusty" world (Tatooine) to enter a higher reality.

2. Passover (Hierarchy)

The Threshold and the Mentor: Luke must choose to follow the call. The death of his aunt and uncle serves as the "Passover sacrifice," severing his ties to his old life. He submits to the authority of a mentor (Obi-Wan), receives a symbolic "scepter" (his father's lightsaber), and begins his initiation into the ways of the Jedi.

3. Firstfruits (Life/Environment)

The Team and the Tools: This stage involves the gathering of resources. In Mos Eisley, the "wilderness" of the spaceport, Luke and Obi-Wan recruit Han Solo and Chewbacca. They board the Millennium Falcon—the vessel that will carry them through the "firmament." It is here that the physical journey truly begins as they leave the planet’s surface.

4. Pentecost (Ethics/Sanctuary)

The Heart of Darkness: The crew is pulled into the Death Star, which serves as a dark "tabernacle." This is the center of the matrix where the law is tested. Luke, Han, and Leia must navigate the labyrinthine corridors. It culminates in a moment of ultimate choice and sacrifice: Obi-Wan faces Vader and "ascends" through death, providing the law of sacrifice that Luke must now follow.

5. Trumpets (War/Succession)

The Gathering of the Host: After escaping the Death Star, the heroes arrive at the Rebel base on Yavin IV. This is the "Trumpets" phase—the call to assembly and the preparation for battle. The plans are analysed, the "tribes" (pilots) are organized, and the tactical weakness of the enemy is revealed.

6. Atonement (Judgment)

The Trench Run: The climax of the film is a literal "Day of Atonement" where the high priest (Luke) enters the "Holy of Holies" (the Death Star trench). He must trust the Force (the Spirit) over his targeting computer (the flesh). By destroying the Death Star, he executes judgment on the "False Temple" and saves the "Nation" (the Rebellion) from certain death.

7. Booths (Glorification)

The Royal Procession: The matrix concludes with a festival of rest and reward. Luke and Han are brought before the assembly in a grand ceremony. They receive medals and the acclaim of the people. The "New Hope" is established, and the hero is transformed from a farm boy into a recognized champion of the realm.

Shalom,

Ozhamada

How to really change a church? - book predates the podcast

I was struck on listening to a recent podcast that Sydney Anglicans have not come far from 2009 when they received a wonderful book written by their own. 

Overall, I reckon there is a trellis problem: Sydney Anglicans foci is trellis work (trellis work that is out of favour with the day). 

There is a cost to vine work..  

Here is some analysis.

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The podcast episode from The Pastor's Heart (2026) and the seminal book The Trellis and the Vine (2009/2015) both address the fundamental tension in church life: the relationship between structures (the "trellis") and the growth of people (the "vine").

While the podcast focuses on modern organisational psychology and structural collaboration, The Trellis and the Vine established the foundational philosophy that makes these discussions possible.

In what ways was the book there first?

1. The Core Shift: From Program-Focus to People-Focus

• The Book: Marshall and Payne’s primary contribution was the "Mindshift." They argued that churches often spend too much time on the "trellis" (committee meetings, building maintenance, and administration) and not enough on the "vine" (sharing the gospel and helping people grow).

• The Podcast: Archie Poulos and Kirsty Bucknell take this as a given. They discuss how administrative "compliance" [13:31] and "maintenance" [14:32] distract pastors from ministry. The book was "there first" by defining this distraction as a structural trap that requires a conscious shift in priority.

  
  
   

2. The Definition of Ministry as "Disciple-Making"

• The Book: The book famously defined Christian ministry as "people-work," specifically the prayerful speaking of God’s word by one person to another. It moved the goalpost from "running successful events" to "making disciples who make disciples."

• The Podcast: The guests discuss "reaching affinity groups" [06:56] and "re-targeting demographics" [21:11]. While the podcast uses more modern organisational language, the book provided the underlying theological rationale: that the structure (the trellis) only exists to support the organic growth of the people (the vine).

