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Being reborn – with Nicodemus

February 28, 2026

Lent 2 – 2026

John 3:1-17

Marian Free

In the name of God who calls us out of darkness into light. Amen.

“He dunks me. He leans me back into the darkening water and I go under.

I feel like I’m drowning but I know I’ve got breath. There’s something choking me, something’s trying to get out. I start to panic, and with the water flowing over me, I cough up this ball of darkness and pain and regret– this wad of sorrow and sadness, that holds every dumb thing I ever did and more – and I spit it into the water with the last of the air in my lungs. And I know I’m gonna die. The water’s gone black and I don’t know where the surface is. I got nothing left and I just want to drift away like a leaf in the current.

Then he lifts me out of the water, and I’m hacking for breath and wondering why I’m alive and I just laugh. Laugh like I’ve never laughed in my life – or not since I was a kid. Like a dam breaking. Like a chain snapping. Like a kid who’s just heard the words he’s been longing to hear all his life. 

Stephen Daughtry, in his Lenten Study Holiday – Stories of Jesus set in an Australian Landscape, imagines what it might feel like to have been baptised by John the Baptist.  For his character, baptism was a dramatic, wrenching, life-changing experience – a movement from dark to light, from death to life, a form of rebirth which changes him forever[1].

For some people, meeting Jesus or experiencing the Holy Spirit for the first time is like being hit by a train. It is an overwhelming experience – like having one’s eyes opened, seeing oneself clearly (the bad and the good) and, most importantly, knowing for certain that God’s love overlooks all their faults and that they are held, now and forever in God’s loving arms. No wonder such people talk about being born again. They have left behind the person they once were and have stepped forward into a new life in which God (Father, Son and Spirit) is the centre and the guiding force.

Not all of us have such a powerful beginning to our faith. Those of us who were born into Christian families and who were baptised as infants (without our knowledge or consent) may not have a sensational conversion experience or be able to point to a specific time and place when we knew for sure that we believed and that we were loved, it may have come upon us gradually or it may be that there was never a time when you did not believe.

For all of us though, those who have a sudden conviction that they are loved by God, those who come to that belief over time and those who always knew, faith is not a one-off event, but a journey, a growing into the fulness of Christ which involves a series of rebirths as we constantly shed our old selves, allowing ourselves to be renewed so that we might become more truly children of God.

Abram is a good example of this step-by-step growth in faith. Abraham was minding his own business in Ur, almost certainly worshiping the gods of his own people. Out of nowhere God, Yahweh, asks him to pick up everything – his wife, his servants, his animals and all his goods – and to leave behind everything that he knew and loved – his family, his friends, the customs of his people – and to travel to God knew where. Without question (at least as the story tells it), Abram does just that – a form of re-birth.

Over time Abram’s confidence wavers. He fathers a child with Hagar instead of trusting that God will bless Sarai with a child. God appears to Abram and makes a covenant with him, giving him a new name – if you like, a second re-birth. There are many twists in the story, but a constant is Abraham’s faith and his continual dying and rebirth.

Another character who illustrates the idea of faith as a journey, or as a gradual unfolding, is Nicodemus whom we meet in John’s gospel today. Even at this early stage in the gospel Nicodemus recognises that Jesus comes from God, but he is not willing to commit. He has yet to understand that faith in Jesus must be wholehearted. It means letting go of his past ways of thinking and allowing himself to be guided by the Spirit. In other words, as Jesus says, he must be born again. 

Thankfully, that is not the end of the story, Jesus has made an impression. Nicodemus might be puzzled, but he can’t dismiss Jesus. We meet him again in chapter 7. Jesus is in Jerusalem. His influence on the crowds and the content of his teaching is causing the Chief Priests and Pharisees a great deal of anxiety (it contradicts what they teach, and the enthusiasm of the crowds might capture the attention of the Romans). He must be stopped! So they send soldiers to arrest him. Only Nicodemus speaks for Jesus, reminding his peers that the law does not judge people without giving them a trial. (Nicodemus has moved from secretly meeting Jesus at night, to publicly defending him – a form of rebirth.)

