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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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Together on the road

April 25, 2020

Easter 3 – 2020

Luke 24:13-35

Marian Free

In the name of God who walks beside us on the road. Amen.

The story of the road to Emmaus is one of my favourite Easter stories. Luke’s retelling captures my imagination and I feel as if I am walking with Cleopas and his companion (his wife?) trying to work out what had happened over the past few days. Even though I know the end of the story, I am caught up in their grief and confusion, their intrigue as to who the stranger might be and finally in their recognition of Jesus. As Luke tells the story, I am there on the road and at the table. I don’t immediately recognise who it is beside me but on reflection realise that I had known it was Jesus all along.

Cleopas and his companion were not Galileans (as were the twelve) so they had probably not accompanied Jesus to Jerusalem. Their hopes and expectations about Jesus were almost certainly based on their experiences during his week in the city. Along with many others, they would have been caught up in the excitement surrounding Jesus, impressed by his teaching and filled with the hope that he was the one who was to come. Jesus’ crucifixion and death had thrown all this into question, yet it seems that they had not completely lost hope but had waited in Jerusalem to see if he would be raised as he had predicted. (“It has been three days,” Cleopas says.)

Otherwise, why would they have lingered? Emmaus was only a couple of hours walk away and there was no need to remain in the city once the Passover festivities were over. Indeed, it might have been dangerous to stay if they could have been identified as followers of Jesus. Yet, they had remained.

It is clear that they had heard reports that morning, that the tomb had been found empty by the women (something that had been verified by Peter). They may have been reminded, as the women were, that Jesus would rise on the third day. This would explain why they delayed going home, leaving Jerusalem mid-afternoon instead of in the cool of the morning. If Jesus was alive (as the angels had said), surely they would hear of it and be able to see him for themselves. Finally, they can wait no longer and with heavy hearts they begin the journey home.

Even so, they cannot stop thinking about the events of the past few days. As they walk, they are absorbed in conversation, analysing what has happened, trying to make sense of it all and wondering how they could have been so mistaken as to think that this man who was crucified was the one sent by God to save them. It is no wonder that they do not recognise Jesus when he comes alongside them. Presumably they imagine that he is just another pilgrim returning home from the festival and they don’t pay him much attention. They were certainly not expecting to see Jesus. Three days had passed, and he hadn’t been seen alive and, if he was alive, there would have been no reason for them to have expected him to leave Jerusalem at least not without his disciples. What is more, Cleopas and friend may never have seen Jesus without the crowds and may never have had a close enough look to recognise him in the absence of his friends.

Never-the-less, they expect this stranger to be a mind-reader and they jump to the conclusion that if he had been in Jerusalem he must certainly be as concerned about the recent events as they were. Interestingly, though they are surprised at Jesus’ apparent ignorance, they are not at all surprised that he should have such a good grasp of scriptures and that he should be able to explain and to interpret Jesus’ death.

We are not told whether or not Jesus’ words convinced them that the Christ had to die, or whether his explanation provided them any comfort. After all, the stranger had not told them that Jesus was alive only that the Christ had to suffer and then enter his glory. The stranger’s interpretation might have gone some way in explaining the events of the past few days, but it will have told them nothing about the present or the future or the impact that Jesus would have on their lives or on the lives of others who had believed in him. They might have wondered what use was a Christ who died and entered his glory and how was it possible that  such a Christ could change anything and would that Christ make any difference in the long term or would he be, as he seemed, just a moment in history.

Cleopas and friend are still confused when they reach their home, but their sense of hospitality will not allow the stranger to continue his journey in the dark. They invite him to stay with them. At the meal table the stranger “took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them”. In so doing he was repeating the actions of Jesus at the Last Supper when he took bread, blessed and broke it and gave it to the disciples. Only then do the two really see the stranger, and seeing him, recognise him and, recognising him, realise that they knew who he was all along.

In difficult and uncertain times, we too get caught up and become self-absorbed in our own troubles. We try to figure things out for ourselves, wonder what has happened and worry about the future. We can forget that Jesus is always with us, and often, it is only with hindsight that we understand that he has been walking beside us all the way.

