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The resurrection – an event without witnesses

April 8, 2023

Easter Day – 2023
Matthew 28:1-8
Marian Free

Christ is risen!
He is risen indeed! Alleluia!

In the final scene of Mel Gibson’s Passion of the Christ, a translucent figure (Jesus) rises from the slab in the tomb and walks out of view. It is a somewhat anti-climatic end to a movie that had been dominated by violence and drama. But how else I wonder, could Gibson have portrayed the resurrection? Unlike the empty tomb, which by all accounts was witnessed by a number of disciples, there were no witnesses to the resurrection. Indeed, on close inspection, the gospel accounts are tantalisingly unhelpful when it comes to details about the actual resurrection. No matter which gospel we read, the story is the same – by the time the women had reached the tomb, Jesus had already risen from the dead and left the (still sealed) tomb, unnoticed by anyone.

If Gibson’s depiction of the resurrection is a little disappointing, so too are the gospel accounts, which are very short on drama and which in fact, do not even mention the actual resurrection. More astounding, according to the gospels, Jesus did not hang around to see if anyone would come. In the briefest account of events, that of Mark, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary find to their surprise that the stone has been rolled away from the tomb (answering their question as to who would move it). A young man seated in the tomb tells them that Jesus has been raised and shows them where he had been lying. Jesus himself does not appear. According to Luke, the women came to the tomb only to find it open, and the body gone. Angels tell the women that Jesus is risen, but Jesus himself does not appear to anyone at all until later in the day. In John’s gospel, Mary Magdalene arrives at the tomb and sees that the stone has been rolled away. She runs to report to the others that Jesus body has been moved. Later, after Peter and John have confirmed that the tomb is empty, Jesus appears to Mary.

Of all the accounts, that of Matthew is the most dramatic. When the two Marys arrive at the tomb an earthquake signals the appearance of an angel who moves the stone to reveal an empty tomb. As in Mark, the angel informs the women Jesus has already risen and shows them where Jesus had lain. Jesus, who is not at the tomb, meets the women as they make their way to report to the disciples that Jesus has risen. The disciples themselves will not see Jesus until they make their way from Jerusalem back to Galilee. Even then, Jesus will not hang around, but having given his disciples their final instructions, he will ascend into heaven.

All we know for certain then is that sometime between the crucifixion and the morning after the Sabbath, Jesus rose from the dead and had left the tomb – leaving the stone in place. In other words, the most extraordinary claim of our faith – resurrection of Jesus – took place without fanfare and without an audience. We don’t know what happened or how it happened. We only know that Jesus’ disciples know that he has risen because he appeared to them – after he had first appeared to the women.

Gibson’s understated depiction of the resurrection is true to the gospel accounts of the event. The resurrection was not, as we might have expected it to be, an earth shattering, ground-breaking event – just the opposite. It occurred quietly and unobtrusively and without a single witness.

What a waste of an opportunity! Imagine the capital that could have been made by a very public, explosive event! Imagine If Jesus had chosen to stay in Jerusalem. Jerusalem was, after all, still filled with the pilgrims that had swelled its population for the Passover. What better place to announce Jesus’ victory over death, his triumph over his enemies? What better occasion to prove his detractors wrong? Why would he not use this opportunity to proclaim that he is indeed the Christ – the one sent by God? Why make the journey to the relative obscurity of Galilee and why, when there, does he only reveal himself to his disciples?

Why indeed? Because this is the whole point of the gospel. As we should know by now, Jesus was not an attention getter. In fact, the story of Jesus’ ministry ends as it began, with Jesus’ absolute refusal to be tempted to behave in any way that would attract acclaim, power, or glory. As with the earthly Jesus, so with the risen Jesus. He does not want to attract followers who are only interested in the hype – the miracles and the extra-ordinary. The risen Jesus, as was the earthly Jesus, is looking for followers who are there for the long haul, who will stick by him through thick and thin – followers who will take up their cross and follow him, followers who will not fall by the wayside when the going gets tough, followers who understand that faith is about relationship with Jesus and with the one true God, not about a life that is shielded from struggle and suffering.

We forget this at our peril.

Faith is not a series of dramatic, life-changing events, but a relationship based on the quiet assurance that Christ is alive and is as present to us as he was to his disciples. This is the message that we have to share – not that an all-powerful God will miraculously free us from all minor irritations and all serious inconveniences, but that God, in the risen Jesus is a constant presence with us – a source of peace, hope and strength. A God who may not prevent our suffering but will come alongside us in our distress. A God who does not seek power, and glory for their own sake, but who was prepared to abandon heaven, to show us how much we are loved.

Christ is risen!
He is risen indeed! Alleluia!

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We see God through the cross or not at all

May 13, 2022

Easter 5 – 2022
John 13:31-35
Marian Free

In the name of God who confronts and overturns the values and expectations of the world and opens our eyes to new possibilities, new ways of being. Amen.

A couple of weeks ago I shared the reflections of Scott Hoetze that there are really very few accounts of the resurrection – hardly enough to account for the forty days between Easter Day and Ascension Day. That may be why our Lectionary only spends three of the seven Sundays of Easter focussed on the gospel accounts of the resurrection – there are simply not very many! Last week, Easter 4, used the gospel reading from John chapter 10 which took us back to the middle of Jesus’ earthly ministry. The next two weeks will begin to focus on the Holy Spirit which leads us to Pentecost. This morning we are looking at a small section of chapter 13 which, in turn, is a very small part of Jesus’ discourse during the Last Supper.

