Archive for the ‘Lent’ Category

Humble and riding on a donkey – Palm Sunday

April 14, 2025

Palm Sunday – 2025

Luke 22:14 – 23:56, Phil 2:5-11

Marian Free

In the name of God who calls us and empowers us and who shows us our true worth. Amen.

Paul writes: Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus, 

                  who, though he was in the form of God,

                                    did not regard equality with God

                                    as something to be exploited, 

                  but emptied himself,

                                    taking the form of a slave,

                                    being born in human likeness.

                  And being found in human form, 

                                    he humbled himself

                                    and became obedient to the point of death—

                                    even death on a cross.

To conclude from this that Jesus had no agency, or that he allowed himself to be put upon would be a mistake.

Humility can one of the most difficult virtues to grasp and to practice. It requires a great deal of balance. Humility is often mistaken for weakness[1], submission or meekness whereas it is in humility that true strength lies. One of the problems in coming to grips with humility is that it can appear to be contradictory in nature, and it is often easier to define in terms of what it is not rather than what it is. So, for example while humility involves not thinking more highly of oneself than is warranted, it also means not thinking less of oneself than one deserves. Misunderstanding humility leads to false modesty and to self-deprecation, both of which suggest a focus on oneself which leads of pride, the opposite of humility. Worse, false modesty is a denial of the unique gifts and talents bestowed on us by God. 

To be humble is to have a realistic view of oneself – one’s weaknesses and one’s strengths. Humility means having a willingness to learn, from others and from one’s mistakes but it does not mean underestimating or denying our gifts, hiding our light under bushel, being silent in the face of injustice, or allowing ourselves to be treated as a door mat.

The readings for this morning highlight the contradictory nature of humility – or the balance between what appears to be pride and the total trust in and reliance on God. In Isaiah, the speaker boasts of his strengths at the same time as acknowledging that these come from the Lord. The Christ hymn of Philippians celebrates Jesus’ humble self-emptying, and his giving up his divinity to fully inhabit his humanity. Yet Jesus’ behaviour as he enters Jerusalem – his willingness to accept the adulation and praise of the people and their acknowledgement of his kingship, his overturning of the tables in the temple and his confident responses to the challenges of the leaders and teachers of the church suggest a Jesus who is anything but humble in the usual sense of the word. 

In the account of the Passion, Jesus’ insistence that God has given him a kingdom, his allowing his disciples to be armed, his composure when faced with Judas’ betrayal and the secrecy which surrounded his arrest and his refusal to be drawn into a defence of his messiahship indicate his clear understanding of who he is – not a weak submission to fate. Jesus’ insistence that the Son of Man will be seated at the right hand of God, his insistence that the women not feel sorry for him, his offering of forgiveness from the cross and his assurance to the contrite criminal that he would enter Paradise all demonstrate a healthy ego, a quiet strength, and a confidence in his role which could be mistaken for pride.

It is these apparent contradictions that give us a sense of what it truly means to be humble. Jesus’ determination, self-belief and self-awareness are anything but the weakness and mildness that are often associated with humility. Jesus accepted his God-given role, which was to submit to God’s will for his life, but he absolutely refused to deny the gifts that came with the role. He didn’t exploit his divinity, but neither did he deny the strengths associated with it. He allowed the soldiers to demean and torture him, but he maintained a steely resolve to see his task through to the end[2].

Jesus’ humility was born out of a confidence in himself, his clear understanding of his role and his place before God, and a determination to follow the path set before him wherever it led. Jesus’ certainty with regard to his role and his assurance that he was following God’s will, gave him the courage to stay true to himself rather than be tempted to use his godliness to avoid what lay ahead.

As we enter into Holy Week and walk with Jesus to the cross may we have a true sense of our own worth, recognise our strengths and our limitations and know our place in God’s plan for the world and have the courage to be true to our God-given selves.


[1] One of the on-line dictionary definitions suggested that submissiveness, meekness and lowliness are synonyms which surely is misleading. and leads to an understanding of humility as self-abnegation, rather than a true sense of one’s worth.

[2] In the desert Jesus had already demonstrated an ability to withstand temptation to grasp power, or to use the power that he did have to gain followers, wealth and governance of the world.  At any point could have, as he could in the wilderness, laid claim to his godliness – called down angels to fight for him, spoken in his defence (not that that would have worked), shown anger or given in to despair.

Wild, extravagant love – Mary anoints Jesus

April 7, 2025

Lent 5 – 2025

John 12:1-8

Marian Free

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A son who brings shame and dishonour and a father who couldn’t care less

March 29, 2025

Lent 4 – 2025

Luke 15:11-32

Marian Free

In the name of God who, on our part endures humiliation and shame in order to show love to and to welcome home the worst of us. Amen.

