Archive for the ‘Holy Family’ Category

Our bodies – God’s interface with the world

December 30, 2023

Holy Family

(Initially written for the series When Women Preach. If you’d like to hear it in my voice go to https://australianwomenpreach.com.au/)

Luke 2:22-30

Marian Free

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

The Book of Common Prayer provided the liturgical resources for the world-wide Anglican Church   up until 1975. It included a rite called the Churching of Women   (latterly known as Thanksgiving after the Birth of a Child.) This rite is based on Leviticus 12:2-8 which refers to the purification of women after childbirth. It is worth quoting the text in full as it lies behind the gospel set for today; “If a woman conceives and bears a male child,   she shall be ceremonially unclean seven days;    as at the time of her menstruation, she shall be unclean.   On the eighth day   the flesh of his foreskin shall be circumcised.    Her time of blood purification shall be thirty-three days;    she shall not touch any holy thing, or come into the sanctuary, until the days of her purification are completed.  If she bears a female child, she shall be unclean two weeks, as in her menstruation;    her time of blood purification shall be sixty-six days. When the days of her purification are completed, whether for a son or for a daughter,   she shall bring to the priest      at the entrance of the tent of meeting    a lamb in its first year for a burnt offering,    and a pigeon or a turtledove for a sin offering.”

Though the Anglican service does not use the language of purification, it was known colloquially as “the rite for the purification of women” and, in some parts of Australia was still practiced in the 1960’s.  I can still remember someone telling me of the humiliation that she felt at having to undergo the ritual, the sense of degradation that came from an understanding that somehow her God given body, the body that had given life to another, was considered impure by the church community in which she worshipped. 

It was not only birth that was considered to render a woman unclean. In Old Testament times and, in some contemporary cultures, menstruation was/is viewed as a source of impurity that required women to separate themselves from their community during the time of their period. This is also based on Leviticus which tells us that anyone who touches a menstruating woman will be unclean until evening. {And} The woman herself is considered to be unclean for seven days. And anyone who touches her,   or who touches something that she has touched in that time   is likewise thought to be unclean.

In the church, attitudes to women’s bleeding have varied through the centuries, but Leviticus 12 continued to influence the opinions of some. For example, in the seventh century, Bishop Theodore of Canterbury stated that: “During the time of menstruation women should not enter into church or receive communion.”

While this sounds archaic to modern ears, it was one of the reasons that women continued to be excluded from the sanctuary. In living memory, flower arrangers, had to leave their vases on the sanctuary steps so that they could be put into place by a male churchgoer. (This was true whether they were menstruating at the time or not). (And) As recently as the 1980’s a bishop (who was very much in favour of the ordination or women), shared with me that he had a lingering (if irrational) sense of discomfort that a priest who might be menstruating could be presiding at Holy Communion.

In our day and age, it seems an extraordinary idea that menstrual blood could be seen to render a woman unclean, that the source of all human life could be understood as a cause for impurity and that the act of birth could likewise render a woman impure. 

In today’s gospel, Mary and Joseph bring themselves to do that which is required by the Torah (Lev 12). There is so much detail in these verses – the offering of the doves, Simeon’s gratitude, Anna’s excitement, Simeon’s song and prophecy – that it is easy to overlook why the couple are there – for Mary to undergo a process of purification – and that after having given birth to God’s very self. (A detail balanced only by fact that God did not consider a woman’s body an unworthy vessel for the Saviour of the world.)

Sadly, there has developed in Christendom a distrust of the body which is seen as the origin of desire, passion and sin. Our relationship with our bodies is complex. Without our bodies we do not exist, but bodies can be weak, frail, and broken. They do not always perform as we would wish. Bodies come with physical needs     and our natural bodily functions cannot always be controlled and are often experienced as a source of inconvenience, discomfort, or embarrassment.

Mary’s body is the reason that the family go to the Temple, but hers is not the only body.  In this short vignette, we have infant bodies and aged bodies, fertile bodies and infertile bodies, female bodies and male bodies, bodies losing their functionality and bodies that have yet to learn how to self-regulate.  Jesus’ body is small, vulnerable, and dependent. Mary’s body is young and strong and fertile and unclean. Anna’s is long past the time of being able to bear children yet is still filled with life and energy. Simeon is ready to abandon his body in death but before he does, he takes the embodied God into his arms. 