I’m not entirely sure if it is still the case but when I began to study the gospel of John scholars were in general agreement that Jesus’ farewell speech – the five chapters from John 13-17 represented Jesus’ post-resurrection teaching. That is, these chapters refer to what Jesus revealed to the disciples after he was raised from the dead which would mean that today’s gospel, and that of the next two weeks do fit neatly into the post-Easter resurrection experiences. Certainly, this view would appear to make sense of Jesus’ use of the past tense in today’s gospel in which he declares: “Now the Son of Man has been glorified, and God has been glorified in him”. A post-resurrection Jesus would indeed have been glorified.

However, seen in context, Jesus makes that statement after Judas has “gone out” to betray him. Associating Jesus’ glorification with Judas’ betrayal does not immediately make sense unless we understand John’s use of the word “glory” and the way in which it subverts both the honour/shame culture of the 1st century Mediterranean and the power structures of the Roman Empire. Like Paul in the first letter to the Corinthians, John makes it clear that the cross is central to redemption – not so much as sacrifice, but as a deliberate act – challenging conventional wisdom and forcing believers to re-evaluate their ideas about God. According to Paul, the cross undermines smugness and self-satisfaction. It is a reminder of the unfathomable nature of God and of our limited ability to understand God. Both John and Paul face head on the apparent absurdity of worshipping a crucified man, demonstrating how something – apparently shameful and senseless – is in fact God’s way of redeeming the world.

John doesn’t focus on the contradiction of the cross as does Paul. Instead, he shows how the cross is the pivotal event in the story, the moment at which Jesus is glorified and at which his purpose is accomplished (19:30). The significance of the cross in this gospel is evident almost from the beginning when, in conversation with Nicodemus, Jesus makes the claim that: “the Son of Man must be lifted up” (code in John for the crucifixion), “(so) that whoever believes in him may have eternal life” (3:14). (This is in contrast to Moses’ lifting up the snake in the desert which gave life to those who looked at it, but which did not give eternal life.) Jesus further asserts that the Jews will “realise that I am he” when they have lifted up the Son of Man (8:28) and that when he (Jesus) is lifted up he will “draw all people to himself” (12:32). Finally, when Jesus is praying in the garden before his arrest, he prays that the Father may glorify him that he in turn may glorify God (17:1-5). Glory and cross are inextricably linked in this gospel.

From the outset, the author of John makes it clear that Jesus’ glorification – the point at which people will recognise him for who he is, and the point at which all people will be drawn to him – occurs on the cross and not at the resurrection. The act of self-sacrifice and shame is given more weight here than is the triumphalism of the resurrection. It is the unexpected that is important. God does not behave in the way that we expect God to behave. God’s anointed (Jesus) did not enter the world to the sound of trumpets and his early life was so insignificant that it was not considered worth recording. Jesus did not impose his will on others or lord it over them, but acted as a servant to them, he didn’t lead nations or armies but unobtrusively shared the message of God’s love.

In John’s gospel, Jesus’ glorification occurs on the cross not in the resurrection because it is here that Jesus shows most clearly what God’s love for the world looks like and it is through the cross that the blinkers will be removed from our eyes so that we may be freed to see God – unfettered by our preconceptions.

Over the centuries we have sanitised the scandal of the cross – to the point where it has almost lost its meaning. We have become so used to it as a symbol that adorns our churches and hangs around our necks that we can overlook the horror and shame, the ugliness and the brutality, and the violence and bloodiness that it represents. In so doing we deny its power to undermine our preconceived notions of who and what God is and how it is that God acts in the world. We refuse to allow the cross to defy our cosy and comfortable relationship with God and we reject its purpose which is to confound and startle us.

Jesus can announce his glorification in connection with Judas’ betrayal precisely because he is clear sighted about his role, about his relationship with God and about God’s action in the world.

Jesus, through John, wants us to know that we see God through the cross or not at all.

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Christ active in the world

May 7, 2022

Easter 4 – 2022 (Good Shepherd Sunday)
John 10:22-30
Marian Free

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

During the week I came across an interesting article titled: “Local carpenter spreads disinformation”. The piece imagined a newspaper article written around the time of Jesus that was seeking to discredit him and to stem the damage created by the misinformation that he was spreading. It suggested that readers head to their local synagogues to check their facts. While the article was written ‘tongue in cheek’ it does address a significant question – If a radical, disreputable person begins (convincingly) to teach things that are contradictory to the current position of the church how can the ordinary person determine what is true? This is a particularly difficult issue when the boundaries between synagogue/church and society are blurred, and when societal conventions get confused with church tradition and vice versa. It can be hard in such circumstances to determine what is culturally determined and what is determined by religious tradition.

A case in point is the debate around the ordination of women. As long ago as 1917 the Lambeth Conference affirmed that there were no theological objections to the ordination of women (which implies that there were discussions around this issue well before that time). It took another sixty years of fiercely argued debate before the first women were ordained (illegally in the United States) and legally in New Zealand and elsewhere. In Australia it was to take more than seventy years before women were made priests in 1992. People do not like change, and they certainly do not like their long-cherished ideas to be challenged. A great deal of the argument against ordaining women was irrational, based as much on societal norms as it was on theological or biblical teaching.

