Repent! (or Pay Attention)

January 26, 2026

Third Sunday after Epiphany – 2026

Matthew 4:12-25

Marian Free

In the name of God who is all around us –  if only we would pay attention. Amen.

The fourth verse of the poem “Sometimes” by Mary Oliver reads:  

“Instructions for living a life:
Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it.”

“Pay attention. Be astonished. Tell about it.”[1]

Today we are quick to criticise our youth (or chastise ourselves) for spending too much time on our devices – phones, tablets, computers – and not enough time noticing, socialising, reading or whatever else we deem they/we are missing out on. It may be true that modern technology has made it easier to communicate, to seek out information or to be entertained, but I would argue that those of us with leisure to do so have always been easily distracted, have always wanted to be entertained and have often failed to notice what is right in front of us. Why else would the saying: “Take time to smell the roses” be used so often.

We may not always have had devices, but we have always had other excuses for not paying attention. In fact, sometimes we make not paying attention a virtue. I am just too busy; my children/parents/work need me; if I don’t do it (cook/clean/teach) who else will and so on? 

Interestingly, both John the Baptist and Jesus begin their ministry by calling for repentance: “Repent for the Kingdom of heaven is at hand.” The Kingdom of heaven is at hand.” Where? How? What is this kingdom and why should we “repent”?

As I prepared for this week’s sermon two reflections caught my attention and made me think very differently about Jesus’ announcement of the kingdom, his demand for repentance and his calling of the disciples. Even though they make the same sort of argument I’d like to quote from both – partly because the thought is new to me as well.

The first reflection comes from the sermon commentary in The Christian Century which lands in my email box each week. In it, Christine Chakoain points out that Jesus calls for a redirection of priorities. Reflecting on repentance she writes: “‘Repent, for the kingdom of God is at hand.’ What,” she asks, “if Jesus doesn’t want us to miss the kingdom that could be right here, right now, if we just focused on the things that really matter? What if he’s calling us to set down what’s getting in our way?” 

In his comment on this week’s gospel Archbishop Jeremy Greaves stated that: “When Jesus announces that the kingdom of God has come near It is not an abstract theology statement. It is a declaration about God’s presence here and now. It is not somewhere we escape to nor simply a promise of something in the future. It is God’s life breaking into ordinary human existence – in fishing boats and on dusty roads among the anxious the hopeful and the overlooked. When Jesus heals, gathers and teaches, we get a glimpse of what God’s reign looks like: wounds attended, dignity restored, communities reconciled.

To repent then, is to turn towards this reality, to realign our lives with God’s compassion and justice.”[2]

When I preached about John the Baptist recently, I reminded you that the Greek word “metanoia” which we translate as “repent”, doesn’t mean to be sorry, but to turn around, to turn our lives to face the kingdom, to turn away from the world and towards God. Chakoain and Greaves make this point even more clearly. To repent is to pay attention to the kingdom moments in the present to see that God is already present and at work among us.  Jesus calls us to “repent”, to pay attention to what is happening around us. Jesus does not want us to miss out.

This extraordinary (to me) insight makes sense of both the Synoptic and the Johannine versions of Jesus’ calling of the first disciples. It explains why Peter and Andrew, James and John were so willing to abandon their livelihood (and possibly those who depended on them) to follow Jesus and why Andrew and the other disciple of John left him to see where Jesus was staying.  They didn’t “repent” in the way that we normally understand that word (nor did Jesus ask them to). They were already paying attention and because they were paying attention, they saw Jesus for who he was, somehow, they understood that in Jesus the kingdom was breaking through and they simply could not wait to be part of it. They did not abandon their master (in the case of Andrew and the other of John’s disciples) nor did they give up their trade (in the case of Peter and Andrew, James and John) for a random stranger. They left everything behind because, in Jesus they recognised that the “kingdom of God” was already here.  

Archbishop Jeremy contended that: “The nearness of the kingdom is both comfort and calling: comfort, because God is closer than we imagine; calling, because we are invited to participate.” 

Jesus announces the nearness of the kingdom and this is why Jesus’ public ministry begins with a call to: “repent”. Jesus is not calling us to consider our worthiness for the kingdom or not, rather Jesus is anxious that if we don’t pay attention, if we don’t open our eyes to the presence of God (in him and in the world) that we will miss out, that we won’t see God already working among us, the kingdom already beginning to be present.

The kingdom of God has come near: “Pay attention, be astonished, tell about it.”

Open your eyes, your minds and your hearts. Don’t miss out!


[1] https://readalittlepoetry.com/2014/09/10/sometimes-by-mary-oliver/

[2] For the full recording go here: https://anglicanfocus.org.au/2026/01/09/sundayiscoming-reflection-25-january-2026/

Being fully aborbed into the Trinity and fully absorbing the Trinity in us – Jesus’s baptism according to John

January 17, 2026

Epiphany 2 – 2026

John 1:29-42

Marian Free

In the name of God who invites us to be part of God’s very self. Amen.

Today we break our journey through Matthew’s gospel to gain an insight into the theology of the writer of the John. Given that we read Matthew’s account of Jesus’ baptism last week, you may have noticed some significant differences in John’s version. Familiar elements of the story include the detail that John was baptising in the Jordan when Jesus appeared and that at some point prior there was a dove which descended from heaven as prophesied and which enabled the Baptist to confidently declare that Jesus was the Son of God. Missing from this story is Jesus’ actual baptism by John and the voice from heaven declaring Jesus to be God’s beloved Son. 

In this gospel the Baptist sees Jesus approaching and announces: “Here is the Lamb of God” (assuming that his listeners, who are not mentioned, will understand what he means). In John’s version the beginning of Jesus’ public ministry has no temptation story, and Jesus does not walk along the lake to call Peter and Andrew, James and John. Rather, when Jesus reappears the following day and once again John states: “Look, here is the Lamb of God” two of John’s disciples, Andrew and one other leave John and follow Jesus. Andrew then identifies Jesus as the Messiah, and it is he who brings his brother Simon to Jesus. 