We meet Nicodemus for the last time on the evening of the crucifixion. Joseph of Arimathea has received permission to take Jesus’ body away. He is met by Nicodemus who brings with him about a hundred pounds of myrrh and aloes – in today’s terms $150-200,000 worth of spices! By now he is fully committed – another rebirth. No doubt Nicodemus experiences many more rebirths before his final birth into eternal life, but we do not know the end of the story.

One way of looking at Lent is to see it as a preparation for rebirth, as a letting go of the things that hold us back so that we can restart our relationship with God, released from the burdens that have kept us apart. Whatever discipline we have taken up for Lent we have done so in the hope that we will emerge at Easter as a people who have been changed and renewed. Whether we have chosen to give something up, to let something go, to expand our minds through reading, or to deepen our understand through prayer; we will come to Easter with new insights about ourselves and about our relationship with God that will enable us to embrace more fully the life that God gives us and to be formed more completely into the image of Christ.

On Good Friday we can say ‘goodbye’ to the person we were when Lent began so that on Easter Day, we can be born again into resurrection life. And we will do this again and again, every Lent, every Good Friday, every Easter Day as day by day, year by year, we are reborn, transformed into children of God. 

[1] Daughtry, Stephen. 2025. Holiday Stories of Jesus set in an Australian Landscape. Sydney: A Mission Australia publication. The Anglican Board of Mission.

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

January 17, 2026

Epiphany 2 – 2026

John 1:29-42

Marian Free

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Pentecost – not as orphans

June 9, 2025

Pentecost – 2025

John 14:8-27)

Marian Free

In the name of God who inflames, inspires and encourages us. Amen.

Hallelujah! not as orphans,

are we left in sorrow now;

Halleljah! He is near us, 

faith believes nor questions how;

So goes the second verse of the hymn: “Hallelujah! sing to Jesus.” For me, these words bring to mind fond memories of my church-going childhood. I’m not sure why but the words, “not as orphans”, really struck a chord in the young Marian. For some reason the notion of not being abandoned, not being left alone made a powerful impression.  The words had a similar effect to being gathered up in a warm embrace or wrapped in a soft blanket – God might be an amorphous and vague notion, but somehow the fact that God would not leave me orphaned gave God some sort of shape or form. I was also taken with the phrase “faith believes nor questions how.” I’d be quite sure that even then I didn’t think of faith as being blind acceptance of implausible ideas, but, young as I was I had some understanding of faith as mystery.

Of course, I had no idea in my childhood that the hymn writer was quoting the words from John 14 that we heard in this morning’s gospel. “I will not leave you orphaned; I am coming to you” (14:15).

Chapters 14 -17 of John’s gospel are known as Jesus’ farewell speech. Jesus has had what will be his final meal with his disciples, Judas has been sent off to “do what he is going to do” and Jesus has begun to prepare his disciples for his departure. We know that this means his crucifixion, but his disciples are confused and anxious, especially as Jesus continues his pattern of speaking in apparent riddles. “Where I am going you cannot come” (13:33). “I go to prepare a place for you.” “No one comes to the Father except through me.”

At least three key themes run through the Farewell Discourse and in our reading this morning. One is that of love. Jesus gives the disciples a new commandment – to love one another (13:34), those who love Jesus will keep his commandments (14:15),  those who have Jesus’ commandments are those who love him and are loved by the father (14:20) and those who love Jesus will keep his word, the Father will love them and with Jesus, will come and make a home with them (14:23). 

This expressions last draws on another thread – that of the indwelling of the Father and the Son – a mutual indwelling that is extended to each one of us, an indwelling that is supported by and held together through love and which is enhanced by the third member of the Trinity – the Holy Spirit, the third person of the Trinity whom Jesus will send to the disciples (the third theme). 

In the midst of their confusion and grief, Jesus assures the disciples of his ongoing presence with them – the Holy Spirit, the Advocate, the Spirit of truth who, with the Father and the Son will abide in those who love him. 

This concept of mutual indwelling is a very different picture of the Spirit from that presented by Luke in the Book of Acts in which the Spirit rushes upon the disciples from without. The writer of John’s gospel understands the Holy Spirit not so much as an external force that enlivens and empowers, but rather as a deep awareness of the presence of God within and a willingness to allow all one’s own desires and needs to be caught up within the Trinity[1] – God the Trinity in us and we in God. Jesus is one with God and God’s presence is made visible through Jesus, so we, through love, can be absorbed into the divine, and allow the divine in us to shine through us.