For all their frailty and inconvenience, it is our bodies that give us existence and it is “the body with its appetites, its pleasures and all its various functions    that God has chosen to make his love known among us”.[1] God’s very self did not despise the human body but chose to inhabit it and to share in all its fullness, in all the messiness of human existence: “he became like his brothers and sisters in every respect.” (Hebrews 2:14-18)

However we try to sanitise our scriptures, however we try to separate our physical bodies from the life of the spirit, we cannot ignore the fact that the gospels themselves are earthy and bodily. From Jesus’ bloody, violent, and messy birth, to his bloody, violent and messy death the Incarnation is proof positive that holiness and bodilness cannot be separated, that our bodies are not to be despised but to be treasured as the place in which God did and does make God’s home.

Jesus’ birth, Jesus’ presentation in the Temple, Jesus’ life and death, and even his scarred resurrection body, are all evidence that Jesus fully embraced the human condition – that God in Jesus was vulnerable and in control, weak and strong, sorrowful and joyful – “like us in every respect”. 

Our bodies, our frail, imperfect bodies are God’s interface with the world. Our bodies, our very human bodies, were and are the dwelling place of God for whom no task is too mundane, no activity too ordinary, no function unspeakable and no part impure. 

“Let us glorify God in our bodies.”

{In 2011, Colleen Fulmer uploaded this song to You Tube

We are the body of Christ,

birthing, feeding,

touching, weeping. 

We are the body of Christ,

mending, bleeding,

healing, dancing,

Glorify God in our bodies.

Dance with God in our lives.

Colleen Fulmer, 2011

https://www.google.com/search?client=safari&rls=en&q=we+are+the+body+of+Christ%2C+glorify+God+in+our+bodies+-+lyrics&ie=UTF-8&oe=UTF-8#fpstate=ive&vld=cid:ba648b42,vid:XOKJVxJguug,st:0

[1] (The. Message Devotional Bible: featuring notes and reflections from Eugene H. Peterson, (Colorado Springs, CO: Nav Press,  2018) 3563, Kindle.

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It has nothing to do with being respectable

December 17, 2022

Advent 4
Matthew 1:18-25
Marian Free

In the name of God who moves us to act in ways that are surprising and unconventional. Amen.

Jimmy Barnes, the hard-living, drug-abusing, wild-boy of Australian rock, was born James Dixon Swan. He was the child of an unhappy marriage, the son of an abusive alcoholic. When he was still very young, his mother abandoned her six children to escape the abuse. In his autobiography Working Class Boy Jimmy tells of his life as a motherless child growing up in Elizabeth, South Australia. His father was rarely home, leaving the children to fend for themselves. Over time, the house fell into disrepair and niceties – such as sheets on the beds – became a distant memory. Sometimes Jimmy’s father gave his older sister money. She used to buy a sack of potatoes which was often the only food in the house. Left to his own devices grew up wild and on the streets. He first got really drunk when he was only nine or ten.

In the meantime, Jimmy’s mother was struggling to make a living so that she could reconnect with her children. One day the Child Welfare Agency came to her to say that the children were going to be made wards of the state unless she could provide a stable home for them.

She was at a friend’s house, crying, when Reginald Victor Barnes walked in.

“What’s the trouble love?” he asked.
“I need to find a husband and I need to find a home for me six kids and I need to do it quickly or they’ll put them in a home,” she responded.
“Why did you leave them?”
“I had to run away, my husband was a bad drunk.”
“No worries love, I’ll marry ya.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Someone’s got to save those poor kids.”

So, Reg Barnes married Jimmy’s mother and took on – sight unseen – six troubled, delinquent kids.
He provided them with a home, stayed up all night tending to anxious, frightened and sick children and he didn’t walk away no matter how trying and exhausting their behaviour.

As Jimmy says: “Reginald Victor Barnes was to be an angel in my life.”

Reg, Jimmy believes, had planned to be a priest. In order to rescue children he did not know and to save a woman he had just met, Reg exchanged a peaceful, ordered life for one of heartache and chaos. In gratitude, Jimmy took his name – Jimmy Barnes.