(You might like to watch the Anglican Archbishop of Brisbane’s one minute reflection on today’s gospel.)

There are two parables (only found in Luke) that have become part of common parlance.  These are known as the parable of the Good Samaritan and the parable of the Prodigal Son. Unfortunately, our over familiarisation with these parables (and with parables in general) is that they have lost their capacity to shock, to pull us up short. In the first instance, Jesus’ parable about the Samaritan is not a call to do good works, but a critique of those – good Christians all– who think that in some way superior to those whom they consider as somehow lesser than themselves. In the second instance, Jesus is challenging the view of those who thought that Jesus should only eat with/associate with those who kept the law and those who observed the niceties of social expectations (Luke 15:1).

In the case of the Prodigal son, as the name suggests, the focus tends to be on the son. When we read the parable, we put ourselves in the place of the son and feel immense gratitude that God overlooks our faults when and if we repent. What we fail to see, is what the parable tells us about the Father – by implication what it tells us about God and Jesus. In fact, scholars today call the parable the forgiving father, because that more accurately represents Jesus’ meaning.

The focus in this parable is not the repentance (if it was repentance) of the son, but on the father, who, ignoring ridicule and having no regard to his position in society, not only indulges the son, but who watches day and night for the son’s return and who runs to greet him on the road. In this parable, Jesus turns the honour/shame culture of the Middle East on its head. 

At that time (and in some places today) the concept of honour/shame was central to all relationships in the Middle East. There were complex protocols governing all human behaviour because honour was a finite resource and if you wanted to increase your own honour you could only do it at the expense of someone else’s honour. In an interaction between people of differing status, there were quite specific codes to follow so that each person, whether of higher or lower status, was not in danger of threatening the honour of the other.  

A loss of honour was equally the loss of respect and status in the community. This is the reason why Herod felt that he had to honour the request of his step daughter to behead John the Baptist. To have failed to do so would have meant that he would have lost face (respect, status) before his guests.  If a person lost their honour, it was lost for good. Had Herod not fulfilled his promise, he might have been able to maintain his power by force, but not through his status in the community. (He would have become an object of ridicule, someone who could not be expected to keep his word.)

In a collective (not individualistic) society, honour was collective. A man’s honour was dependent on the behaviour of his family – so much so that homes were often open to the street to demonstrate that the head of the household had nothing to fear. In this case the actions of the son reflect badly on and diminish the father’s honour.

This is what makes Jesus’ parable of the forgiving father all the more surprising, even shocking to his audience. From beginning to end the story is about a father whose honour is challenged and diminished and about a father who doesn’t care less about honour, his dignity or the regard in which he is held by his neighbours.  He cares only for the well-being of the son.

According to the parable the younger son asks for his share of the inheritance. Not only is this son greedy, selfish and impatient he is, by asking for his inheritance, implying that wished his father dead. Jesus’ audience would have understood that the son’s request was in clear violation of the fourth commandment to honour your father and mother. Further, anyone dependent on making a living from the land would be well aware of the financial burden that paying out the son would put on the father (and the remaining brother). The son has brought shame on the family, possibly impoverished the family and has thought only of himself and his short-term pleasure.

You might say, “yes, but he did come to his senses’. But did he? Was he really repentant or was he still putting his own needs first. Peter Hawkins (among others) observes that there is something quite calculating in the son’s thought process[1]. His speech is even rehearsed: “I will say to him.” There is no mention in the account that he is sorry, only that returning home would be a solution to his state of starvation. 

If anyone has/had any doubt that God was not a God of judgement and condemnation, but a God of compassion and second chances, this parable (and the two that precede it) puts paid to any questions on that score.

The father (probably representing God) has asked nothing of the son but has freely given him what he wanted, released him from all responsibility and let him go. Then, day after day, it appears, he has kept a lookout for this lost boy – forgoing pride and any sense of social respectability (the son has made it clear that he doesn’t want to be part of the family and has brought dishonour on his family name). 

Finally, the father sees the son and, without thought for his personal dignity and paying no regard to the diminished esteem in which he will be held by his neighbours, he runs (runs not walks) to take his son in his arms before son has any opportunity to give his well-thought out and well-rehearsed speech. If that were not enough to indicate to his neighbours his lack of self-respect, he then calls for the best robe, a ring for the finger, sandals for his feet AND a feast with the fatted calf, any one of which would be shocking and incomprehensible to his community.  A member of the family who had brought them into such disrepute and brought such shame upon them, should at the very least be shunned if not severely punished.

