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Breaking boundaries- Jesus at the well

March 11, 2023

 

Lent 3 -2023

Luke 4:5-42

Marian Free

 

In the name of God for whom there are no boundaries, who sees and loves us just as we are. Amen.

 

Last week was International Pride Week – a whole week dedicated to celebrating the lives of all who do not fit the heteronormative profile.  It was an opportunity for members of the LGBTQI+ community to celebrate who they are and for the rest of us to celebrate the diversity of humanity. Community reaction was, by and large positive. Two things stood out for me. I had heard that the Uniting Church in Pitt St Sydney had painted their steps in the colours of the rainbow and had made it clear that theirs was a welcoming and inclusive church. Sadly some, unable to accept or tolerate difference, defaced the steps with grey paint[1]. In complete contrast, the Coles Supermarket chain used their free magazine to celebrate Pride week (with rainbow themed recipes) and to shine a light on the diversity and inclusiveness of their workforce.

 

While the wider population have come to a point where they can recognize the value of all people regardless of their gender identity, there are many (represented by our paint throwers) who want to judge, to draw boundaries and to exclude those who don’t fit their idea of who and what is acceptable.

 

Today’s gospel speaks to the issue of boundaries and in particular to the way in which Jesus ignored or defied boundaries which to him were arbitrary, unnecessary and even irrelevant when it came to the bigger picture of worshipping God. Jesus constantly caused offense by acknowledging, befriending and uplifting those whom his own community would exclude – lepers, sinners, prostitutes, tax-collectors, and even those with whom is own community is in serious conflict – the Samaritans.

 

Following on from Jesus’ discussion with Nicodemus, John continues his story of Jesus with another encounter (the Samaritan woman), another opportunity to demonstrate the way in which Jesus introduces a puzzle (never thirst again) which provokes his conversation partner to question what he has said (are you greater than our father Jacob?). This in turn provides an opportunity for Jesus to elaborate, to develop the idea of living water and to build on the faith which he and the woman share. Through the process of discussion and discourse Jesus’ dialogue partner (the woman) comes to a deeper understanding and, in this instance, to faith and to proclamation.  

 

According to the gospel account, Jesus, having been in Jerusalem for Passover, is returning to Galilee. The quickest way to do this is to travel through Samaria – something which most Jews would avoid.  Tensions between the two groups of people were high and Jesus could not be certain of safe passage. The Samaritans were perhaps the worst kind of enemies – those who with whom the Jews had most in common, but with whom they disagreed on what to us are trivial matters – the date of Passover and the mountain on which Yahweh. That they had the same law and observed many of the same customs only made the differences between them more obvious and the tensions more extreme. They were competing for what they believed to be the truth[2] – the stakes could not be higher.

 

When Jesus asked the woman (a complete stranger) for a drink, he was overlooking centuries of enmity and more astounding, he was revealing his vulnerability – he needed help, the woman was in a position to give it. Immediately, he breaks down any reservations the woman might have. Though he is a Jew, he is vulnerable. He is not a threat.

 

In engaging the woman Jesus saw beyond her gender, ethnicity, religion and marital status to that which they had in common – faith in God and a longing for the kingdom to be restored. In the face of their shared faith, all other barriers dissolved. Instead of seeing difference Jesus saw what they shared, perhaps more importantly he recognised the woman’s spiritual thirst – a thirst he could slake. He saw too, that the woman needed help to move beyond the superficial observance of faith to a deeper, more personal relationship with God. In order to do this, Jesus began the conversation with a conundrum, piquing her interest and drawing her into discussion. The woman responded with what she knew, the visible and practical -whose well and which is the correct mountain on which to worship.  Jesus moved her beyond these trivial and earthly details (details which separate and divide), to what really mattered – the spiritual worship of the God in whom they both believe.

 

Instead of accentuating difference, or asking the woman (and her community) to conform to the Jewish practice of the faith, Jesus looked beyond the detail to the bigger picture – the faith that they shared – faith in the one true God. Instead of criticizing and condemning the Samaritan practice of faith, Jesus affirmed their faithfulness and shared with them the message that he had for all people. As a result, he broke the walls of enmity and with the help of the woman drew all her neighbours into a new, renewed relationship with God

 

Jesus’ conversation with the Samaritan woman (the longest recorded conversation that he has with anyone) shines a light on our own pettiness, our concern with details (rather than the big picture), our tendency to see difference rather than commonality and our willingness to judge and exclude those who hold a view other than our own.

 

Jesus was not concerned to know whether the Samaritan woman was rich or poor, promiscuous or chaste, Samaritan or Jew. He didn’t want to change or “fix” her. He saw beyond the outward appearance of social isolation and shame, to their shared faith and their shared longing and it was to her, a woman of Samaria, that he first revealed himself to be the Messiah.

 

It is usually trivial matters that keep us apart. Jesus’ encounter with the woman at the well challenges us to ask:

 

What “truths” do we hold on to that limit, separate and divide?

In what ways do we deny other full expression of their humanity?

Are we guilty of excluding from full participation to the community of faith or to the sacraments – baptism, Eucharist, marriage – those who do not fit our prescriptive norms?

 

Can we, like Jesus, to see beyond the external, to the superficial specifics, to the broader, deeper, more significant, shared faith in the one true God?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

.

 

[1] The rainbow was repainted.

[2] Similar differences – the date of Easter, and how to shave one’s head – were among the reasons that the church originally divided – into East and west.