3. Challenging the "Professional Pastor" Model

• The Book: A key chapter in The Trellis and the Vine is "Why Sunday School is better than the 11 am service," which provocatively argues that training every member to be a "vine-worker" is more effective than relying on a single professional.

• The Podcast: Archie Poulos touches on this when he discusses the failure of the "Hub and Spoke" model [09:41]. He notes that churches often fail because they want the pastor to "do what they've always done, just better" [31:04]. The book preceded this by arguing that the pastor's primary job is not to do the ministry, but to train the people to do it.

 

 

Where the Podcast Expands Beyond the Book

While the book was the philosophical pioneer, the podcast introduces newer concepts that reflect a post-pandemic, highly mobile society:

• Geography vs. Affinity: Archie Poulos argues that the "village model" of church (based on where you live) is dying because people now define themselves by "affinity groups" (jobs, school, or interests) [04:09].

• Resource Stewardship & Hubs: The podcast gets much more granular about structural collaboration. While the book focuses on how a single church manages its trellis, the podcast suggests that multiple churches should share a trellis (sharing administrators or youth pastors) to free up more time for the vine [13:51].

• The ADKAR Model: Kirsty Bucknell introduces a formal change management framework—Awareness, Desire, Knowledge, Ability, Reinforcement [22:08]—to explain how to actually implement the shifts that Marshall and Payne first advocated for.

Summary of Analysis

The Trellis and the Vine was the "first mover" in diagnosing the theological problem: that structures often choke out the mission. The podcast acts as a practical sequel, diagnosing the structural problem: that in a modern, complex world, the "trellis" has become so heavy and technical (compliance, digital shifts, etc.) that churches must collaborate and change their organisational psychology just to survive.

Shalom,

Ozhamada

 

 

 

Church social media targeting

This week came across a social media post, on a country church’s page, that on first reading was cringeworthy. The author clearly intended the post to have a rawness about it yet their authority diminished through an early statement that indicated that they disliked Christians.

And then, I had a good draw of breath and tried to read it through a twenty-year old’s eyes. It was targeting twenty to thirty-year olds, right?

There were two subsequent edits of the post. Here I have pasted the original version. I have redacted certain data to ensure that the church is not identifiable:

“Can you go to church if you don’t ‘believe’? Or is that gaslighting? Answer: Yes and No.

You don’t have to ‘believe’ to go to a church, heck, you don’t even have to LIKE Christians to go to church. In fact, there was a period of time when I highly disliked most Christians, and I was in church every Sunday… because I was married to the pastor… but that’s a tale for another day lol.

Anyone and everyone can to go to church, ANY old time. It doesn’t matter if you’re 67, still believe in the tooth fairy and eat Vegemite toast with smashed banana on it for breakfast, there is a seat for you. Christians are usually friendly people and understand what it’s like to be thinking about the meaning of life, why on earth we’re here AND if there even is a God. Some Christians are just plain weird. Also, some gamers, tradies, some business owners, teachers, doctors, kids, influencers and Buddists are weird because, human. Top tip: don’t make a judgement call on God based on humans.

If you’re front-up to a church and straight out say to the people you meet (if you want to talk to people) “I don’t know anything about God or church but I’m just here to suss it out”, you’ll just about make their day. Hopefully, they’ll play it cool and won’t be all like ‘fresh meat’, but will show you around and introduce you to a few people who can help answer any questions or get you some barista grade coffee.

Truth be told, if you want to gaslight and sing “I’m a believer” from the roof top when you’re not yet, it doesn’t matter. It’s just great that you’ve chosen to go to church to get some answers about some pretty big questions.

Our church service is at X:YYam every Sunday morning at XX XX XXX, XXX.

Feel free to DM if you have any questions. Hope to see you there! @XXX

PS. We’re still married, he just isn’t pastoring a church anymore and I worked through my issues.”

