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What sort of king?

November 26, 2024

Christ the King – 2024

John 18:33-37

Marian Free

In the name of God who continues to surprise, confound and amaze us.  Amen.

Many years ago, I read an article in an occupational therapy journal about children in foster care. It reported that no matter how much abuse or neglect a child had suffered at the hands of a natural parent they still wanted to go home. It seemed that the idea of family, mother, father created a deep longing to belong, even if the child’s reality did not live up to expectation. Apparently, an abusive mother was better than no mother, a disparaging, derisive father was better than no father. 

Terms like mother, father, mum, dad, family come laden with meaning – often idealistic and vastly different from many people’s reality. Few parents are perfect and even if they were, their styles of parenting would differ according to their own experience, their personalities and the relationship that they have with each other – no one family is the same. Even though the definition of “family” has vastly changed over the last 50 years, still many of us have an idea of what a mother/father/family should be like[1].  

The same is true of the expression “God”. In the eighties and nineties many feminists and others chose to use the term “Godde” to make it clear that the divinity in whom they believed was not a bearded, white-haired man sitting on a throne, condemning people to the fire of hell and that “Godde’ was much bigger and broader than the narrow image that was circulating. Many of us still confront the problem that the God which many of our friends have rejected is unrecognisable to us – a human invention not a revelation of scripture ad certainly not related to our experience.

Over and again, scripture confronts a narrow, unimaginative concept of God, an image of God that is easier to manage, understand and, dare I say, control. In a phrase that I often repeat, Isaiah says: “God’s thoughts are not our thoughts and God’s ways are not our ways.” (Is 55:8).  Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians makes the same point when he  argues that the cross exposes our false understanding and overturns all our preconceptions. “God’s foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God’s weakness is stronger than human strength.” (1 Cor 1: 28).

Though there might be some assumptions that we can make about God, God consistently overturns and challenges our simple-minded ideas.  Nowhere is this more obvious than with the person Jesus. On every level, Jesus failed to meet expectations and at every turn Jesus refused to be bound by the limits of the human mind. Jesus came to serve not to be served, he argued that the first would be last, and announced – not that he would lead the Israelites to victory – but that he would suffer and die.

That Jesus confounds every attempt to label him and to box him in, is particularly clear in Jesus’ interaction with Pilate. Despite the fact that Pilate is in a position to put Jesus to death, Jesus refuses to give Pilate a clear answer to Pilate’s question as to who he is. In response to Pilate’s questioning Jesus is evasive, elusive and enigmatic. 

Until the moment of Jesus’ trial, Jesus was probably unknown to Pilate and now he is brought before him by the Jews (whose traditions and laws Pilate does not understand, and over whom he has no jurisdiction). Pilate makes an attempt to discover who and what Jesus is, yet Jesus speaks in riddles and throws Pilates’ questions back to him. “What makes you think I’m a king?”

Jesus does not deny that he is a king, but he is clear that like “God” and “family” the title “king” is impregnated with meaning and expectation and that if he admits to being “king” Pilate (and the crowd) will impose their own understanding on the word – Pilate will see Jesus as a threat to Caesar and the crowd will expect him to seek power.

By prevaricating, by being evasive, by not directly answering Pilate’s question, Jesus is trying to redefine “kingship”. Yes, he is a king, but not the sort of king that people are used to – not a king who enriches himself at the expense of others, not a king who expects everyone to be subservient to him, not a king that seeks to dominate and oppress all the nations of the world. Jesus is king of an unworldly kingdom, a king whose primary purpose is to testify to the truth – the content of which is contained in John’s gospel, the purpose of which is that those who hear Jesus’ voice will attain eternal life.

In just five verses the author of the gospel has de-stabliised and undermined the traditional understanding of what it means to be king. Jesus is king, but he is king on his own terms, he will not be defined and confined by the expectations of others – whether they be his fellow Jews or the representatives of Rome.

The passage is left hanging with Pilate’s question: “What is truth?” 

There is an interesting twist to John’s account of Jesus’ trial and crucifixion. Traditionally a name is attached to the cross to identify the one being crucified. Pilate orders that the sign on Jesus’ cross read (in Hebrew, Latin and Greek): “Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews.” Despite the objections of the Jews, Pilate leaves the wording as it is. Has Pilate come to see the truth? Has he grasped that Jesus is a king (albeit a very different one) or is this is Pilate’s way of justifying an execution which at heart he believes is not justified.

Either way, Jesus’ crucifixion is the ultimate act de-stablises, unsettles and even undermines all our expectations of what it means to be King of the Jews, the one sent by God, the anointed.  

Jesus’ dialogue with Pilate, is a reminder that the narrative is not within our control, that God the Trinity will always act in ways that we do not expect and will always defy our attempts to categorise and define.  In the face of Pilate’s efforts to label him Jesus infuses the expression with new meaning.  He is a king, but he is a king like no other (before or since).

May all our longings for the kingdom be tempered by the knowledge that the kingdom is not of our making and that our human intellects are inadequate to the task of truly comprehending who and what God is, what it is that God plans, and what the kingdom will finally be revealed to be.

[1] Of course, the nature of families has completely changed and with that comes a change in expectations.

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Does this offend you? Eating flesh and drinking blood

August 24, 2024

Pentecost 14 – 2024

John 6:56-69

Marian Free

In the name of God who shakes us out of our complacency so that we might always see the world afresh. Amen.

“Does this offend you?”  Jesus ask the disciples in today’s gospel.  