By turning upside down the social conventions of the time, Jesus wants his audience to let go of an idea that God only welcomes those self-righteous people who keep the law and set themselves apart from the sinner and tax-collector. Just the opposite, God’s primary concern is for the sheep who has wandered from the fold, the coin that has found its way into a hidden corner, and the son or daughter who has cut themselves off from God’s love. 

God of the lost, giver of second chances – is not a God who wants to condemn and exclude, but a God whose open embrace welcomes all who would turn to him – without question, without recrimination and certainly without judgement.


[1] Christian Century. Sunday’s Coming. 25/3/25

The word of the Lord? Luke 13:1-9

March 24, 2025

Lent 3 -2025

Luke 13:1-9

Marian Free

In the name of God who alone is perfect and who overlooks our imperfections. Amen.

If you are like me, there will be times during a service, whether it be the Daily Office or the Eucharist, when a reader concludes the lesson with the words: “Hear the Word of the Lord” and you think to yourself, “No!  not really!” Many of our biblical stories, particularly those in the Old Testament are unedifying, and yet, following the rubric, we dutifully affirm them as the word of the Lord. On occasions it might be more truthful to assert: “Here we see an example of human frailty” or even for the reader to say: “This is the word of the Lord???” Have you ever hesitated to respond: “Thanks be to God”?  Are you, for example, anxious that you are affirming the rape of Bathsheba when you thank God for that story? 

While the Old Testament has many stories that seem to tell us more about the nature of humanity than of God, the New Testament has its share of apparently shocking and unedifying passages. Take this morning’s gospel for example. It is difficult to understand why Luke would feel a need to refer to such a violent and gruesome event as the killing of Galileans and mixing their blood with sacrifices. It is even more difficult to understand this account when not even Josephus can point to a specific event to which this might be referring.

Even more confusing is Luke’s change of tone. As Luke has recorded the story Jesus, has until now, been focused on healing and wholeness, but in this passage Jesus’ attitude appears to change from encouraging to threatening, from healing to judging. At first glance Jesus seems to be justifying the bloody death of the Galileans and those crushed by a tower. as a warning to his listeners. “Unless you repent, you will all perish as they did.” Are we all to suffer an unexpected and gruesome fate “unless we repent”?

The reality is just the opposite. Using these examples of unexpected and violent death, Jesus is making it clear that the external circumstances of a person’s life (success or failure, wealth or poverty) and the circumstances of their deaths (violent or peaceful) are not evidence of their sinfulness or not. Indeed, making comparisons is futile, because not only does it pit people against each other, but comparisons of this kind allow one to feel superior, self-righteous and proud which are themselves sin.

In the end, sin, is sin is sin. There is no scale against which sin is measured – a little bit of sin, or a vast quantity of sin. A person has either sinned or they have not, and few, if any could claim to never have sinned. Everyone of us needs to turn our lives toward God and godliness over and over again. It is the honest acknowledgement of who we are that establishes a right relationship with God, not a belief that because we are better than Sarah Jane or Billy Joe, we will get off more lightly or that we will scale an imaginary ladder of righteousness OR that our good deeds are in some way balanced against our bad deeds.

Pilate’s violent suppression of opposition was well-known, and the Galileans had a reputation for being rebellious. We only have a snippet of what was certainly a much longer conversation, but Jesus has clearly discerned that what lies behind the report is a desire on the part of ‘those present’ to be reassured that the suffering of the Galileans was not meaningless but was in some way a consequence of their behaviour – that God allowed it, or worse orchestrated their death because their sin warranted it.

Jesus is challenging a widely held contemporary view that a person’s situation in life was a sign of their righteousness (or lack of it). He is pointing to the reality that life is unpredictable, and that suffering is random – good people are just as prone to die in road accidents as are sinners, good people are just as likely to lose homes and livelihoods in natural disasters as are bad, good and evil people alike may be struck down with life-threatening diseases.  Life’s circumstances are not external signs of God’s approval.

What is more as Jesus goes on to suggest, there is no one who is perfect. Everyone has to repent; everyone is called to turn their hearts and lives over to God. We may smugly think that we do not break the 10 commandments, but that very smugness is a demonstration of a pride that indicates dependence on our self, not on God. We may pat ourselves on the back because we have never told a lie, but that very fact may hide a failure to have been truly honest about how we really feel and think. Sin is usually much more subtle than we give it credit for and whether we own it or not, we are all sinners, in that our lives do not fully reflect the divinity that lies within.

