Archive for the ‘Easter’ Category

Eternity now – John 17

May 16, 2026

Easter 7 – 2026

John 17:1-11

Marian Free

In the name of Christ who came that we might have life and have it abundantly. Amen.

During the week I tuned into the radio when the programme Big Ideas was playing.  A panel of three authors were discussing the topic: “How to Live and Die Well”. At the point at which I joined the show the panel were discussing death. They were saying things like: “Getting people to talk about death is really an exercise in how to talk about life.”  “Can’t live a good life without thinking about death.” They referred to App called ‘We croak’ which five times a day reminds those who have it, that they are going to die.” Apparently, this derives from a practice in Bhutan that believes that in order to live a good life you need to remember five times a day that we are going to die. The thesis of the panelists’ argument seemed to be that being aware that we are going to die makes us more appreciative of the good things that we have in life. 

Another point of the discussion was that we do not do death well. The panelists commented that they felt that we were afraid to talk about death, that we do not plan for death and a funeral alone does not allow time for the process of saying “goodbye”.

I have to be honest, the little I heard pressed a few of my buttons. I like to think that while I love life, I am not and never was afraid of death. If we live, we die that’s the reality. 

It is probably true that our society is increasing disconnected from death. Few people die in their own beds, families no longer wash and prepare the body for burial, and it is not practical, and in some places, it is illegal, for a body to be laid out in a home for people to visit and pay their respects. The work of death happens far removed from everyday existence.

It does frustrate me however, that our increasingly secular society having rejected belief in God has also distanced itself from the rituals of the Christian faith which used to give us ways in common to mark the significant moments of our lives – birth, adolescence, marriage, and death. Those who have abandoned the Christian faith, have at the same time abandoned the cultural practices that are associated with faith, rites of passage which served to mark significant transitions in our lives – including death[1].   

Today marks the end of the Easter season – next week is Pentecost, then Trinity and then the “ordinary[2]” Sundays which take us all the way to Advent. But at the same time, Easter does not come to an end, for we are Easter people. We are Easter people because we celebrate life, but at the centre of our faith is a death – a death that was necessary for newness of life. Jesus’ death, and subsequent resurrection is ever before us, representing not only the cycle of birth and death, death and birth, but also the assurance that death of the body is not something to fear, but the beginning of something new and transformative. 

The death of Jesus is always before us, challenging us on a daily basis to undergo our own little deaths and subsequent resurrections. Indeed, much of our Christian imagery focuses on the idea of death and life, life and death. Jesus says that we must lose our life to gain it; that unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit:  Paul says that we are to die to ourselves and live to Christ. Even our baptism liturgy – based on chapter 6 of Romans speaks of being buried with Christ. Death is ever present to us, in both a literal and figurative sense. Dying and rising with Christ is a constant part of our existence as we let go of all the destructive and unhelpful elements of our lives and allow what is divine to fill us with new life. Throughout our lives we undergo so many “little deaths” that death holds no fear, because ready or not, that is when like Christ, we will be united with God, drawn into the union between the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.

We do not have to wait for our physical death for this union to become a reality as Jesus said in the gospel reading for last Sunday: “Those who love me will keep my word and my Father will love them, and we will come to them and make our home with them (14:23).” “We will come to them and make our home with them”. Eternal life begins when we begin to believe. As Jesus prepares his disciples for his departure, he makes it clear that those who believe do not have to wait for their physical death to begin to experience eternal life, to be part of the divine life – the life that he, Jesus, shares with the Father and the Spirit. Jesus affirms this in this morning’s gospel; “this is eternal life that they may know you, the only true God and Jesus Christ whom you have sent.”

Eternal life begins when we know God and Jesus Christ. Eternal life is to be caught up in and to be part of the relationship between the three persons of the Trinity! Eternal life is not some distant, unpredictable future event but is our lived experience as God abides in us and we in God. Eternal life is not: “pie in the sky when we die” a future hope reserved only for those who have met certain criteria. Our life with and in the Trinity begins in the here and now. Death is not the beginning of eternal life, but rather death serves to remove the final barrier – the earthy vessel of our body being the last thing we shed before being gathered to and absorbed into the divine life of the Trinity of which we have been a part all along.

This relationship with the divine is not and cannot be destroyed by death. Death is not to be feared or avoided, may our daily deaths fashion us more truly into the image of God prepare us more fully for the eternity of which we are now a part.


[1] Many of these people are adopting practices from Eastern traditions, without realising that they are not vastly dissimilar from those of the Christian faith.

[2] “Ordinary” here comes from ordinal – Sundays that are counted.

Not as orphans

May 9, 2026

Easter 6 – 2026

John 14:15-21

Marian Free

In the name of God who never leaves us to face our fears alone. Amen.

As is usual for the gospel of John, this short passage is dense and the symbolism within it is far from consistent. There are a number of themes contained in these six verses – love, keeping the commandments and Jesus’ words (which are not his but the Father’s), another Advocate, being in Jesus and in the Father, and being loved by the Father to mention just a few. Added to these is the confusing message that Jesus – who is going, is coming, and the Father will send another Advocate who, we will discover, will not come if Jesus does not go (15:7).

Of course, the author of this gospel does necessarily not want us to untangle these themes, but rather (at least as I see it) wants the ideas to seep into our consciousness where they will somehow create a coherent message – a message of Jesus’ deep love for his disciples (and for all who will follow in their footsteps). That love will empower us to behave in ways consistent with Jesus’ commandments, the primary one being love of one another. 