This morning’s reading introduces a number of complex themes that will be repeated throughout John’s gospel. These include bearing witness or testifying to, looking or looking for, seeing, and abiding, each of which is used in a particular way in this gospel. For the initiated, (by whom I mean scholars who study John’s gospel), it seems that the author is writing in code, a code that he is confident that his listeners are already privy to, and which therefore does not need to be elaborated. There is however no codebreaker for those of us who are trying to unpack this gospel two thousand years later. It is left to scholars to notice patterns and repetitions and to try to discern the meaning behind the words and symbols that John uses.

Today, I’d like focus on the word “abiding,” (μενω in Greek), which occurs five times in these verses and is one of the key words in John’s gospel – it occurs 40 times in total. You will of course be familiar with the expression from the discourse on the vine in chapter 15. There Jesus says among other things: “Abide in me as I abide in you. Just as the branch cannot bear fruit by itself unless it abides in the vine, neither can you unless you abide in me.” (4). The word “abide” describes the sort of intimacy with another (in this case Jesus) that it is so close that it is as if the two are one. Abiding in Jesus means being absorbed into Jesus and allowing ourselves to absorb Jesus into our very being. 

In English, “μενω” or “abide” is translated as “remain” or “stay”, which means that we tend to miss when it occurs and therefore are unable to discern John’s deeper meaning. Today for example, you will not have heard “abide” at all despite the five repetitions. 

In verses 32 and 33 “abiding” describes the relationship between the members of the Trinity. John says: “I saw the Spirit descend and it abided in him” (32) and “The one on whom the Spirit descends and abides, is the one who baptises with the Holy Spirit” (33). The Holy Spirit descends as a dove and takes up residence, “abides”, in Jesus. 

Later in the gospel, Jesus makes it clear that Father is also part of this intimate relationship. He says: “Do you not believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in me? The Father who abides in me works through me.” (14:10). Perhaps, more astonishingly, the fourth gospel claims that those who abide in Jesus, by extension, abide in the Trinity. If Jesus abides in the Father and the Spirit, then we who abide in Jesus, likewise abide in the Trinity.  “You know the Spirit of truth, because he abides with you, and he will be in you.” (14:16) Later, when Jesus describes the relationship between himself and believers as that of a vine and its branches he says: “If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commandments and abide in his love” (15:10). 

This concept of being absorbed into the Trinity and absorbing the Trinity into ourselves is perhaps most fully expressed in the language of chapter 6 where Jesus says: “Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me and I in them.” (56). According to the author of the fourth gospel then, the relationship between the members of the Trinity and between a believer and the Trinity, is so close that it is if they are indistinguishable one from another.

Given this background, the next three occurrences of “μενω” in today’s gospel have a deeper meaning than we might otherwise give them. Andrew and another of John’s disciples, follow Jesus. When Jesus notices them he asks what they are looking for. Their response is to say: “Where are you abiding?” Jesus responds: “Come and see.” “They came and saw where he was abiding, and they abided with him that day.”

From the very beginning the author of the fourth gospel describes the relationship between members of the Trinity and the relationship between believers and the Trinity as one of union – of each abiding in the other to the point that they are almost indistinguishable one from another.

There are many challenges in the fourth gospel, but perhaps it is this concept of abiding that is the most confronting and the most difficult for us to attain. Jesus describes his relationship with the Father and the Spirit as one of complete union and he invites us to allow ourselves to be absorbed into that union. 

Too often in matters of faith, as in other relationships, we hold something back. Jesus asks for nothing less than full participation in the Godhead and for us to allow the Godhead to fully dwell in us. This, for many of us an impossible goal, but it is a goal to which we must aspire if Jesus is to truly abide in us and we in him.

Jesus’ baptism – complete surrender

January 10, 2026

Baptism of Jesus – 2026

Matthew 3:13-17

Marian Free

Loving God, open our minds to your word, our hearts to your spirit and our lives to your will. Amen.

There are only five verses in today’s gospel, but they contain so many complexities that I am not sure we will get to the bottom of them today.

If you read all four accounts of the baptism of Jesus you will see that there are substantial differences between them which means that each author, or the communities for whom they wrote, has interpreted the story in a way that was helpful for them. What the accounts have in common, is that Jesus came to John and that something called baptism happened. Also, all four gospels try, in some way or another t play down the role of John the Baptist which reflects a certain embarrassment concerning Jesus’ baptism by John. This is most clearly articulated in Matthew’s gospel in which John says – “I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?”   

Matthew’s account of Jesus’ baptism raises a number of questions for me including:
What is actually happening here? What were the Jewish practices – if any – of baptism? How much has the early church read their practice into the story? What does Matthew’s account of Jesus’ baptism tell us about his agenda? And, for me, the most challenging question: What does it mean when Jesus says: “Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.”

The beginning of the first century was a time of religious upheaval in Judea. Many Judeans were disillusioned with the Temple and its rituals not least because the priests were political appointees and therefore owed an allegiance to Rome. The Pharisees responded by developing a practice based more on law than ritual and the Essenes withdrew into the desert to practice a more aesthetic version of Judaism. John, and his call for the people to return to God, is representative of this situation. Like the Pharisees and Essenes, he appears to have believed that there was a need for the nation as a whole to purify itself and he does this by calling people to turn their lives around and to wash themselves in the Jordan. That he touched a chord among the people is evidenced by the fact that people from all over the country, including the Pharisees, Sadducees and even soldiers and tax collectors came to him for baptism.

I use the word “wash” because this word more accurately represents Jewish practice and the meaning of the Greek word – baptizo. To really grasp what is happening we have to remember that a person was a Jew by virtue of birth. There is little evidence of Jewish evangelism in the first century and what we call “baptism” was not a rite of entry into the Jewish faith. Immersion in water was a rite of purification and there were a number of pools at the Temple for this purpose. This was a personal action and did not require anyone else to be present. John’s call for people to immerse themselves in the Jordan indicates a rejection of the Temple and its practices. The Jordan had the further advantage in that it symbolised a movement from wandering in the desert to life in the promised land.

