No-one, said Jesus, puts new wine in old wine skins. The skins will just burst. No-one, said Jesus puts a patch of new cloth on an old garment, When you wash it the patch will shrink more then the old cloth and make another, bigger tear.
He was talking about the newness of his teaching. It didn't fit well with the old way of doing things.
There's a wonderful exhibition at the M-Shed at the moment of seven decades of Bristol music. I went on Saturday. It's amazing how the very new seems so different to the sounds of the 1950s and yet decade by decade the music changes subtly, gradually.
Likewise the skyline of a city. Old harbourside wharfs are converted into museums or bars. People probably lamented the end of the Canons Marsh warehouses thirty years ago, but the Bristol Harbourside today is a vibrant place - a mixture of old and new. I love wandering around it.
And so a city develops with the old and new side by side. Old trades in old buildings, new trades in old buildings and both old and new trades also in sweepingly modern buildings. The old trade of banking now stands in a new building where Canons Marsh warehouses stood. The waterfront next to it also provides an arena venue for outdoor gigs in the summer. And a haven for skateboarders.
Cities are busy places, bustling and on the move. They are never one thing for very long. Always changing.
The old, old teachings of Jesus and his wonderful illustrations still make their way in the modern market. He amazed crowds then with a timeless message of love for the individual whether they find themselves in old or new buildings. Still does.
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