Here is the verdict: It is an unconventional, slightly messy piece of communication. While it may alienate those looking for a traditional "pillar of the community," it likely resonates with people who have felt judged by churches in the past and are looking for a place where "weird" and "doubting" are allowed.

AI generated image, generated on prompt of seeking an image to suit this story.

 

The post essentially says: "We are a mess, I was a mess, but we’re here anyway." For someone who feels like a "failure" or an outsider, that might actually be more encouraging than a post showing a perfect, smiling family. The "discouraging" elements are meant to be the "hook" that proves they aren't hiding anything.

It is odd. It breaks the unspoken rule that those in leadership should be the "best" examples of the faith.

However, in the modern social media landscape—where people are increasingly cynical toward "polished" corporate or religious messaging—this post is a pivot toward vulnerability. The author is betting that people are more attracted to honesty than they are to piety.

And, maybe the authority was sound – perhaps the target audience could relate to someone who admitted a time of disliking Christians!

Shalom,

Ozhamada

P.S. When I am in that town I attend a church that happens to meet at the same time and yet it is closer to – let’s just say – the big public hospital.

A short story - Plastic Man - inspired on recognising that recycling compliance is vitally needed

Once upon a time, in a town filled with colourful houses and even more colourful characters, there was a very special recycling bin. It wasn't special because it was extra shiny or had a cool design, but because of what happened inside it.

One sunny morning, a whirlwind of plastic bottles—some squished, some tall and proud, some with the last drops of lemonade—tumbled into the bin. There were clear water bottles, vibrant soda bottles, and even milky shampoo bottles. They all jostled and settled, and as the sun peeked over the rim of the bin, something magical began to happen.

A tiny spark, like a forgotten fizz from a soda bottle, jumped from one bottle to another. It danced and zipped, connecting all the different plastics. Slowly, with a soft whoosh and a gentle clink, the bottles began to merge. They stretched and moulded, forming arms, legs, a round torso, and a friendly, smiling face.

"Hooray!" exclaimed a newly formed mouth. "I'm Plastic Man!"

Plastic Man was a marvel to behold. His skin was a mosaic of all the different plastics, shimmering with blues, greens, yellows, and clear patches. He had a sturdy bottle-cap nose and eyes that sparkled like polished plastic.

With a joyful leap, Plastic Man climbed out of the recycling bin and onto the bustling street. He took a deep breath, smelling the fresh air and the faint scent of… well, recycled plastic. "My mission," he declared in a voice that was both strong and surprisingly melodic, "is to teach everyone about the magic of sorting!"

His first stop was the local park. Children were playing, and parents were chatting. Plastic Man walked up to a group of kids who were about to toss a juice box into a bin marked "General Waste."

"Hold on, little friends!" Plastic Man boomed gently. "Did you know this juice box can become something new if we sort it properly?"

The children stared, wide-eyed, at the walking, talking collection of bottles. "Who are you?" one little girl whispered.

"I am Plastic Man, born from the very materials you throw away! And I'm here to show you that a little sorting can make a big difference!" He then explained how the juice box's paper, plastic lining, and even the straw could all be recycled into different things if separated.

Next, Plastic Man visited a school. He walked into a classroom where students were learning about the environment. "Good morning, future sorters!" he announced, causing the teacher to drop her chalk.

He held up a crumpled plastic bag that had been stuck in a glass bin. "Look closely," Plastic Man whispered, as the students leaned in. "When this soft bag gets mixed with heavy glass bottles, it becomes a tangled mess in the sorting machines at the factory. It’s like trying to knit a sweater with a bunch of rocks! The machines have to stop, and the magic of recycling hits a 'Pause' button. But," he said, his bottle-cap eyes twinkling, "when you put this bag in its own special bin, it travels to a place where it’s melted down into tiny, colorful pellets. Those pellets are then pressed together to become a brand-new playground slide or a sturdy park bench!"