John calls the people to “repent because the kingdom of heaven has come near.”   “Repent,” the translation of the Greek “metanoia,” is commonly understood to mean being sorry for one’s sins (as it is in our form of the Confession). In its original context however it simply meant to turn around. In calling people to repent John – then Jesus – was challenging people to stop going their own selfish way and to turn around, to return to God. This means that we don’t have to worry about a sinless Jesus being baptised to cleanse him from his sins. Instead, we can see that baptism, immersion in water by or in the presence of John, was for Jesus, a public declaration of his willingness to give his life entirely into the hands of God.

At the beginning of his public ministry, Jesus has come to John in order to demonstrate his complete submission to God and his readiness to live a life directed by God’s will and not his own.

We still have to explain the mysterious statement that we find only in Matthew’s gospel. In response to John’s objection Jesus justifies his baptism by saying that it is “to fulfill all righteousness.” Matthew is fond of both expressions “fulfill” and “righteousness. He wants to make it clear that Jesus is the fulfillment of scripture and also that a key characteristic of the Kingdom of Heaven is righteousness.  

Righteousness is a difficult term to define, especially as we commonly use the word to refer to the observance of a religious or ethical norm. Being “righteous” in our minds is associated with being “good.” In Old Testament terms though and in Matthew’s usage, righteousness refers to a quality of God – God’s dispensation of justice and salvation, or as Albright and Mann suggest, it is a term that refers to “the whole purpose of God for his (sic) people”[1]. It is God who makes righteous. Righteousness as Paul makes clear is not earned but is a gift. So, when Jesus states that his baptism by John is to “fulfill all righteousness” he is saying that his submission to the ritual of washing demonstrates his complete identification with God and God’s purpose for God’s people. Through him, God’s purpose for God’s people will come to fruition and as a consequence, “all righteousness will be fulfilled”. Through his baptism, Jesus makes it clear that he is the prototype of the peopel we are all called to be.

Through his baptism by John, Jesus signals his complete submission to the will of God and his desire to have no life of his own but only a life that is given over completely to the will of God, directed by the presence of God within.

Our modern practice of baptism with its emphasis on turning from sin is a poor imitation of Jesus’ baptism. Kingdom people are people who have utterly surrendered their lives and their wills to God.

What are we prepared to surrender in order for God’s righteousness to be fulfilled?

 


[1] Albright, W. F. and Mann, C. S. (1971). Matthew: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary. Sydney: The Anchor Bible, Doubleday, 31.

Hezekiah’s tunnel which directs water to the Pool of Siloam – one of the pools for ritual washing at the Temple.
Steps leading to Pool of Siloam

Holy Innocents

January 5, 2026

Holy Innocents – 2025

Matthew 2:13-23

Marian Free

In the name of God Earth-maker, Pain-bearer, Life-giver. Amen.

This morning I would like to begin with a story, the story of Marmour an Anglican priest in the Diocese of Brisbane. He shared the story in Anglican Focus and I’d like to use his own words. 

He wrote: “I fled South Sudan for Ethiopia when I was 11. The journey across the desert without clothing or shoes was very bad. We travelled for many days – we walked for more than a month across the desert to escape the persecution of the Khartoum government who wanted to abduct boys so they couldn’t join the rebel groups once they became older.

More than 20,000 boys walked across the desert as unaccompanied minors. We are known as the ‘Lost Boys of Sudan’. There were seven from my extended family and we walked with 13,000 others. I left my parents with only the food I could carry, which my mum packed for me, and a two litre container of water. My mum packed simsim for me, a sort of produce like peanuts that doesn’t need cooking so it was easy to eat. I didn’t see my parents again.

We travelled at nighttime, mostly so the Khartoum government military in helicopters could not find us. We ran out of food quickly and ate wild animals, although not all of us would get a portion. It was a struggle.

The desert was very dry and it was dangerous. We could be abducted. Some children were eaten by lions. Most children who died just fell asleep and did not get up as they were too weak to walk any further.

Arriving in Ethiopia was another bad experience. We had no food at all and we arrived in Ethiopia with no place to go. So we had to sleep under trees. There was nowhere to go to the toilet so the children defecated anywhere, which spread cholera. Children also died of tropical diseases, which spread quickly because we lived close together. Many of us also died of malnutrition.

It took three months for the United Nations to come with food and medical supplies, although the strongest medicine they had was Panadol and hydration salts. They did not bring water so we had to keep drinking from the diseased river. There was no clean water until more than four years later in 1991.

Around 1991 we were forced back to the Ethiopian-Sudanese border to Pochalla. The United Nations moved us out because of the threat of the Eritrea-Ethiopian rebels’ movement. Because there was no airstrip, the United Nations could not fly us in food. We left the Panyido refugee camp in Ethiopia in two groups, going in separate directions. It took me and my group three weeks to get to Pochalla on the border. It was easier the second time for me as I packed more food and was a few years older. Many of the children in the group that went in the other direction were shot at by rebels and either died in the gunfire or drowned as they tried to escape across the river Gilo. Some managed to get safely across the river.

We lived in Pochalla for a couple of months. The Khartoum government bombed the area from helicopters a few times and sent troops to attack us on the ground. Because of this, the United Nations decided it was an unsafe place for children so we had to move again, this time to Kenya.

The walk to Kenya was more than two months. It was bad. There wasn’t much food. We walked at night to keep safe. The United Nations did not have enough vehicles to transport the children so we had to walk across Kothngor desert. They did not plan well.

We arrived in northwestern Kenya at the Kakuma refugee camp in 1992. Over 15,000 of us had travelled there. We were very weak when we arrived, but life was better in Kakuma.