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Breaking boundaries- Jesus at the well

March 11, 2023

It is usually trivial matters that keep us apart. Jesus’ encounter with the woman at the well challenges us to ask:

What “truths” do we hold on to that limit, separate and divide?

In what ways do we deny other full expression of their humanity?

Are we guilty of excluding from full participation to the community of faith or to the sacraments – baptism, Eucharist, marriage – those who do not fit our prescriptive norms?

 

Can we, like Jesus, to see beyond the external, to the superficial specifics, to the broader, deeper, more significant, shared faith in the one true God?

 

 

Lent 3 -2023

Luke 4:5-42

Marian Free

 

In the name of God for whom there are no boundaries, who sees and loves us just as we are. Amen.

 

Last week was International Pride Week – a whole week dedicated to celebrating the lives of all who do not fit the heteronormative profile.  It was an opportunity for members of the LGBTQI+ community to celebrate who they are and for the rest of us to celebrate the diversity of humanity. Community reaction was, by and large positive. Two things stood out for me. I had heard that the Uniting Church in Pitt St Sydney had painted their steps in the colours of the rainbow and had made it clear that theirs was a welcoming and inclusive church. Sadly some, unable to accept or tolerate difference, defaced the steps with grey paint[1]. In complete contrast, the Coles Supermarket chain used their free magazine to celebrate Pride week (with rainbow themed recipes) and to shine a light on the diversity and inclusiveness of their workforce.

 

While the wider population have come to a point where they can recognize the value of all people regardless of their gender identity, there are many (represented by our paint throwers) who want to judge, to draw boundaries and to exclude those who don’t fit their idea of who and what is acceptable.

 

Today’s gospel speaks to the issue of boundaries and in particular to the way in which Jesus ignored or defied boundaries which to him were arbitrary, unnecessary and even irrelevant when it came to the bigger picture of worshipping God. Jesus constantly caused offense by acknowledging, befriending and uplifting those whom his own community would exclude – lepers, sinners, prostitutes, tax-collectors, and even those with whom is own community is in serious conflict – the Samaritans.

 

Following on from Jesus’ discussion with Nicodemus, John continues his story of Jesus with another encounter (the Samaritan woman), another opportunity to demonstrate the way in which Jesus introduces a puzzle (never thirst again) which provokes his conversation partner to question what he has said (are you greater than our father Jacob?). This in turn provides an opportunity for Jesus to elaborate, to develop the idea of living water and to build on the faith which he and the woman share. Through the process of discussion and discourse Jesus’ dialogue partner (the woman) comes to a deeper understanding and, in this instance, to faith and to proclamation.  

 

According to the gospel account, Jesus, having been in Jerusalem for Passover, is returning to Galilee. The quickest way to do this is to travel through Samaria – something which most Jews would avoid.  Tensions between the two groups of people were high and Jesus could not be certain of safe passage. The Samaritans were perhaps the worst kind of enemies – those who with whom the Jews had most in common, but with whom they disagreed on what to us are trivial matters – the date of Passover and the mountain on which Yahweh. That they had the same law and observed many of the same customs only made the differences between them more obvious and the tensions more extreme. They were competing for what they believed to be the truth[2] – the stakes could not be higher.

 

When Jesus asked the woman (a complete stranger) for a drink, he was overlooking centuries of enmity and more astounding, he was revealing his vulnerability – he needed help, the woman was in a position to give it. Immediately, he breaks down any reservations the woman might have. Though he is a Jew, he is vulnerable. He is not a threat.

 

In engaging the woman Jesus saw beyond her gender, ethnicity, religion and marital status to that which they had in common – faith in God and a longing for the kingdom to be restored. In the face of their shared faith, all other barriers dissolved. Instead of seeing difference Jesus saw what they shared, perhaps more importantly he recognised the woman’s spiritual thirst – a thirst he could slake. He saw too, that the woman needed help to move beyond the superficial observance of faith to a deeper, more personal relationship with God. In order to do this, Jesus began the conversation with a conundrum, piquing her interest and drawing her into discussion. The woman responded with what she knew, the visible and practical -whose well and which is the correct mountain on which to worship.  Jesus moved her beyond these trivial and earthly details (details which separate and divide), to what really mattered – the spiritual worship of the God in whom they both believe.

 

Instead of accentuating difference, or asking the woman (and her community) to conform to the Jewish practice of the faith, Jesus looked beyond the detail to the bigger picture – the faith that they shared – faith in the one true God. Instead of criticizing and condemning the Samaritan practice of faith, Jesus affirmed their faithfulness and shared with them the message that he had for all people. As a result, he broke the walls of enmity and with the help of the woman drew all her neighbours into a new, renewed relationship with God

 

Jesus’ conversation with the Samaritan woman (the longest recorded conversation that he has with anyone) shines a light on our own pettiness, our concern with details (rather than the big picture), our tendency to see difference rather than commonality and our willingness to judge and exclude those who hold a view other than our own.

 

Jesus was not concerned to know whether the Samaritan woman was rich or poor, promiscuous or chaste, Samaritan or Jew. He didn’t want to change or “fix” her. He saw beyond the outward appearance of social isolation and shame, to their shared faith and their shared longing and it was to her, a woman of Samaria, that he first revealed himself to be the Messiah.

 

It is usually trivial matters that keep us apart. Jesus’ encounter with the woman at the well challenges us to ask:

 

What “truths” do we hold on to that limit, separate and divide?

In what ways do we deny other full expression of their humanity?

Are we guilty of excluding from full participation to the community of faith or to the sacraments – baptism, Eucharist, marriage – those who do not fit our prescriptive norms?