As Jesus continues speaking, we learn that the Jesus of John’s gospel is confident that those to whom he is speaking will  be able to let go of their egos and, being free of their egos will be open to the prompting of the Spirit who will remind them of all that Jesus has taught them and who will guide them into all truth (16:12). 

That Jesus’ confidence was misplaced has been demonstrated over and over again throughout the centuries. As the gospel spread and communities of believers formed, so different agendas, priorities and egos began to dominate what became the church. Instead of being one as Jesus prayed (17:22), believers have become fractured and divided into a multitude of communities at least some of whom claim exclusive possession of the truth.  Throughout the centuries the church has become side-tracked; worrying more about right and wrong, who is in and who is out, what is correct worship and what is not. The practice of self-denial has become a practice of going without physical things rather than a practice of denying the self so that the Spirit can direct and control our individual and collective lives. The idealism of John’s Jesus has been buried under human self-interest, a human need to have clear boundaries; rules and regulations rather than to trust in the Holy Spirit to guide us into all truth.

Jesus’ continued presence through the Holy Spirit does ensure that we are not left orphaned, but his hope that we would be one as he and the Father are one, his desire that we should experience the mutual indwelling with himself, the Father and the Spirit remains an unrealised dream.

[1] Of course, “Trinity” is not John’s language, but our attempt to explain the indwelling of Father, Son and Spirit.

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Being one with God

May 31, 2025

Easter 7 – 2025

John 17:20-26

Marian Free

In the name of God in whom we live and breathe and have our being. Amen.

I love learning new words, so you can imagine how excited I was when, doing some reading to try to make sense of today’s gospel, I came across not one, but three new words! Sadly, unlike vituperative or egregious or vertiginous I’m unlikely to use these words in any other context. 

You will remember that three weeks ago I explained that John’s gospel is circular, layered, and repetitive. I failed to mention that the author of the fourth gospel is also very sparing with his vocabulary. John only needs 1011 words to tell the story of Jesus’ life. These words are repeated over and again (making it one of the easiest gospels to read in the original Greek). John’s limited vocabulary is deceiving. Many of the words have double meanings and where John uses different Greek words (for love and sheep in chapter 21) there is no intended difference in meaning. (Jesus wants to know that Peter loves him and will feed his sheep.)

The repetition of key words and themes makes the message of John relatively easy to understand. Jesus is light and life and his desire is to draw people to the light and give them life. That Jesus is one with God is made clear from the beginning and is emphasised in statements like “The Father and are one,” and “If you have seen me, you have seen the Father.” This relationship is also referred to as “abiding in” – a phrase that is repeated 40 times and is used not only for the Father and the Son,  but is extended to the disciples.

My new words for whom I thank Chelsea Harmon and Bruce Malina are “antilanguage”, “relexicalization” and “overlexicalization.”[1] Whether they were created to describe the phenomena found in John or whether they preexisted the literary study of same I did not try to find out, but they do help us to understand John’s use of language.

“Antilanguage” is an expression to describe the “in-language” of a particular group. This is language that is employed to make it clear that the group in question is distinct from the culture in which it finds itself. It serves the purpose of creating a sense of cohesion within the group and of keeping outsiders (among whom we belong out.

“Relexicalization” and “overlexicalization” are techniques used in antilanguage, understanding provides a key to understanding the code. 

“Relexicalization” (as the word implies) refers to using familiar words in a new way – giving them a meaning that is unique to the group. Perhaps the most obvious word in this category is the word “or glory. John uses  “δοξα” to mean the glory that is associated with God, and which therefore is present in Jesus and but also, paradoxically, uses it to refer to Jesus’ crucifixion – Jesus ‘victory over the devil. The Johannine Jesus also gives new meaning (spiritualises if you will) words like water, bread, light and life.

The concept of oneness as used by John is expressed in a variety of ways. In order to categorise this we need the expression: “overlexicalisation” – that is the use of a cluster or words or phrases to express the same concept. “Being one” is also expressed by “believing in/into” Jesus, “following Jesus”, “abiding in” him, “loving him”, “keeping his word”, “receiving’ him, “having” him or “seeing him”.  