In 2003, more than 15 years after I first left my parents, I came to Australia. When I first came here, I went to Tasmania. So – I went from Kenya, which is extremely hot every day of the year and where I lived for over 10 years to Tasmania. As the Tasmanian weather was too much for me, after two months I moved to Sydney.

Can you imagine being a parent so desperate to keep their child safe that they would send them into the desert alone knowing that they might never see them again? Or imagine watching your child slowly fade away from hunger because war, drought or other natural disaster means that you cannot find enough food to feed them? What must  it be like to be the parent of a daughter kidnapped by ISIS or Nigerian ISIS fighters – knowing that they will almost certainly be forced into a marriage with their captors? 

On the first Sunday of Christmas, we are brought down to earth with an awful jolt. The account of the slaughter of all the male children under two stands in distinct contrast with the irenic scenes of the Nativity. All the hope and possibility that Jesus’ birth represented seems to have been a false promise. But, as we witnessed in Australia just three weeks ago, the world is a cruel and unpredictable place – joy can turn to tragedy in a moment and as the last few years have illustrated there is far too much tragedy in the world.

There is no historical evidence for the account of the slaughter of the innocents but this story, on this Sunday is a reminder both that faith is no protection from the .. of the world and that God is not unaware of the cruelty of which humanity is capable.  This story is for every parent who has lost a child to preventable disease, to a bomb or a terror attack, for every parent who has held a child whose stomach is swollen thanks to malnutrition, for every parent who this Here, in our holy scripture is a story that tells them that their story is part of the story.

Our scriptures don’t sugar coat what it means to be human. In its pages are almost every human experience. THE story is our story, in scripture we can find a story that matches our own and which tells us that we are not alone but part of the vast expanse of human experience. THE story tells it how it is, and in so doing reminds us that no detail of human existence – however awful is beneath God’s attention.

Subverting power – the wise ones

January 3, 2026

Epiphany – 2026

Matthew 2:1-12

 Marian Free

In the name of God who taught us that true power lies in vulnerability, that real influence lies in empowering others and that true victory is sometimes disguised as defeat. Amen.

It’s all about power – who has it and who wants it. 

The curiosity of the visitors from the east and their desire to see the child for themselves, the mystery and miracle of the star and the gifts pregnant with symbolism  all distract us from the competition for power and the underlying sense of menace which permeates the story of Epiphany. We are blinded by our wonder at the mysterious strangers travelling from far away to worship the one whom we know to be the Christ. For us, their visit provides the definitive sign that the child whom they seek  is the one promised by the prophets of old. Yet there is still a sense of foreboding. Something tells us that this story will not end well. 

Indeed, Matthew’s account of the visit of the magi sets the tone for the whole gospel and prepares the reader for Jesus’ crucifixion.

In each gospel a sword hangs over Jesus’ head almost from the moment of his birth. In Luke Simeon declares: “This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and a sword will pierce your own soul too.” Mark has barely begun the story of a Jesus when he reports that Jesus’ ministry was so controversial that: “The Pharisees went out and immediately conspired with the Herodians against him, how to destroy him.”

Matthew sets the scene quite differently, but the the threat is the same. By naming Jesus as a future king within the very halls of power in Jerusalem, the strangers from the East alert us to the conflict that will ensue between the earthly and the heavenly powers and eventually lead to Jesus’ death.

Jesus is born into a volatile political situation. In his corner of the Empire, Herod’s position as Tetrarch of Galilee is entirely dependent on the goodwill of Caesar, his ability to prove his loyalty and on his ability to keep the local population under control. Life was no less precarious for the citizens of Palestine. Herod’s grip on power was maintained by violently quelling any opposition and by making a public example of trouble-makers by crucifixion. Those who held power as political appointees  – including the priests and the scribes – were, in turn, dependent on their being seen to support Herod.

What is more, the stability of the nation as a whole depended Herod’s ability to assert his dominance over the populace. An insurrection would have threatened not only Herod’s grip on power but also the security of the nation. Were there to be a popular uprising not only would Herod would be swiftly deposed but the Roman army would be sent in to brutally suppress the rebels. As a consequence, it did not matter how much the people resented the power of Rome, many of them feared direct intervention even more. Keeping the peace was the order  of the day.

It is not surprising then that the news of another, rival king  filled not only Herod, but all Jerusalem with fear.

Deliberately or not, what Matthew does in the account of the magi is to expose the conflict that exists and which will intensify between the worldly idea and practice of power, and the heavenly notion and exercise of power.

The visit of mysterious strangers from the east, exposes the way in which the in-breaking of God’s kingdom into the world will subvert the earthly concepts of power and control, how this subversion will increasingly bring Jesus into conflict with the authorities and will ultimately cost him his life.

It’s all about power – how to gain it and how to hold on to it OR about letting it go and gaining it all the same.

According to Matthew the magi boldly, shamelessly and possibly naively inform Herod that a rival king has been born. Herod can only think of a King in the worldly sense- one who would unite the Judeans, raise up an army and challenge the authority of Rome. The possibility that such a person might have been born fills Herod with dread. If the child were allowed to live Herod would certainly lose face, if not now then when the child grew up. News of the birth of a king might unite the people behind him even before he is old enough to lead and army.  

What Herod cannot imagine and what causes conflict nonetheless is the the ways in which this child will subvert conventional notions of power.

It begins with his birth. Jesus is born outside of the centre of power and with none of its trappings – wealth, subjects, servants, an army – nothing that would distinguish him or would enable him to impose his will on the people. Yet people are drawn to him all the same. As he matures and begins his ministry, Jesus continues to subvert and redefine the usual expectations of leadership. He refuses to take advantage of his divinity to benefit himself; rather than lord it over his followers, he devolves his power to them – gives them the ability to heal, to cast out demons and to teach. He will earn the loyalty of his followers and not impose it, he will empower, not disempower others and at the end he will submit to the earthly authorities rather than call on the angels to defend him.