It is now a full month since our last service together in the church and we have no idea when the lock-down will end or what the future will look like. As we travel our own paths in these strange times, let us pray that we will be attentive to the presence of Jesus, open to all that this experience has to teach us and eager to share with each other what we have learned when we are together again.

 

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“Blind unbelief is sure to err”

April 18, 2020

Easter 1 – 2020
John 20:19-31
Marian Free

In the name of God whom Abraham confronted, with whom Jacob wrestled and with whom Job argued. Amen.

“Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.”
I would like to say that I don’t want to contradict the gospel, but those who know me would know immediately that that was not true. So I will be honest and say that, however pious they sound, these words – purported to be the words of Jesus – are at best coercive and at worst abusive – especially when they are used to bully people into believing or to dismiss as unbelief questions or doubts in relation to faith.

I could give many examples of the way in which this text is misused and abused. This is clearly illustrated in a story that I hope I haven’t already shared with you. Some years ago, I attended a conference on Spirituality, Leadership and Management. The keynote speaker devoted a large portion of his talk denigrating Christianity, while at the same time using the images of the Christian faith to expound his own theories of wholeness and life! Later that evening as I was wandering around the conference venue, I met another attendee, Jack, who asked me what I had thought of the speaker. I responded by saying something to the effect that I felt that it was unnecessary for him to be so disparaging of the Christian faith. Jack’s response took me completely by surprise. He explained that he had attended an Anglican Boy’s School and that as a teenager he had taken his faith very seriously. He was however confused by a number of things, in particular belief in a virgin birth. He finally plucked up courage to ask a teacher to explain. Instead of taking the question seriously or entering into discussion, the teacher simply responded that Jack had to accept the virgin birth as a matter of faith.

As he recounted this experience, Jack’s eyes filled with tears. He had been made to feel that his faith was inadequate. His question had simply been dismissed. The failure of his teacher to honour his question and to engage with his doubt had hurt him so badly that some 35 years later the hurt was still evident. Having been made to feel that his faith was not sufficient, Jack had simply stopped trying to believe. His tears were evidence that this loss continued to be a source of grief and that his exploration of other forms of spirituality had not (at that point) been able to fully mend the hurt or to fill the void.

I cannot recount this story without feeling angry on behalf of Jack and on behalf of all who, having found some aspects of the Christian faith challenging, confronting or simply improbable, were denigrated or silenced – usually as a result of ignorance, insecurity or, dare I say, a lack of faith on the part of the responder.

You will note from today’s gospel that Jesus’ response to Thomas’s incredulity is quite different from that of the teacher in Jack’s story. In Thomas’ absence, Jesus had not only appeared to the disciples, he had also shown them his hands and his side. In other words, he had offered them the very proof that Thomas sought, he had made it easy for them to believe. I’m sure that many of us can relate to Thomas’s disbelief. Someone who has been dead for three days doesn’t simply appear in a locked room! Thomas’ imagination simply could not encompass something so incredible – perhaps his friends had seen a ghost. He, like them had to see and touch in order for him to comprehend that Jesus was not dead but alive.

Jesus does not denigrate or dismiss Thomas’ questioning. He honours it. Not only does Jesus appear a second time, but he invites Thomas to see and to touch. Then Thomas does what the others have not – he acknowledges Jesus as his Lord and God – becoming the first of the disciples to do so.

To believe that God expects unquestioning faith and obedience is to misread both the Old and the New Testaments. When God threatens to destroy Sodom and all its inhabitants, Abraham dares to challenge that decision and when God appears to Jacob at night, Jacob wrestles with God till dawn. Moses has the impudence to tell God that destroying the Israelites will ruin God’s credibility in the eyes of the surrounding nations and Job questions why God would take away his family, his possessions and his dignity. Even the prophets have the nerve to challenge the wisdom of God’s decisions and Jonah in effect says to God: “I told you so.” In fact, as Sister Eileen Lyddon points out: “the Jews in the Old Testament questioned God frequently and vigorously.” Even Jesus has a moment (albeit brief) of wondering if God’s way was the only way.