Congregations who had only recently allowed women to be on Parish Council, or even to act as Sides people, simply could not envisage a woman in the Sanctuary, let alone a woman as a Presider and Preacher. Faithful churchgoers were afraid that the church that they loved would be irrevocably changed if women were ordained and they resisted fiercely. (A live and contemporary issue that will be debated at this General Synod is the place of LGBTQI+ community within our churches, and in particular whether blessings of civl marriages can be conducted by our clergy.)

We can sympathise then, with the people in today’s gospel. To them Jesus was unsettling and unconventional. He was challenging accepted ways of interpreting the scriptures and he was questioning the religious establishment. He was suggesting that just because something had always been done in a particular way, it did not need to be that way forever. He demonstrated in word and deed that some things – intended to be liberating – had, over time become restrictive and even destructive.

If it took the Anglican Church 60-100 years to make up its mind about the ordination of women, it is hardly surprising that three years were not nearly enough time for Jesus’ contemporaries to adjust to his teaching! For all his miraculous acts Jesus was, to all intents and purposes, a troublemaker and a lawbreaker. He might have given sight to the man born blind, but he did so on the Sabbath showing no regard for the law or scriptures! That Jesus was divisive is indicated by the verses just prior to today’s gospel. “The Jews were divided because of these words. Many of them were saying, ‘He has a demon and is out of his mind. Why listen to him?’ Others were saying, ‘These are not the words of one who has a demon. Can a demon open the eyes of the blind?’”

Jesus has truly put the cat among the pigeons. Some among the crowds have a sense that he is someone out of the ordinary, but others find him disturbing – dangerous even. It is no wonder that they plead with him to put them out of their misery, to give them some certainty. “How long will you keep us in suspense? If you are the Christ, tell us plainly,” they beg.

It is human nature to want certainty, just as it is human nature to resist change. It is relatively easy to believe static things like scriptures, history and tradition. It is much more difficult to discern if and how God is working in the present. If only we could be sure that God was speaking, that God was endorsing change!

The crowds in today’s gospel want assurance. Despite everything they have seen and heard, they cannot allow themselves to submit to belief. They want Jesus to lay to rest all their questions and fears. But this is something that Jesus cannot do. He can’t force them to believe; a word from him will not automatically quell all their anxieties and doubts. They need to come halfway, they need to be sufficiently open to God’s presence in the world that they identify Jesus. Faith (knowing) is as much a choice, an act of will as it is a passive capitulation.

As Chelsea Harmon points out “belonging” in this passage is an action. Jesus’ sheep do not belong simply because they are somehow special, predestined to belong; “their belonging is an active belonging: hearing, following, being known (i.e., having experiences of Jesus), and being given eternal life.” Faith is not one-sided – as if God’s almighty power captures and pens the gullible and easily led. Faith is an active engagement with the living Christ who continues to erupt into our lives and expects that we will be able to discern the signs by hearing, following and allowing ourselves to experience the risen Jesus now.

This short but obscure gospel is filled with meaning. It is not about who is in and who is out as some might assume, rather it is about being open to God’s working in the present even if it is strange and new, even if the one preaching change doesn’t fit our expectations and asks us to change what we think and how we behave.

Christ is risen! Christ is active in the world today. May our belonging to the shepherd be an active belonging so that habit, suspicion, and tradition do not keep us from seeing what new thing Christ is doing in the world today. May our active belonging and openness to the risen Christ give us a willingness to follow wherever Christ is leading us however new and strange that may seem.

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Looking for God in all the wrong places

April 30, 2022

Easter 3 – 2022
John 21:1-19
Marian Free

In the name of God who is made known as much in the still, small voice as in the mighty thunderclap. Amen.

It is so easy to overlook the little things.

It is easy to measure how much someone loves us by the grand gestures – extravagant gifts, beautiful flowers, heroic acts, romantic dinners, and overt displays of affection – rather than by the little, everyday signs of love – the washing of dishes, the cup of tea at just the right time, the taking over the childcare when one is frazzled. Some young people brought up on fairy stories (in the good old days) or on TV soap operas (more likely today) tend to get a very distorted view of love and of relationships. To create the right amount of drama and to heighten the tension in TV shows, displays of love and of disappointing behaviours are vastly exaggerated. This can lead the less worldly and more vulnerable to develop very unrealistic views about what it means to be loved and what constitutes an ideal relationship. Partners who do not match what is an impossible ideal are nagged and criticized in the hope that they can be molded into shape. Alternately they are discarded for not meeting expectations. The problem with this quest for a perfect lover is the failure to see is what is in front of them, the treasure that they already have – loyalty, acceptance, consideration and dependability.

As the song says: “They are looking in all the wrong places.”

It could be said that the same is true of our relationship with God. There are so many instances of God’s dramatic intervention in the world, or God’s appearances to the prophets and other historical figures of faith, that we come to expect that this is how we will know God’s presence. God appeared to Moses in a burning bush, spoke to the people of Israel from the cloud, provided Isaiah with a heavenly vision and spoke to Jesus in a voice that sounded like thunder. It is easy to draw the conclusion that is how we will recognise God in the world. So too with Jesus. Jesus healed the sick, raised the dead, spoke with such authority that crowds followed him everywhere. If only Jesus’ presence could be so obvious in our lives!