This, I imagine is a rare story, especially for a man of Reg’s generation. No doubt Reg’s friends thought he was mad. Taking on another man’s children was one thing, taking on – and fully supporting – six children, damaged and abused by another, was something else altogether.

When we think of the story of the Incarnation, our first thought is of Mary and the risks that she took and the sacrifices she made when she said her courageous: “yes” to God. We are less likely to focus on Joseph – who throughout Jesus’ life is relegated to the background – a shadowy, but necessary figure who gives the earthly Jesus some legitimacy. Joseph is presented as the strong, silent type. He says nothing, but simply acts on messages that come to him in dreams. Joseph’s role in the story is to save Mary from shame and to ensure that Jesus can claim to be of the tribe of David (from whom the anointed one was to descend).

As was the case with Mary, though, Joseph’s obedience came at a cost. If he married Mary, he would bear for the rest of his life the reputation of someone who has been cuckolded. The scandal of Mary’s pregnancy would follow him wherever he went, and he would almost certainly be ridiculed or pitied for taking on another man’s child and having as his heir a child whom he did not father.

We are told tantalizing little about Joseph. He is a righteous man – a man anxious to do what is right before God. A righteous man would know that Mary’s out-of-wedlock pregnancy was contrary to the law and that as such he had no obligation to assist her. He would know too that any association with her would reflect on him, impact on his standing in the community and call into question his knowledge of and adherence to the law. He would have further cause for concern regarding Mary’s insistence that the child she was carrying came from God – an impossible and blasphemous claim which would have been an affront to his faith, and another reason for his family and neighbours to deride and revile him. For Joseph to marry Mary would have lasting effects. Her shame would become his shame. For the rest of his life, he would be subject to rumours and inuendo.

So, being a righteous man, knows that he must dissolve the engagement, but he proposes to do this quietly so as to shield Mary from public scrutiny. (He is presumably confident that her family will protect her and keep her forever from the public eye.)

God has other ideas.

It is perhaps an indication of Joseph’s righteousness (his closeness to God) that he understands that his dream is not a fantasy, but a message from God and that a message from God is not to be ignored, but to be acted on. He accepts, contrary to everything that he knows and believes that marrying Mary was part of God’s plan. Joseph was a law-abiding, righteous man but he was not so hide-bound, not so fixated on doing what was right that he put adherence to the law before the will of God.

Ultimately faith cannot be neatly bundled up as a set of rules and regulations. Faith, as Joseph demonstrates, is a relationship with the living God, who cannot and will not be confined by the limits of human imagination.

What we learn from Joseph is faith has nothing to do with rigid certainties, and everything to do with risk-taking. Righteousness has nothing to with having a good reputation and everything to do with a willingness to be a “fool for God. Pleasing God has nothing to do with observing certain codes of behaviour and everything to do with an openness to where God is leading us and a willingness to take our part in God’s plan.

Being in a relationship with the living God, means being willing to have all our certainties thrown into question, our values turned upside-down. and our lives turned inside out.

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A powerless God

December 26, 2020

Christmas 1 – 2020

Luke 2:22-40

Marian Free

In the name of our upside-down God who defies our expectations. Amen.

I can’t imagine that there is anyone for whom 2020 has turned out the way that they expected. Among our acquaintances there are at least six people who had made plans to celebrate their 60th birthdays in style only to have them overturned. One friend planned a cruise and had thought she’d be in Monte Carlo for her birthday. Instead, having spent two weeks off the coast of Perth on board the cruise liner, s celebrated turning 60 while in hotel quarantine. 

No one, even in their wildest dreams, could have imagined a year like this in which plans have been 

thwarted, career trajectories halted or even over-turned, and families separated for months at a time. Who could have envisaged silent airports, empty supermarket shelves, and more sanitiser than we’d ever have thought possible? Turning away families from aged care and hospitals would have been unthinkable a year ago and yet circumstances have dictated that in some places families have not been able to sit with the dying or to attend their funeral. In Queensland, we have been extraordinarily lucky and still our lives have been turned upside down by job losses, business closures and restrictions on who we can or cannot visit, where we can go and how we can worship.

For ten months we have lived in a topsy turvy world in which our expectations have been proven to be unrealistic and in which planning has been impossible. We have found ourselves to be at the mercy of a virus over which we have had no control.