BUT – do not despair. Jesus, having brought his listeners back to reality, tells a parable reminding them of God’s forbearance and of second chances. A non-productive fig tree is taking up space in the garden that could be used for a fruit-bearing tree. It serves no other purpose. It should be cut down and replaced. But no, it is given another chance. The gardener will do all that is possible to ensure that it bears fruit.  Only if, after the tree has been given every opportunity to bear fruit, it remains barren, will it be chopped down.

So it is with us, God is endlessly patient, forever giving us a second chance, always believing in the goodness in us and overlooking the rottenness and God will keep on giving us a second chance unless we absolutely refuse to take advantage of it.

The Season of Lent provides an opportunity for us to acknowledge the frailty of our human nature (which we share with all humanity), to submit ourselves to the gardener’s care and to allow ourselves to be transformed.

********************************

This quote doesn’t quite speak to the point, but it does serve as a reminder that sin can be more dangerous when it is subtle than when it if blatant.

Of foxes and hens – Luke 13:31-35

March 15, 2025

Lent 2 -2025

Luke 13:31-35

Marian Free

In the name of God who has “yet more light and truth to break forth from God’s word[1].” Amen.

As part of my Lenten discipline, I am reading Healing Wounds: the 2025 Lent Book by Norwegian Bishop and author Erik Varden. Varden is a Trappist monk, so I should not have been surprised that his approach to the study is that of a Roman Catholic.  While I understand his imagery, I find some of it jarring. That said, the book is providing much food for thought. Varden takes as his starting point an ancient poem authored by one Arnulf of Leuven (1200-48), a Cistercian and an author. The poem is a meditation on the cross, specifically on Christ’s body on the cross – his feet, his knees, his hands. Varden suggests that the poem asks the question: “How do I appropriate the passion narrative with due proportion and without presumption?” or “How do I experience Christ’s wounds as the living source of a remedy by which sin is cured and humanity’s wounds, my wounds are healed?”[2]

It is not only Varden’s theology that is somewhat different from my own, but his use of scripture. In particular, given this week’s gospel, I have found my self pondering his reference to Luke 13:34b. “How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!” Varden is commenting on the poet’s reflection on Jesus’ hands – “your sacred hands extended”.  The poet continues: “You show yourself broad, ready to receive both good and bad; attracting the indolent, calling the devout, holding them in your embrace, freely open to all.” Influenced by the language of the poet Varden writes: “He (Jesus) desired to gather Jerusalem’s children ‘together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings.’”

I will leave you to ponder what to make of the image. It may be that you, like Arnulf and Varden, see Christ’s outstretched arms on the cross as a welcoming embrace, and that for you too Jesus’ arms nailed to the cross recall to mind Jesus’ words as he contemplates Jerusalem in today’s gospel.

Varden has, it seems to me, used scripture quite creatively, and this is just one example. That said, it is only in the last few hundred years that we have expected scripture to make literal sense. Until quite recently scholars and preachers alike understood that scripture was to be understood allegorically and that it did not have to be entirely logical or linear.

This historical understanding of scripture comes in handy when we examine today’s gospel which, read as a piece, does not seem to be particularly coherent. (In fact, as I am discovering during Morning Prayer, much of Luke’s gospel reads as a list of unrelated sayings or comments.)

In the five verses that comprise this morning’s gospel there appear to be at least four unconnected themes – warnings, determination, concern and prediction – each of which warrant more than the one or two lines allotted.  There are foxes and hens, Pharisees who warn rather than attack Jesus, a city that kills prophets, a Saviour who is also a mother hen, and a saying that could refer to Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem or to his post-resurrection return. 

In these verses we see Jesus at his most discerning, his most assertive and his most maternal.

Trying to construct a sermon on any one of those themes means neglecting the others. There is a temptation, into which I may have fallen, to speak of foxes and hens, even though there is no direct connection between them in the text. 

Sometimes, I believe, it is important not to try to make literal sense of the text but allow it to speak to us in whatever way is appropriate for the time – ours or the world’s. It is important not to force the text into some form of coherence – to make the Pharisees’ warning relate to Jesus’ passionate outburst of love, to conflate Jesus’ discussion with the Pharisees with his reflection on Jerusalem.  Likewise, as familiar and heart-warming as they are, we should not take Jesus’ words about gathering the chicks out of context.

It is important to try to make sense of our scriptures, to place them in their context, and to understand the author’s literary skills and intention.  There are times though when sitting with the complexities and contradictions that we find in scripture, accepting that no amount of research, no amount of manipulation of the text will translate into something that makes absolute sense is just what is needed. 