The political and religious leaders do not understand this reversal of their understanding of power. Jesus confuses and threatens them – a leader of a rebellion or a king with an army they would understand and defeat, but Jesus is a very different kind of opponent – he exposes their flaws and their misunderstanding of where real power lies. He must be destroyed.

It is easy to be seduced by the powers of this world – riches, status, and influence – powers that are self-serving and which separate us from each other and from God.To be seduced is to buy into a way of being that contradicts the values of the kingdom. Jesus practices resistance – seeking nothing and ultimately gaining everything. This is our call – to show by example that society does not have to be built on competitiveness, that we gain more by generosity than by protectionism and that it is more satisfying and productive to build others up than it is to pull them down. 

This may lead to misunderstanding, confusion and even conflict, but by living kingdom values now we will be ready for the kingdom when it comes in its fulness.

E

Christmas – Shepherds for a change

December 24, 2025

Christmas Eve – 2025

Luke 2:1-14

Marian Free

In the name of God who reveals Godself to the most unlikely, the most uneducated and most despised and who entrusts them with the message of salvation. Amen.

There are so many sub-plots to the Christmas narrative that it is impossible to do justice to all the different elements. 

So where does one start to explore the Christmas narrative – with the announcement of Jesus’ birth to Mary or to Joseph, the journey to Bethlehem, the inn keeper who found room, the shepherds, the angels, the magi, the star? We could as some do, let our imaginations go wild and wonder about the reactions of the donkey who carried Mary or animals in the barn where Jesus was born, or we could invent characters like the little drummer boy (What makes anyone think that a sleep deprived mother would be grateful when a young, uninvited guest strikes up a drumbeat in her crowded accommodation?)

This year, I found myself thinking about the shepherds, their place in the story and what they have to tell us.

It is easy to be sentimental about the shepherds, who in our nativity scenes are respectable, if poor men out in the fields protecting their sheep, shepherds who are suddenly surprised by not one but a whole host of angels; shepherds who leave everything to race to Bethlehem with white fluffy lambs in the crook of their arms and shepherds whose role is to bear witness to Jesus’ birth.

But when we ignore the picture-perfect Christmas cards and pay close attention, we discover that there is much more to the story of the shepherds. The shepherds, whom we are led to believe are and humble, decent men were, in reality, among the most despised people in Jesus’ day. In the ancient Middle East shepherds were usually itinerant workers, moving from place to place in search of work, and taking whatever work they could find. 

Shepherding was not a job of choice. A shepherd was always on the move looking for pasture and a shepherd had to be on guard day and night to protect the sheep from bears, lions, foxes and other threats which might just as well kill a shepherd as a sheep. Shepherds were living and sleeping rough without proper protection from the elements and who were reputed to be thieves, suspected of stealing the sheep they were supposed to protect.  A few, if not all, would take comfort in the bottle to keep them warm at night. 

In short, if you were to draw up a list of people who were worthy to be the first to receive notice of Jesus’ birth, the shepherds would not even make the long list. And yet here they are so they must have something to teach us. When we look at the story with the shepherds in mind we notice a number of things.

First of all, after they overcome their terror, the shepherds believe the message of the angels and respond immediately. There is no hint that they think the angel’s story is too ridiculous to be true. The angel has said that the Saviour, the Christ has been born and so it must be. And, even though the only clue to the baby’s whereabouts is that, like every other baby in Bethlehem, the child will be wrapped in swaddling cloths in a manger, the shepherds leave everything, including their sheep and hurry to Bethlehem to see the child for themselves.

Second, even though the shepherds were usually shunned and ignored, they could not stop themselves from sharing the good news with everyone. This means that, the shepherds, the marginalised and despised, become the first evangelists – the first to share the good news.

Third, the shepherds were so overwhelmed with what they heard and saw that they couldn’t stop praising and glorifying God.

Fourth, the shepherds did not give a moment’s thought as to what might happen to the sheep when they abandoned them to go to Bethlehem – that is they did not look behind them but trusted the sheep to God.

Last, and this is probably Luke’s point, by sending angels to the shepherds, we are shown that God often chooses the least respected, the least equipped, and the least expected to be the first to hear the good news, and that God’s faith in the shepherds was proved right when the excitement and passion of the shepherds gave them credibility which ensured that their message was heard.

It is always tempting for us to believe that the task of evangelism belongs to those who are more articulate, more authoritative, and more attractive than we are. But if God can choose and use those disreputable scoundrels – the shepherds – God can and will choose and use us. And when God does reveal godself to us, the response of the shepherds can be a model for our own reaction. 

The shepherds are open and receptive to the unexpected presence of the angels, they are not suspicious, but respond immediately to the angel’s news with joy and enthusiasm. They trust God that what they leave behind will come to no harm. They find the experience of coming face-to-face with God’s messengers so overwhelming that they simply cannot keep the news to themselves and they respond to all that has happened by praising God. 

For us tonight, the story of Christ’s birth lacks the novelty of that first Christmas, but that does not mean that we should not be open and receptive to the possibility of God’s revealing godself to us in the here. and now. Let us pray that when that happens and however that happens, we like the shepherds will be sufficiently open to the possibility that God that we will take heed and respond immediately. Is the good news that brings us here tonight so extraordinary that we. cannot keep it to ourselves? Can we trust God enough to leave the past behind and step into an uncertain future? Do we really believe that God can and will use us to share the story of God’s presence in the world – shepherds and kings, poor and rich, homeless and housed, ignorant and educated?

If we do surely that is certainly cause for praising and glorifying God.

Being good or being godly – Joseph takes Mary as wife

December 20, 2025

Advent 4 – 2025

Matthew 1:18-25

Marian Free

With Joseph and Mary, and all the prophets and saints, may we never fear responding to the call of God, no matter how difficult, or outrageous the call. Amen.