 

Can we, like Jesus, to see beyond the external, to the superficial specifics, to the broader, deeper, more significant, shared faith in the one true God?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

.

 

[1] The rainbow was repainted.

[2] Similar differences – the date of Easter, and how to shave one’s head – were among the reasons that the church originally divided – into East and west.

Lent 3 -2023
Luke 4:5-42
Marian Free

In the name of God for whom there are no boundaries, who sees and loves us just as we are. Amen.

Last week was International Pride Week – a whole week dedicated to celebrating the lives of all who do not fit the heteronormative profile. It was an opportunity for members of the LGBTQI+ community to celebrate who they are and for the rest of us to celebrate the diversity of humanity. Community reaction was, by and large positive. Two things stood out for me. I had heard that the Uniting Church in Pitt St Sydney had painted their steps in the colours of the rainbow and had made it clear that theirs was a welcoming and inclusive church. Sadly some, unable to accept or tolerate difference, defaced the steps with grey paint . In complete contrast, the Coles Supermarket chain used their free magazine to celebrate Pride week (with rainbow themed recipes) and to shine a light on the diversity and inclusiveness of their workforce.

While the wider population have come to a point where they can recognize the value of all people regardless of their gender identity, there are many (represented by our paint throwers) who want to judge, to draw boundaries and to exclude those who don’t fit their idea of who and what is acceptable.

Today’s gospel speaks to the issue of boundaries and in particular to the way in which Jesus ignored or defied boundaries which to him were arbitrary, unnecessary and even irrelevant when it came to the bigger picture of worshipping God. Jesus constantly caused offense by acknowledging, befriending and uplifting those whom his own community would exclude – lepers, sinners, prostitutes, tax-collectors, and even those with whom is own community is in serious conflict – the Samaritans.

Following on from Jesus’ discussion with Nicodemus, John continues his story of Jesus with another encounter (the Samaritan woman), another opportunity to demonstrate the way in which Jesus introduces a puzzle (never thirst again) which provokes his conversation partner to question what he has said (are you greater than our father Jacob?). This in turn provides an opportunity for Jesus to elaborate, to develop the idea of living water and to build on the faith which he and the woman share. Through the process of discussion and discourse Jesus’ dialogue partner (the woman) comes to a deeper understanding and, in this instance, to faith and to proclamation.

According to the gospel account, Jesus, having been in Jerusalem for Passover, is returning to Galilee. The quickest way to do this is to travel through Samaria – something which most Jews would avoid. Tensions between the two groups of people were high and Jesus could not be certain of safe passage. The Samaritans were perhaps the worst kind of enemies – those who with whom the Jews had most in common, but with whom they disagreed on what to us are trivial matters – the date of Passover and the mountain on which Yahweh. That they had the same law and observed many of the same customs only made the differences between them more obvious and the tensions more extreme. They were competing for what they believed to be the truth – the stakes could not be higher.

When Jesus asked the woman (a complete stranger) for a drink, he was overlooking centuries of enmity and more astounding, he was revealing his vulnerability – he needed help, the woman was in a position to give it. Immediately, he breaks down any reservations the woman might have. Though he is a Jew, he is vulnerable. He is not a threat.

In engaging the woman Jesus saw beyond her gender, ethnicity, religion and marital status to that which they had in common – faith in God and a longing for the kingdom to be restored. In the face of their shared faith, all other barriers dissolved. Instead of seeing difference Jesus saw what they shared, perhaps more importantly he recognised the woman’s spiritual thirst – a thirst he could slake. He saw too, that the woman needed help to move beyond the superficial observance of faith to a deeper, more personal relationship with God. In order to do this, Jesus began the conversation with a conundrum, piquing her interest and drawing her into discussion. The woman responded with what she knew, the visible and practical -whose well and which is the correct mountain on which to worship. Jesus moved her beyond these trivial and earthly details (details which separate and divide), to what really mattered – the spiritual worship of the God in whom they both believe.

Instead of accentuating difference, or asking the woman (and her community) to conform to the Jewish practice of the faith, Jesus looked beyond the detail to the bigger picture – the faith that they shared – faith in the one true God. Instead of criticizing and condemning the Samaritan practice of faith, Jesus affirmed their faithfulness and shared with them the message that he had for all people. As a result, he broke the walls of enmity and with the help of the woman drew all her neighbours into a new, renewed relationship with God

Jesus’ conversation with the Samaritan woman (the longest recorded conversation that he has with anyone) shines a light on our own pettiness, our concern with details (rather than the big picture), our tendency to see difference rather than commonality and our willingness to judge and exclude those who hold a view other than our own.

Jesus was not concerned to know whether the Samaritan woman was rich or poor, promiscuous or chaste, Samaritan or Jew. He didn’t want to change or “fix” her. He saw beyond the outward appearance of social isolation and shame, to their shared faith and their shared longing and it was to her, a woman of Samaria, that he first revealed himself to be the Messiah.

It is usually trivial matters that keep us apart. Jesus’ encounter with the woman at the well challenges us to ask:

What “truths” do we hold on to that limit, separate and divide?
In what ways do we deny other full expression of their humanity?
Are we guilty of excluding from full participation to the community of faith or to the sacraments – baptism, Eucharist, marriage – those who do not fit our prescriptive norms?

Can we, like Jesus, to see beyond the external, to the superficial specifics, to the broader, deeper, more significant, shared faith in the one true God?

.

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Not seeing the wood for the trees – John 3

March 4, 2023

Lent 2 – 2023
John 3:1-17
Marian Free

In the name of God who cannot be confined or contained by our limited imaginations. Amen.