Sometimes, as I have certainly said before, there seems to be some wisdom, if not intention here – the very incoherence of a text serves a purpose. Texts that seem to make little sense serve as a warning that we are not to rely on an earthly capacity for understanding, or to believe that earthly values are a reflection of heavenly values. Complex, contradictory scriptures force us to accept that we can never truly know the mind of God and that we must let go of our desire for certainty, simply sit with the text, and retain an openness to the movement of the Spirit – in the text, in ourselves and in others.

In the words of the hymn:

We limit not the truth of God

to our poor reach of mind,

by notion of our day and sect,

crude, partial and confined:

no let a new and better hope

within our hearts be stirred:

                  the Lord has yet more truth and life

to break forth from his word

O Father, Son, and Spirit, send

us increase from above;

enlarge expand all living souls

to comprehend your love;

and make us all go on to know

 with nobler power conferred:

                  that you have yet more light and truth

to break forth from your word.[3]

Sometimes all we can do is to let the words wash over us and make such sense as they will.


[1] George Rawson, hymn writer,1807-89.

[2] Varden,  p20. The book is available on Kindle as well as in hard copy.

[3] George Rawson, Togetther in Song, 453.

Lent 1 – Not what we can do for God but what God can do for us.

March 8, 2025

Lent 1 – 2025

Luke 4:1-13

Marian Free

In the name of God, who asks only that we seek and serve God alone. Amen.

Over the past week the following meme has been posted several times on Facebook.

“This Lent keep the chocolate and give up bigotry, judgement, legalism and hatred in all forms.”

I find it helpful as it serves as a reminder that Lent is less about willpower and more about facing our humanity in all its ugliness. If, for example, we spend the entirety of Lent battling to go without chocolate, wine or some other pleasure, and emerge triumphant at Easter because we have resisted the temptation to indulge in the forbidden treat, but if in the process we have in essence remained unchanged, then we have missed the point. Worse, in giving up something superficial like chocolate, we have only made Lent self-focussed, rather than God focussed. In fact, rather than learning how much we need to depend on God, we have, by our dependence on willpower, demonstrated that we don’t need God – we can overcome temptation all on our own! Instead of learning to trust in God, all we have done is proven how little we trust in God!

It is useful to look at Jesus’ time in the wilderness which mirrors that of the Israelites who, having been delivered by God from their Egyptian oppressors spent 40 years in the wilderness. Both the Israelites and Jesus are named as God’s Son before they are thrust into the wilderness, but whereas the desert experience only revealed the Israelites complete lack of faith in God, Jesus time in the wilderness demonstrated his complete and utter trust – this despite facing many of the same obstacles as faced by the Israelites – testing in the form of hunger, thirst, and the apparent absence of God. Whereas the Israelites complained, put God to the test and worshipped other gods, Jesus steadfastly refuses to do anything that would compromise his integrity, demonstrate self-reliance or evidence a lack of trust in God. 

Each of the tests that Jesus faces mirrors one that the Israelites faced (and failed). 

For generations the Israelites had suffered increasing privations under the Egyptians. They had been enslaved, made to work increasingly hard and the latest Pharoah had demanded that their male children be killed at birth. Finally, God intervened to set them free. God not only delivered them from the hands of Pharoah, God also ensured that they did not leave Egypt empty-handed. (They were able to take with them all their flocks (Exodus 12:38) and they left enriched having demanded and received from their neighbours silver and gold jewellery and clothes (Exodus 12:35,36). Yet despite all the evidence that their escape from Egypt was God’s doing (plagues, crossing of the Red Sea), the people had barely left their oppressors behind when they began to complain.  First it was the lack water, then, within two months of leaving Egypt they were complaining again: “If only we had died by the hand of the LORD in the land of Egypt, when we sat by the fleshpots and ate our fill of bread; for you have brought us out into this wilderness to kill this whole assembly with hunger.” (Exodus 16:3)

In response, God provided the manna and the quail. Deuteronomy interprets this 

as a lesson that will help them to understand “that one does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of the Lord” (8;3).

Later when water is short, the Israelites again complain: “Why did you bring us out of Egypt, to kill us and our children and livestock with thirst?” and Moses accuses them of putting God to the test (Exodus 17:2,3). This event is referred to in Deuteronomy which teaches: “Do not put the LORD your God to the test, as you tested him at Massah” (6:16).

Worst of all, when Moses was communing with God on Mount Sinai, the Israelites felt abandoned – by him, but most of all by God.  They gathered all their gold, fashioned a golden calf – a god that was no god – and worshipped it – breaking the first and most significant commandment. When the Israelites prepare to enter the promised land Moses warns them: “you shall not bow down to their gods, or worship them. You shall worship the LORD your God, and I will bless your bread and your water; and I will take sickness away from among you (6:24, 13).