Unfortunately, the church/Christian faith in our time causes offense for all the wrong reasons. In the minds of many, religion is associated with warfare, often with good reason. The Crusades were a cynical attempt not so much to restore Jerusalem to the Christians, but to secure the trade route to Asia; and throughout the ages professed Christians have used their faith to defend aggression against others. An apparently closed mind towards science and innovation has meant that in some places and in. some minds the church has been left behind or has slipped into irrelevance. In recent decades the prevalence of child sex abuse and domestic violence within the church have caused many to react with revulsion and disgust towards the church – which, at best ignored perpetrators, and at worst protected them. Holier-than-thou attitudes towards and the exclusion of those who didn’t fit the narrow definition of “good” Christians – divorcees, single parents and members of the LGBTQI+ communities have led to great hurt and confusion among those who would be part of the church if only they were accepted. 

As a consequence of such behaviour and attitudes, many would-be believers have voted with their feet, have abandoned their faith and left the church.

As we come to the end of Jesus’ discourse on bread, we come face-to-face with the confronting imagery of eating Jesus’ flesh and drinking his blood. According to the Gospel this teaching is so difficult that “many of Jesus’ disciples turned back and no longer went about with him.” In the early church this teaching, expressed in the language of the Eucharist, continued to cause offense to the extent that early believers were accused of cannibalism. A second century document The Octavius of Minicius Felix[1] describes a debate between a Christian and a pagan. In it, “Caecilius The Pagan states: You Christians are the worst breed ever to affect the world. You deserve every punishment you can get! Nobody likes you. It would be better if you and your Jesus had never been born. We hear that you are all cannibals–you eat the flesh of your children in your sacred meetings.”

It is good that the church is no longer accused of cannibalism, superstition or any of the other false charges levelled against it in the first couple of centuries. What is sad is that in general the church has lost its capacity to shock and to offend, the ability to encourage people to think, to reevaluate their values and their ideas and to radically challenge injustice and oppression. In the minds of many (at least in the West) the church seems to have sunk into irrelevance.  It would appear that there is nothing about the church, its teachings or about our lives together that makes it stand out as different from almost any other not-for-profit organisation or that suggests that it has anything to offer a world that is suffering both from consumerism and from the current cost of living crisis. In many ways the church has become so bland that there is little that it says or does to draw the interest of the press or the attention of the public. Over the centuries Jesus’ radical teaching and behaviour has gradually been softened or has been modified so as not to draw attention. 

“Does this offend you?” Underlying Jesus’ shocking claim that; “unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood” is the promise that faith in and an intimate relationship with him is the gateway to life – both in the present and for eternity. In contrast to the church and the state of his day, Jesus presented to a world that was hungry and thirsty, a gospel that was satisfying, life-giving and life-affirming. He was crucified in part because he dared to cause offense, because he refused to conform to the life-denying norms of his time or to the stultifying, out-dated, and restrictive teachings of the church in his time and place. Jesus drew people to him because he dared to critique the laws of church and state that oppressed, divided and excluded and that imposed unnecessary limitations and. which prevented people from being fully alive.

In the centuries that have followed Jesus’ death, the church at times has been guilty of colonising and appropriating Jesus’ teaching. Instead of celebrating Jesus’ radical inclusiveness of those on the margins and those already condemned by society, the church has from time to time weaponised Jesus’ teaching to exclude those who do not conform to a narrow definition of who is acceptable and who is not. Instead of rejoicing in Jesus’ loosening the strings of a restrictive and deadening law, the church has at times imposed limitations and created laws of its own making. Jesus’ relaxation of the Sabbath rest has (certainly in recent times) given reign to a culture in which rest can be seen as a weakness rather than a source of strength. Jesus’ liberation of the law surrounding divorce was used to keep abused women and unhappy men and women in marriages that were already dead. And so it goes.

“Does this offend you?” There is so much to takeout of today’s gospel, but let this be the year when we focus on the offence that Jesus caused and ask ourselves why we are no longer offensive. Are we content to blend in with the society in which we find ourselves or are we courageous enough to challenge those structures and institutions that are failing the poor, the refugee, the first nations people of this land and to preach a gospel of life abundant for ALL. Do we also “want to go away” or have we truly grasped the radical, uncompromising, life-giving potential of being Jesus’ disciples? 

[1] https://www.christianity.com/church/church-history/why-early-christians-were-despised-11629610.html#google_vignette

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Living Bread – are our expectations of God based on what we think God can do for us?

August 10, 2024

Pentecost 12 – 2024

John 6:35, 41-51

Marian Free

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

I don’t know about you but every now and then I find that I am a little disappointed in God, or at least in the simplistic idea of a ‘fix-it’ God that has somehow remains in my brain – despite all attempts to remove that image.

 I am guilty, for example, of wondering why, if we had to have COVID, God didn’t allow some truly awful people to die from it? And there are times, I confess, when I ask myself how God can continue to remain aloof when for example, a powerful nation invades and overrules another weaker nation? Why doesn’t God jump in, boots and all, and end the conflicts and all the suffering in the world? Surely that would be a piece of cake for the ruler of the universe. A dictator could die of COVID, the tanks of an aggressor could become mired in mud, poverty and oppression could be alleviated. Any number of solutions come into my mind – especially when I am feeling powerless to make a difference in the world.

Of course, I can answer my own questions. I do know that God cannot be manipulated by me or be answerable to my concerns alone. I am also aware that I do not see the whole picture and that I cannot envision all the consequences of actions that I think will fix the problems of the world. In my heart if not in my head, I understand that if God did intervene in the course of history, by manipulating the death of a dictator or disabling the weapons of a perceived aggressor, the consequences might be far worse than the present reality. I am also aware that, sadly, many of the world’s ills are of our own making (a result of human greed and selfishness, and desire for power and wealth). I know too that issues like war, and poverty are not always black and white but are usually a complex shade of grey and that a mere mortal like myself doesn’t always have all the facts at my fingertips.

If I am disappointed in God then, it means that my expectations of God have, at least temporarily, been allowed to get out of hand, or that I have imprinted my image of God on to a God who is ultimately beyond comprehension and certainly beyond description.