In this passage, as throughout chapters 14-17, Jesus is preparing his disciples for his departure. (This is one of the reasons that many scholars believe that at least some of the content is Jesus’ speaking after the resurrection.) He is alerting the disciples to the fact that his risen presence will not remain with them, at least in the way that they are experiencing in the present. He will return to the Father from whom he came, but the disciples need not despair because the Father will send the Spirit who will be with them forever. 

The relationship between the Father, and Jesus will extend to include the disciples – and all who love Jesus. Indeed, given that the Spirit will abide in the disciples, believers are assured that they are somehow caught up in the relationship between Father, Son and Spirit – that the Trinitarian[1] God abides in them and they in the threefold God.

We will learn much more about the Spirit in the following chapters – the Spirit of truth who will testify on Jesus’ behalf and who will guide the disciples into all the truth – but a key focus of this passage is Jesus’ assurance that the disciples will not be left alone. “Jesus will not leave them orphaned.”

“I will not leave you orphaned.” In the nineteenth century William Chatterton Dix incorporated these words into a hymn – “Hallelujah! not as orphans.” 

I could probably take you to the exact place where I was when these words engraved themselves into my memory and deepest being. The words are so evocative they touched me in a way that I cannot explain, so haunting that I have carried them with me since that time when I was about nine or ten years old. They, and that verse of the hymn, come to me from time to time and with them an inexplicable sense of assurance and comfort. They came to me when I was on the ordination retreat before my Diaconate and have been a refrain throughout my ministry. “Hallelujah! not as orphans are we left in sorrow now.” 

In full the verse reads:

Hallelujah! not as orphans,

are we left in sorrow now;

hallelujah! he is near us, 

faith believes, nor questions how;

though the cloud from sight received him

when the forty days were o’er,

shall our hearts forget his promise,

‘I am with you evermore’?[2]

It would be decades before I realised that Dix took these words directly from John’s gospel.

In today’s gospel, Jesus, as I have said is speaking to his disciples. We can tell from the responses of Thomas, Phillip and Judas (not Iscariot) that they are confused and anxious. After three intense years following Jesus, they are about to be without him. They have to face not only their grief but their uncertainty. What will they do? How are they to behave? Where will they find the strength?

 In this, his farewell speech, Jesus prepares the disciples for life without him. Above all Jesus assures them that they need not be afraid because even though he will be physically absent from them they will still be aware of his presence. More than that, they will be sent the Holy Spirit who will equip and teach them and never leave them.  Even better still, as the Father abides in the Son, so the Father and the Son will abide in those who believe – the union between the Father and Son will be replicated in them. 

John’s gospel is not meant to be linear or to make “logical” sense. Rather it is intended to touch our souls, to bind us together in love and to assure us that the presence of God – Father, Son and Spirit – lives in and with us so that we will know the truth and we will never, ever be alone. 

May you know Jesus abiding in you and you in Jesus.

Questions for reflection:

How has the gospel of John touched you? Which are the words that have been absorbed into your deepest being? Which give you comfort and assurance? Are you confident that you are never alone?


[1] Of course, at this time the language of Trinity did not exist, but it is clear from this passage that the three-fold nature of God was very much a part of the experience of early believers.

[2][2] William Chatterton Dix, 1837-98, in Together in Song, 517.

What does our use of the Bible say about us? Domestic Violence Sunday

May 4, 2026

Easter 5 – 2026

John 14:1-14, 1 Peter 2:11-25

Marian Free

In the name of God whose love for us knows no bounds. Amen.

When I am teaching, I remind my students of the fact that the bible can and has been used to belittle, to abuse and to control rather than to affirm, encourage and liberate.

That is why I find passages as those we read in 1 Peter disturbing. “Slaves, accept the authority of your masters with all deference, not only those who are kind and gentle but also those who are harsh.” This text, like everything in the Old and New Testaments has to be seen in the context of its time, when a slave was considered to be property and that the owner of a slave had power even over their life. What is problematic today – in a world in which you and I find the notion of slavery abhorrent – the implication that those who are vulnerable and powerless should accept abuse, no matter how unjustified. 

Sadly, this and many other passages have, throughout the centuries, been taken out of their original context in scripture and used by the powerful to oppress and restrain the weak and defenceless. Worse, they have been used to suggest that those who resist or rebel are defying the word of God. 

Slavery is not something that enters our day-to-day lives, but there are many other biblical texts which, taken out of their historical and literary context, have been used to justify abuse and coercive behaviour – particularly against women. Texts that suggest women submit to or accept the authority of their husbands and those that demand that children “honour their faither and mother” have been used to disempower women and children and, indirectly, have given some men and some parents latitude to dominate, to control and even to strike those who are dependent on them.  All this is done with impunity – justified by the fact that it is written in scripture and therefore presumably sanctioned by God. 

Even the directive to forgive others has been weaponised, used by some to imply that a “good Christian” will overlook and forgive the bad behaviour of another, often without demanding that the offender take responsibility for his or her actions. Shockingly, violence and coercion (against men, as well as women and children) have been allowed to continue unabated while the person offended against forgives and forgives, believing that this is what is required of them by God. 

Over the centuries many texts have been taken out of context, used in ways in which they were never intended to be used and weaponised against our fellow human beings – even fellow Christians. In the name of the God of love, women, men and children, those of colour, those who identify as LGBTQ+, those who are divorced, those who are differently abled, refugees and others have been made to feel unworthy and unlovable and have been denied the opportunity to fulfill their potential. Hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of people are doubly, even triply or quadruply impacted when scripture is used to criticise, demean, or exclude – think of gay, black women and men or migrants whose faith and culture can be held against them. 

Self-righteous or even well-meaning Christians, who read scripture through their own narrow lens and who presume to know the mind of God condemn those who do not fit a narrowly prescribed criteria to live in ways that are unsatisfactory, unfulfilling or worse to be subject to violence, oppression or coercion.