Not having control might be a novel experience for us, but for many it is a state of life – for those living in war zones, for refugees, those living below the poverty line and those who livelihoods are at the mercy of the weather.

It is human to long for certainty, to hope that things will improve, to believe that there is a God who turn the situation around. 

This longing is a characteristic of the prophetic books of the Old Testament, many of which were written during Israel’s time in exile. The Israelites yearn to return to their own land, to the way that things used to be and to having control over their destiny. 

At the turn of the millennia, the time of Jesus, the Israelites are in the home country, but they have been under the dominion of foreign powers for centuries. Once again, they are vulnerable to the whims of another nation. They looked forward to a redeemer (the one promised by the prophets) to restore of the nation to its former glory – the Roman colonists defeated, Temple worship reestablished under the historic priesthood, the land fruitful and a descendant of David on the throne. 

How differently things turned out. God’s redeemer did come among them, but in such a way that he was largely unnoticed and was completely unrecognisable. in fact, Jesus appearance was the reverse of everything that they had come to expect! There were no flashes of lightening, no violent upheavals of the heavens or of earth, no obvious trappings of authority  – just the whimper of a child in an insignificant town, a human infant, not an omnipotent being, a powerless son of a carpenter not a member of a ruling family

No matter how many times one reads Simeon’s speech and the account of Anna, the language jars. 

We would expect Simeon to say: “the rising and the fall” of many and to read that Anna prayed: “day and night” in the Temple. Those would be the usual figures of speech. What Simeon does say is “the fall and the raising” and Anna is said to pray “night and day”. This reversal of what we expect to hear turns out to be a sign what is to come. Jesus may be the “salvation prepared in sight of all peoples” and a “light to the Gentiles” but his life will play out in a very different way. He will be opposed instead of being welcomed. Instead of restoring the institutions of Israel, Jesus will be perceived to be undermining them. Rather than supporting and affirming those in positions of authority, Jesus will expose their hypocrisy and self-centredness and, as a consequence his life will be demanded of him. 

Despite the longings and hopes of the Israelites, Jesus will not be an interventionist Saviour. He will not lead armies or expel the Romans. He will not bring down the corrupt priests who rule the Temple and control the Sanhedrin nor will he denounce tax-collectors, prostitutes and other sinners. From the start he will be a disappointment and he will fall before there is any rising as Simeon predicts. There will be suffering not triumph. Jesus will serve not govern and those with most to lose will seek to destroy him.

“Fall and rising”, “night and day” – the unusual phraseology of this passage alerts us to the fact that this story is not going to go the way we expected. From the beginning to the end of Jesus’ life, our upside-down God confounds, confronts and challenges expectations. Jesus does not, in any way, conform to the image of one who was to redeem Israel. He has not come to judge – not even the Romans and the collaborators. He is anything but powerful and influential and he undermines rather than upholds the religious establishment.

God, in Jesus is utterly at the service of the poor and the marginalised. God in Jesus models how to bring about change and transformation in others. God in Jesus is vulnerable to the fears and desires of those who do not want anything to stand between them and their craving for status and power. 

In fact, Jesus’ life (and death) is a stark reminder that God is powerless against human greed, ambition and selfishness. 

If the world is to change, we have to change. We have to cede our need for control, our desire for power and our yearning for material things. We have to acknowledge our own complicity in and responsibility for the inequities and injustices of this world and with Jesus align ourselves to the powerless, the vulnerable and marginalised. We must fall before we rise, experience night before day and, in immersing ourselves in the suffering of the world find the power that leads to the transformation of the world.

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Knowing our audience

January 26, 2019

Presentation of Christ in the Temple – 2019

Luke 2:22-40

Marian Free

In the name of God who has no beginning and no end. Amen.

Consciously or not, we all use rhetoric to ensure that our point of view is heard or that others are brought around to our way of thinking. The use of rhetoric in the modern world is perhaps most obvious in politicians and preachers whose futures may depend on their ability to sway their listeners. In ancient Greece rhetoric was highly prized and there were many schools of rhetoric and a vast number of books on the subject. Assessment in the subject was pass or fail. A student who had complete the course would be sent to their home town to give a speech. If they convinced their friends with their argument, they received a pass, if they did not, they failed. This was not as harsh as it sounds. The life of a philosopher was not an easy one.  They wandered around the countryside peddling their particular view of the world. Their success or failure depended entirely on their ability to command an audience and to persuade them that their arguments were valid. Success would ensure that they would have a bed for the night and food for the journey. It might even mean that they would secure a patron who would supply their every need.