God does not respond to these questions, challenges and doubts with anger or even with disappointment. God does not dismiss or disparage those who do not conform or those who refuse to accept God’s way blindly and without thought. God’s response to each (with the exception of the sulky Jonah) is one of acceptance and indeed of respect. God does not demand blind obedience and God does not scorn, denigrate or coerce. The opposite is true. Biblical evidence confirms that God honours the doubters, the questioners and the challengers. God is worn down by Abraham and finds a worthy match in Jacob. God heeds the challenge of Moses and God does not think any the less of the prophets for all their doubts, criticisms and questions.

God meets us where we are; encourages and affirms us and, as a result, draws from us not blind faith, but a relationship built on trust, respect and love. God comes to us and reaches out with scarred hands, hands that have fully identified with the human condition and in response we can only declare (without threat or coercion) that Jesus is indeed: “Our Lord and our God.”

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The true victory is the cross

April 11, 2020

Easter Day – 2020 (Locked down due to Covid 19)

Matthew 28:1-11

Marian Free

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

“Those who want only God’s will want nothing for themselves, except to carry out God’s will for themselves and for others. But those who operate through their own wills leave no space for God”.[1]

In The Christian Century this week Richard Lischer wrote: “What Jesus offers this Holy Week is not an escape from loss but a better way of losing.” “Not an escape from loss, but a better way of losing.”[2] In other years and in other settings, we have approached Easter with a sense of joy and triumph. We have made it through Lent, spent time in solemn reflection on Maundy Thursday and especially on Good Friday. On Easter Day then we feel free to reflect not on the lessons of Lent or on the sufferings of Jesus but on the wonderful act of God in raising Jesus from the death.

It is difficult in times of relative comfort to really grasp the significance of loss and suffering that lie at the heart of the Christian faith, to forget that the Saviour of the World gave up absolutely everything in order to faithfully answer the call of God, that the resurrected Christ was only possible because of the crucified Christ.

This Easter, when we are facing the loss of social contact, the loss of being present at our Easter services, the loss of freedom and, for many, the loss of jobs, income and businesses, it is timely to reflect that at the heart of the Christian faith is not victory but surrender, not triumphalism but deep humility, not even of resurrection but of the dying that enables resurrection.

All of this is evident in Jesus’ life, who from the moment of his baptism began to let go of his own ambitions and desires and to place himself wholly at God’s disposal. Instead of relying on himself and his own resources, Jesus emptied himself thereby allowing God to work in and through him. In fact, as John’s gospel makes clear, Jesus’ true divinity is revealed on the cross, the place of Jesus’ greatest suffering is the place of his triumph. It is on the cross that Jesus fully realises his destiny, his complete submission to God. The resurrection is a confirmation of Jesus’ victory, it is not the victory itself.

This time of isolation and deprivation is not of our choosing, but it does provide an opportunity to explore our own willingness (or lack thereof), to follow Jesus’ example, to let go of our need to be in control, our desire to achieve something or to be someone. Instead of seeing the closure of our churches as a deprivation, we can see this moment as an occasion to let go of the props on which we rely and to allow ourselves to trust completely in the presence of God.

It is precisely circumstances such as these that – at their best – throw us on the mercy of God and force us to learn that it is when we give up everything that we gain more than we could ever imagine and that when we surrender our lives to God that God can truly work in and through us.

Have a Happy and Holy Easter and instead of being sad about what we do not have let us rejoice in the lessons that this Easter has to teach us.

Every Sunday is a celebration of the resurrection. We will gather once more and how much will we have to celebrate!

[1] Marguerite Porete, in The Flowering of the Soul: A Book of Prayers by Women, Ed Lucinda Vardey, Australia: Random House, 1999, 300.