When texts are taken out of context, they no longer reflect their original intention and fail to acknowledge the overwhelming evidence in both the Old and New Testaments of God’s unconditional love for the least as well as the greatest, and. God’s preference for the poor, the marginalised and oppressed.

Today is Domestic Violence Sunday. Somewhat belatedly the Anglican church has recognised the role that it has played directly or indirectly in allowing domestic violence to go unchecked. Our Diocese among others has committed to Ten Commitments. I suggest that you read them all, but I will share the first three. 1 “Our Church acknowledges and laments the violence which has been suffered by some of our members and repents of the part we have played in allowing an environment where violence went unaddressed.

“2 Our Church leaders commit to ensure conditions that support the prevention of violence, a church culture that promotes equality, and support for those who experience violence. 

3 “Our Church consistently teaches about equality, freedom from violence, respectful relationships and the value of every person. We (all those who teach all ages and stages in our churches) clearly teach and model: that all human beings, both female and male are created equal in the image of God and are precious to God. Therefore the value and dignity of every individual should be upheld by all.”

The second dot point of the third commitment echoes what I have been saying this morning:

3.2 “We acknowledge that the words of Holy Scripture can be misunderstood and

has been distorted to justify domestic and family violence. We work actively to guard against and prevent such distortions .”

So, no matter who you are, if scripture is being used to make you feel anything other than cherished and worthy, remind yourself that it is not about you, but is rather a distortion of scripture. If your faith does not affirm you or allow you to flourish and grow, if you feel that your faith is being used to coerce you into accepting abuse, or into being someone whom you are not, or if it makes you feel undeserving and unworthy, or is preventing you from being you God-given self, or from being fully alive – look again. 

Remember that the God who risked birth, survived human infancy and endured an horrific death, did it all for love. Love that embraces humanity as it is, right here, right now and wishes for all of us to be empowered to reach our potential. Jesus said: “I came that you might have life and have it abundantly.” (John 10:10)

May you know the abundant love of God and have life in abundance.

The risen Christ beside us on the road – Emmaus and evangelism

April 18, 2026

Easter 3 – 2026

Luke 24:13-35

 Marian Free


In the name of God who meets us where we are and encourages us to go on. Amen.

Of all the resurrection accounts, the story of the road to Emmaus is my favourite. Perhaps this is because it does not rely on trying to imagine the but is grounded in the mundane and ordinary. The encounter between the despondent couple on the road and a complete stranger (who turns out to be Jesus) is so relatable that it is possible to recognise in it our own experience. There have been many times in my own life when through difficult circumstances I have gained new insights – into myself and into the state of the world. More often than not, it has only been after the event, when my eyes have been opened that I have been able to recognise the hand of Jesus in those situations. 

It is because many of us can relate to this story, that it can be a useful model for evangelism – not the kind of evangelism that relies on forcing others to believe what we believe.  The form of evangelism that Jesus models is that which takes place when we walk beside others, listening to and respecting their fears and their confusion and, if appropriate, sharing with them the ways in which our faith helps us through difficult periods in our lives and gives us a different perspective on our trauma or bewilderment. We can share how we knew the presence of a force beyond ourselves (Jesus) when what had made no sense suddenly became clear, when inexplicably we found courage and strength that we did not know we had, or when a sense of despair turned into a feeling of optimism. 

Sharing the account of the resurrection with those who have no faith has become an increasingly difficult task. In a scientific world fewer people have time for miracles and anyway – how does a miracle two thousand years ago make a difference in today’s world?  It seems to me that much more important than the extraordinary event of Jesus coming back to life is his on-going presence in the world today.  A once-off miracle that happened centuries is not enough to persuade people to believe in Jesus. Jesus’ continued presence with us, is another matter altogether. The miracle of Jesus’ resurrection is less that he came back to life and more that he continues to live and that his risen presence is with us even now. That is not something that belongs in the past but is something that we ourselves can and have experienced and it is from our experience that we may be able to help others make sense of the trauma and confusion in their lives.

Jesus’ conversation with the couple on the road to Emmaus, provides us with some insights as to how we might go about this.

Luke is recounting an event that occurred three days after Jesus’ death, on the day that news of his resurrection had begun to circulate. The couple on the road, Cleopas (and his wife) had left Jerusalem. They were filled with despondency, fear and despair. Nothing had turned out the way they had expected. They had thought that Jesus, “a mighty prophet” was the one who “was to save Israel”. Instead, their own priests and the leaders of Israel had handed him over to death and now their own lives might be in danger. Despite Jesus’ predictions and despite the reports from the women that Jesus had risen from the dead, the couple would not allow their hopes to be raised. Rumours of Jesus’ resurrection were not enough to help them understand the traumatic events. Fear and confusion had replaced hope and expectation.

The couple were so absorbed with their own troubles that they didn’t even recognise Jesus when he drew alongside them. And Jesus doesn’t thrust himself on them, he doesn’t say: “look foolish people, it’s me, just believe!” Instead, Jesus engages them conversation. He listens with respects their doubts and honours their questions. Using the language and stories with which they are familiar, he tries to provide them with another lens through which to view the events of the past few days. He explains their own traditions and scriptures, and he helps them to make sense of, and to come to terms with the events which have forced them to leave Jerusalem. At no point does he try to diminish the trauma they have experienced, nor does he tell them that they if they have faith everything will work out. Jesus simply provides a listening ear and places the death of Jesus, (his death), in its broader, historical perspective. In so doing, he helps them to see the events differently, gives them hope and helps them to find a way to move forward. 