Perhaps you too have expectations about God that God does not live up to. What is your image of God? How do you expect God to respond to what is going on in the world or in your own lives? Do you imagine that if only you pray hard enough or long enough that God will do what you want (maybe at the expense of what someone else wants)?

One of the issues today’s gospel addresses is that of expectations – the expectations of the people and the reality that is Jesus.

You might remember that last week we learned that the people followed Jesus across the lake because he had satisfied their physical hunger. They were not really interested in Jesus, or in who Jesus represented, but only in what he could do. So, when Jesus makes the outrageous claim that he is the bread that came down from heaven they are uncomprehending. Jesus simply doesn’t fit their expectations of a heavenly figure. Apart from anything else, they know his earthly reality. They know that he didn’t come down from heaven – his parents are known to them. He is no different from them – just the son of Joseph. Sure, he could feed a crowd with a small amount of food, but the living bread that came down from heaven? Impossible.

The crowds are not interested in who Jesus is, but in what he can do for them here and now. They want him to alleviate their hunger in the present. Jesus wants to satisfy a hunger for things that last. The crowds are focused solely on their earthly needs. Jesus wants to meet their spiritual needs. The crowds want to fit Jesus into some sort of stereotype with which they are familiar – Moses for example, who fed them in the wilderness. Jesus wants them to know who he really is, where he comes from and who he represents. 

Jesus and the people are at cross purposes, they want different things. The crowd want what can be seen and felt and, in this case, eaten.  Jesus wants to give them something intangible and permanent, something that will satisfy their deepest longings for eternity not just their superficial, present needs. Jesus can give them, something that will sustain them forever, in every circumstance, not something that will last for a moment and need to be replenished on a daily basis. 

The crowd want Jesus to give them what they want – in this case food. Jesus wants to give them what they need, spiritual sustenance that will enable them to face any difficulty, to endure any trials, to be at peace with themselves and with the world. The crowd wants something that they can see and feel and touch. Jesus offers living bread.  He wants them to rely totally on him, not just for their immediate physical needs but for their spiritual and eternal needs. 

Which brings me back to my starting point – expectations. How realistic our expectations of God? Do we expect a short-term miracle worker, a ‘fix-it’ God, or a God who can see into the distant future?  Do we expect God to work with us in a superficial way or do we understand that God can meet our deepest needs in the present and forever?  Have. our longings been satisfied by Jesus the living bread or are we still restless, searching out what we do not yet have?

Our expectations will of course determine the outcome. If we expect God to wave magic wand to solve all the problems of the world, we have failed to understand that our self-absorption and our desire to have God do what we want makes us part of the problem. If on the other hand, we have grasped that in Jesus God has come as close as God can to changing the world for the better then our expectations of what God can do will be tempered by an understanding of what we have failed to do. We have failed to trust God, to depend on God to satisfy all our needs, to accept from God the living bread which in turn will free us from the self-interest which makes demands of God, and will fill us with a deep sense of contentment, which will make us at peace with the world and in turn will ultimately make peace in the world.

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Bread from heaven – satisfying our deepest needs

August 4, 2024

Pentecost 11 – 2024

John 6:24-35

Marian Free

In the name of God, who gives us more than we could ever need. Amen.

Last week I concluded that if nothing else, the account of Jesus’ feeding of the five thousand was a reminder that Jesus cared about the whole person. He didn’t try to address issues of faith and spirituality when he knew that people were starving – he simply satisfied their hunger.  He didn’t talk to the terrified disciples about having faith before he calmed the storm, he stilled the wind and waves and then asked why they were so worried. In other words, over and over again, we see that Jesus cared for people as and where they were. He didn’t demand that they sign up as card-carrying believers before he addressed what they require, he met them where they were and responded to their needs. 

That does not mean that Jesus let the crowds (or the disciples) off the hook, or that he didn’t challenge those who followed him to think about the ways in which their lives could be transformed through his presence in and with them. Caring about the whole person meant that Jesus did address their spiritual needs as well as their spiritual needs, he did confront deeper issues of meaning as well as the superficial needs of existence.  Afterhe calmed the storm he questioned the disciples’ lack of faith (their inability to ride the storms of life), after he fed them he accused them of seeking him out not because of the signs but because they ate their fill and were satisfied. Jesus showed that he cares for the body and the soul – the whole person.

So it is that when those who have been fed sought Jesus out, he tried to move them beyond their superficial understanding of the miracle of the loaves to its deeper meaning. In other words, he attempted to help them to see what it meant that he, Jesus, has fed them. He tried to lift their gaze from their earthly needs to the spiritual benefits that are available to those who were willing to see in the miracle a God reaching out to them with gifts that are beyond price. 

Jesus discerned that the crowds who had followed him from Tiberius to Capernaum were fixated on being fed, on having their physical needs met. They were hoping that if they found Jesus, that he would continue to perform miracles – like feeding crowds and that they would be able to (at worst) exploit and (at best) to take advantage of his ability to perform miracles.  Of course, it was within Jesus’ power to be a worker of miracles, but he knew that if the people were to be truly whole they would need to find a way to fill not just the emptiness of their stomachs but the emptiness of their lives. They would need to address the deeper issues that confronted them in ways that were not dependent on external factors, but which drew on a source of strength that was greater than them. They would need to rely on the spiritual (not physical substance) with which Jesus feeds them – bread which would last not just for a day, but which would endure for eternity. In the process they will need to adjust their expectations regarding Jesus and learn who he really is – the presence of the divine in their midst. 