Paul was a skilled rhetorician as were the gospel writers. In the first century the stakes were high. Those who followed Jesus were convinced that faith in him was the means to salvation, a source of liberation, peace and joy. They didn’t want to simply tell people about Jesus, they wanted their audiences to believein Jesus. It was not easy, they often came under attack and had to defend their faith. One way to do this was to demonstrate to their critics that the faith was rational, that it did not emerge in a vacuum but had a solid and respectable history. (In rhetoric terms this is known as an apology[1]– not in the sense of being sorry for something, but in the technical sense of mounting a defense.)

Luke uses this skill subtly, but to great advantage.

The third gospel is addressed to Theophilus who may be a high official in the Roman Empire, ora generic personage who represents Gentile (non-Jewish) readers. Either way, this and other clues suggest that Luke’s gospel was directed at a gentile audience. For example, in today’s gospel Simeon claims that Jesus is “a light for the revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your people Israel” and the Lucan Jesus is the Saviour as the world, not of the Jews alone[2]. Only Luke’s gospel includes the parable of the Good Samaritan and only in Luke do we have the account of the Samaritan leper who returns to give thanks. Luke’s inclusion of these stories ensures a receptive hearing among Luke’s gentile audience.

The author of Luke must do more than prove that Gentiles have a place in the faith. If he wants to convince people to give up their ancestral religions and practices to embrace faith in Jesus, he must also establish the credentials of the Christian faith – to demonstrate that this is not a religion that has sprung up from nowhere, but which has a deep and respectable place among the religions of the world[3]. Luke manages to weave these two goals seamlessly into his story.

Luke defends the gospel’s Jewish heritage in a number of ways. Unlike the other gospel writers, Luke begins and ends the gospel in the Jerusalem – the centre of the Jewish faith and worship. At the start we find Zechariah in the Temple when the angel appears to him and at the conclusion instead of returning to Galilee (as they do in the other gospels), the disciples remain in Jerusalem which is where Jesus appears to them. Zechariah and Elizabeth both come from long established priestly families and Mary and Joseph are shown to be pious Jews – Jesus is circumcised on the eighth day, presented at the Temple “when the time came for their purification”, and taken to Jerusalem every yearfor the festival of the Passover (2:41). It is on one of these occasions that Jesus stays behind in the Temple and impresses the teachers with his answers. More than in other gospels, Jesus is found teaching in the synagogues.

In this way, Luke makes it clear that the faith he propounds is not new and superficial but is connected to one that has a long and noble heritage. In other words, Luke’s gentile readers can trust what he is saying.

Our world is both less complex and more complex than that of the first century. In the first century, those who preached the gospel, did so against a background of multiple competing gods and philosophies and had to claim a place, indeed a priority among the religions and ideas of the ancient world. In our day, the panoply of gods has shrunk but there has been an increase in indifference, agnosticism, atheism, scepticism and even antagonism towards faith in general and the Christian faith in particular.

From the writer of Luke’s gospel, we learn that if we believe that our faith is worth sharing it is vital that we understand the context in which we preach. It is essential that we know our audience and how to engage and persuade them, that we understand our history and that we are equipped to tell our story convincingly and well.

Ours is a great story, a transformative story. Our task is to understand those among whom we find ourselves so that we can tell that story in ways that are compelling and convincing and that show that we have taken the trouble to know those to whom we speak.

 

 

[1]It is not a recent publication, but Guerra’s book provides a comprehensive discussion of apologetic and its use in the New Testament. Guerra, Anthony J. Romans and the apologetic tradition: The purpose, genre and audience of Paul’s letter.Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995, SNTS 81.

[2]This become even more obvious in Luke’s second volume: The Book of Acts in which the gospel spreads in concentric circles from Jerusalem to Rome (the end of the world).

[3]Matthew, who we believe is writing for a largely Jewish audience, establishes the faith’s credentials by demonstrating the ways in which the life of Jesus fulfils OT prophecies.