During the last week, Bishop Jeremy posted the following on Facebook: “How would the Church deal with the phrase ‘the cat sat on the mat’ if it appeared in the Bible?
The liberal theologians would point out that such a passage did not of course mean that the cat literally sat on the mat. Also, cat and mat had different meanings in those days from today, and anyway, the text should be interpreted according to the customs and practices of the period.
This would lead to an immediate backlash from the more fundamental wing. They would make an essential condition of faith that a real physical, living cat, being a domestic pet of the Felix Domesticus species, and having a whiskered head and furry body, four legs and a tail, did physically place its whole body on a floor covering, designed for that purpose, and which is on the floor but not of the floor. The expression “on the floor but not off the floor” would be explained in a leaflet.” (Methodically Reordered) It continued with suggestions for the Catholic Church, the Orthodox Church and for the C of E.

That would be funny if it wasn’t so tragic. Whenever there is debate within or between churches, there is a tendency to fall into the trap of focussing on a single detail, rather than exploring the broader picture.

This is particularly true when it comes to our reading of John’s gospel and chapter three, which we have just heard, is a good example of the temptation to focus on a single point instead of trying to discover how this chapter, (how Nicodemus) fits into the gospel as a whole. Like much of John’s gospel, chapter three is dense and includes many different points of interest – being born again, snakes on poles, our most loved scriptural quote and commentary on the contrast between those who choose the light and those who choose the dark. It is easy for a preacher (or reader) to focus on one small sub-theme, rather than to look at the chapter in its entirety, let alone to examine its relationship to the gospel as a whole. (Many of us are very familiar with the imagery of being born again, but know less about the rest of the chapter.)

John is unique among the gospels. Not only is the content very different from the Synoptic gospels but so too is the way in which the gospel is written. The author of the fourth gospel is very explicit as to his purpose: “these [things] are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the anointed, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name” (Jn 20 31). In order to achieve this goal, the author of John’s gospel employs a number of literary techniques that are intended to draw the readers into a deeper relationship with Jesus.

Among the strategies that John uses are the following. Symbolism. Many of the words and phrases in the gospel have more than one meaning – bread of life, light of the world and so on. Dualism or contrasts. The author of the gospel presents two different forms of existence between which listeners must choose – light/dark, life/death, spirit/flesh, above/below. Dialogue and discourse. In the Synoptic gospels, Jesus’ teaching is presented as sayings or parables. In the fourth gospel, teaching occurs through discussion or through a speech. That is, Jesus draws another person into conversation – which causes bewilderment, but which through the course of the conversation may lead to deeper understanding on the part of the conversation partner. (Think for example of his. conversation with the Samaritan woman at the well – chapter 4.) At other times, a question might lead to a longer discourse such as we see after the feeding of the five thousand when Jesus launches into a dissertation on the meaning of bread (chapter 6).

Repetition of issues, themes and even characters. This has the effect of keeping certain ideas in front of the reader or enabling the elaboration of a theme over the course of the gospel. (When a character reappears, his or her role in the overall story is what is important, not who they are as a person.) In the case of the Beloved Disciple his repeated appearances reveal his similarity to Jesus, and mean that we are not at all surprised when he is asked to take Jesus’ place as Mary’s son.

Coming to faith. Whether it is through discussion with or exposure to Jesus, whether it is immediate or gradual, the various characters in the gospel move from bewilderment to understanding, from inquisitiveness to faith OR from scepticism to unbelief.

Jesus’ encounter with Nicodemus provides an illustration of these techniques. This is why it is important to see the chapter as a whole and not to be distracted by detail (to be worried about what sort of cat is sitting on what sort of mat).

In this chapter, we see that Nicodemus coming to Jesus at night – the darkness symbolising ignorance and revealing Nicodemus’ fear of discovery. Nicodemus’ confusion begins a dialogue with Jesus and also provides a teaching opportunity for Jesus – primarily about the distinctions between flesh and spirit, light and dark and above and below. Nicodemus aopears twice more. In chapter 7 his role is to illustrate the division between the Jews (and to let us think that he is on Jesus’ side – he has moved towards belief. His third and last appearance is at the tomb where he provides 100 pounds of ointments to prepare Jesus’ body for burial and at the same time fulfills a legal need for there to be two witnesses to the fact that Jesus was buried. Overall then, Nicodemus provides an illustration of a person who moves from indifference and confusion, through neutrality, to commitment and understanding.

In this and every gospel, the detail is important, but so too is the overarching theme, the broad sweep of the story, a story that is intended to bring the readers to faith in Jesus and through faith to life in Jesus’ name. In the end, we don’t want to be guilty of not seeing the wood for the trees, of allowing the detail to obscure the complete picture.

Instead of nit-picking about the details (arguing about the cat on the mat, about gay marriage, about candles and robes, about prayer books. and hymnals), we as Christians, as church, should try to focus on the big picture – God’s love for us and God’s saving action through Jesus. When we grasp this, everything else will fall into place.

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What’s in a name

January 14, 2023

Epiphany 2 – 2023
John 1:29-42
Marian Free

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

At the beginning of my ministry, I was based in a small country town. Even though it was close to a major city and not far from the capital, there were many in the town who had lived there all their lives. They had been to school together and had worked together in the nearby railway workshops. They were so familiar with each other that they knew each other by names that they had been given based on physical or personal characteristics. When I met with families to plan the funeral of their father, I would begin by asking them to tell me about him – his childhood, his family life, his work life and so on. Then, in order to put together an order of service, I would ask for more specific details such as full name and date of birth. At this point I was often interrupted as someone would say: “No one will know who you are talking about if you call him “Robert, John, Peter” or whatever his name was. I quickly learnt to ask how they would like their father referred to, and after the first formal reference to the deceased. I would make sure that for the rest of the service I would use the name by which he was known, not the name given him at birth. It was an important lesson as many people are known, not by their given name but by a term of affection, by their nickname or by their middle name.