Jesus makes his point by using a technique that he has used since his encounter with Nicodemus. He turns a question back on the one or ones who have asked and uses the misunderstanding to open their minds to the deeper spiritual truth. In this instance the crowds who have followed Jesus begin by asking: “How did you get here”?  Jesus ignores their question, choosing instead to confront their focus on their physical needs – they have followed him, not because of who he is but because they have had their fill of bread – but they understand bread in only one way as food for the stomach. Jesus wants them to recognise another hunger – a hunger for wholeness and life.  He points out that bread, such as that with which he fed them with the previous day, satisfies only for a short time, but the bread that is his presence among them can feed for eternity.

Of course, this doesn’t make sense to the he crowds who can’t shift their focus from the physical bread to the spiritual and they can’t comprehend that they could be given something for nothing. “What must we do?”  they ask. Jesus informs them that all they have to do is to believe in him as one sent by God and they will be satisfied for eternity. It is impossible for the crowd to believe that anything could be so simple. They demand another sign, proof that Jesus comes from God, does represent God. After all, they contend, Moses gave them food from heaven!

Their misunderstanding provides another opportunity for Jesus to try to open their minds to a new way of seeing. He corrects their misunderstanding. It was not Moses, but God who sent the bread – the true bread from heaven. Moses was the prophet who interceded, not the agent who sent the bread. The logical conclusion is that if he, Jesus, has fed the crowds with bread in the wilderness, then he, Jesus, is God (provider of the true bread). Jesus takes the claim even further – he is the bread from heaven, the food that sustains body and soul. He is “the bread of God”, the bread that will last, the bread that gives life to the world”.

Finally, at least for now, Jesus claims – “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.” Believing in him, Jesus asserts will satisfy the crowds deepest longings, will take away their trivial anxieties, will calm their troubled souls and will put everything into its proper perspective.

Over and over again in John’s gospel Jesus claims to be all that we need – the light of the world, living water, the true vine, the good shepherd, the bread of life. If we place our trust in Jesus, if we believe that Jesus will light our way and sustain us, we will not be spared those things that affect the rest of humankind, but we will be given the strength and courage to face them, the assurance that we are not alone and the confidence that whatever trials this life offers, we have the certainty of an eternity in the presence of God.

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So much grass – feeding 5,000

July 29, 2024

Pentecost 10 – 2024

John 6:1-21

Marian Free

In the name of God who delights in the ordinary and who feeds us – body, mind and soul. Amen.

Sometimes I wonder if we take ourselves (and therefore our faith) too seriously. Jesus’ feeding of the 5,000 is one such example.  Much ink has been spilled in the attempt to explain just what happened. Was it a miracle in the sense that Jesus was able to turn five small loaves into enough bread to feed such an enormous crowd? OR was the miracle the small boy’s offering – which in turn exposed the selfishness of the crowd who then produced the food that they had brought with them?  If wondering about the miracle were not enough, others (like myself last week) focus on what the author’s intention was in re-telling the story. For example, as I said, Mark seems to be deliberately contrasting Jesus’ selflessness and humility with Herod’s self-centredness and pride. John, as we shall see, uses the miracle as a stepping off point for a long discourse on bread and possibly on Eucharistic theology.

Knowing the scholarship adds depth and breadth to our understanding, but it doesn’t hurt to have a more playful look at the text, to wonder at the detail and to try to put ourselves into the story. Instead of asking about meaning, we can take the story at face value and imagine it being related to a congregation of believers who might be trying to get a sense of what it was like to be in the presence of Jesus. Sometimes little details stand out and bring a smile to our face reminding us that Jesus was real, that he was human just like us, that the disciples didn’t completely understand or trust Jesus (a bit like us) that the people who followed Jesus were interested in him because of what he could do (at least a little bit like us).

So, Jesus – who if we read back – has just finished a long dispute with the Jewish authorities randomly decides to go to the other side of the Sea of Galilee. We are not told how he gets there! A large crowd continues to follow him either because they are interested in his showmanship or because they believe he has the power to heal. When Jesus gets to the other side of the Sea, he goes up the mountain and sits down with his disciples – only then does he appear to notice the crowd coming up behind. 

He doesn’t teach (as in Mark and Luke) or heal (as in Matthew and Luke) but turns to Philip and poses a “teaser[1]”: “Where are we to buy enough bread for these people to eat?” We can imagine Jesus’ lips curling slightly and his eyes twinkling as he tries to suppress a smile. He knows ahead of time that Philip will take him seriously and misunderstand him. Perhaps Jesus even imagines Philip doing the maths in his head. Indeed, Philip doesn’t even answer Jesus’ question which was “where” not “how” will we buy bread.

Then “miraculously’ the bread appears in the form of a small boy who has brought his lunch to Andrew and in Andrew who, even though he thinks the offering much too small, still brings the boy to Jesus. Jesus makes no comment about the bread but tells Andrew to make the peoples sit down and, as if it is an important detail, the gospel writer tells us that there was a “great deal of grass in the place”. (Mark and Matthew mention the grass, or the green grass, but not how much there is.) This comment about the grass, adds nothing to the miracle story, but it does situate the story and allows us to picture the scene and to put ourselves in it.

I draw out these details rather than the number fed, or the baskets left over, to demonstrate the ways in which the author has tried to make the text come alive for his listeners. Through this retelling, we are shown Jesus’ initial indifference (not that he doesn’t care, but that he is so focussed on what he is doing that he doesn’t at first notice the crowd). We can also see something of Jesus’ playfulness – life doesn’t have to be taken too seriously!  At the same time through Philip, we can see the consequences of taking things too seriously – we get the wrong end of the stick, we look for the wrong solution, we don’t listen carefully to the question! In Andrew, we observe the faith that is tentative, but not afraid of being disparaged or put down. Lastly, the plentiful grass is evidence that however we understand it, and however it actually happened, there was a time and a place when a great crowd gathered around Jesus, sat on the grass, and were fed.