Both the Israelites and Jesus face other tests (Luke 4:13), but these are the those that the evangelists see fit to record. Jesus responds: One shall not live by bread alone, worship the Lord your God and serve only him, and do not put the Lord your God to the test. By his reactions to the tests he faced in the desert, Jesus models that there is a different way to respond to testing situations, a way that demonstrates confidence in God and an understanding that it is through trust in God, not trust in humankind or in one’s own power that one finds true strength.

The season of Lent is not an opportunity to test our own strength, but a time to test the strength of our confidence in God, to show our willingness to let God direct our way and to determine not to be governed by possessions, by a desire for comfort or by a need for security. 

If we give something during Lent it is to see how we react when we are denied some of life’s comforts, to observe our weaknesses and to learn to trust that God will see us through.

Perhaps the most important thing to note is that Jesus’ time in the wilderness is not of his own choosing. He is led into the wilderness by the Holy Spirit. We observe the season of Lent as a reminder of Jesus’ experience, but that does not mean that our practice at this time should be of our choosing, but rather it should be our response to the prompting of the Holy Spirit revealing what we should give up, what aspects of our behaviour most need examining and what aspects of our relationship with God most need improving.

Perhaps we should emerge at Easter – not stronger but weaker, more vulnerable, more aware of our shortcomings, and more willing to rely on God (not ourselves) to put things right.  

We should ask ourselves is our Lenten practice about what we can do for God or what God can do for us?

Why is this Friday “Good”?

March 30, 2024

Good Friday

John 18:1-19:42

Marian Free

In the name of God who exposes the values of this world for what they are. Amen.

I am often asked why today is called Good Friday, when it is a day filled with horror and death. 

It is good, not because of what happened OR because of what will happen. It is good because of what it tells us. 

By going willingly to the cross, by refusing to engage with a process that was blatantly unjust, and by resisting the temptation to save himself, Jesus exposed all that is wrong with this world – the grasping for and holding on to power, the desire to increase one’s wealth (albeit at the expense of others), the marginalisation and stereotyping of those who are different, the limits placed on freedom of expression, freedom of movement, and the attempts to control the narrative.  By submitting to and not fighting the powers of this world, Jesus exposes their powerlessness – to control, to limit, to label or to frighten. Jesus reveals that it is possible to play by a different set of rules – that one does not have to be bound by fear, hatred, greed or by a hunger for power or seduced by the desire for self-preservation or. control. By refusing to give evil power over him, by refusing to compromise to secure his own comfort and safety, Jesus takes power into his own hands, stripping evil of its power to intimidate, coerce or subjugate. 

Jesus overpowered evil and death by refusing to let them control his story. By facing the forces of this world head on, Jesus deprived them of their power over him.

Today is called “Good” because on this day Jesus showed that by standing apart from the world and refusing to be bound by worldly desires and conventions, and by resisting the. temptation to engage in the grasping for power, recognition and possessions Jesus stripped them of their power over him, and ultimately over us.   

It is Good Friday because the victory has been won and with our cooperation can become the reality for all people. 

Maundy Thursday – modelling resistance

March 30, 2024

Maundy Thursday

John 13:1-17, 31b-35

Marian Free

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

In a recent tweet, the Archbishop of Canterbury commented “Jesus doesn’t wash his disciples’ feet despite having power, but because of it. Jesus’ power finds its fullest expression when he gives it away. Something we’ll see again on the cross.” (@JustinWelby)

Tonight begins the observation of the Triduum, the three days from the Last Supper and Jesus’ arrest to the Resurrection.  Not everyone takes advantage of the liturgical observance of these events, but they are of one piece – each event in the Passion of Christ shedding light on and expanding another. Jesus begins by demonstrating what it means to be free of human desires, to have the confidence to overturn and reject human conventions and the courage to face death. On the cross, he exposes futility of trying to maintain power by force. On the first day of the week, Jesus’ resurrection proves that freedom is won, not by making compromises with the devil (however that is represented), but by standing firm and resisting evil (in whatever form that takes).

Tonight, John’s gospel tells us that: “Jesus knew that his hour had come.” He knew too that: “The devil had already put it into the heart of Judas son of Simon Iscariot to betray him.” Knowing that he was to die and knowing that one of his inner circle had already determined to hand him over to the authorities, Jesus held fast.  He refused to let his behaviour be determined by the values of this world – self-preservation, anger, bitterness, resentment, or disappointment. Jesus held fast to kingdom values, selflessness, love, forgiveness and acceptance. 