Names are important, they are how others identify us and very often, they are how we come to identify ourselves.

In today’s gospel (which bridges last week’s reference to Jesus’ baptism and next week’s account of Jesus’ calling the four fishermen) includes four names for Jesus – Lamb of God, Son of God, Rabbi and Messiah (which means anointed). In the same reading Simon is given a new name Cephas (in Aramaic), Petros (in Greek) which means ‘rock’. Simon’s change of name tells us something about the way in which Jesus sees him. Apparently, despite all his wavering and his final denial of Jesus, Jesus can see in Peter something firm and solid – reliable even.

That is clear enough, but how are we to account for the number of (unrelated) names that are applied to Jesus? The four mentioned here are only a few of those that we encounter in the first chapter of John’s gospel. Others are Word, light, life, the one about whom Moses in the law and the prophets spoke, the one who is coming after me, the one who ranks ahead of me, Jesus, son of Joseph of Nazareth and Son of Man. It seems that not one word or phrase is sufficient to capture all that Jesus is and all that he signifies. There were so many expectations of one who would save Israel, so many hopes that God would send someone to redeem the people that it was difficult for Jesus’ contemporaries to decide which of these categories best suited the man whom they were sure was the one. Which of the ancient prophecies did Jesus fulfill? Which of the recent hopes did Jesus live up to?

The problem for us all these centuries later is to try to come to grips with terminology which in the first century may not even have had the same meaning that it had in the times of the prophets. So many influences had entered Jewish thought in the intervening years, so much life experience had impacted on the ways in which the Pentateuch and the prophets were written.

It is left for modern scholars to discern what might be meant when expressions such as “Lamb of God” are used for Jesus, or when Jesus takes upon himself the title “Son of Man”.

Names are both descriptive and determinative, both flattering and derogatory. They try to capture the essence of a person, but they can also define a person such that they unable to be seen in any other way. Jesus as “Lamb of God” can be seen as the sacrificial lamb, the Servant of Isaiah. Jesus “Son of David” creates a more militaristic image. Jesus Son of Joseph of Nazareth (carpenter’s son) is familial – and is not a term that earns Jesus respect.

For this reason, names/labels can be divisive.

How we see/name Jesus matters. How we name Jesus will determine how we live out our faith. The name/s that we give Jesus will provide the lens through which others will see him.

What are the expressions that you use when thinking about/addressing Jesus (biblical and other)? What do those words mean to you? Do they make you feel comfortable or do they challenge you? Are you so used to naming Jesus in one particular way, that you have forgotten that words cannot contain him? This week, as we stand on the threshold of exploring Jesus’ ministry through the eyes of Matthew, try to think of all the names you use for Jesus (and the names that you do not use). Try to use some new and unfamiliar names – Lover, Pain-bearer, Friend – how do they change/expand the way you think of Jesus? How do they change your relationship with him?

Lamb of God, Son of God, Rabbi, Messiah, Word, light, life, the one about whom Moses in the law and the prophets spoke, the one who is coming after me, the one who ranks ahead of me, Jesus, son of Joseph of Nazareth, Son of Man – all of these and yet none of these truly captures who Jesus is. Let us not mistake the power of naming and limit Jesus to the confines of human understanding.

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What language can we use?

June 9, 2022

Trinity Sunday – 2022
John 16:12-15
Marian Free

May I speak in the name of God – Earth-maker, Pain-bearer and Life-giver. Amen.

Several years ago, as I was preparing to preach on Trinity Sunday I read an article that discussed the language with which we address God. The writer argued quite forcefully that the words Father, Son and Holy Spirit had to be retained as it was the only language that, in their mind, captured the relationship between the three persons of the Trinity. From memory, the author was offended by the use of non-anthropomorphic imagery for God on the basis that such terminology was unable to reflect the idea of relationship.

A recent google search led me to an article which argues in a similar way. The author contended that: “These words, “Father”, “Son”, and “Holy Spirit” mean something. They are not abstract concepts, ideas or words conjured up to impose, as claimed by some, a patriarchal regime.”“These names designate the relationship proper to each Person of the Trinity, that is, they proclaim how each Person is distinctly related to the other Persons in the Trinity: “the real distinction of the persons from one another resides solely in the relationships which relate them to one another.”

That is, “the Father is related to the Son, the Son to the Father and the Holy Spirit to both.”
If we believe that the words of Scripture are the inspired word of God, the very Word of God, and He has given us this very specific language to speak about the Trinity, then our authority to intend to change this – by mere avoidance of being politically incorrect – has no bearing.”

Father Richard along with the author of the earlier article seem to be driven as much by a reaction against “political correctness” as they are by solid theological study. In their endeavour to hold on to their conservative (patriarchal) viewpoint, they have considerably limited the roles and functions of the members of the Trinity and denied their listeners/readers access to the wealth of expressions that can be used to begin to put language to the ineffable nature of God. Unfortunately, “Father” and “Son” ground us in language that is human and not divine and describe one particular relationship (one not shared by father and daughter, mother and daughter, mother and son). Furthermore, the relationship between Father and Son (language which is found primarily in John’s gospel) can, in human relationships be fractured, abusive or non-existent.