If we pay attention to the detail, it is easier to see what is going on, and to put ourselves into the picture – are we part of the crowd, or do we relate to the pragmatic Philip or to the hesitant Andrew? How do we feel about Jesus’ gentle teasing of Philip? What do we make of the “great deal of grass”?

The Ignatians have a method of reading the bible which might be called imaginative contemplation. This method invites us to approach the bible with all our senses, to see, hear, feel and smell what is happening, to put ourselves into the story as one of the characters and to imagine what they are thinking[2]. To do this, you first open oneself to the presence of God, before reading the passage slowly once or twice so as to become familiar with it. Then you try to put yourself in the story as one of the people or simply as an observer (perhaps a maid from the inn peaking in on the Nativity). Finally, you turn to Jesus and speak to him. If you’d like to try. This method, John 6:1-21 would be a good place to start.

Who knows what really happened and what the miracle of the feeding really was, but from this story we learn that Jesus was real, that he had a sense of humour and that he cared, about the whole person – body, mind and soul, and that the people needed full stomachs as much as they needed to hear him or to be cured of their illnesses.

[1] A much better word than ‘test”.

[2] Christina Miller gives a simple explanation here https://blog.bible/bible-engagers-blog/entry/ignatian-contemplation-how-to-read-the-bible-with-your-imagination

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God in three persons

May 25, 2024

Trinity Sunday –  2024

John 3:1-17

Marian Free

 

In the name of God, Source of life, Sharer of our humanity, Fire in our hearts.  Amen.

 

Have you ever wondered about the gospel readings set for Trinity Sunday. In Year A (this year) the reading set for the day is Jesus’ encounter with Nicodemus which appears to have little to tell us. In Year B the gospel consists of Jesus’ commission to the disciples in which Jesus commands the disciples to baptise in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit.  Year C gives us a reading from John which is part of the reading for Pentecost Sunday (read last week). Here in his teaching on the Spirit of truth, Jesus also refers to the Father – all three members of the Trinity are present.

 

It is difficult to develop a theology of the Trinity from these references. Indeed, it is difficult to find a direct reference to the Trinity in the New Testament. There are hints and allusions on which theologians later built a doctrine, but, apart from Matthew 28 and 2 Corinthians 13:13, there are no specifically Trinitarian statements. Given that there are no direct references to the Trinity, the lectionary struggles to find gospel readings for Trinity Sunday. Jesus doesn’t provide any teaching on this subject. He merely suggests that the nature of the one God is Triune. Unlike St Patrick Jesus  doesn’t reach for a three-leafed clover to make his point. He leaves it to the early church to make sense of his language about himself, God and the Holy Spirit.

 

That said, theologians were not working in a vacuum when they developed the concept of a God in three persons. In Romans 8 for example, Paul speaks of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit interchangeably if they were one and the same entity. Likewise John’s gospel refers to the Father, Son and Spirit as if they are one and the same. In the fourth gospel Jesus iterates over and over again that he and the Father are one. When the Spirit is formally introduced it is clear that the Spirit is indistinguishable from Jesus. So, without using the explicit language of the Trinity the early church clearly thought of God in Trinitarian terms. That is, while believers remained monotheistic, they were able to think of this one God as three persons.

 

As I’ve suggested, finding a gospel reading that is specifically Trinitarian has its difficulties and at first glance it is not easy to see what the story of Jesus’ encounter with Nicodemus has to add. Holly Hearon sheds some light on this. She states: ‘The Gospel of John is rich with language exploring the relationship between God, the Son and the Holy Spirit.’ She continues: ‘it’s goal however is not to establish doctrine; it is to tell a story about God’s love for the world. In the story of Nicodemus, the language of God, Son, and Spirit reveals unity of purpose in the full expression of God’s interaction with the world.’

 

The encounter between Nicodemus and Jesus exposes the former’s complete lack of comprehension about the nature of Jesus, about the religious experience and about the nature of God. As Jesus makes clear, despite being a teacher of Israel, Nicodemus has a limited, intellectual, earthly understanding of God.  Nicodemus’ faith is not informed by or energised by the Spirit, it is head-based not heart-based. He has recognised that Jesus is empowered by God but he has failed to understand that Jesus is God and he has no understanding of the Spirit, and no concept that a relationship with God requires a complete transformation, a willingness to be reformed and renewed, a desire to hand over one’s heart and one’s head.

 

By using the imagery of rebirth, Jesus reveals the possibility of fully immersing oneself in heavenly (spiritual/Godly) things, of entering the kingdom of heaven while remaining on earth and of forgoing intellectual understanding for the possibility of being informed by the Spirit. At the same time, Jesus indirectly reveals the threefold nature of God. All three members of the Godhead are actively involved here. God is a given, Jesus reveals God and the Spirit enlivens and equips.

 

As is the way with John’s gospel, we are left wanting more. Jesus reveals more than can be absorbed so early in the gospel, Nicodemus exposes his partial understanding and we have been given a tantalising glimpse of the threefold nature of God.

 

Perhaps this is how it should be. Tomes have been written with a goal of establishing the doctrine of the Trinity, but this tantalising glimpse gives us all that we need to enter into a relationship with the One whom we know as Source of life, Sharer of our humanity and Fire in our hearts. God who enters into our very being and brings us to new birth.

 

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The promise of the Holy Spirit – Pentecost

May 18, 2024

Pentecost – 2024

John 15:26-27, 16:4b-15 (thoughts)

Marian Free

In the name of God, source of all being, eternal word, life-giving Spirit. Amen.