Where does this academic approach to the gospel leave us? It is a reminder that not only are we separated by centuries from the origins of the gospel and of the community that it represents, but we are reassured that those aspects of the gospel that puzzle us, were intended to puzzle us. Those for whom the gospel was written, believed that they had special and unique insight into the teachings of Jesus and that those who didn’t share those insights – Jew or Christian – were destined to remain outsiders. If some things about the gospel are opaque to us, the gospel has succeeded. To that community we are the outsiders, those without the insights unique to the community. 

That said, these concepts of “antilanguage”, “relexicalisatiton” and “overlexicalisation” provide us with tools for understanding, give us a window into the gospel and help us to break down the barriers that were created to protect its and its community’s sense of uniqueness. 

Today’s gospel expresses Jesus’ hope that the disciples may have the same relationship with God that he has. This relationship revealed in glory and demonstrated in love and unity will convince the world that the believers are in God, and God is in them. John’s concept of a privileged and exclusive relationship is not one that we would want to adapt but this gospel informs us that Jesus reveals the union with God which is the purpose and privilege of all human existence. The oneness, the glory and the love that Jesus shares with the Father is freely given to each of us. 

The goal of faith as taught by the writer of John’s gospel is that we are to allow ourselves to be so subsumed by the presence of God within us and caught up in the unity of the Godhead that people who see us see God. If we are truly united to God the glory of God will shine through us and the love God has for us will be the love we have for one another.

In the words of Athanasius: God became human so that humans might become God. 

What do we have to relinquish in order that God’s glory and love might be known through us?

[1] https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/seventh-sunday-of-easter-3/commentary-on-john-1720-26-6

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Do you want to be made well?

May 24, 2025

Easter 6 – 2025

John 5:1-9

Marian Free

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

“Do you want to be made well?” The invalid in today’s gospel has been unwell for 38 years – an enormous amount of time in any century, but an extraordinary length of time in a period when the average life span was around 30 years! There is no indication how long the man actually enjoyed good health or what his problem was. Perhaps he was born with an unnamed frailty. Regardless, for 38 years the invalid has been dependent on others for his existence – for food, for clothing, for shelter, and as he says, for help to get him into the healing waters of the pool.

“Do you want to be made well?” In all the gospels no one else is asked such a rude and intrusive question. Often Jesus is asked for healing, or he simply assumes that someone wants to receive healing and there is no interaction at all. Jesus isn’t always directly involved. The woman with a haemorrhage merely reaches out and touches Jesus’ cloak and healing flows from him to her. Jesus never asks whether a person deserves healing or not nor does he demand that the person seeking healing has faith.  On the one occasion on which he might have withheld healing, he allows the Canaanite woman to convince him that her daughter is as worthy of healing as any other. 

“Do you want to be made well?” Of all the people waiting for the water to move, Jesus approaches this one man. He doesn’t ask about the man’s condition, doesn’t say who he is, doesn’t engage in small talk – just asks one direct question. “Do you want to be made well?” The answer would appear to be self-evident – of course someone whose life had been limited and marred by frailty would want to be made well.

“Do you want to be made well?” Instead of giving a resounding “yes”, the man becomes defensive. “Sir, I have no one to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up; and while I am making my way, someone else steps down ahead of me.” In other words, he is implying that his continued incapacity is everyone else’s fault but his own. Jesus is offering healing but what the invalid really wants is pity!

Jesus has touched a sore spot, forcing the man to ask himself what he really wants.  No doubt man thought that he had no choice, or maybe – at least subconsciously – he had understood that there were some advantages to being unwell. Thirty-eight years is a very long time, long enough for someone to get used to the situation, long enough to be resigned to this way of life, long enough to be unsure that an alternative way of life could be better. The man’s life may seem limited and impoverished from our point of view but that he was still alive after 38 years suggests that he was receiving sufficient support to live whether from his family or from strangers.

 If he were to be made well he would have to take responsibility for himself – find work and somewhere to live, he would be expected to marry, to have and support children of his own. He may have had no skills to earn a living or to reintegrate himself back into a society from which he has been absent for so long. He may have become used to the sympathy and attention that his condition afforded him and, in a world in which most people lived on or below the poverty line, begging may have been as good a way of earning a living as any other. In much the same way that a prisoner who has become used to prison – its routines, and the protection it offers – commits a crime in order to return, so our invalid appears to have become so used to his life that he can see no better way of living.