Some of you may remember that on Advent 1 I said that being a Christian is not about being good, but about being in relationship. At the time no one challenged me so I’m thinking that we are all on the same page – that we understand that following Christ is the centre of our faith and that goodness flows from that relationship not the other way around. Goodness on its own does not build ties of loyalty, develop a depth of spirituality, encourage submission to the Creator of the universe, or create an understanding that even though we can never be good enough, we are loved and treasured just as we are. 

My view is this: being good does not in itself distinguish a Christian from a non-Christian. Anyone can be good in the conventional sense – by not breaking laws of the state or of the church, by being kind and thoughtful to others and by observing cultural norms. However, I would claim that goodness and godliness are two different things and that godliness does not always equate with goodness – in fact just the opposite. There will be times when being godly (allowing our lives to reflect the presence of God) may require us to be anything but good in the conventional sense. In fact, godliness may demand only that we ignore the norms of the society in which we live, but that we challenge and even overthrow those norms. 

For proof of this view, we need look no further than the example of Jesus, but here in the Christmas narrative are the first signs that responding to and following God does not mean following the crowd. In both Matthew and Luke, the Jesus’ story has barely begun when already we are confronted by the fact that through the life, death and resurrection of Jesus God is turning everything upside down. It is no wonder that the ‘good’ people of the day failed to see what was happening and that God was acting in ways that they hadn’t begun to imagine. 

It would appear from the gospels that the leaders of the day had begun to confuse goodness with godliness, observance of rules with relationship. For example, the Pharisees believed that if only they could get the minute details of the law right, they would be put right with God. The priestly class on the other hand appear to have relied on getting the Temple rituals right as a means of getting close to God. Society as a whole seemed to believe that not rocking the boat would enable them to keep on the right side of the Roman oppressors would. 

To be fair – they might have been misguided but they did believe that they had to put themselves right with God and they did it the only way they knew how – obedience to law and proper observance of ritual. The problem was that though they hoped that God would send a Saviour, they believed that it was their actions that would lead God to act, thus demonstrating that they had totally missed the point. Observance of rituals and law were simply evidence that, at least subconsciously, they believed that their own efforts could force God’s hand– that they, not God, were responsible for their own salvation. 

At the heart of John the Baptist’s message is the refrain: “Repent for the Kingdom of God is near”. The Greek word “metanoia” does not mean “to be sorry”, but “to turn.” Both John, then Jesus are calling the people not to be good, but to turn their lives around, to turn towards God, to live lives that demonstrate a relationship with the living God. From the very beginning faith in Jesus was never about being good, but about being godly, about allowing the divine in us to have full reign – which has nothing to do with goodness as it is usually understood.

Take the story of Joseph – whose first reaction is to separate himself from the pregnant Mary. If we forget the sentimentality that presents Joseph as holy and righteous and selfless and take a look at some hard cold facts, we see a different story. 

Joseph is minding his own business when he learns that Mary – his betrothed – is pregnant. He does not know who the father is only that it is not him.  Can you imagine how that news must have hit him? He knows the baby cannot be his, he presumably wonders if he completely misjudged Mary and he almost certainly feels cuckolded. Did Mary tell him or does he know because of the gossip that is swirling around the village? No matter how he responds his reputation has already been ruined. He will have lost face in the eyes of community. Mary’s shame will not only be his shame but will reflect on his whole family. 

Joseph was within his rights to claim compensation, to expose the situation further – even demand the legal consequences – Mary should be stoned to death. He does none of these things but resolves to quietly free Mary of her obligations to him. This will not diminish the shame but will spare Mary the added consequences of her pregnancy. Already Joseph has shown a casual disregard for the law, but when the angel appears his actions become even more radical. In response to God’s call, Joseph ignores his obligations to his church, his community and his family. He agrees to marry Mary and to raise a child who is not his own one consequence of which will be that the child will inherit and Joseph’s line may come to an end. Not only that, his actions mean that he will lose face in the eyes of his community. 

It is easy to read this as a sentimental story about an honourable man protecting his fiancé, but in the cold, hard light of a first century day, Joseph is both defying the law by not allowing Mary to be stoned to death and breaking convention through his decision to marry her regardless of the shame. But, and here’s the point, Joseph is being obedient to God even though obedience to God means disobedience to religious law, cultural norms and familial obligations.

Joseph chooses fidelity to God over observance of human law; he chooses godliness over goodness, so should we no matter the cost or the shame. 

How do we know it’s Jesus?

December 14, 2025

Advent 3 – 2026

Matthew 11:2-11

Marian Free

In the name of God Earth-Maker, Pain-Bearer, Life-Giver. Amen.

 

Recently I have come to understand the appeal of ‘the rapture’ – the idea that Jesus’ return will be accompanied by angels with trumpets and those who are considered worthy will be swept into heaven while the unworthy will be left to face the utter destruction of the world. It occurs to me that believing in the rapture makes everything so easy. When Jesus returns it will be clear that it really is Jesus – angels, trumpets and the raising of the dead will be obvious to all and are definitely not associated with any other expectation. It will it be impossible to miss the rapture (and Jesus’ return). The other advantage of the rapture is that belief in the rapture is that it has the effect of taking away personal responsibility. Somehow the belief itself  builds up confidence in believers that they are among the ones who will be gathered up because they are among the chosen.

According to this the surprise has been taken away. Jesus’ warning that the day will come as a thief in the night is conveniently ignored. The timing of the rapture can apparently be predicted. Those who believe in the rapture do not have to worry about being prepared, because they have prepared themselves simply by being members of  the believing group. (The fact as recently as this year the prediction failed to come to fruition does not seem to worry adherents, they will happily accept the explanations offered for its failure to materialise.)

Another flaw in this belief is that those who believe in the rapture also seem to think that the rapture will occur in a particular place at a particular time and that believers have to be in that place to be gathered up. This would imply that Jesus’ coming at the end of time will not be a universal, but a very limited event OR that those of us who are not in the in crowd will simply  be left behind.