The revised common lectionary provides us with a three-year cycle. That is, over the course of three years, we more or less read our way through the Synoptic gospels. The Gospel of John is fitted in – primarily during Lent and Easter. This means that the fourth gospel is not read in a consecutive manner, but in a somewhat disjointed way. For example, in the Farewell Discourse (chapters 14-17) Jesus makes five promises regarding the Holy Spirit. Each of the promises along with the name (characteristic) given to the Holy Spirit, relates specifically to a fear named by Jesus immediately prior. In other words, as Jesus addresses the situation that the disciples will face when he leaves them, he makes a promise that he (or the Father) will send Holy Spirit to equip the disciples such that they need not be afraid of being left alone, of being at risk of harm, or of being ill-prepared to continue to share Jesus’ message with the world.

 Unfortunately, the way in which the lectionary presents these chapters means that the promises are spread over two years and not in the order in which they occur. Today’s gospel for example, is concerned with the third, fourth and fifth promises and we have to wait until next year to read the first and second promises. (John’s account of the giving of the Holy Spirit was read this year on the second Sunday after Easter and will be the reading for Pentecost during year A of the Lectionary.)

If read in one piece, the Farewell Discourse of the gospel of John provides a detailed description of the role of the Holy Spirit in the on-going life of the disciples and in the emerging church. 

After Jesus’ final meal and after he washes the feet of the disciples Jesus tries to prepare the disciples for his imminent departure. In so doing he recognises and addresses their anxieties and fears, in particular that they will be without him and that they will be ill-equipped to continue his work. First of all, he assures the disciples that they will not be left alone. He tells them that he will ask the Father and the Father will send another Advocate (the Spirit of Truth) to be with them forever (Promise 1, 14:16).  That same Advocate, the Holy Spirit whom the Father will send in Jesus’ name, will teach the disciples everything and remind them of all that Jesus has taught (Promise 2, 14:26).  

If the first two promises address the disciples’ concern about being left alone and unprepared to continue Jesus’ ministry, the last three follow provide assurance that, supported by the Spirit, the disciples will be able to face anything that comes their way. So, having warned the disciples that they will be hated by and even persecuted by the world, Jesus reassures the disciples that they need not worry unduly, because the Advocate (the Spirt of truth) will testify on Jesus’ behalf, indeed they will be able to testify with the support of the Spirit.  Further, the work of the disciples will be facilitated by the Spirit who will prove the world wrong about sin and righteousness and judgement. (Without any effort on the part of the disciples, the world will see itself as it really is.) Finally, Jesus insists that the disciples -who are uncomprehending and uneducated – will be able to teach, because the Spirit of truth will teach them. 

Jesus knows that his confused and frightened disciples cannot, at this time, absorb all that he has to tell them instead he leaves it to the Holy Spirit to continue his work of teaching them and he assures the disciples that the Spirit will guide them into all the truth.

The Holy Spirit is Jesus’ continuing presence in the world, a presence that will continue to support, encourage and inform the disciples (and the generations who will follow on) and will enable them to discern sin, righteousness and judgement and to continue to grow in faith and knowledge (to know the truth).

At first glance, John’s picture of the Holy Spirit is very different from the sudden and dramatic appearance of the Spirit at Pentecost depicted in Acts. A closer inspection however reveals more similarities than are at first obvious. In both accounts the role of the Spirit is to transform a group of lost, frightened and uncomprehending disciples into confident, courageous and informed proclaimers of the gospel. If there is more theatre in Acts, there is more detail in John. If in John, Jesus prepares the disciples in advance of his death, in Acts the resurrected Jesus assures the disciples that the Holy Spirit will come. If in John’s gospel Jesus promises the disciples that the Holy Spirit will equip them to testify, in Acts Jesus assures the disciples that the Holy Spirit will empower them to be his witnesses.

Whether through a dramatic experience, or through quiet assurance, the Holy Spirit empowers all who proclaim Jesus as Lord. 

How do you experience the continuing presence of Jesus in the world? In what ways does the Holy Spirit empower and inform you? Do you allow the Holy Spirit to work through you in the world? 

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In the world but not of the world

May 11, 2024

Easter 7 – 2024

John 17:6-9

Marian Free

In the name of God, who in Jesus fully immersed godself in the messiness of human existence. Amen.

Thomas Merton was a monk, a contemplative, a poet, a writer and an activist. He was the most prolific spiritual writer of the twentieth century and had a profound influence on inter-faith dialogue.  

Merton had an unsettled childhood and young adulthood. His mother had died when he was six, shortly after the family had moved from France to the United States. His widowed father sent the young Merton to boarding school in France. Two years later he took Merton out of that school and moved the family to England. After finishing school Merton began studying at Cambridge but was very unhappy there.  At 20 he enrolled att Columbia University where he completed his studies. Merton considered himself to be an atheist but a meeting with Mahanambrata Brahmachari, a Hindu monk convinced him to explore his own spiritual roots.  Merton took this advice and was later baptised into the Catholic church.  At the age of 27 he joined a community of Trappist monks at Gethsemani in Louisville, Kentucky. Over the course of his short life (he died aged 53), he was a monk, a priest, a writer and a social activist. 

Merton sought the quiet of a contemplative life – indeed, his ideal was to spend time in complete isolation – however an experience in March, 1958 led him to understand that engagement with the world was as essential as withdrawal from the world. He records the experience in Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander:

“In Louisville, at the corner of Fourth and Walnut, in the center of the shopping district, I was suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that I loved all those people, that they were mine and I theirs, that we could not be alien to one another even though we were total strangers. It was like waking from a dream of separateness, of spurious self-isolation in a special world, the world of renunciation and supposed holiness… This sense of liberation from an illusory difference was such a relief and such a joy to me that I almost laughed out loud… I have the immense joy of being man, a member of a race in which God Himself became incarnate. As if the sorrows and stupidities of the human condition could overwhelm me, now I realize what we all are. And if only everybody could realize this! But it cannot be explained. There is no way of telling people that they are all walking around shining like the sun.”