“Do you want to be made well?” “Are you living your best life?” “Are you making the best of your present circumstances?” “Are you using your God-given gifts to the best of your abilities?’

These are questions Jesus might be posing to any of us who have allowed ourselves to become so comfortable in our present situations that we see no need to change, to any of us who have turned down opportunities because we could not predict the consequences, or because we were worried about what we might have to leave behind, or to any of us who have drawn boundaries around ourselves that limit our growth and our experiences.

“Do you want to be made well?” Jesus wants us to live our best lives, to be and to do all that is possible with the gifts we have been given and the opportunities with which we have been provided.  He does not want us to be bound by people and things that do not need to be limitations.

“Do you want to be made well?” Jesus takes no notice of the invalid’s excuses. He can see the possibilities that await a man restored to health, to strength, to his family and his society. He can see, that despite the potential difficulties, the man’s life will be fuller, richer and happier if he stops making excuses, if he steps out in faith, if he believes that God does and will be with him. So, without waiting for an affirmative answer, he orders the man to: “Stand up, take your mat and walk.” Without hesitation, the man does just that.

“Do you want to be made well?” Do you trust that God knows your potential and has your well-being at heart?                                                       Stand up, take your mat and walk.

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Divisive Shepherd

May 13, 2025

Easter 4 – 2025

John 10:22-30

Marian Free

In the name of God, mysterious, unknowable, unreachable and yet revealed in Jesus. Amen.

Our post Easter season is typically divided into two parts, post resurrection accounts of meetings with Jesus and the promise of the spirit. In the middle, on the fourth Sunday of Easter we mark Good Shepherd Sunday. Over the course of three years, we cover most of John chapter 10 in which Jesus spells out what it means to be shepherd and sheep. The imagery is deceptively simple and heart-warming. I suspect that most of us have been brought up with lovely stories of 1st century Middle Eastern shepherds often accompanied by illustrations of Jesus carrying a white fluffy lamb over his shoulder. 

I say deceptively simple because this chapter, like the rest of John’s gospel, is complex and multi-layered. It is filled with themes and illusions that permeate the gospel and has hidden depths which are easy to overlook if we focus on the superficial imagery of the shepherd. 

John’s gospel stands alone in style and content.  It seems to stir within us something deep and mysterious. It is filled with images that are not always fully spelled out, it demands a knowledge of Judaism that can no longer be taken for granted, it is repetitive and circular as if wanting to be sure that the reader really understands, and yet at the same time it speaks in riddles as if to cloud the meaning from all but a few.

Chapter 10 and the verses we have read this morning serve as a case in point. The content is repetitive, and indirect and it repeats and reinforces themes already referenced in the gospel. The author also assumes a knowledge of Jewish festivals and an insight into his purpose in referencing them.  

The repetitive and circular nature of the gospel is evident in the ways in which the central theme of shepherd is drawn out. The shepherd is compared variously to a thief, a stranger of a hired hand, those who came before him, and even a gate. Jesus is the Good Shepherd, who lays down his life for the sheep and who will ensure that they have abundant life. Other themes such as life, doing the works of the Father and being one with the Father are peppered throughout the gospel and the theme of Jesus’ voice recurs in Magdalene’s recognition of Jesus’ in the garden.

“At that time the festival of the Dedication took place in Jerusalem”.  What appears to us to be a reference to a time and place has a much deeper significance for the author of this gospel. From this and other references to the Temple and Jewish festivals, we can discern that indirectly John is making the claim that in the person of Jesus all the Jewish Festivals have Jewish festivals have come to their full end – their purposes have been fulfilled. Jesus has made them redundant. 

As the Bread from heaven Jesus replaces the manna in the wilderness, as the light of the world and the living water, Jesus takes the place of the symbols of the Feast of Tabernacles. [That Jesus is crucified on the eve of Passover, suggests that he has replaced the Passover Lamb. Even the Sabbath is replaced as Jesus’ heals on the Sabbath and thus redefines its meaning and purpose.] The Festival of Dedication celebrated the rededication of the Temple. John’s reference here is less a reference to the season and more an indication that Jesus has replaced the Temple. In all these not-so-subtle ways, John is making it clear that worship of the one God can continue without Temple and the Temple rituals – that faith in and worship of Jesus has taken their place.