It is only after the event, after they have recognised Jesus in the breaking of the bread, and after Jesus has vanished from their presence that they realise that along the way “their hearts had been burning within them.” The “stranger’s” understanding and his ability to help them place Jesus’ death in a broader framework has not only helped them come to a new understanding but has enabled them to recognise that it was Jesus himself who brought them through their trauma and confusion to a place of hope and comprehension. 

 “Evangelism” need not be simply a retelling of the story of Jesus and expecting listeners to believe in an historical person and events of millennia past. The story of the couple on the road to Emmaus reveals that sharing the gospel is as much about presence as it is about recounting historical “facts” and miracles. 

The risen Jesus can be made known when we stand alongside others in their times of grief, confusion and hopelessness. The risen Jesus can be made known when we listen, without judgement, to the anguish, disappointment and fears of others. As those who know that God can form the universe from nothing, wring victory from defeat and bring the dead to life, we can help others to see the world through a different lens – one that doesn’t give despair the upper hand, that doesn’t allow trauma to have the final word and that doesn’t give death the final victory. When hopelessness gives way to hope, confusion to understanding and grief to joy, maybe they too will “feel their hearts burn within them” and come to know the risen Christ.

Christ is risen! Alleluia! He is risen indeed! Alleluia!

Binding and loosing, forgiving and not forgiving

April 11, 2026

Easter 2 – 2026

John 20:19-31

 Marian Free

In the name of God our protector, Jesus our liberator and the Holy Spirit our enlivener. Amen.

There is so much to consider in this morning’s passage – the obvious fear of the disciples, the sudden appearance of Jesus, the absence of Thomas, the giving of the Holy Spirit and the forgiving or not forgiving of sins. This morning I’d like to focus on the last of these. 

First, a quick word about Thomas and the Holy Spirit. Even though nowhere in the text is Thomas called the doubter, this is the way which we have chosen to remember him. It is hardly fair. Thomas was not alone in his inability to believe without seeing, indeed even with seeing. According to Matthew there were some among the eleven who, despite having seen the risen Jesus, still doubted (28:16,17). Furthermore, according to John, the disciples already knew that Jesus had risen. Mary Magdalene had told them, and they had refused to believe her. Instead of rejoicing and seeking out the risen Jesus, they were locked away in fear. In failing to accept the word of the other disciples, Thomas is only responding in the same way that the other disciples responded to Mary’s news. 

Second, in this passage, we are told that Jesus breathes the Holy Spirit on the disciples. This is a far cry from the Acts account of the dramatic events of the Jewish Festival of Pentecost. John’s version of receiving the spirit is very different. Jesus simply breathes the Holy Spirit on the disciples. Clearly something life-changing did happen on the day of Pentecost, but the Holy Spirit was not a new phenomenon, he/she had co-existed with God and with Jesus from before the beginning of time. 

This morning as I’ve said, I’d like to focus on the much-misinterpreted phrase that accompanies Jesus’ giving of the Holy Spirit. Jesus says: “Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.”  

This post-resurrection gift has often been misunderstood, and sometimes misused to reinforce the authority the church, to maintain control. These words can used to strike the fear of hell into those who are judged to have committed an unforgivable sin and in turn used to vilify and exclude those who don’t or who can’t conform to a certain way of being or behaving. Misunderstood, this gift can be taken to mean that the church, or individual members thereof, know the mind of God and therefore know what cannot be forgiven for eternity. 

John is not the first evangelist to use the expression or at least a similar expression. According to Matthew, when Jesus gives Peter the keys to the kingdom he says: “I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven, and whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven” (16:19). Later, the exact same commission is given to all the disciples: “Truly I tell you, whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven” (18:18).

These are weighty words, and if misinterpreted, allow people who are so inclined to exert enormous power over the vulnerable. 

In order to understand Jesus’ meaning here it is essential to consider its first century context.

In the ancient Jewish world, these or similar words were technical, legal expressions. To bind meant to restrict, to confine or to forbid. To loose meant to permit, or to relax existing rules. The expression gave the people the right to legislate and to make (and unmake) rules and norms[1] – in much the same way that we give our legislators the authority to make and to change laws. In the first century, it was primarily the Pharisees – those concerned with the law – to whom this instruction applied. In practical terms it meant that the Pharisees were empowered to interpret the scripture and to determine what it meant in their context. In real terms, what this meant was twofold. First, it recognised that there were (and are) laws appropriate for a particular time and place which have outgrown their usefulness. Second, it acknowledged that there might be times when new legislation was required to meet the changing needs of society. In the religious context, any changes, of course, had to be compatible with scripture.

Jesus himself modelled this practice when he redefined the meaning of the Sabbath. He recognised that a law which had been intended to provide relief and rest, had instead become a burden, that it was binding not liberating the poor. Jesus knew that God-given laws were intended to liberate and protect, not to restrict or to harm and that sometimes it was necessary to let them go or to reframe them. His teaching against divorce for example was a radical departure from the law of the day. Jesus’ teaching against divorce corrected a permissiveness that had meant that, without cause, men could simply discard women who relied on them for security and support. 

John, for reasons unknown has changed the language of this phrase to the forgiveness of sins, but the meaning is essentially the same – sin being the breaking of the law. Even though it implies that sins might not be forgiven, Jesus is relying on the disciple’s remembering his own propensity to forgive – even those who admitted wrong-doing.

The church, at least in certain times in its history, has taken the charge of binding and loosing very seriously. A century and a half ago, after much debate, the church in England conceded that slavery, while accepted and even condoned within the pages of scripture, was not in fact consistent with the scriptures’ insistence on the dignity of all who are created in the image of God. Last century, the Anglican church made life-changing decisions about divorce (despite Jesus’ injunction against divorce) having recognised that the injunction not to divorce condemned men and women to a lifetime of unhappiness, or worse, to a lifetime of abuse.