Indeed, given the extraordinary character of Jesus’ life and the attention that he attracted, it is puzzling that Jesus’ continued presence is not more dramatic. From the start, the encounters between the risen Christ and the disciples (not to mention the wider public) were disappointing. Surely the resurrection was an event that Jesus could (and should) have capitalized on! Jerusalem was filled with pilgrims who had gathered for the Passover and who would have heard of the events surrounding Jesus’ arrest and crucifixion. This would seem to be Jesus’ opportunity to prove once and for all that he was sent by God and that his message came from God. Jesus could perhaps have indulged in a little: “I told you so” to all the sceptics. He could have confronted the religious and political leaders with both the futility of their actions but also with their ignorance and blindness. Could he not at least have appeared to the crowds so that they would not need to be convinced that he was alive? If nothing else, surely Jesus could have continued the good work of healing and preaching.

What a waste of an opportunity! How much simpler everything would have been if only there was more evidence that Jesus had been raised from the dead, if the religious and political leaders had come to faith, if those who howled for his crucifixion had been convinced of their error! Then again, perhaps this is what the resurrection appearances are all about. Jesus did not make a song and dance about the resurrection, because as in life, so in life after death, Jesus was not a stunt man. Jesus never was looking for millions of followers (his response to the tempter in the desert tells us that). Jesus’ goal was to open the eyes of the people of Israel. His role was to confront and undermine false theologies of the church leaders and to challenge the institution that seemed to be separating the people from a personal relationship with God and demanding that they adhere to codes of behaviour that did not reflect the unconditional love of God.

It is perhaps for this reason that Jesus did not make a song and dance about the resurrection and the gospel writers, who could have embellished the story, do not do so.

In Mark Jesus appears to the women at the tomb, but they say nothing to anyone because they are afraid, and we are left with silence. Matthew has a little more detail. Again, the women meet Jesus, but this time they do tell the disciples. Jesus also appears to the disciples. As instructed, the disciples go to Galilee where Jesus meets them and commissions them to make disciples and to baptise. Luke’s account includes a meeting with two disciples on their way home from Jerusalem. In this gospel, Jesus takes the two through the scriptures so that they are able to understand all that has happened. Then appears to the disciples gathered in Jerusalem (to whom he also explains the scriptures). Finally, the disciples are present when Jesus ascends into heaven.

If, as Luke tells us, Jesus hangs around for 40 days before his ascension, then there is very little evidence that he did anything at all during that time.

This is what makes the events in today’s gospel so distinctive. It gives us a glimpse into what Jesus might have been doing and why no one thought to record it. Breakfast on the beach is so mundane and so ordinary that it barely rates a mention. Is this what Jesus has been up to? enjoying simple, everyday moments with the disciples while he still can?

Perhaps this is the point. The risen Christ, the Christ whom we know, is to be found in the everyday. We, you and I, will come across Jesus in unexpected places and at unexpected times. We may meet Jesus in dramatic and momentous times in our lives, but mostly we will find Jesus in the everyday – inviting us to breakfast, supporting us through grief and trauma and bringing joy through the love of a spouse, a friend or a child. Miracles may and will burst through into our lives, but what we need to know is that day in, day out, Jesus is with us. All we need to do is pay attention and recognise his presence here and now in the mundane incidents of our existence.

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God whispers our name

April 16, 2022

Easter Day -2022
John 20:1-18
Marian Free

In the name of God who meets us where we are and who whispers our name. Amen.

I usually embrace Easter with great enthusiasm and confidence. ‘Christ is risen! He is risen indeed!’ I joyfully proclaim with all the Church. Powerful stories of that call and response fuel my assurance in the power of the resurrection.

This year I find myself more hesitant. How to proclaim that new life starts now when atrocities are being perpetrated in and against Ukraine (an endeavour encouraged by the Patriarch of the Russian Orthodox Church), when the people of Sri Lanka are facing unprecedented shortages of food, fuel and medical supplies, when the people who can least afford it have been devastated by flood – here, in South Africa and in South Sudan, when there is a housing crisis in this nation because no one government (of any political party) has the will to fix it and when, on a daily basis, we are squandering the opportunity to save our planet before it is too, too late. Is there even a glimmer of hope in the world today that points to the resurrection?

Of course there is or I would not be here today. Against all evidence to the contrary, I continue to believe that God does shine a light in the darkness and can turn death to life. I see it in the extraordinary generosity of ordinary people of Poland and elsewhere who are welcoming Ukrainian refugees into their homes : ‘for as long as it takes”; in the selfless work of volunteers, churches and charitable organisations who have rallied to bring some relief to the victims of the floods, in the voices that continue to call for a more humane response to the refugees who reach our shores, in the companies that are investing in clean energy and in the countless ‘ordinary’ people who, in a variety of ways make a difference in the world around them.

I am impatient though. I am exhausted by the suffering that I see in the world, frustrated by the unwillingness of people to live in peace and harmony, angry that voters – here and elsewhere – want largely to protect their interests and wealth, rather than to create a society that ensures that all have access to housing, education, and healthcare.