[2] https://www.christiancentury.org/article/2012-03/stripped-bare

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One more time

May 4, 2019

Easter 3 – 2019

John 21:1-19 (some thoughts)

Marian Free

In the name of God who reveals godself to us when we least expect it and when we most need it. Amen.

A trip to Israel is amazing. It is a beautiful country steeped in history. There you will come across a Canaanite altar that goes back 3,000 years before Jesus and a horned altar that makes sense of the horned altars of the Old Testament. You will encounter archeological sites that go back at least 1000 years before Jesus’ time and which have been built on over the centuries by different nations and cultures up until the present. The site of Capernaum with its ruins of homes that date from the time of Jesus helps us to put the gospel story into context and the Sea of Galilee is so vast that one can understand why the disciples might have been afraid when tempests arose.

That said, there is much that, for me at least, is a source of irritation or disappointment. I found it impossible to imagine the Israel of Jesus’ day in the towns and tourist sites that capitalize on their place in the gospel story and compete with each other for the tourist dollar. Christian denominations that vied with each other for attention were, for me, a source of deep shame and embarrassment. If visitors to the nation had been less keen to immerse themselves in the story they might ask themselves why both the Anglicans and the Catholics need such large churches in Bethlehem, why they have divided Capernaum into two parts, and why the Church of the Holy Sepulchre is divided between a number of Christian traditions.

On a lighter note, seeing a place at first hand had the tendency to burst the bubble of my imagination. Sites that loomed large in the gospel story did not have quite the same impact in reality. The Mount of the Transfiguration turned out to be a geological feature that I would have would called a hill; and the cliff that Jesus was ‘pushed’ to in Luke’s gospel was so far from Nazareth that it was hard to believe that even a huge crowd would have persisted in pushing Jesus over such a large distance.

What really surprised me and shattered my image of the story, were the fish. At the kibbutz by the Sea of Galilee we were served ‘St Peter’s fish’, which I took to be the fish of the miraculous haul recorded in both Luke and John. These fish (at least those cooked for lunch) were small – about fifteen cm long with very little flesh. It was hard to imagine even 153 of these fish being sufficient to make a net impossible to haul in as today’s gospel suggests and hard to imagine how many would be required to stretch to the nets to breaking point (Luke 5:6). But, as my grandmother used to say: “Why spoil the story for the sake of a little exaggeration?”

Why indeed? Whether here in John (after the resurrection) or in Luke (in connection with the calling of the disciples) the story is not so much about the fish as it is about recognition. In Luke’s telling of the story, the disciples have been fishing all night without success. When Jesus comes down to the shore they have left their boats and are cleaning their nets. Seeing the empty boat, Jesus asks Simon to put out from the shore so that he can more easily teach the crowds who have been pressing in on him. It is only when he has finished teaching that he tells the fishermen to try one more time which they do. This time the nets are so full they threaten to sink the boats. At this point Peter falls to his knees before Jesus and says: “Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man.”

As a result of the miraculous catch, Simon recognizes Jesus as Lord and, in the presence of Jesus’ goodness, becomes only too aware of his own sinfulness. The story of the fish is not just a miracle but it is an entry point to the story of Simon’s identification of Jesus’ true nature.

John places the account of the miraculous haul at the very end of his gospel, but here too recognition is the central point. A group of despondent disciples tire of sitting around and decide to go fishing. All night they fish with no success. In the morning a ‘stranger’ on the beach urges them to put down their nets one more time. This time there are so many fish that they cannot haul in the net. Then John identifies the stranger as the risen Jesus and Peter, (despite the fact that he had denied and abandoned Jesus), is sufficiently excited to see Jesus and sufficiently confident that Jesus will not reject him that he leaps out of the boat in order to be the first to reach him.

Whether it is recognition of the divinity of the earthly Jesus or the reality of the risen Jesus, it is success after a night of struggle, a surprise catch after fruitless effort, that opens the disciples’ eyes to the divine presence that has urged them to give it one more try.

When we are tempted to give up, when the night is too long or the task seemingly impossible, we can remember the catch of fish, believe in the risen Christ, give it one more try, and discover that Jesus was there all the time.

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