Binding and loosing law and/or sin, is not a mandate to hold on fiercely to outdated regulations and to harmful practices, or to impose draconian practices on the faithful, nor is it a license to libertinism. Rather it is God’s gracious recognition that little holds true forever and that rules and regulations are intended to liberate and protect, not to imprison and make vulnerable.

It is a huge responsibility, let us hope and pray that we will use it well and for the benefit of all.


[1] https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&source=web&rct=j&opi=89978449&url=https://www.youtube.com/watch%3Fv%3D6S_3DyzhUX4&ved=2ahUKEwjRlrDV0OSTAxVy1jgGHcoVFyAQ3aoNegQIVRAL&usg=AOvVaw0lWmMEk7s8j1tB9fQh_Vy8

A second, less frequent use, is the power to exclude or include. 

Celebrating when there seems to be nothing to celebrate – Easter 2026

April 4, 2026

Easter Day – 2026

Matthew 28:1-10

Marian Free

In the name of God who wrought the universe from nothing, who brought life from death, and who, in Jesus, gives hope to all who suffer and are filled with despair. Amen.

I have to confess that I have never felt less like preaching on Easter Day. Easter this year does not feel triumphant or jubilant. The new life wrought from death by Jesus is barely visible in a world torn apart by conflict and marred by poverty. We will go home this morning to news of an escalation of the war in the Middle East or to reports of new lows perpetrated in the war in Ukraine. It is impossible for us to ignore the fact that throughout the world literally millions of people have been displaced from their homes or to close our eyes to the fact that families who were already struggling with the high cost of living are now facing increased petrol costs and who have no idea where it all will end. 

In the face of all that and more it is difficult to sound a note of victory, to celebrate new life, a new beginning. Indeed, such triumphalism would seem like a slap in the face to all those who this morning have woken not to joy or even to hope, but to despair, grief or terror or to all three together. Proclaiming the victory of Easter in today’s context today would feel like an affront to those who, years after war has ended, or natural disaster has come and gone still have not been able to rebuild their lives. 

And yet we (or at least humanity) have been here before, not once, not twice, but again and again and again as humankind demonstrates its propensity for violence, greed, injustice and indifference to the needs of others. We have been here before and have found reasons to celebrate.

We have been here before.

In the last century alone humanity has witnessed not one but two world wars, in which approximately 90 million people died and in which many millions more were permanently injured or displaced. In the last twenty years we have witnessed a tsunami which wiped the lives of nearly 230,000 people, and floods and other disasters which have destroyed the homes, communities and livelihoods of hundreds of thousands of people; and we have stood by helplessly as civil war and climate change wreaks havoc in the lives of many and still we believe and still we hope because Jesus has risen from the dead.

We have been here many, many times before. We will be here again and still we have found reasons to celebrate.

Today and every day we have reasons to celebrate, not because we have woken to a world restored and renewed but because we have woken to be reminded once again that there is always hope, because Jesus’ resurrection assures us that death does not have the final word, that sorrow and grief and pain can be transformed and that God, has not abandoned us, but in the risen Christ is alive and at work in the world.

It is important to recognise that Jesus’ resurrection was not some magical, instant, romantic fix. God didn’t simply wave a wand and make everything new, put an end to all conflict and pain. Jesus’ victory over death came at an enormous cost not least to Jesus himself. For there would have been no resurrection if there had not first been a crucifixion. Before Jesus could be restored to life he had to die. Before Jesus could die, he first had to experience life, to surrender his divine status and be fully immersed in the human condition – not the condition of the rich, the comfortable and the powerful, but the condition of the poor, the oppressed and the powerless. Before Jesus could be crucified he had to suffer betrayal and humiliation, and then to endure flogging, nailing, jeering and ultimately suffocation. Before Jesus could rise he had to truly die and to be sealed in a tomb. 

The world looked much the same that first Easter Day as it had on all the days that came before it. The poor were still poor, the embattled were still embattled, the defeated were still defeated. The world looked the same and yet nothing would be the same again. Jesus’ resurrection demonstrated beyond doubt that death is not the end – the dead do not remain dead. Jesus’ resurrection showed the world that love can conquer hate, good can defeat evil, and that the best of humanity will ultimately triumph over the worst. Jesus’ resurrection reminds us that even in the worst of circumstance there is always room for hope. Because Jesus rose from the dead we can be sure that a new day will dawn and the world will be restored. We can believe that there will come a time when all suffering will cease, when the bombs will stop falling, when the rich will no longer hoard their wealth, when the hungry will be full, when creation will be restored and the world will be whole once more. 

The resurrection may not have changed the world, but it should and must change us, so that through us the forces of death will not be able to rob people of dignity, identity and hope and that through us and in us life (not death) will have the final word.

In the words of one of our post communion prayers, let us pray:

Father of all, we give you thanks and praise, that when we were still far off you met us in your Son and brought us home. Dying and living, he declared your love, gave us grace, and opened the gate of glory. May we who share Christ’s body live his risen life; we who drink his cup bring life to others; we whom the Spirit lights give light to the world. Keep us in this hope that we have grasped; so we and all your children shall be free, and the whole earth live to praise your Name; through Christ our Lord. Amen.

Christ is risen. Alleluia. He is risen indeed. Alleluia.

Do you love me?

May 3, 2025

Easter 3 – 2025

John 21:1-19

Marian Free

 

In the name of God who meets us where we are and asks only that we love in return.  Amen.