LaCugna is another who wants to retain the language of Father, Son and Holy Spirit. She states that: “the language Father, Son and Spirit is relational in that it refers to the roles that each person of the Trinity plays in respect to each other. According to LaCugna: “Creator-Redeemer-Sustainer language does not adequately reflect the language and view of Scripture that God creates through the Son and by the Spirit or that God redeems us through Christ.” I am no theologian, but it seems to me that LaCugna’s language suggests an hierarchy within God rather than mutuality; distinction rather than oneness.

Many of the contemporary arguments around the familial language that we use for the Trinity base their defence on Jesus’ instruction to the disciples before the ascension: “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.” What proponents of this view do not say is that this is the only place in the New Testament which this language is used. The Trinity, as a theological concept does not exist in the New Testament and is a human invention that did not exist for centuries.

The assumption that only the language of Father and Son can be relational is not only anthropomorphic (human) but androcentric (male centred). It ignores the fact that relationships abound in the non-human universe, relationships revealed by biologists and physicists just for starters. In limiting us to the language of Father and Son, people like Father Richard reduce the relationships between the persons of the Trinity to those experienced and expressed by human beings. A God who is beyond understanding surely cannot be contained by the language of a human household, or by language that emphasises human relationships. God transcends all our attempts to define God which is as good a reason as any for us to experiment and play with language – knowing as we do that no language is adequate for God, let alone for the relationships between the persons of the Trinity.

The use of a wider selection of epithets for the members of the Trinity allows for the expression of a wide range of human experience – in relationship with one another and with God. It also frees us from seeing God – and the relationships between the three person of the Trinity – in human terms. Language such as that found in the New Zealand Prayer Book: “Earth-maker, Pain-bearer and Life-giver” adequately captures the roles of the three persons of the Trinity and liberates us from imagining God in terms of the parental, paternal language of Father and Son. The use of non-familial, non-anthropomorphic language expands, rather than diminishes our understanding of God. Abstract expressions force us to consider the nature of the relationship rather than allowing us to rely on familiar and comfortable images. There is enormous power in the imagery ofexpressions such as: “World-Weaver, Hand-Holder, Breath-Bringer,” “Mother, Lover, Friend,”“Mighty Creator, Eternal Word, Abiding Spirit” and there is nothing about such imagery to suggest that the individual expressions cannot be in relationship with each other.

It is not a bad thing for our presumptions to be questioned, our illusions shattered, and our use of language challenged. God who cannot be contained, Jesus whom the tomb could not hold and the Spirit who blows where she wills will never and should never be captured by the limitations of human language. What is essential is that no matter what language we use that we do nothing to detract from “the eternal oneness, inseparability, and mutual indwelling of each of the divine “persons”” of the God who is three AND one.

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Come, Holy Spirit, Come

June 4, 2022

Pentecost Sunday – 2022
John 14:8-17
Marian Free

Spirit of wind and fire, inflame our hearts with love for you. Amen.

Tom Tilly is a reporter for the television programme The Project. Recently, Tom released his memoir Speaking in Tongues – an account of growing up in (and leaving) a Pentecostal church . For many of us, Pentecostal churches bring up images of Hillsong (one of the biggest and most successful) or the mega-churches that started to spring up during the late 1970’s at the peak of the charismatic movement. There is however as great a variety among Pentecostal churches as there is among mainstream churches. The one to which Tom’s family belonged goes under the name Revival Centres. It is a relatively small church established in Melbourne in the 1950’s which, at its peak in the 1990’s boasted a modest 5,000 members.

Apart from the hand-waving and fervent singing, a feature of Pentecostal churches is speaking in tongues which occurs when members of the congregation – sometimes whipped into an emotional frenzy – begin to make unintelligible sounds which are believed to be inspired by the Holy Spirit.

In the case of the Revival Centres speaking in tongues was not simply an exuberant expression of being caught up in the act of worship. It was a pre-requisite for membership and indication that one was saved. Not being able to speak in tongues was considered such a serious deficit that it would lead to expulsion from the church and, subsequently, to external damnation. For converts this did not present a major challenge because conversion usually coincided with a spiritual experience that included speaking in tongues. For those who had been born into church it was however a different matter. These children, members of the church by virtue of the faith of their parents, already believed and so were unlikely to have the equivalent of a conversion experience. How were they to receive the gift of tongues? And if they did not exhibit the gift, how was the church to know that their faith was sincere, that they had the gift of the Holy Spirit and that they were truly saved by God?

If they were to be saved then, these children needed help. This help came in the form of teaching them techniques that would, it was hoped, facilitate their speaking in tongues. These included getting down on their knees and repeating an expression such as “Hallelujah”, while at the same time asking God to give them the gift of tongues . The constant repetition would, it was hoped, loosen their tongues and disrupt their thoughts sufficiently to allow other, uncontrolled sounds to emerge.

It is impossible to imagine the pressure that these children felt and their sense of inadequacy when they could not make it happen.

The Revival Centres are not the only church to believe that speaking in tongues is a prerequisite for salvation or that it is possible to employ techniques that will induce the same. I have known members of mainstream Anglican churches to feel themselves under considerable pressure to speak in tongues and whose faith has been questioned when they could not. Their sense of inadequacy and alienation was profound.