I’ve been thinking about the rapture, not because some people expected it occur in September this year, but because I’ve also been pondering Jesus’ return – how it will happen and how we will know. It seems to me that if it was difficult for people to recognise Jesus in a tiny nation with a relatively small population how much more difficult will it be today when the population has blown out from 170 – 300 million to around 8.26 billion. How would the word spread? How would we know if it really was Jesus if he appeared in a place a long way distant from where we live to a people with a culture very different from ours? If say, people in Mongolia were convinced that Jesus had come among them, what would they need to do to convince the rest of us to believe them?  Even if Jesus came to a city like Brisbane with a population of nearly 3 million, most of us would only hear rumours that someone amazing was making a difference in the lives of the poor and marginalised. It would be easier not to believe that it was Jesus, easier to believe that those making the claims were simply religious fanatics.

For me this has always been a challenging issue.  We are led to expect that when Jesus comes it will be glaringly obvious – angels and trumpets making the announcement so clear that no one will miss it but is that really how it will be?

In today’s world which is surely as rife with injustice, inequality and conflict as that of the first century there are thousands of good, selfless people, risking their lives and living simply in order to bring healing and hope in places of despair and turmoil. In a time of heightened expectation (or despair) anyone of a number of today’s heroes could be named as (or could claim to be) the one sent by God.

So you see I have a great deal of sympathy for John the Baptist. His successful ministry has brought him into conflict with Herod and he is now in prison – a particularly unpleasant place to be in the first century. He will not have known what the future would bring, but it is not surprising that he is questioning his choices, asking himself if he got it right, if Jesus really was the one who was to come. (After all in his time too there were many ‘messianic’ figures.) John had handed his ministry to Jesus but he is not seeing the dramatic changes he might have expected – the nation as a whole has not turned back to God, the Romans continue their oppressive rule and Jesus is not behaving in a way that will bring about radical change. He must have wondered whether he had got it right.

Jesus’ reply echoes the words of God in the Psalms and in Isaiah, in which God’s promise is that the blind will receive their sight, the lame will walk, the lepers will cleansed, the prisoners set free, the deaf will  hear, and the dead will raised. These subtle signs are evidence of God’s presence on earth but they are signs that we might miss. It is much easier as John’s question attests to look for the more dramatic, earth-shattering signs of disruption and the heavenly signs of angels and trumpets.

If we are to know Jesus at his coming, it is essential that we come to know Jesus now, that we open our hearts and lives to his transforming love, that we seek to understand (and practice in our own lives) his preference for the marginalised, and that we are always on the lookout for signs of his presence among us now. If we are really attuned to him now not only will our lives already be lived as if he were here, but we will not fail to meet him when he returns (in glory or not).

 

Pointing beyond ourselves. Advent 2

December 6, 2025

Advent 2 – 2025

Matthew 3:1-12

Marian Free

In the name of God who calls us to point away from ourselves to God. Amen.

I am the first born in my family, so I have very little experience of what it is to live in someone else’s shadow. No one has ever said to me: “You’re not as clever as or as good as Marian.”  No teacher, guide leader or other adult has ever been able to compare me with a family member who came before me. No one has had unrealistic expectations of me based on what an older sibling achieved before me.  I do know that this is a realty for many younger siblings – always having to live up to some sort of standard set by the eldest, always having their own gifts and talents ignored. It is slightly different if the younger excels more than the elder but differences between siblings tend not to go unnoticed – at least by the siblings themselves.

This week I found myself wondering about John the Baptist, and whether his childhood and youth was overshadowed by that of his cousin, Jesus. John’s calling was predicted before his birth, and it is clear that by the time he was thirty he was living out his vocation and that he had a passion for God that drew a significant following (one sufficiently strong that it continues to this day). It makes you wonder: How did he feel when his younger cousin Jesus came along and started preaching the same message: “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near”? 

If Luke’s account is correct John, even though he was the elder by a few months, must have always been overshadowed by Jesus.  You can imagine some of the conversations when he was growing up: “John, it is true that God has given you a role to play, but your role is to support not to outshine Jesus.” “John, I know that your father prophesied many things about you, but remember your task is to point away from yourself to Jesus. You are to prepare the way, but Jesus will be the way.”  “Yes I know that you and Jesus are the same age that he is allowed to drink, but the angel specifically said that you were not to drink wine or strong drink.”

I wonder if there were times when a teenaged John quietly raged against the expectations that were placed on him – even before he was born. I wonder too, if there weren’t times when he was furious that his younger cousin had so much more freedom, possibly even fewer expectations. Were there moments when John thought that it was simply unfair that Jesus, who didn’t even have his priestly heritage, was chosen for the more important role? Were here times when the idea that he had to serve his younger cousin simply rankled? Later, after John had begun his ministry, fired up with a desire to restore the people to their right relationship with God, calling them to turn their lives around, did he feel just a pang of resentment when Jesus came along to steal his thunder, to draw his disciples away from him and to begin a movement of his own? 

From before his birth John was destined to be the forerunner, to always be in Jesus’ shadow. Our scriptures and religious art smooth over any questions John might have had about the clear distinctions between the two but that is not to say that there were not tensions or misunderstandings. After all, prophet or not, John was a real person with real feelings and almost certainly with real failings. To make him a super human is to do him a disservice. It also diminishes his role as a model and guide to those of us who come after.

That John was very much a human being will be made evident in next week’s gospel when, despite his confidence at Jesus’ baptism, John, now in prison, begins to question whether Jesus really is the one who is to come.

In order for us to identify with John we have to see in him characteristics that we can reasonably emulate. 

Whether or not John felt the imbalance between himself and Jesus, it is clear from our gospel accounts that at least once he had begun his ministry John understood that his vocation was to prepare the way. This he does with such grace. Even as the people, including the church leaders, throng to him he resists creating his own movement but points away from himself to Jesus, with whom, he says he is not worthy to be compared. 