John’s Jesus can be obtuse and frustrating. His answers to direct questions are often riddles, designed to make one think if not to confuse. Think of his response to Nicodemus – “you must be born from above” and today, when his questioners ask him to tell them plainly, he irritatingly replies: “I have told you and you do not believe, because you do not belong to my sheep.” Hardly a helpful response from people who seem to genuinely want to know who he is. It is as if he wants to push them away not draw them in.

The question of Jesus’ identity is another key theme in John’s gospel. While on the one hand John’s Jesus refuses to be specific about his identity, on the other, the author  makes it very clear to the readers who he is. “The Father and I are one,” Jesus says. Over and over again, the fourth gospel makes this same claim. “If you have seen me you have seen the Father.” “I and the Father are one.” [With one exception in Matthew, nowhere else are the Father and Son presented as a unity.]

The Shepherding imagery is an extension of Jesus’ identification with God. The imagery of God as shepherd has its roots n the Old Testament – especially in the Psalms and Ezekiel 34.

Another theme, introduced here and developed in the imagery of the vine is that of belonging. Those who know Jesus’ voice will follow him. (10:4), those who belong to the fold will listen to Jesus’ voice (10:16) and “his sheep know his voice” (10:27). John’s gospel can be read as divisive and exclusive. The dualism expressed therein – light/dark, life/perishing, flesh/spirit, above/below those who know/do not know my voice – can be read in the sense that despite the claim that God loves the world, God seems to want to separate those who are in from those who are out, worse, that we can establish boundaries to determine whom to include and whom to exclude. The opposite in fact is true. While John’s gospel does make a clear distinction between those who follow Jesus and those who do not, it also makes it clear that those who do not belong are those who choose not to belong those who self-select to be outside the fold, those whose reaction to Jesus reveals something of their true nature, those who cannot bear to be exposed to the light (3:21).

All of this is a stark reminder that we should not be content with the comforting, the heart-warming, superficial shepherding Jesus, nor should we be complacent about John’s divisive, exclusionary language. John’s gospel reveals that there is time and space before Jesus and a time and space after Jesus. There is a plain-speaking Jesus who is comforting and inclusive and an indirect Jesus who will not give us easy answers to those too lazy to see what is in front of them. There is the divisive Jesus in whose presence we see who we are and are forced to make the decision as to whether or not we belong and whether or not we want to belong. 

Our reaction to Jesus determines whether or not we belong.

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Do you love me?

May 3, 2025

Easter 3 – 2025

John 21:1-19

Marian Free

 

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

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“Do you love me?” “Yes, Lord I do.”

 

 

 

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

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Remember- Jesus’ resurrection body

April 26, 2025

Easter 2 – 2025

John 20:19-31

Marian Free

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Wild, extravagant love – Mary anoints Jesus

April 7, 2025

Lent 5 – 2025

John 12:1-8

Marian Free

In the name of God who draws us into relationship and who does not pull back when we demonstrate affection wildly, extravagantly and passionately. Amen.

In the 1960’s Harry Harlow carried out a number of experiments in to determine if the mother-child relationship was solely a consequence of the role a mother played in providing food and protection or whether affection and touch played a role.  Of these the most well-known (if unethical) experiment involved removing young monkeys from their mothers just a few hours after birth. The young monkeys were placed in cages with two “mothers” one of which was made of wire and dispensed milk through a baby bottle. The other was made of soft cloth but provided no food. What Harlow discovered was that the monkeys spent a majority of their time clinging to the relative comfort of the cloth mother and went to the wire “mother’ only for food.  In other words, the babies drew more comfort from physical contact than nourishment.  

Thank goodness experiments such as this could not be carried out today but this, and other research demonstrates how important touch is to human development and well-being.  

We don’t need experiments with monkeys to prove this. In recent decades we have come face-to-face with the long-term trauma experienced by those who were removed from their families and placed into orphanages, group homes or foster care in which many experienced abuse and neglect. Many victims of such actions will tell of their continuing inability to feel secure, to form relationships and to trust anyone. 