I want the tomb of grief and anguish to burst open to reveal a more just and compassionate world. I want God to step in and push the Russian forces back. I want politicians who seek to create an equitable future (which might be more popular than they seem to think). I want to see a humankind that reflects its creation in the image of God. More than ever, I want this year, to proclaim that “Christ is risen!” that there are signs of new life in the world, that there is evidence that God, working through us, is bringing about change here and now.

So it was that I found the following reflection by Miriam-Rose Ungunmerr-Baumann helpful. She speaks about Dadirri – Inner Deep Listening and Quiet Still Awareness and writes:

“What I want to talk about is a…special quality of my people. I believe it is the most important. It is our most unique gift. It is perhaps the greatest gift we can give to our fellow Australians. In our language this quality is called dadirri. It is inner, deep listening and quiet, still awareness. Dadirri recognises the deep spring that is inside us. We call on it and it calls to us. This is the gift that Australia is thirsting for. It is something like … “contemplation”… We cannot hurry the river. We have to move with its current and understand its ways… We wait on God, too. His time is the right time. We wait for him to make his Word clear to us. We don’t worry. We know that in time and in the spirit of dadirri (that deep listening and quiet stillness) his way will be clear… All persons matter. All of us belong…

“’The time for re-birth is now,’ said the Holy Father to us. Jesus comes to fulfil, not to destroy. If our culture is alive and strong and respected, it will grow. It will not die. And our spirit will not die. And I believe that the spirit of dadirri that we have to offer will blossom and grow, not just within ourselves, but in our whole nation.’”

“We cannot hurry the river”, Miriam says as she reminds me to wait on God. With the indigenous people of this land, I will have to learn to be patient, to remember that while Jesus remained in the tomb for only three days, there are millions in this world (including indigenous Australians) for whom the experience of the tomb lasts for months, years, if not a lifetime.

On Friday I spoke of God nailed to the cross – naked, bruised and bleeding – who stands with suffering humanity, deeply immersed in the horrors and tragedies of this world, willing us to let go of all that separates us from each other and from God.

That same God, the risen Christ, greets us in the garden in the midst of our desolation and grief and whispers our name – “Mary” (Marian, John, Sarah, Robert – insert your own name) – and reminds us that God is with us now – whatever our circumstances – as the one who knows what it is to suffer and as the one who wants to draw us (and the whole world) into newness of life. This is message I will take away this Easter – Christ risen from the dead is with us and with the world in all our life’s experiences. That is the resurrection hope.

There will be moments of transformation, there will be dramatic and wondrous signs of new life after tragedy, there will be resurrection moments when tragedy turns a corner to hope, but above all there will be those barely noticed whisperings: ‘Insert your name’ as Jesus joins us where we are and reminds us that maybe not now, but sometime, we will smile again. In the meantime – “Christ is risen” and the risen Christ is with us through all of life’s experiences the exhilarating and the devastating.

Those whispers will be our everyday moments of resurrection.

“Christ is risen!” “Christ is risen indeed! Allellua!”

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Our story is part of THE story

April 17, 2021

Easter 3 – 2021

Luke 24:36b-48

Marian Free

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The danger of certainty

April 10, 2021

Easter 3 – 2021

John 20:19-31

Marian Free

In the name of God “whose ways are not our ways and whose thoughts are not our thoughts.” Amen.

Hymn 453 in Together in Song begins:

We limit not the truth of God
  to our poor reach of mind,
by notions of our day and sect,
  crude, partial and confined.
No, let a new and better hope
  within our hearts be stirred:
the Lord hath yet more light and truth
  to break forth from His Word.

“The Lord hath yet more light and truth to break forth from His Word”. As the hymn suggests, if we believe that we know all that there is to know about God or think that God’s self-revelation ended with Jesus we are limiting the truth of God to our imperfect capacity to see and to understand. If we approach our scriptures in a glib and superficial way, we are almost certain to draw the wrong conclusions. And if we see scripture only as a collection of proof texts, we will be guilty of using the bible to reinforce our own preconceptions and we will miss the depth and complexity that lies within scripture as a whole. 

An example of the latter can be found in a common interpretation of today’s gospel. There are 13 verses in our reading which are themselves part of a wider context – including Jesus’ resurrection appearances, the entire gospel of John and scripture as a whole. Despite this the focus has almost invariably been on two short phrases: “Do not doubt but believe,” and “blessed are those that not having seen me believe.” Read together, and separated from their context, these two quotes imply that doubt is incompatible with faith and that Jesus is indirectly censuring Thomas for doubting that he had risen.

Isolating these phrases from their setting leads us to ignore the fact that Jesus does not condemn Thomas but makes an appearance especially for him. It overlooks the fact that having seen Jesus, it is only Thomas among the disciples who proclaims Jesus as: “my Lord and my God.” Detaching these phrases from the gospel as a whole means that we forget that Thomas alone promises to follow Jesus even unto death. It also means that we pay no heed to the faithlessness of all the disciples who abandoned Jesus at the first hint of trouble and who now, two weeks after the resurrection are still hiding in terror. Without the benefit of the other gospels, we fail to realise that Thomas is not the only disciple who finds it hard to believe that Jesus is risen. 