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Uneasy childhoods

December 26, 2015

Christmas 1 – 2015

Luke 2:41-52

Marian Free

In the name of God whose unconventional choices transform the world. Amen.

The readings from 1 Samuel and from Luke tell the stories of two young boys – Samuel and Jesus – whose childhoods are anything but conventional. Two boys – born generations apart whose stories are remarkably similar and yet vast different. Both were conceived in miraculous circumstances, both were separated from their family, both were found in the house of the Lord, both were doing God’s will and both were destined to play significant part in the life of God’s people. Two boys who stories coincide, but whose experiences, personalities and roles are entirely different.

Samuel is the son of Hannah and Elkanah. Samuel’s mother, Hannah was her husband’s second wife. Elkanah already had children and he loved Hannah even though she was childless. However, Hannah was desperate for children of her own – both to remove the sense of shame that she felt and also to remove the disdain in which Elkanah’s first wife held her. Hannah was desperate and, in the house of the Lord, she prayed fervently for a child. As she prayed, she made a commitment to God that if her prayer was answered she would dedicate her son to God’s service.

According to the story, it is only when the child is born that she tells Elkanah of her promise. Elkanah accepts her decision but asks that the child remain at home until he is weaned.

Even so Samuel can have been no older than four when his parents took him to the house of the Lord and abandoned him to be raised by a complete stranger who was old enough to be his grandfather. Apart from a yearly visit, Hannah and Elkanah have no more to do with the raising of Samuel who seems to accept and to adapt to his new life and to obedient to his surrogate father Eli. Hannah has three more sons and two daughters as a reward for her gift to God.

This is the bible, so we are led to believe that Hannah’s behaviour is perfectly acceptable, that Samuel is perfectly acquiescent and that he experienced no long-term negative consequences as a result of his being deserted by his parents at such a young age and did not resent his siblings who presumably stayed at home with their parents). Samuel goes on the play a significant role in the life of Israel. He oversees the transition from priestly to kingly rule and it is through him that the first two kings of Israel are appointed and anointed.

Jesus’ story and Jesus’ character is completely different to that of Samuel. Jesus was, if you like, imposed on his parents rather than sought after. His parents did not abandon him he abandons them. Jesus did not willing accept his family obligations nor did he comply to societal expectations. He consistently strained against the real and perceived restrictions and limitations of living in that time and place.

In today’s gospel, Jesus is in Jerusalem. It is apparently not his first visit. His parents have brought him every year for the Passover festival. Jerusalem was a small town by our standards and no doubt as a twelve-year-old Jesus and his friends have had a degree of freedom to roam the streets. All the same, he would have known that his parents were returning home yet he chose to remain behind, oblivious to or selfishly disregarding the anxiety that his remaining would cause them. When Mary and Joseph finally discovered Jesus after days of searching the teenaged Jesus was any but apologetic, in fact, he was disrespectful to the point of being callous. He showed no compassion for his parent’s anxiety. Instead, he behaved as teenager would, by expressing surprise that they had been worried. Worse, when Mary says: “your father and I have been searching for you”, Jesus responds by saying: “Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?” Joseph’s feelings and is role in Jesus’ life are completely ignored as his precocious son redefines his responsibilities and commitments. Jesus separated himself still further when, as an adult, he claimed that it was believers, not his natural family who were his mothers and brothers and sisters.

Again, this is scripture. The story of Jesus’ defiance is told in such a way that we are led to believe that Jesus’ behaviour in the Temple is an aberration or that it is an illustration of his recognition of his role and of his obedience to God. From now on at least until adulthood, Luke tells us that Jesus was obedient to his parents, to Mary and to Joseph.

Two stories of two very different boys chosen by God, to do God’s will – one willingly given up, the other reluctantly let go, one compliant, accommodating and obedient, the other non-compliant, non-accommodating and rebellious – both chosen by God to fulfill God’s purpose: for the people of Israel and for the salvation of the world.

The childhood stories of Samuel and Jesus remind us that God is not conventional and does not operate according to human standards. God can and does choose unusual people and unexpected situations to work out God’s will in the world. God’s chosen may or may not behave in conventional ways and may or may not conform to the expectations of the world in which they find themselves.

We would do well to withhold our judgement and suspend our expectations of others, for God in them, may take us completely by surprise.

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