John may well have known his destiny from birth, but as we have the story, he was one of those rare people who was willing to allow himself to diminish so that someone else could flourish, he was able to allow someone else take the credit for the movement he had begun, and to allow that person to take his movement forward and in a different direction.

John, as we meet him in scriptures, models what it is to be people who point the way to God and who draw others into faithful relationship with Jesus. He models what it is to proclaim the one who has come and is coming. He encourages us to prepare the way for God – smoothing away the difficulties that prevent people from engaging with the faith and removing the obstacles of bad theology and bad behaviour that turns good people away. He reminds us that if others take the credit for the ground work we have done, we are to rejoice that someone has come to faith and not be resentful that we have not received praise for simply doing what we are called to do. He shows us that instead of drawing attention to our own talents and abilities, we are to encourage and build up others so that they might discover and develop their own gifts and abilities. 

In Advent we the church proclaim the coming of Jesus. May we with John, point away from ourselves so that others might see Jesus, enable others to develop and flourish (even at our own expense) and rejoice when seeds that we have sown take root and grow under someone else’s watchful eye. 

Preparing the way, is never about us but always about the one who is to come.

Be prepared – Advent 1

November 29, 2025

Advent 1 – 2026

Matthew 24:26-44

Marian Free

In the name of God who always is, Christ who came and who is to come, and the Holy Spirit who enlivens and encourages. Amen.

Advent is one of my favourite times of the year.  Though I have never been particularly efficient at opening Advent Calendars, the sense of anticipation that such calendars engender remains with me to this day.  Calendar or not, every day of Advent brings me closer to the great mystery of the Incarnation – the coming of Emmanuel, God with us. 

Sadly, I have long since given up my habit of separating Advent and Christmas, of keeping the two seasons distinct in my practice and in my mind. The commercial world which fills our stores with Christmas decorations and gifts from September, and which removes all signs of Christmas on Boxing Day makes putting up a tree on Christmas Eve and waiting till January 6 to take it down feel a little bit hollow. Even singing carols on the first Sunday after Christmas can seem somewhat strange when you know that the rest of the world is already preparing for Easter!

Many years ago, I made the decision to stop resisting the tide of change. I no longer try to hold on to traditions that are meaningless to the rest of the world. Nor do I get frustrated that an increasingly secular world has no idea about what Christmas means and that the commercial world has capitalized on the Twelve Days of Christmas by putting them before and not after Christmas. The world may change but nothing can diminish my sense of anticipation and joy as Advent approaches, and I enter once again into the sense of wonder at the birth of Jesus, the mystery of God’s vulnerability and the astounding reality of God’s becoming one of us. 

Given that Christmas celebrates God’s quiet and gentle entry into the world it seems odd that our church year begins and ends with gospel readings that appear to be a series of threats – threats of destructive forces, lawlessness, and. persecution, threats of judgement, of the impending end of the world, and threats that God will catch us unprepared as a thief during the night. We are warned, as we are today, to “keep awake” so that we can catch the thief and not be surprised. These are hardly messages that are designed to fill us with joy and excitement, but rather with terror. They seem designed to keep us on our toes, with one eye watching our back and the other scanning the horizon for danger. The message seems to be: “Be afraid, be very afraid.” Be afraid if not of judgement, but of those terrible events which will precede Jesus’ coming again.

During Advent, these messages are thankfully paired with messages of hope and renewal from the prophets, such as that from Isaiah this morning. God’s coming is associated with putting things straight. This can look like judgement and terror especially to those who resist or deny God, but the prophets assure us that God’s coming is primarily to put the world to right, to bring peace where there is no peace, to make the desert bloom, to give sight to blind, healing to the sick and release to the prisoner and to draw all people to walk in the light of the Lord. In other words, God’s coming will restore the world to that which God intended from the beginning.

What then do we make of the dire warnings that begin at the start of this chapter and which, to be honest, populate the pages of the prophets? 

Themes of destruction and restoration usually arise at times when the nation of Israel is feeling particularly vulnerable and oppressed, or when the people have wandered so far from the faith that it seems that the only possible solution is to begin with a clean slate. This was almost certainly how many people in Palestine at the time of Jesus. It must have seemed that the only way Israel could be restored would be by a dramatic intervention of God who would destroy the forces of Rome, purify Temple practices and bring about healing and peace.  

In reality, as we know, this was not how God responded. 

Today’s gospel is part of Jesus’ response to a question about the signs that will indicate that the end is near. Jesus uses language familiar to the disciples to insist that it is impossible to read the signs. Turmoil in the world is not a sign that God is near, but sign that humanity is flawed and that we live on a fragile planet. Jesus warns that those who want signs are looking for the wrong thing, are asking the wrong question. That they have to ask already indicates their failure to understand. Certainly, they want to be ready, but on their terms. By asking for signs, they reveal that they want to be able to spread out their preparations, they want to be in control. After all this time with Jesus, they have failed to understand that discipleship means giving their lives completely to God, submitting entirely to God’s will and absolutely trusting God with their future. In other words, ceding all control to God.

Scenes of chaos and destruction, images of thieves who catch a home-owner unprepared are a reminder that planning such as the disciples envisage is impossible. No one can go without sleep forever. 

The only plan is to be ready NOW – to admit that our future is in God’s hands, to surrender our lives to God in the present, to trust that whatever life throws at us, God will be with us; and to know in our hearts that if God/Jesus were suddenly to come among us we would not need to be afraid because our hearts would already be God’s, we would already be confident of God’s unconditional love and we would not hide in fear but welcome God with open arms. 

Being ready, being watchful is not the same as being afraid. Being prepared doesn’t mean planning, it means being ready now – knowing that we already beloved, just as we are. It means waiting and watching with quiet anticipation for that time when God will come and when all things including ourselves will be gathered into God’s kingdom.

God has given Godself to us. This Advent let us make sure. That we have given ourselves to God.