Doubt is not limited to Thomas but is a consistent theme throughout the bible. Many of the people whom we consider to be heroes of the faith had moments (even years) when their faith in God wavered or failed. Abraham and Sarah are remembered for their courageous faith, but together they doubted that God would keep God’s promise to give them a son. Moses did not have confidence that God would enable him to lead God’s people out of Egypt. Jeremiah wondered at times if God had abandoned him and the Israelites as a whole constantly doubted that God had their best interests at heart. Job doubted God’s fairness and the Psalmist doubted when God appeared to be silent. Doubt it seems is a constant companion of faith. 

It is certainty, not doubt, that is the opposite of faith. Certainty has all the appearance of faith and yet it leaves no room for God. Instead, it assumes that it is possible to know everything that there is to know about God. Rather than being evidence of a strong faith, certainty is an indication of arrogance and independence. It is a sign of belief in what one knows rather than a conviction in what one does not know. A sense of certainty creates a feeling of security which blinds a person to the unexpected actions and revelations of God. Those who choose certainty over uncertainty have overlooked the fact that God is full of surprises. 

God simply does not behave the way we want (or hope) that God will act. No one expected that God would enter human history. No one believed that God’s anointed would be born in humble circumstances rather than in a palace. No one thought that the salvation of Israel would be brought about by the crucifixion of an itinerant preacher from Nazareth. God is simply not predictable, because we do not have the mind of God. 

Certainty may be comforting and reassuring, but it can also be deceptive, sending us down blind alleys and providing us with a false sense of security. It can also be a deterrent for those who are coming to faith but who have questions of their own. Certainty implies that we have all the answers when, unless we are God we do not. I don’t know about you, but I don’t have an answer as to why an infant is still born, or why the good die young and the evil sometimes prosper. I don’t know why we live on a planet that is so unstable that hundreds of thousands can die in a tsunami or why humans are so volatile that hundreds of thousands more are forced to abandon their homes for refugee camps.  But I do believe that my uncertainty in the face of unanswerable questions frees others to ask questions of their own.

So, you see, I believe that doubt or uncertainty is an integral part of faith. Uncertainty provides a space in which we can learn and grow, forever deepening our relationship with a God who is ultimately unknowable. Doubt opens us to the possibility that God might reveal Godself in a new and unexpected ways. Without a certain amount of incredulity there is no faith, only a self-centred assurance of one’s own truth. I prefer to live with ambiguity, filled with a sense of wonder and awe in a God whom I can never fully know and who will continue to surprise and delight me. 

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The resurrected Jesus is a scarred Jesus

April 3, 2021

Easter – 2021

John 20:1-18

Marian Free

May I speak in the name of God whom death could not defeat nor the tomb contain. Amen.

[i]At 9:45pm on Saturday May 2, 2009 seven friends – all in Year 12 – were driving home from a BBQ ten minutes from their home in Toowoomba. At some point the car drifted to the edge of the road. The young driver over corrected and steered straight into the on-coming traffic. One of the seven teenagers died at the scene and two others within the next four days. Two more were taken to hospital where they remained in a coma – one for several months. A sixth sustained serious injuries and the seventh, Lech Blaine, walked away without a scratch. After years of grief, survivor’s guilt, imposter syndrome and depression Lech has written about his experience of that night and of the years since. In the excerpt of his book, printed in the Good Weekend, last Saturday Lech writes: “We were on a hiding to nothingness, and yet I never stopped searching for the right person or the perfect words. The great genius and insanity of human beings is our ability to laugh in the face of disaster. To fall in love after heartbreak. To keep breathing when the people we need could disappear at any given moment. To make art from the unspeakable grief when they did.” 

Consciously or not Lech is using resurrection language to describe his life’s journey. Somehow, he has found a way to move on from tragedy, to move on but not to move past. No matter what, the trauma of loss and grief will remain with him in some way into the future. His life will be forever marked by the tragedy that took the life of three of his friends and changed the life of another, yet he is able to speak of “making art from unspeakable grief” and of “falling in love after heartbreak”.

At the heart of the resurrection is human experience. The Jesus who experienced the brutality and agony of the crucifixion was not some supernatural being oblivious to pain. He was flesh and blood and he hung on that cross knowing that one of his own had handed him over, that another had claimed never to have known him and that the rest had put their own safety before their friendship with him. The resurrected Jesus was a scarred Jesus. He was not miraculously brought back to life whole and unblemished. His hands, his feet and his side bore testimony to his harrowing experience. Jesus did not emerge from the grave as one to whom nothing had happened. His memory was not wiped, and his body was not restored. Jesus carried in his body and in his mind reminders of his ordeal. The pain may have diminished, the scars faded, and the betrayals forgiven but they could not be wiped out. As much as they were part of Jesus’ past, so they would be a part of Jesus’ present and future.

It is important for us to be reminded that the resurrection is no empty triumph rather it hard-won victory over cruelty and indifference, suffering and death, cowardice and disloyalty. It does not obliterate what preceded it, but rather it absorbs it into a renewed and transformed present and future.

Jesus’ resurrection is a promise for the future, the assurance that death is not final, but it is also a guarantee for the present, an assertion that somehow, someway, we will find a way to move forward even when moving seems impossible. The resurrection is not just the story of what happened to Jesus. It is the story of what happened to those who followed him – the terrified disciples who overcame their fear, the bereaved and the lost who found a way to go on and the confused and the foolish who found their feet and at the same time found their vocation. The horror of that Friday did not leave the disciples, the knowledge of their frailty and their failures, the awareness of their ignorance and their betrayals, their fear of the authorities almost certainly remained with them and informed them, but the raising of Jesus became their own resurrection to new life, their determination to do better and their motivation to spread the story of Jesus to all who would listen.