This experience convinced Merton that following Jesus meant not only contemplation but also action and it taught him that his existence was integrally connected to the existence of the whole world and that he had to take a stand on the issues of the day – civil rights, the Vietnam war, nuclear proliferation – it was the sixties after all. Merton saw race and peace as the critical issues and he spoke and wrote about both. He was considered to be a radical and his unusual and untimely death was the cause of much speculation.[1]

Merton’s insight that he had to be both in the world and not of the world is central to Jesus’ prayer in today’s gospel. He saw, as Jesus saw, that it is impossible to remain aloof and disinterested, that it is impossible to see the suffering of the world and to be indifferent, and that prayer and action are not separate, but are two sides of the same coin.

Being in the world and not of the world is costly. Seeing and calling out injustice does not make for an easy existence amongst those who are content with the status quo. Jesus was crucified, and his prayer suggests that those who follow him will be hated, but this does not prevent him from asking God to send them into the world just as he was sent into the world.

The gospels are clear that Jesus’ life was not one of pious withdrawal, but of active involvement in the world. He immersed himself in human existence. Jesus was not afraid of being polluted by the unclean, the unworthy, the poor and the marginalised. He was not interested in respectability nor was he afraid of offending the establishment. Jesus refused to conform to the norms of his society. He confronted injustice and challenged religious structures that made impossible demands and that made decisions about whom God did and didn’t love.

We are called to follow Jesus’ example, but making sense of how we are called to engage with the issues of our day is not always straightforward.  It is not always easy to know when to speak out and when to keep silent, when to jump in and when to stand apart. Jesus had a sense of clarity about right and wrong that came from his relationship with God and his life of prayer. Our task is to learn what it means to be in the world but not of the world, to find the right balance for us, to resist being pulled too far in one direction or another, to allow a life of prayer to inform a life of action, to assure us that resisting conformity is the way of Christ.

It is not easy to distinguish when we are being led by good intentions or being led by the Spirit, to know when we are chasing our own ideals or being informed by the gospel, to understand when we are seeking our own glory and not the glory of God. 

Merton recognised these difficulties in a letter he wrote to a young activist who sought his advice. He wrote: “The great thing after all is to live, not to pour out your life in the service of a myth: and we turn the best things into myths. If you can get free from the domination of causes and just serve the truth, you will be able to do more and will be less crushed by the inevitable disappointments. Because I see nothing whatever in sight but much disappointment, frustration, and confusion. 

The real hope, then, is not something we think we can do, but in God who is making something good out of it in some way we cannot see. If we can do (what’s right), we will be helping in this process. But we will not necessarily know all about it beforehand….”[2]

Jesus prays that God will send us into the world as he, Jesus, was sent into the world. May we be the answer to that prayer, willing to take the risk of being God’s agents, being change-makers in whatever circumstances we find ourselves, driven by the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.

[1] Some believed that he was assassinated because of his opposition to the Vietnam War.

[2] https://thewire.in/society/thomas-mertons-letter-to-a-young-activist-speaks-to-our-times-as-well

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Abiding in the vine

May 3, 2024

Easter 5 – 2024

John 15:9-17 (some thoughts from Brazil)

Marian Free

 

In the name of God whose love connects us to each other and to God. Amen.

To my shame and embarrassment, I am guilty of being someone who, in the mid to late1970’s, felt that that the life of the church would be much improved if we got rid of the ‘dead wood’. It is a long time ago, but it was a time when there was a widely held opinion that the church community needed to take itself and its commitment to the gospel more seriously. One of the major institutional changes at that time was an insistence that those seeking baptism for their children should be practicing church-goers, that they should undergo preparation for said baptism (to make sure that they really understood what they were doing) and that the sacrament of Baptism should only be administered in the context of a service of Holy Communion (when the whole community were gathered to welcome the child into their midst).

The zeitgeist of the time seemed to be that for many people their association with the church was social, sentimental, or historic and that the task of the church was to place such a focus on regular church attendance and faith development, that the church would consist of those who truly took their faith seriously (and that it would therefore grow).

Sadly, those well-meaning attempts by self-righteous people backfired. Instead of encouraging families seeking baptism to deepen their faith, attempts to get people to take the sacrament seriously had the consequence of turning them away from the church. They were were confused and hurt to realise that a church which had once encouraged baptism (no strings attached) was now putting up barriers designed to exclude them. Our emptying churches are testimony that to the effect that our efforts were fruitless.

Thankfully while I was guilty of joining the discussion about dead wood, I was in no position to exclude or to shame others who were not as enthusiastic about their church attendance and not as keen to be on endless committees as were the committed few. As a newly ordained person I understood that those seeking baptism for their children had a genuine desire to connect their child to the faith and I came to the realisation that it was God’s sacrament not mine and that my role was to accept that people came to God in their own way and did not have to fulfill my, or anyone else’s, expectations.

As I grew into ministry, (in other words, as my experience broadened), I came to see that there were many ways in which people connected to the church and that my own practice of weekly attendance was only one way of demonstrating a desire to be a part of the Christian community.

I observed the men who faithfully mowed lawns and kept the church grounds neat – but never darkened the doors of the church, the Guild members who ensured that there was always enough money for candles, linen, bread and wine – but who for one reason or another did not attend the Sunday service,  and the families who ‘religiously’ turned up at Christmas and Easter – but who at other times were nowhere to be seen. All were demonstrating a desire to being connected – albeit in different ways.

In the faithful observance of these people, I learned a valuable lesson – that the Christian community does not have a sacred centre to which everyone must belong. Rather it consists of concentric circles, widening out from the centre like ripples in a pond. Each circle contributes to the whole in its own way. No one circle is more important, more holy than other. Together they present the face of Christ in the world.