On this night, Jesus did not “rage, rage against the dying of the light”[1]. He chose not to fight the forces of this world on their terms – by force, oppression, injustice, suppression and self-protection. Jesus showed another way, the only way to defeat evil and to allow love to triumph. He tied a towel around himself, took on the role of a servant, and washed the feet of the disciples. He washed the feet of Judas, who had already made up his mind to hand Jesus over to the authorities and he washed the feet of Peter who was blinded by human pride, and he washed the feet of those who would abandon him.

Jesus’ simple action of footwashing speaks volumes. With his disciples he showed that it was possible to rise above the pettiness of human fears and jealousies.

In willingly facing his opponents, submitting to arrest and torture, Jesus demonstrated the powers of this world will not be defeated by force, that using the  tools of the enemy makes us no better than them, that vulnerability freely chosen is not weakness but strength,  that courage is stronger than fear and above all, that love is stronger than hate.

And so, having shown by example that he will not engage in the power struggles of this world, Jesus goes out to let them do their worst.


[1] Dylan Thomas Do not go gentle into that good night.

Unless a seed falls to the ground and dies

March 16, 2024

Lent 5 -2024

John 12:20-30

Marian Free

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

John’s Jesus has a tendency to be obscure. This has a number of advantages. The first is that Jesus’ vagueness opens a conversation in which the author of John’s gospel can expand on a particular theological idea. Take for example Jesus’ encounter with the Samaritan woman at the well. Jesus tells the woman that, if she had asked, he would have given her “living water”. Of course, the woman’s curiosity is piqued and, taking Jesus literally she asks for the living water so that she would no longer have to come to the well. We know that she has missed the point, but for the purpose of the gospel writer, her misunderstanding provides an opportunity for a discussion about Jesus’ identity. At the end of that conversation, the woman concludes that Jesus is the Christ. A consequence of the discussion, and of the woman’s discernment is that her whole community come to faith.

Another examples of Jesus’ ambiguity can be found in Jesus’ discussions about his departure. In chapter 14 Jesus announces the disciples know the way to where he is going. When Thomas exclaims that they do not know the way, Jesus responds: “I am the way, the truth and the light.” While that has become a much-quoted phrase, it really does nothing to enlighten the disciples as to the direction they must take.  (Note that earlier Jesus has told the disciples that “where he is going they cannot come.” 13:33) The effect of such /contradictory statements is that the reader/listener is forced into a state of suspended animation – caught between one way of thinking and another. Such uncertainty saves them (and us) from the confidence that they (we) understand the mystery of the divine.

Other statements in the gospel force the reader/listener to think, to puzzle through what Jesus says to discern it’s meaning. Take today’s convoluted story for example. It is worth quoting in full.  ‘Now among those who went up to worship at the festival were some Greeks. They came to Philip, who was from Bethsaida in Galilee, and said to him, “Sir, we wish to see Jesus.”  Philip went and told Andrew; then Andrew and Philip went and told Jesus. Jesus answered them, “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life.  Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also. Whoever serves me, the Father will honour.”’

Here we see that a relatively simple request from some Greeks leads to a complex series of events and a convoluted response from Jesus. The Greeks tell Philip that they’d like to see Jesus, Philip finds Andrew. They both go and tell Jesus and Jesus launches into an unrelated speech on discipleship. We don’t learn to whom he addresses his monologue or if the Greeks were ever taken to Jesus.

There is obviously more to this account than at first meets the eye. Here it is useful to remember that the gospels, especially the Gospel of John, were written with the reader in mind and with the goal of bringing them to faith. John’s gospel is particularly explicit in this regard (20:30) and, given Jesus’ instructions to the disciples in chapters 14-17, it is clear that one intention of the John’s gospel is to form disciples. It is also helpful if we understand that John’s gospel has a certain circularity or repetitive nature to it so that what we read today almost certainly relates to a theme already introduced. 

All of which sheds some light on what is going on in this morning’s gospel – the obscurity of Jesus’ response makes us pay attention and the reference to death recalls times when Jesus has referred to his own death.  Last Sunday, for example, we looked at the phrase “lifted up” which Jesus uses with reference to his own crucifixion and death. We saw that for the author of John, it was the cross, not the resurrection that was the place of victory, because it was on the cross that Jesus defeated evil and death. Two thousand years later, in the face of all the tragedy and cruelty in the world, it is difficult to continue make the claim that Jesus has defeated evil. Last week I concluded that the fact that there is still evil in world comes down to us and: “our desire to conform to society rather than to confront injustice, our concern to protect our own comfort and security and our refusal to see that our relative comfort comes at the expense of the discomfort of others, and our willingness to make compromises that result in our shoring up the status quo.”