And so it is for us. The resurrection is our story. Our lives, like Lech’s, can change in a heartbeat. Fire or flood can destroy a lifetime of work. An accident can leave us bereaved or incapacitated. Disease can ravage our bodies and our minds, and a pandemic can stop us in our tracks. 

Most of us will find a way to pick up the pieces and move on. We will learn to live with grief and loss, and, with luck and fortitude, we will learn from the experience and be better and stronger people as a result. Resurrection to new life is not a magic formula that erases the past, it is a promise that we can continue to live and that our lives, while not the same, may be richer and deeper as a result. Resurrection to eternal life is a promise that gives us the courage to hold on, when holding on seems absolutely impossible.  

Like Jesus, we may not know resurrection unless we first know crucifixion. We may not know new life unless we are willing to let go of the old. This life will almost certainly throw up difficulties, heartaches and setbacks. When life throws us a curved ball, we know that the scarred Jesus has travelled the same paths, known the same betrayals and experienced the worst that life has to offer. Through it all he held onto his trust in the living God and the living God did not abandon him but brought him from death to life. In the same way when life gives us its worst, the living God will not abandon us, but will hold us and heal us until we are ready to live again.

[i] Lech Blaine. Car Crash: A Memoir (Black Inc) excerpt in Good Weekend (The Sydney Morning Herald, March 27, 2021, p 16.

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God’s prayer for us

May 23, 2020

Easter 7 – 2020

John 17:1-11

Marian Free

In the name of God who holds us in prayer. Amen.

In life, and particularly in ministry, we have the privilege to meet some amazing people – people who challenge, confront and support us in our faith journey. Such encounters are very often humbling especially if we take the opportunity to be open to the lessons provided or to the care that is expressed in such meetings. The examples are myriad, but today I would like to share a couple that pick up the theme of today’s gospel – prayer. 

Many years ago, before I was ordained, I attended Parish planning days. On these occasions we were often divided into small groups to consider, among other things, the ways in which we practiced our faith. Anglicans are not very good at sharing such things, so it was extraordinary to be in a situation in which congregation members were willing to confide in each other. On not one, but two separate occasions, in two different parishes, I found myself in groups with women who were in their seventies or eighties (in other words with women whom I only knew as the elderly members of the congregation). I was deeply moved (and chastened) to hear that they rose at 4:00am in the morning so that they could pray without interruption. I was, and still am, struck by their discipline and by the importance that they placed on their faith and their prayer life.  (And on mornings such as this when it is only 12 degrees at 8:00am I am overawed by their resilience!)

I confess that I have not adopted their practice, but all these years later their rigor and discipline continue to call me to account. From time to time I find myself comparing my prayer life to theirs and being challenged to pray more and to pray more regularly.

A quite different, but equally humbling story relates to my first incumbency. During that time, I had the joy of meeting Ruby. Ruby was beautiful and wise and was only eight years old. She was the granddaughter of a parishioner. Her mother was an addict and her grandmother had to maintain a fine (non-judgmental) line in order to retain her contact with her granddaughter. I was fond of Ruby and concerned for her and her situation. So it was that I was completely blown away when her grandmother informed me that Ruby had set up a little altar in her bedroom and even more astounded to learn that, among other things, Ruby said a prayer for me every day!  It is impossible to tell you how moved I was by that knowledge. Knowing that Ruby was praying for me filled me with an overwhelming sense of being loved and held and supported. Whenever I felt underappreciated or overworked, I remembered Ruby’s prayers and regained my sense of perspective. 

John chapter 17 concludes Jesus’ farewell speech. In this section he moves from instruction and encouragement to prayer – not for himself, but for those who are close to him and by extension for those who will come to faith through them. In the face of his impending death Jesus expresses a sense of completion. Despite what lies ahead, Jesus is not anxious for himself. He knows that his relationship with God is clear and is assured. He sees his death as his glorification (or perhaps a confirmation of the glory that was his from the beginning). Jesus’ death might mark the end of his earthly ministry, but Jesus knows that that in itself was only a brief interruption to the existence that he has shared from the beginning with God and to which death will restore him.  

Jesus’ anxiety is not for himself or for his future, but for his disciples – those who have come to faith in him (and therefore to faith in God). Their earthly lives, which have been dramatically changed by their relationship with Jesus, will have to continue in the world without his physical presence to protect and defend them. Knowing that their faith in him has placed them in danger, Jesus prays for them, committing them to God’s care and protection. 

Interestingly, Jesus does not break off his conversation with the disciples in order to pray. He does not separate himself from them or adopt a pious stance (head bowed; hands clasped). He does not feel the need to go to the Temple to pray.  Instead he remains where he is, at the dinner table, surrounded – we must assume – by the empty plates, the cups and the leftovers. Jesus’ prayer – the only prayer recorded in John’s gospel takes place in the presence of his disciples who must surely notice that he is no longer addressing them, but God. This means that they can hear everything he says and the tone in which he says it. 