Jesus’ image of the vine seems to support this point of view. Staying connected to the vine, keeping Jesus’ commandments, and a willingness, if called on, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends are all that one needs to do to bear much fruit, to ensure that Jesus’ joy is complete, and to know his joy in us.

Bearing fruit doesn’t depend on and having joy doesn’t consist of following neatly laid out prescriptions – attending church very Sunday, volunteering for the church fete (or other extraneous activity) or joining one or several committees. The all-important task for any of us is to be connected to the vine, to abide in Jesus and to allow Jesus to abide in us. If we do that, all else will follow.

 We don’t have to establish criteria for belonging. We don’t have to set ourselves up as judge and jury of the depth of another’s faith. Our task is to make (and tend) our own connection to Christ and trust that that is enough.

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True leadership – the Good Shepherd

April 19, 2024

Easter 4 – 2024

John 10:11-18

Marian Free

In the name of God who gives us life in abundance. Amen.

Over familiarity with anything – be it food, a certain style of literature, even scripture – can strip it of its power to satisfy and to surprise. Such could be said of today’s reading from John chapter 10 with its cosy imagery of the shepherd who will put his own life on the line to protect the sheep (us) from the intruder. Many of us of will have grown up with illustrations of low dry-stone sheepfolds with a gap through which the sheep can go in and out. Our Sunday school teachers will have told us that because there was no physical gate the shepherd will have slept in that space so that, should an intruder or wild beast try to enter, he would immediately awake and protect the sheep. 

There is nothing particularly wrong with this image, and it certainly fits with images of shepherding that we find in the Old Testament, especially in Psalm 23 and Ezekiel 34. However, when we place the reading in the context of John’s gospel as a whole we can see that it plays quite a different role.

At first glance the image of a shepherd does not neatly follow the healing of the blind man in chapter 9. It is only when we read verse 10:21 that we realise that the shepherd imagery is Jesus’ discourse on the events of chapter 9 in which Jesus heals a man born blind.  ‘Again the Jews were divided because of these words. Many of them were saying, “He has a demon and is out of his mind. Why listen to him?”  Others were saying, “These are not the words of one who has a demon. Can a demon open the eyes of the blind?”’  Chapter 9:1-10-21 is of a piece. The Shepherd imagery is not an interruption of Jesus’ thought, but an integral part of the narrative.

You will remember that, like the Synoptic gospels, John’s is carefully, though differently crafted. One of John’s techniques is that of the discourse, a question (Nicodemus), an encounter (the woman at the well) or an event (the feeding of the 5,000) becomes an opportunity for Jesus to have a dialogue with someone and then to speak at length on a particular topic. In this case Jesus’ comments in the first half of chapter 10 are a continuation of his commentary on Pharisees’ reaction to the sign (healing of a man born blind) in chapter 9. The Pharisees’ resistance to healing and wholeness, reveals that they are not the shepherds they claim to be. The openness of the man born blind enables him to hear Jesus’ voice and to become one of Jesus’ flock.

So, what does a discourse on the Good Shepherd (and the gate for the sheep) have to do with healing a man born blind? 

I’ll try to explain what I think is going on here. In the first instance, it is clear that the story of the healing of the blind man is more than a simple healing story.  It is really an account of someone gaining spiritual insight – as to the nature and role of Jesus – compared with those who though not physically blind cannot see Jesus for whom he is. 

The man born blind has absolutely no idea who healed him. When he is being harassed by the Pharisees he declares Jesus to be a prophet and finally, when he meets and sees Jesus and Jesus reveals that he is the Son of Man he professes faith in the Son of Man and worships Jesus. In contrast the Pharisees, whose antagonism to Jesus runs throughout this section, declare Jesus to be a sinner and thus reveal their intransigent spiritual blindness (not to mention their self-interestedness).

When the Pharisees try to defend themselves, Jesus points out that it is their belief that they can see that identifies them as sinners. Then, without taking breath, Jesus launches into his discourse on the sheepfold and the shepherd which suggests that rather than being metaphors intended to comfort the faithful, they are an exposè of the leadership style of and an attack on the Pharisees. This section which began in 9:1 comes to an end in 10-19-21 in which the narrative returns to the question as to who Jesus is which has been the undercurrent throughout the entire narrative[1].

Using the metaphors of the sheepfold and of the shepherd (familiar images leadership from the Old Testament), Jesus implies that the Pharisees are the thief and bandit, who do not enter by the gate and whom the sheep (in this instance the man born blind) do not follow. 

At the end of the first part of the discourse Jesus asserts: ”I have come that they might have life and have it abundantly.”  In contrast “the thief comes only to kill and destroy.” This statement leads nicely into Jesus raising of Lazarus which occurs in the following chapter. The contrast with the Pharisees, is clear. For all kinds of reasons, they are unable to rejoice with the man born blind, they would rather that he remain blind, that he continued dependent on others living some sort of half-life. They refuse to believe that Jesus is anything but a sinner, insisting that he has a demon.

Jesus is not finished. Not only has he come to give the life that the Pharisees are withholding, he states that he will give his own life so that the sheep might live. The Pharisees’ reaction to the healing and to Jesus reveals them as the hired hands. They are not interested in the well-being of the sheep, but only in protecting their notion of law and of shoring up their position in the community.

The pastoral imagery of a shepherd who puts the sheep before himself is comforting and assuring, but it is important that we do not forget the debate that lies behind it. What exemplifies good leadership? and How do we recognise one sent by God? 

As millions of people around the world go to the polls this year these issues may prove to be as important now as they ever have been.

[1] I have been told that John writes in the style of a Hebrew writer – that is in a circular fashion. He circles back on themes introduced earlier. So, for example, we can take this narrative back to chapter 8 where the Pharisees declare that Jesus has a demon the same accusation that is made at the end of the section 10:21.

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