I have just finished reading an extraordinary book, A Terrible Kindness, by Jo Browning Wroe. It tells the tale of one William Lavery who is the son of a funeral director and who is gifted with a beautiful voice. William’s father dies when he is quite young, and his mother reacts by withdrawing from his father’s brother who is his partner in the funeral business. William receives a place in a choral school in Cambridge where he meets the exuberant Martin with whom he becomes firm friends. On the night when William is due to sing The Misère – what would have been the high point of his time in Cambridge -something awful happens and he cannot sing. He blames his mother, leaves the college, forswears singing, moves in with his uncle, and, as soon as he is old enough he trains to be an embalmer.

 

In Aberfan, Wales, a colliery spoil tip collapsed swallowing up homes and the local school. One hundred and forty people died including 116 children. In the novel, William, who has just completed his training, volunteers to prepare the dead for their funerals. Wroe describes this event with great sensitivity and also its impact on her fictional character William who is deeply traumatised by the sight of so many small, crushed bodies and determines never to have children. His girlfriend, Gloria insists that she will marry him even with that caveat.

 

The early death of his father, his mother’s coolness towards his uncle, an awkward moment with Martin, and the tragedy at Aberfan lead William to make a number of disastrous choices – he cuts off his mother, turns his back on Martin, gives up his love of choral music and finally leaves Gloria who has been steadfast in her love, her understanding and support.

 

What is extraordinary, and what I didn’t fully notice until I had finished reading the book was the unconditional love that William received from all the other characters. His abandoned mother leaves the door open for a reunion, his uncle and partner take him in and never chide him for his hardness of heart, Martin (who is deeply hurt by William’s betrayal and desertion) doesn’t reproach him when they meet again years later, and Gloria allows William back into her life when he comes to his senses. Unlike William, not one of the characters has built up a grudge that would prevent them from welcoming him back into their lives.

 

As I say, the author does labour this point, it is just how she tells the story, but when I read this morning’s gospel it seemed to me that deliberately or not, she had drawn a compelling account of unconditional love, much like the love Jesus extends to Peter in this morning’s gospel.

 

If you remember, Peter who had been adamant that he would not abandon Jesus, even that he would lay down his life for Jesus (Jn 13:17), not only abandoned him to face Pilate alone, but denied three times that he even knew him. In this, the last of John’s resurrection appearances, Jesus prepares breakfast for his friends – all of whom had vanished into the night when he was arrested. After the resurrection the disciples who were at a loose end, decided to go fishing. When they were returning to shore empty handed the Beloved Disciple recognised Jesus on the beach. Immediately Peter leapt out of the boat and waded to shore. He was delighted to see Jesus and is obviously confident that Jesus was not holding his failures against him.

 

Indeed Jesus, who has already appeared to the disciples, shows no indication that he in any way holds them accountable for their desertion, nor Peter for his denial. What Jesus does, is to enable Peter to affirm his love for Jesus. Much has been made of the three questions and the use of different Greek words for love[1] but what seems to be key here is that Jesus is giving primacy to relationship over cowardice. Jesus understands human frailty and his prediction of Peter’s denials demonstrate how well he knew his disciples. In this, his final act, Jesus doesn’t ask Peter to repent, he doesn’t try to make Peter accountable, and he certainly doesn’t withdraw from Peter his unconditional love. What Jesus does do, is to remind Peter of Peter’s love for Jesus. Instead of breaking the relationship, Jesus asks Peter to remember the relationship – a relationship which, from Jesus’ side is constant and unbreakable.

 

As in the novel, William comes to his senses and returns to bask in the love of those on whom he has turned his back, so Peter is fully brought back to himself by having to remind himself three times that (despite his denials) he does love Jesus.

 

Our gospel accounts of the life of Jesus finish with this extraordinary reminder – that we are loved by God wholeheartedly, unconditionally and endlessly, and that no matter what we do, or how far we stray, we will still be loved, if only we can recall how much we love God. God created us for love therefore we are loveable and who are we to de y ourselves or anyone else of that love? God’s love does not demand that we are flawless, it leaves no room for self-reproach, and draws from us the love God seeks in return.

 

“Do you love me?” “Yes, Lord I do.”

 

 

 


[1] Michael Lattke, my Phd supervisor argues that there is no deeper meaning to the use of different words.

Remember- Jesus’ resurrection body

April 26, 2025

Easter 2 – 2025

John 20:19-31

Marian Free

In the name of God who in Jesus touched and was touched. Amen.

During Jesus’ last week in Jerusalem, his last week of being physically present on earth, his friend Mary anointed his feet with expensive ointment and wiped them with her hair – an act of touch so intimate that it is almost embarrassing to contemplate. A few days later the tables are reversed when (in the middle of a meal) Jesus gets up and washes and dries the feet of his disciples (another intimate, boundary breaking act). Having one’s feet cradled and smoothed by another creates a strong contrast with the way in which Jesus’ body was brutally flogged, cruelly crowned and horrifically nailed to the cross.  

These accounts, gentile and loving, cruel and hateful, tell us that Jesus inhabited a real body, that he had a physical, earthly presence that could be fed and starved, alone and pressed in upon, gently wiped andpitilessly hammered.  