He taught the children a fun song about sorting: "Plastic in the plastic, paper in the paper, Glass in the glass, make the world a bit gapper! Reduce, reuse, recycle, that's the way to be, Helping out our planet, for you and for me!"

Plastic Man spent his days walking the streets, attending festivals, and even popping into grocery stores. He’d gently redirect people who were about to toss a glass jar into the paper bin, or show them where to put their old electronics. He always had a cheerful smile and an encouraging word.

Thanks to Plastic Man, the town became a recycling superstar. Everyone learned that sorting wasn't a chore, but an adventure! They understood that every bottle, every can, and every piece of paper had the potential to be reborn into something wonderful.

And as for Plastic Man, he continued his mission, a shining example of how even discarded items can come together to create something truly extraordinary, reminding everyone that by sorting our waste, we help our planet shine just as brightly as he did.

Shalom,

Ozhamada

A short story - inspired by observations in the Port Stephens area

 The Guardians of the Lemon-Scented Gum

The silver-grey bark of the old Lemon-scented Gum was a masterpiece of camouflage. To the average student rushing toward the playground, the branch overhanging the service alley looked like nothing more than a jagged, broken limb. But if you looked closer—as Miranda always did—the "bark" had eyes.

The Masterpieces of Stillness

The family of four Tawny Frogmouths—Papa, Mama, and two fledglings who were rapidly outgrowing their downy fluff—sat in a perfect, vertical row. Throughout the sweltering school day, they were statues. With their beaks pointed skyward and their streaked feathers mimicking the dappled light, they barely seemed to breathe.

While the school bell clanged and children shrieked nearby, the Frogmouths remained in a state of deep, meditative calm. They loved the daylight hours for this very reason: the art of being invisible. To them, stillness wasn't just a defense; it was a dignified family tradition.

The Midnight Buffet

The real reason the family chose this specific gum tree, however, wasn't just the shade. Directly below them sat a large, olive-green garbage bin, often overflowing with the remnants of school lunches.

To a human, it was an eyesore. To the Frogmouths, it was the best restaurant in town. As the sun set, the bin became a stage for "The Rodent Show." Mice and rats, lured by discarded crusts and apple cores, would scurry across the lid. From their vantage point, the Frogmouths didn't even have to fly far. With a silent, ghostly glide, Papa would drop like a heavy shadow, snap up a "tasty fresh" mouse in his wide, frog-like beak, and return to the branch before the other rodents even realised a predator was among them.

---

Miranda’s Secret

Miranda was the only student who knew their secret. Every recess, while her friends played handball, she would drift toward the alleyway. She was an inquisitive girl with a habit of tilting her head at the same angle as the birds.

"I see you," she whispered today, standing just a few feet away.

Mama Frogmouth cracked one yellow eye just a fraction of a millimetre. She recognised the small human with the messy braids and the quiet voice. Miranda never threw stones or pointed loudly; she simply watched with a respectful curiosity. Miranda noticed a stray grey feather caught on a low twig. She picked it up, marvelling at its softness. "You caught a big one last night, didn't you?" she asked, glancing at the scuff marks on the bin lid.

The birds didn't move. They were back to being wood and shadow. But as Miranda turned to head back to class, the smallest fledgling let out a tiny, nearly silent oom-oom-oom—a soft vibration that Miranda felt more than heard. It was their version of a goodbye.

---

The Looming Threat

Miranda's quiet observations went beyond just admiring the Frogmouths. She was a natural-born protector. So when the whispers of "new classrooms" and "expanded facilities" started circulating around the school, a knot formed in Miranda's stomach.

One afternoon, she saw Mr. Henderson, the school principal, and a man in a hard hat studying a large blueprint rolled out on a folding table near the service alley. Her heart pounded. This was it. She overheard snippets of their conversation: "...optimal use of space... demolish the old shed... and that dead-looking gum tree, too."

"That tree isn't dead, Mr. Henderson!" Miranda gasped, stepping forward. Both men turned to her.