We live in a society in which touch is carefully regulated – by law, but also by social norms. Touch can be used to demonstrate care, support and intimacy, but it can also be used to abuse, to control and to isolate. Touch is important but it can be misused and misunderstood. The appropriate use of touch differs from country to country and changes over time.  It is only recently (in my lifetime) that it has become widely acceptable for women to shake hands. And it is important to note that while many people welcome a comforting hand on the arm, but there are some who will recoil from physical contact.

While it has proven necessary to legally regulate the use of touch, this in itself has problems. Children and the elderly can often be starved of physical signs of affection. Children who experience neglect at home, can no longer hope for a quick hug from a teacher or sports coach. Older persons in aged care facilities likewise miss out on daily, or even occasional hugs.

Social norms around touch is one of the things that makes today’s reading so extraordinary. In the culture of Jesus’ time and place, the behaviour of women and men was tightly regulated. Women were the property of their father and then their husband. In public a woman would have been forbidden from speaking to a male who was not a member of her family. A woman who physically touched a man to whom she was not related would not only have been seriously castigated, but her behaviour would have sent shock waves through her community. In any other circumstance she would have been labelled as a harlot, as a woman with no morals and no self-respect.

Yet here, as if it were something completely ordinary, we have a scene in which Mary does a number of things which are socially inappropriate – she lets down her hair, she places herself at Jesus’ feet, and using extravagantly costly ointment, proceeds to wipe Jesus’ feet with her hair. It is a wonder that it is only Judas who expresses horror at the events unfolding before him.  In a room which is presumably filled with men, in which Mary’s role would have been to join Martha in serving the meal, Mary breaks not one but several social conventions and Jesus instead of condemning her, commends her!

This scene tells us a great deal about Mary’s relationship with Jesus. She obviously felt a very deep affection for him, but it is perhaps more significant to note that she had complete trust in him. She did not feel that she had to stint in her outpouring of love or to keep a distance (physical or emotional) between them. She had no fear that Jesus would reject her expression of the depth of her care and affection. She was confident not only that he would not recoil from her or from her outpouring of love, but that he would protect her from the censure and negativity that her actions would almost certainly engender.

It is too easy to focus on the extravagance of Mary’s gesture (and the meanness of Judas’ response) and to avoid focussing on an action that might make us feel deeply uncomfortable. But Mary’s action is clearly a description of intimacy, service and abundant and extravagant love, the love of a woman for one whom her sister only days before had identified as the Christ. It is an account of intimacy between a believer and God.

By weeks end, Jesus will have been touched by strange and cruel hands. He will have been arrested, roughly handled, whipped and crucified. During these moments of humiliation and torment, will he have remembered the gentle hands of Mary, the caress of her hair and the smoothness of the ointment? Will her wild and extravagant outpouring of love be one of the things that sustains him?

Mary’s actions throw into sharp relief our own elationship with God. How many of us respond to God’s love for us with such wild, extravagant abandon? How many of us truly believe that all God seeks from us is not – as we would believe – mindless obedience, but a selfless, humbling outpouring of our love for God, a love that reveals our understanding of how much God loves us, a love that is utterly confident that God will accept our expression of love, no matter how wild, extravagant and unconventional it may be? God’s love for us is boundless, and unconditional, yet many of us find it hard to trust that God loves us that much, and equally as hard to love God in kind. Many of us portion out our love, tentatively offering God some but not all of us, anxious perhaps that God may not welcome our gift. 

Mary has no such hesitation but throws herself (literally) at God’s (Jesus’) feet, lavishly and liberally covering them with an ointment worth a year’s wages and wiping up the excess with her own hair.

What proof do we need of God’s love for us? What will it take for us to love God in return?

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Water into wine – what does it really tell us?

January 20, 2025

Epiphany 2 – 2025

John 2:1-11

Marian Free

In the name of God, who is not limited or constrained by human doctrine and regulation. Amen.