There are a number of problems with this narrow approach to salvation not least of which is a very poor and limited understanding of the Holy Spirit, and of the way in which the Holy Spirit empowers believers to speak. Glossolalia (or unintelligible inspired speech) is only one of the ways that the Spirit is said to speak in and through us. Scripture mentions several other ways of “speaking in tongues”. At Pentecost for example, the Holy Spirit burst in on a group of frightened and dispirited disciples and enabled them to speak in a variety of languages such that pilgrims from all over the Empire were able to understand what was being said. Romans 8 mentions yet another way of “speaking in tongues”. Paul tells us that: “When we cry, “Abba! Father!” it is that very Spirit bearing witness with our spirit that we are children of God.” Further in that same chapter Paul writes: “the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words.”

Jesus also refers to “speaking in tongues” when he warns the disciples of the persecution that will result from following him. He assures them that they will not have to worry about what to say because it will not be they who speak, but the Holy Spirit who speaks through them (Mk 13:11 etc).

The Holy Spirit works in a myriad of different ways according to our situations, our needs and our personalities and “speaking in tongues” is only one of the many ways in which we might experience the Holy Spirit in our lives.

We do ourselves and the Holy Spirit a great disservice if we reduce the actions of the Spirit to one means of expression or another. It is the greatest form of arrogance or of self-absorption if we believe that the Spirit can be manipulated or induced at will. By her very nature, the Spirit is unable to be contained or controlled but must as Jesus says: “blow where it chooses” (John 3).

We who have received the Holy Spirit by virtue of our baptism, should not be surprised if the Holy Spirit inspires us to speak in tongues – in worship, in prayer, in moments of necessity – but neither should we feel unspiritual or deficient if the Holy Spirit choses to work in and with us in different ways – ways which, as often as not, will be mundane and ordinary rather than spiritual and extraordinary.

We cannot control the Spirit, but we can allow the Spirit to control us by being open to the Spirit’s gifts, attentive to the movement of the Spirit within us and willing to be led wherever it is that the Spirit might lead us.

May we allow the Holy Spirit to inspire us, empower us and guide us and may the Holy Spirit be visible in our lives – in all that we do and say. Amen.

Come Holy Spirit, Come.

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Is being right what is important?

May 28, 2022

Easter 7 – 2022
John 17:20-26
Marian Free

In the name of God who dwells in us and promises to be with us always. Amen.

During the week I saw a cartoon drawn by someone who goes under the name The Naked Pastor. You may know the writer. This particular cartoon features a number of people holding placards that read: “I believe I am right.” They are marching forwards as if they are part of a protest march and, as they march, they trample over Jesus whose own placard: “I believe in love” lies on the ground beside him.

In the light of the recent General Synod meeting and of the deep divisions within the Anglican Church of Australia, this cartoon captures something of the current zeitgeist and gives us pause for thought. In particular it challenges us to ask – are we marching holding the placards that state our particular view of the Christian faith or are we trying to hold back the tide with placards that read: “I believe in love”?

Who and what is being trampled as we busy ourselves arguing about interpretations of scripture or heatedly defending one or other particular viewpoint? Are our views on same sex marriage, our position on the doctrine of atonement at the centre of the Anglican version of the Christian faith, or is our relationship with God and with one another sets us apart?

As I have said before, today’s reading from John’s gospel can (and has) been used as a tool of abuse. That is there are those who use it to argue that unity is paramount and that therefore anyone who holds differing views from themselves should abandon their positions and capitulate to the opposing position.

“That you may be one as the Father and I are one” is indeed a call for unity, but what sort of unity is Jesus urging?

Our scriptures, written by men who were culturally bound and who were writing for a particular time and place are not consistent and nor are they always helpful when it comes to finding common ground with regard to what we believe or how we interpret the word of God.

Most Christians would recoil at the God-authorised acts of genocide recorded in the books of Numbers and Deuteronomy and very few today would practice polygamy or use the bible to justify slavery. In the New Testament, not only do we have a variety of accounts of the early church (Paul’s letters and the Book of Acts), but we have four gospels each of which present Jesus’ life and teachings in different ways. To give just two examples. There are numerous differences in the retelling of the parable of the talents/pounds in Matthew and Luke (Mt 25:14-30, Lk 19:11-27). The most startling of these is the degree of violence in Luke’s version of the parable in which the king says: “as for these enemies of mine who did not want me to be king over them—bring them here and slaughter them in my presence.” In another parable – that of the wedding banquet, the situation is reversed (Mt 22:1-10, Lk 14:15-24) and it is in Matthew’s gospel that: “the king was enraged and sent his troops, destroyed those murderers, and burned their city.” Fortunately, there do not appear to be Anglicans (of any persuasion) who take seriously the suggestion that those who displease, offend or hurt us should be utterly destroyed or indeed that God is condoning such violence.

We can agree then that wholesale slaughter is not an appropriate Christian response to provocation (unless of course it is in defence of the defenceless). Where we cannot seem to agree relates to the matter of love – in particular whom God loves and from whom God’s love is withheld. Nor can we agree on the limits of love – does love mean loving a person as they as, or loving them only if they conform to those boundaries that have been set around God’s love?

In today’s gospel Jesus prays: “That they may be one as you and I are one.” In order to grasp the meaning of Jesus’ prayer, we have to remember when and to whom Jesus was speaking – or perhaps more importantly – to whom Jesus was not speaking. Jesus was not speaking to the institutional church of his day, nor was he speaking to any one of the sub-groups that existed that within the Judaism of his day. He was speaking to his inner circle of friends with whom he had shared his fears and his hopes and on whom – in just a short while – he would breathe his spirit. Likewise, Jesus is not speaking to the institution of the church today – a church with set formularies and codes of behaviour. At the time at which Jesus was speaking, and even at the time the gospel when was being written, there was no such thing as church – just a smallish group of people who had hoisted their petard to Jesus’ teaching.