"Miranda, what are you doing here?" Mr. Henderson asked, a little flustered. He squinted up at the tree. "Are those... some kind of owls up there? I've seen them sometimes, roosting."

Miranda's eyes widened slightly. "No, Mr. Henderson, they're not owls," she corrected gently but firmly. "They're Tawny Frogmouths. They look a bit like owls, but they're actually more closely related to nightjars. They're masters of disguise."

The man in the hard hat chuckled. "Looks like a goner to me, kid. Probably hollow, just waiting to fall over."

AI generated image of Miranda and the birds

The Preservation Plan

Miranda knew she couldn't just tell them about the Frogmouths. They were so good at camouflage, the men might think she was making it up, or worse, decide to remove the "pests." She needed a different angle.

"It's a Lemon-scented Gum," she began, channelling everything her science teacher had ever said about local flora. "They're really important for native insects. And... and that one has a really special type of moss growing on it. It's part of the school's natural history."

Mr. Henderson, usually preoccupied with budgets, looked at the tree with slightly more attention. Miranda knew she had to seal the deal. "Plus," she added, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "I've seen so many different kinds of birds use it. It’s like their own little apartment building. If we destroy it, where will they go? And who will catch the mice around the bins?"

A Shared Silence

Mr. Henderson stroked his chin. "An interesting point, Miranda. We do want to maintain some green spaces." He turned to the contractor. "Perhaps we can adjust the plans slightly. Shift the new building footprint by a few meters. Is that feasible?"

The contractor sighed, pulling out a pencil. "It'll mean some minor revisions, but... I suppose it's possible."

Miranda offered a small, triumphant smile. She had bought her secret family more time. As the men walked away, she glanced up at the branch. Papa Frogmouth's eye was barely visible through the dappled leaves. For a fleeting moment, she imagined he gave her the faintest, almost imperceptible nod. The masters of stillness remained, and for now, their home was safe.

--

Shalom,

Ozhamada

Note: this was inspired by observations made during a visit to the Tiligerry Peninsula. I was a visitor on a school site and had chance to ponder why the family of Tawny Frogmouths had chosen a particular tree.

Chanukah by the Sea, Bondi Beach, 14 December 2025 - a brief reflection on Waverley Council’s response

Waverley Council’s response to the terrorist attack in Bondi on Sunday, 14 December 2025 was characterised by immediate frontline bravery and a massive rapid deployment of community support.

1. The Immediate "Blue Line" Response

While NSW Police led the tactical operation, Waverley Council staff were among the very first "community first responders" on the scene:

• Lifeguards & Venue Staff: Council lifeguards and staff at the Bondi Pavilion were credited with running toward danger to perform CPR and first aid on victims before paramedics could arrive.
• Bystander Shielding: Staff helped hundreds of people shelter inside the Bondi Pavilion and nearby council facilities while the active threat was neutralised.
• The "Bondi Hero": Council specifically recognised Ahmed Al Ahmed, a Sutherland shop owner, who selflessly put his life on the line to disarm one of the attackers, preventing further loss of life.

2. Emergency Council Session & Financial Support

On December 16, 2025, Waverley Council held an emergency session to approve a comprehensive 12-point support plan:

• Immediate Funding: A $100,000 commitment was carved out of the operating budget to provide direct financial aid to Jewish community organisations assisting victims.
• Community Space: The council dedicated a private gathering space for the Jewish community to seek comfort and connection, recognising that the attack occurred during a religious celebration.
• Solidarity Symbols: Flags were flown at half-mast for two weeks, and the Council launched a community initiative asking residents to light a candle at 6:47 PM each night of Chanukah.