It is interesting to note that many of the resurrection accounts continue this theme of Jesus’ physical presence.  Not only could Jesus be seen by the disciples, but he could eat, and he could touch and be touched. Apart from Mark whose ending is very abrupt, each gospel includes an account which emphasises the physicality of the risen Jesus. According to Matthew, the women hold Jesus’ feet, likewise in John, Magdalene reaches out to touch Jesus. In Luke’s gospel, Jesus sits down to a meal and breaks bread in front of the unsuspecting disciples. When Jesus returns to Jerusalem and appears to the disciples he not only invites them to touch (to prove that he is not a ghost), but he asks for something to eat and is given fish which he eats in their presence (Lk 24:42,3).  Here, in John, when Jesus breaks in to the locked room, he demands that the disciples look at the scars in his hands and feet. When Jesus appears a second time to appease Thomas, he not only shows scars, but invites JThomas to touch.

Of course, we have no idea of the nature of Jesus’ resurrection body. Even though it is reported that he could be touched and that he could eat, he could apparently appear out of nowhere and transport himself through time and space (Luke 24). Given that the stories were retold many times before the evangelists committed them to paper, we cannot be sure how much (or how little the stories) were embellished. However, we can be absolutely certain that in some way that is impossible to explain or even understand, Jesus, who was declared dead on a Friday afternoon, was very much alive from early Sunday morning.

The nature of Jesus’ resurrection body has been a matter for much scholarly debate, but I don’t want to focus on that today. This morning, I would like to reflect on the evangelists’ emphasis on Jesus’ physicality and the possibility that means something other than a need to prove that Jesus really did rise.

As I pondered on the texts that we have read over the past few weeks and as I considered the importance of the fleshly physical nature of Jesus’ earthly body, I wondered if one of the reasons for emphasising this in the post-resurrection appearances was to make sure that we didn’t forget, that we didn’t/don’t allow ourselves to spiritualise Jesus, that we don’t somehow put the earthly Jesus at one remove from us, that we don’t diminish his humanity and focus instead on his divinity. 

Do the gospels focus on touch in the week leading up to the resurrection and in the post-resurrection accounts to make sure that in the centuries following these events that we would never lose sight of the fleshly, physicality of Jesus’ earthly body? Is their emphasis on touch a way of ensuring that we do not make the risen Jesus remote and untouchable, unable to relate to our experiences of hunger and being fed, exhaustion and being rested, sorrow and joyfulness?

Is it even possible that Jesus himself emphasised the physical so that we would remember that he knew what it was like to suffer, to fear and to be abandoned. Did Jesus appear in a physical body to ensure that we would remember that he was once one of us and that just as he was real, so too we should be real. Jesus’ fleshly, physicality resurrection presence is a constant reminder that being human, having human needs and responding with human emotions is not something of which to be ashamed.

If we spiritualise Jesus, deny the physicality of his resurrection body, we are in danger of making him into someone with whom we cannot identify, someone other than us. We face the real danger that by spiritualising him we create a divine figure whose standards of perfection we can never reach.

Maybe, just maybe, Jesus’ resurrected body could touch and was touched, so that we would never lose sight of his earthly body.

Maybe Jesus is saying: “I was real, I was here, I was just like you.  Remember, remember, remember.”

A matter of touch (or not) – Christ is risen

April 19, 2025

Easter Day – 2025

Luke 24:1-12

Marian Free

In the name of God whom death could not defeat and whom the tomb could not contain. Amen.

There is a beautiful movie made in Japan titled “Departures”. It is not, as I imagined, about a travel agency, but about a funeral company. A cellist, Daigo, is forced to take a job with a funeral company when his contract with an orchestra is terminated. At first he will not even share the news of his new job with his wife because those who handle the dead were considered “unclean” and by virtue of their “uncleanness” were prevented from mixing with other people. By association, the Daigo’s wife would also have been treated as a pariah. What Daigo learns by observation and practice, is that it is a privilege to prepare the bodies of the dead for burial. Through the film, we are given an insight into the gentleness, care and reverence that it taken with the deceased and with Daigo (and then his wife) understand that really it is an honourable profession – a gift to the provider of the service as well as to the beneficiary.

The practice of preparing bodies for death has become the province of funeral directors in Western nations, but there are still people who insist on performing this last intimate, and personal ritual for a loved one.

Our readings for the past week have highlighted intimacy and touch. We began two weeks ago with the account of Mary anointing Jesus’ feet with costly oil and then wiping his feet with her hair. Maundy Thursday recounts Jesus’ kneeling before the disciples and washing and drying their feet. Then in contrast to the gentle intimacy of these acts, Good Friday reminds us how Jesus’ body was handled roughly, and brutally by men who did not know him, whose touch was not a sign of intimacy, but of domination and indifference. Finally, the feet that were anointed by Mary and the hands that washed the feet of the disciples were fixed to a cross with nails. To add insult to injury Jesus’ broken, bloodied body was hurried wrapped and placed in a tomb – denied the reverent washing and anointing that was the custom[1].

In a culture in which the body is washed, anointed and wrapped shortly following death – a final act of love – it must have been awful for the women to watch Jesus’ torn and shattered body placed in a tomb without ceremony and to have known that it would be at least thirty-six hours before the ritual cleansing and anointing could begin – by which time the blood would have dried and the bones forever out of shape. For the women, women who had followed him all the way from Galilee and who had supported him from their own pockets, the grief experienced by Jesus’ death would have been compounded by the abruptness of his burial, a burial with no ceremony and little preparation. As he was torn away from them by his arrest and crucifixion, so now he is quickly removed from their reach.

It is no surprise that, at early dawn, as soon as the day of rest had ended, the women found themselves at the tomb, ready to say their final ‘goodbyes”, to do what had been denied them two nights ago. They have come to wash his body, to massage it with oils, and to touch Jesus one last time.

BUT in this week in which touch has been so important, touch is now denied the women who followed him to the cross and stood by while he died. The tomb is open and the body, the precious body gone; gone. The tomb is empty because Jesus is not dead, and not being dead, does not require the ministration of the women. Were they still bereft? Were they further traumatised? We do not know. We do not even know if the women ever see Jesus, let alone touch him again. Their part in the story ends here. 