As I have said many times, the gospels have lost their capacity to shock and to unsettle. Over the past two thousand years we have interpreted and reinterpreted the gospels such that most of us have completely lost touch with the original context. We have developed generalisations to help us to make sense of God’s action in Jesus, simplified his message to statements such as “Jesus is our Saviour” and then have understood the broader story in relation to this.  (Jesus as Saviour may conveniently allow us to overlook Jesus as judge which is another lens through which to interpret the gospel). Instead of seeing the gospels as pointing to a deeper meaning we have turned them into stories about God or Jesus (God is generous, loving, forgiving) or we have made them into moral guidelines insisting that Christianity’s primary purpose is to make us into “good” people (even people who conform to the norms of the society in which they find themselves).  

Seeing Jesus as moral exemplar or benign holy man has blinded us to the absolutely radical, rule-breaking, and shocking teaching and behaviour of Jesus, the Jesus who upset the religious authorities, disregarded the Jewish law and disrupted the norms of the society in which he found himself, the Jesus who caused offense to all respectable, law-abiding people of faith. 

Take for example today’s gospel. We know the story so well. Jesus is at a wedding; the wine runs out and his mother alerts him to the fact. Having initially ignored his mother’s concern Jesus then asks the servants to draw from the jars in which the water for purification was stored. Amazingly, not only has the water become wine, but it was wine of the finest quality and there were litres of it! How extraordinary! What an example of God’s boundless generosity and of Jesus’ concern for those around him!  Who is this Jesus that he can perform such a miracle?  

All of these are valid interpretations of the story, but they fail to take into account the underlying message of the gospel writer – that Jesus has come to disrupt and overturn and even replace the rituals and practices of the faith into which he was born. 

There are a number of unanswered questions in the account of the wedding.  We are not told whose wedding it is or why Jesus, his mother and his disciples have been invited[1]. Nor is there any explanation as to why, when the guests are already drunk (2:10) they need 600 litres of the highest quality wine. It is not clear why Mary thinks it is her business to worry about the wine or lack thereof or why, when this is Mary’s first appearance in the story, that she is in a position to think that Jesus can do something to rectify the situation.  What authority does Mary have that she can tell someone else’s servants what to do? And why does Jesus tell his mother that the wine is not their business and that his time has not yet come AND then solve the problem anyway[2].

All these are imponderables, because they do not contribute to the point that John is making in telling the story and that is that Jesus is the fulfillment and therefore replacement of Jewish practices and rituals[3]. Throughout the gospel we will see this theme repeated. In John’s account of the feeding of the five thousand, Jesus declares himself to be the Bread of Life, implying that in him the Passover is fulfilled. The Baptist has already identified Jesus as the Lamb of God (the Passover Lamb). Water and light are key parts of the Festival of Booths – Jesus claims to be “living water” and “light of the world” thus making that Festival redundant. Shortly after the wedding at Cana Jesus declares himself to be the Temple suggesting that the Temple and its practices are no longer necessary (2:21). Through these and other images, the author of John is telling us that the old feasts and rituals have been superseded by God’s action in Jesus.

So back to the wedding. What is interesting and scandalous is not so much the wine and the quantity of it, but what Jesus is saying and doing in his choice of the jars intended to hold the water for purification. If the wine has run out, then why not use the empty wine jars or failing that the jars in which water was stored for drinking and cooking? That would have been the obvious solution. By using the jars of purification, Jesus is insinuating that their usefulness has come to an end, that he is ushering in a new era, an era in which the old codes of purity no longer apply.

To get to the heart of this story then, we have to pay attention to the scandalous nature of Jesus’ act. His utter disregard for the religious symbolism of the jars, reveals their irrelevance.  That the new wine is superior to the old implies that so too is the new revelation of God through Jesus.  

Here at the very beginning John sets out his agenda – that in his person and teaching Jesus replaces the Temple, its leadership and practices. We have to understand that faith in Jesus does not require adherence to the old ways of relating to God and that through Jesus all people of faith see and know God. There is no longer any need for intermediaries – priests, rituals and observances – through Jesus each person of faith can be in direct relationship with God.

[1] Some scholars have speculated that it is Jesus’ own wedding.

[2] This is typical of Jesus in John’s gospel – to say he won’t’ do something and then to do it. The theme of the hour is an important theme for another time.

[3] For more on this https://www.scholarscorner.com/review-jewish-feasts-johns-gospel/

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