Because Jesus prays in their presence, the disciples are first-hand witnesses of Jesus’ love for them, his confidence in them, his desire that God should protect them from  harm and his firm belief that because they know him, they know God and that such knowledge is the key to eternal life. Jesus’ prayer assures the disciples that they already belong to God and that they share with Jesus his unity with God. I wonder how the disciples felt – not only to know that Jesus was praying for them, but to overhear the words of that prayer – to know that through Jesus’ prayer they were held and loved and supported – no matter what that future might hold.

Verse 20 tells us that Jesus’ prayer encompasses those who believe in him through the words of the disciples. Twenty centuries later, through the gospel we can eavesdrop on Jesus praying for us – not in private but for all the world to hear. We are so used to hoping that God will hear our prayer that perhaps we do not pay enough attention to God’s prayer for us.

Jesus is always overturning the tables, forcing us to rethink our ways of seeing the world, opening our hearts and minds to new possibilities. What does it mean that God is praying for us, for you?

How does it change your relationship to prayer, to God? 

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Giving the Spirit room

May 16, 2020

Easter 6 -2020
John 14:15-21
Marian Free

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

The liturgical season of Easter lasts for seven weeks. The chocolate may have been eaten and the hot cross buns may have disappeared from the shelves until Boxing Day but the Church continues to affirm that Christ is risen and to reflect on what that means for those who follow him. Of course every Sunday is a celebration of the resurrection but there is so much of Jesus’ life to remember we, concentrate our celebration of the actual resurrection during these seven weeks. Historically – at least according to the Book of Acts – the Holy Spirit descended on the disciples on the Jewish feast of Pentecost – fifty days after the Passover. The church adapted this pattern for its liturgical calendar – celebrating the resurrection on the Sunday following the first full moon occurring on or after the vernal equinox (similar to the dating of the Passover) and maintaining the feast until the Sunday of Pentecost.

It is not surprising then that during the seven weeks, the lectionary readings should change their focus from the resurrection to the coming of the Hoy Spirit – the readings reflecting the movement from one feast to another.

As we identified last week, chapters 14-17 constitute Jesus’ farewell speech. Jesus, knowing that he was about to die and return to God, was doing his best to prepare his disciples for life in a world without his physical presence. Interestingly the focus of Jesus’ speech is not on his impending death or on the trauma that the disciples can expect in the next seventy-two hours. Jesus’ primary concern in this speech is not with death, but with life. Jesus looks to the future. In effect he is making it clear that message that he preached, the example that he gave and the miracles that he performed are not dependent on him. Amazingly, it seems that Jesus’ work will continue through the disciples and through the church that will come into being through them. Jesus’ goal here is to prepare the disciples for his absence and for the role that they will play in the future.

What becomes clear is that the disciples are not expected to do this alone. Jesus knows that the disciples will be bereft without him. Like a ship without a rudder they will be directionless – used to being led rather than being leaders. So Jesus is speaking to this situation when he says that he will not leave them orphans but will send them another advocate – the Holy Spirit. In Jesus’ absence the Holy Spirit will lead the disciples into all truth, will teach them and will enable them to testify as Jesus has testified.

Jesus introduces the Spirit by telling the disciples that the Father will send them another Advocate. There are two confusing things about this statement. One is the word ‘advocate’ which in our context relates to one who takes our part – in the court, in relation to health care or in any other situation is which we might need another person to firmly state our case. Koester points out that John uses the word in the reverse sense. The Holy Spirit does not represent us to God, making the case for our salvation, rather the Holy Spirit continues Jesus’ work of representing God and God’s love to us. Jesus first, and then the Holy Spirit bring to us the truth of God’s love – love that requires nothing of us.Though we do not require representation in the heavenly court we may still need to be convinced that God’s abundant love will never be withdrawn. The Holy Spirit, (God’s Advocate) will come to the disciples – and to all who join their number – as a constant reminder of that love.

The Spirit is referred to as ‘another’ Advocate. In more ways than one, the Spirit continues the work of Jesus in and with the disciples. Jesus and the Spirit both come from and abide in the Father. As Jesus taught, revealed the truth, exposed sin and glorified God, so the Spirit will do the same and more. The Spirit will continue the work of Jesus and will make known the presence of the risen Jesus to the disciples and to the world.

Not only does Jesus assure the disciples that they will not be abandoned and promise ‘another Advocate’ he makes the even more extraordinary claim that the disciples ‘will know that I am in my Father, and you in me, and I in you’. The intimate relationship that Jesus shares with the Father will, he claims, be extended to include the disciples. Indeed, all those who believe in Jesus will share in the mutual indwelling of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Jesus death and resurrection makes possible a relationship in which God (the Trinity) is in the believer and the believer is in God (the Trinity). It is as if the crucifixion dissolves the barriers between human and divine, just as in the life of Jesus the barriers between human and divine were broken-down.

Jesus is going to his death (and his glorification) and is returning from whence he came but the world is irrevocably changed as a result of his presence. Humankind have been assured of and been witness to the unconditional love of God as expressed through the incarnation. What Jesus has done will be continued through the work of the Holy Spirit and through the Holy Spirit, the disciples will be empowered to do the same. The world should be overflowing with the presence of God.

Isn’t it time we stopped getting in the way and gave more room to the Holy Spirit?

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