The emphasis on touch in the weeks leading up to Jesus’ resurrection warns us not to lose sight of the fact that Jesus fully embodied our physical, fleshly form, that he was able to touch and be touched in ways that demonstrated his love for and his desire to be close to us. As we rejoice in the resurrection, and in the imperishability of Jesus’ risen body, let us not abandon the earthly reality of the Jesus that sought (and seeks) intimacy with us. The tension between the physical Jesus and the risen Christ reminds us that the risen Christ is not aloof and remote, but that the risen, ascended Jesus is the Jesus who was totally present, totally engaged and who wants to be in relationship with us.

We cannot touch, but we can remember that once he was touched and that he could touch.

Christ is risen.

He is risen indeed!


[1] At least Jesus’ body was claimed for burial. Most victims of crucifixion were unceremoniously tossed into a pit.

Christ is alive (today!)

April 13, 2024

Easter 3 – 2024

Luke 24:36b-48

Marian Free

In the name of God who meets us on the road and inflames our hearts with the Holy Spirit. Amen.

There have been a number of attempts to tell the gospel story through drama, film or musical. I think of Godspel, Jesus Christ Superstar, Jesus of Montreal, and The Passion of the Christ to name a few. Each has contributed to making the story relevant for a new generation.  Where they fall down, I believe, is in their attempt to portray the resurrection. Jesus of Montreal, which tells the story of a modern-day Passion play. When the lead player (Jesus) is killed in an accident, his organs are donated and we are to understand that he lives on in those whose lives he saved. Mel Gibson concludes the Passion of the Christ with the depiction of a ghost-like figure rising from the ledge and leaving the tomb.

One reason that the resurrection is so hard to depict is that there were no eye-witnesses to the actual event. Jesus was dead and then he was not. There was no one to tell us how the crucified and very dead Jesus, was re-enlivened three days later.  Mark, Luke and John tell us that when the women arrive to anoint Jesus the tomb is already open and Jesus gone. Matthew tells us that the women witness the rolling away of the stone, and that angels tell them that Jesus is not there. Accounts of the risen Jesus are few and those that we have are vague and contradictory. Paul tells us simply that Jesus appeared to the twelve and then to 500. Mark tells us that angels told the women that Jesus had been raised, but that the women were too frightened and amazed to tell anyone. In Matthew the disciples see the risen Jesus in Galilee where he commissions them for ministry before ascending into heaven. Only Luke and John report more detailed encounters with the risen Jesus. 

Last week we read of Jesus’ appearance in a locked room and of a second appearance a week later for the sake of Thomas. Today we read Luke’s version of what is presumably the same event.  There are a number of similarities which lead to this conclusion. In both accounts Jesus appears at a place where the disciples are gathered, and in both Jesus shows them his scars to convince them that it is really him. Both authors seem to at pains to emphasise Jesus’ bodily presence despite his ghostly. He might be able to appear and disappear at will, but his scars can be touched, and he is able to eat the fish that is provided. 

I suspect that the reason why there are so few accounts of the risen Christ is that 

the first disciples struggled to put into words an experience that was totally without precedence. It is clear that the disciples were convinced that Jesus was alive, but while Jesus was the same, he was also very different from the earthly Jesus. His body bore the scars of crucifixion, but the risen Christ could apparently appear and disappear at will. The first disciples, and therefore the Evangelists had to find a way to share with others something that was incomprehensible, but  which they knew to be true.  This situation was undoubtedly made more complicated by the fact that Jesus didn’t hang around. The first disciples want to share with others their conviction that Jesus had risen from the dead, that he was alive and present with them, but Jesus – still alive – had ascended into heaven. How much easier it would have been if the risen Jesus had continued his work of teaching and healing! How much easier would it have been if people other than the disciples had seen him! How much easier would it have been if they could point to Jesus working in their midst! The disciples are trying to share with the world that Jesus is alive when there is no living, breathing Jesus to show them.

Perhaps the disciples began by sharing their experiences with others who had known and followed Jesus: “he appeared to us even though the doors were locked”, “he was walking beside us on the road”, “he showed us his scars”, “he broke bread”, “he ate some fish” in our presence.  That there are so few stories may reflect the fact that the conviction that Jesus was alive was so powerful that others couldn’t help but believe that it was true. Even those who didn’t see the risen Jesus, experienced his risen presence in a such a way that they couldn’t keep the experience to themselves. Jesus was just there among them, nothing more needed to be said. Even though Jesus had ascended into heaven sufficient people were convinced that in some inexplicable way that the risen Christ was still present with them, that others began to know and experience Jesus’ risen presence.

This, I contend, is why we continue to believe in the resurrection. We do not need to rely on historical records, or firsthand accounts because despite the paucity of hard evidence and the contradictory accounts of the witnesses, all these centuries later we know Jesus to be alive and present with us. We may not always be able to put the experience into words, but we know the living Christ who offers words of consolation, who walks beside us on the road and who enters into the locked rooms of our hearts when we are feeling lost and alone. We know the living Christ who energises and inspires us and whose presence gives us the courage to do things that we might have thought impossible. And because we know the wonder of the living Christ, we cannot keep it to ourselves, but need to share our knowledge with anyone who will listen.

We know the risen Christ, not because we have been told that he rose from the dead, but because we know him here in our common worship, we know him here in the those who share our belief and we know him here in our hearts and in our lives.

Christ is not alive because the Bible says he is. Christ is not alive because some people saw him before he ascended into heaven. Christ is alive because he lives in us.