The Bondi footbridge

3. Logistical Recovery & "The Hub"

Within 48 hours, the council transitioned from crisis management to logistics:

• The Bondi Pavilion Support Hub: A Community Support Hub was established in the Yalagang Room at the Pavilion. It housed representatives from the NSW Reconstruction Authority, NSW Health, Legal Aid, and Lifeline.
• Property Collection Centre: To manage the chaos of the evacuation, a property centre was set up at Waverley College for people to retrieve items left behind at the beach during the attack.
• Floral Tribute Protocol: Working with the Premier’s Department, the Council developed a respectful protocol for floral tributes.¹⁴ Cards and non-perishables were collected by the Jewish Museum, while flowers were composted to be used in future memorial gardens.

4. Controversies & Decisions

• The Footbridge: A debate emerged regarding the future of the Bondi footbridge where some of the violence occurred. The Council has placed "respectful signage" there as an interim measure while they consult on whether to rename or physically alter the site.
• Business Recovery: Mayor Will Nemesh launched a "Back Bondi" campaign in late December after the beach was closed for investigations, aiming to support local businesses that saw a 40-60% drop in trade following the incident.

Shalom,

Ozhamada

The Prospector of Granite Creek - part 4

The morning after Wally’s humiliating retreat from Boomerang, Silas was back at Granite Creek, dipping his pan with the weary motions of a man who knew futility well. He had barely found enough colour to dust a flea. Meanwhile, Kevin, perched high on a dead snow gum, was performing a particularly energetic and mocking laugh-a-thon, his head thrown back with theatrical glee, all pointed directly toward Wally’s hidden burrow entrance.

Silas, after months of bad luck, finally saw the pattern. Kevin was not laughing at the creek or the sky; he was laughing at something near the base of that tree—the same place where Silas had lost his nugget collection months ago. The old prospector’s eyes narrowed. He looked at the sturdy, unmarked ground, then back at the hysterically cackling bird. Silas did not believe in fairies, but he did believe in stubborn, clever animals.

He hiked back to Boomerang, not to pan, but to visit the General Store. Silas, operating on a hunch bordering on madness, purchased the gold sovereign coin from the display case—the very coin Wally had coveted. It cost him half his savings, but he had a theory to test.

Silas returned to Wally’s patch of creek. He waited until the sun dipped low, painting the granite pink. Kevin was already settled in the gum tree, silent now, but watching with intense, beady eyes. Silas approached the burrow entrance, knelt slowly, and held the gleaming coin out on his open palm, catching the last of the light.

“Alright, you stubborn little dust-eater,” Silas murmured to the earth. “I know you are in there. You have been panning my claims and stealing my finds, and you are better at it than I am. But I need a break. I want a tip. I want to know where to pan next. And you want this.”

Wally, already tense after his night out, slowly pushed the compacted clay from his escape tunnel. He peered out, his eyes fixing instantly on the magnificent, polished sovereign. It was perfect. It was everything he had dreamed of. He looked from the coin to Silas’s earnest, tired face, then up at Kevin, who, for the first time, was absolutely silent, watching the transaction unfold with uncanny focus.

The wombat gave a low grunt—a sound of supreme calculation. He cautiously shuffled forward, took the coin with a swift paw, and tucked it into his cheek pouch. He then turned and, using his nose, nudged a small, insignificant seam of milky quartz that ran down toward a shallow, overlooked bend in Granite Creek, far from his own chamber.

The tip was not the monster nugget, but it was honest.

pexels.com; free and unattributable

Silas smiled, a genuine, weary smile. He had paid his fee and gotten his tip from the world's most unlikely prospector. He stood up, gave a slight nod to the wombat, and walked away. Kevin, still perched above, finally let out a single, sharp, satisfied chuckle—a laugh of acceptance, perhaps, rather than mockery. From that day on, an unlikely, silent agreement settled over Granite Creek: Silas had his small, steady claim thanks to the wombat, Wally had his perfect coin, and Kevin was the silent, cackling keeper of the secret, ensuring the new, peculiar gold rush of the High Country remained strictly a three-party affair.

-The end-

An ABC Radio interview with Silas is linked

The book dust cover is linked

Reviews are linked.

Shalom,

Ozhamada