Jesus’ prayer does not envisage a structure with rules and restrictions but rather a group of people who, having been touched by his teaching, would seek to replicate the union between himself and the Father, who would open their lives to the indwelling of God and Jesus, and who will endeavour to form relationships with each other that mirror that indwelling.

If we see/hear Jesus’ prayer in that light, we will come to see that seeking unity with God takes precedence over all other aspects of our faith lives and we will come to understand that details such as whom we do or do not marry are trivial in the overall scheme of things. In an ideal world, prioritising union with God would ensure that everything else would fall into its proper place. If we learnt to put love first, we might learn to be less worried about everything else. If we, and all our fellow Christians were less concerned with what we believed and more concerned with loving our brothers and sisters in Christ, the union that we seek with God would be the unity that we would have with one another.

We will not be one, until we, like Jesus are one with the Father. What are we prepared to do to make that happen?

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Only when we are at peace will there be peace in the world

May 21, 2022

Easter 6 – 2022
John 14:23-29
Marian Free

In the name of God in whom we find true peace. Amen.

Maya Angelou was a multi-talented, black, American civil-rights activist who was raised by her grandmother Annie in the American South. In the first of her seven autobiographies, “I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings,” Maya tells the following story. Her grandmother, who owned a successful general store, was sitting on a rocking chair in front of the store when a group of young white girls began jeering her and making offensive, racist comments. One of the girls actually stood on her hands so that her skirt fell down and exposed her bare buttocks. While this was going on Annie simply sat there, apparently unperturbed. The young Maya was furious and couldn’t understand why her grandmother wasn’t reacting to the girls’ insulting behaviour. It was only when she moved closer to her grandmother that Maya heard her singing quietly: “Bread of heaven, bread of heaven, feed me till I want no more.” Annie continued singing to herself as she got up and returned to the store .

Secure of her place in God’s love and of God’s presence in her life, Annie refused to allow her peace and sense of self and worth to be disturbed by something that was beyond her control. Nothing those girls said or did could ruffle or upset her.

It is hard for many of us to imagine being so caught up in the presence of God and so sure that Jesus has made a home with us, that the daily irritations of life are unable penetrate the deep sense of peace that comes from having faith in Jesus! Yet this is the peace that Jesus offers his disciples – not peace in a worldly sense (for that would be impossible) – a peace that is not dependent on what is going on in the world around us, but a peace that derives from a relationship with God – a peace that is nothing less than “a profound and holistic sense of well-being” .

Such peace is not just for the monastics as Annie’s story demonstrates. It is a peace that is promised to anyone that calls themselves a disciple of Jesus.

“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.”

“Do not let your hearts be troubled.” This is the second time that Jesus has uttered these words in this chapter. How can he say such a thing and at such a time? Jesus must have known, as he was preparing the disciples for his departure, what lay ahead – what he would have to face and what the disciples would have to experience. In the next few hours, days and weeks, the disciples would be exposed to situations that would pull the ground from under them and would fill them with trauma and terror. Jesus’ arrest, trial and crucifixion would leave them confused and shocked, fearful for their own lives. On that very night their hopes and dreams would be crushed, and they would feel lost and abandoned by the one whom they had thought would change the world. Yet, instead of giving the disciples advice about how to cope when their world falls apart, Jesus is telling them not to worry! It is rather like telling passengers on an airplane not to panic when they look out of the plane window and see that an engine is on fire!

Don’t panic! As if that we even possible!

Don’t panic when the storms of life rage about you. Don’t panic when your children leave home. Don’t panic when the doctor gives you bad news. Don’t panic when things are not going as you planned. Don’t panic when the bombs are falling. Don’t panic because Jesus has promised to come and live with you. Don’t panic because you are utterly loved and never alone.

The night before he died, Jesus knew the horrors in front of him – the betrayal, the ignominy, the excruciating agony. Despite this, he managed to keep his composure. He found the grace to put his own concerns behind him and to minister to his confused companions. Jesus was able do this not because he had some mistaken notion that God would ensure that he wouldn’t suffer but because, having placed his confidence in God, he refused to let the unfolding events determine how he felt and, more particularly, how he reacted. Throughout his passion Jesus, he calmly, silently accepted the events as they unfolded – no matter how cruel, how unjust or how soul-destroying they were.

Jesus didn’t panic when he was falsely accused and arrested. He didn’t panic when all his friends abandoned him. He didn’t panic when he faced a kangaroo court or when people bayed for his blood. He didn’t panic when he was handed the death sentence. Jesus’ absolute trust in God and in God’s purpose for him gave him the strength to remain calm and to hold his peace.

Today, more than at any time since the Second World War, peace on a world scale appears to be an elusive, even an impossible goal. So long as individuals and nations are driven by greed, anger, fear, insecurity, competitiveness, or a sense of incompleteness, there can be no peace. And until we – you and I and all who claim to believe in Jesus – can truly grasp and integrate into our lives Jesus’ promise of peace, there can be no peace in the world.

If only we could all be like Annie, like our Saviour. If only we could learn to so trust in God that we could be calm and self-contained when the storms of life rage around us, when others deride and revile us or when we see that others have more than us.

There will be no peace in the world, until we are at peace with ourselves, until we – who claim to believe – take up Jesus’ promise of peace.

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We see God through the cross or not at all

May 13, 2022

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Christ active in the world

May 7, 2022

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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