Today’s gospel indirectly supports that conclusion. Using the image of a seed falling into the ground and dying in order to bear fruit, Jesus continues: “Those who love their life will lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life.” Jesus may not be responding directly to the request of the Greeks, but what he is doing is giving generalised instruction regarding discipleship (to all his listeners). 

Here in Jerusalem Jesus is at the threshold of the final part of his journey. He is aware that death/glory awaits him. “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified”. In the following chapters, over a final meal, Jesus will prepare the disciples for his death and at the same time give them instructions as to how to continue as a community without him.  As part of this preparation Jesus washes the disciples’ feet, tells them that no one has greater love than to lay down one’s life for one’s friends, warns that they will be hated and persecuted and that those who kill them will think that they are doing so to worship God.

Discipleship is not some cosy adherence to the ten commandments, gathering for worship on a Sunday, or blending in with the crowd. Jesus makes it clear through teaching and through his own example that discipleship is a costly enterprise, it demands the selflessness to put the needs of others first, the courage to challenge unjust structures, the confidence to speak truth to power and the willingness to pay the ultimate price – giving one’s life so that others might be free to live. 

If evil is to be defeated, and if the world is to be a kinder, more just and more equitable place  something of us must we let die, so that others have a chance to simply live. 

– “Unless a seed falls to the ground and dies” –

Snakes alive! Jesus’ being lifted up

March 9, 2024

Lent 4 – 2024

John 3:14-21

Marian Free

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

Snakes alive! Today’s gospel is so dense and so filled with complex ideas that it is easy to overlook the almost throw-away line that likens Jesus to a serpent and his crucifixion to a bronze serpent placed on a pole to ward off death. 

The image of a serpent in today’s gospel is disturbing to say the least. Even though our lectionary gives us the OT Testament reference – the plague of snakes and the bronze serpent as the cure, it can be difficult to see the connection between looking at a bronze likeness and living. It is even harder to see any relationship between Jesus and this almost superstitious solution to the poisonous snakes. In the OT account, the bronze snake represents both the cause of death and the cure – (in much the same way that modern day vaccinations use the source of a disease to inoculate us against that disease). In the gospel, John is less concerned with the prevention of death and more interested in the idea that the serpent was “lifted up”.  He contends that just as the serpent was lifted up, so must the Son of Man be lifted up.

“Being lifted up” is a key phrase in John’s gospel. We meet it for the first time here, but we also come across the expression in chapter 8: “When you have lifted up the Son of Man, then you will realize that I am he, (28) and again in  Chapter 12 where Jesus tells the crowd: “and I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself”(32).

Chapter 12 v33 makes it clear that, in John, “lifting up” refers to Jesus’ crucifixion – not to the resurrection or ascension. Here, the author adds an aside: “He said this (about being lifted up) to indicate the kind of death he was to die.” In other words, for this gospel writer, Jesus’ being lifted up and his dying are one and the same. Jesus is lifted up on the cross and he dies on the cross. People will see Jesus lifted up, will see  the lengths that Jesus/God will go to for us and will believe. 

In John, the cross takes centre stage. It is on the cross, not through the resurrection, that victory is won. The cross is the sign of victory, not defeat, because it is on the cross that evil is defeated, and the ruler of this world is driven out. By willingly submitting to crucifixion, Jesus demonstrates that evil and death have no power over him – they can do their worst because Jesus is not in thrall to them, he will not avoid or evade them, because power belongs to God.. The cross is the place of victory because Jesus is not a victim, nor is he at the mercy of secular or supernatural powers. He could choose to avoid the cross, but he does not. In the cross is victory, not because Jesus sacrifices himself, or because an angry God demands to be appeased. In the cross is victory, because it is there, in the midst of suffering and death, that God fully identifies with the suffering and pain of the world.

The cross is a sign of Jesus’ victory not in the sense that he wants to draw attention to himself, or that he is making the choice to be a heroic martyr. Jesus chooses the cross in the sense that he doesn’t avoid it, in the sense that he follows the path set before him, even though he knows it leads to torture and death and in the sense that he refuses to be cowed by evil or by the worldly forces that conspire against him. Jesus submits to the cross because he chooses crucifixion and death over self-preservation. He chooses to walk into the lion’s den, to confront evil and to take on the ruler of this world no matter the cost.

John’s gospel depicts Jesus as a man who, from beginning to end is the master of his own destiny. There were many times and many ways that Jesus could have avoided such a gruesome end. He could have succumbed to the temptations in the wilderness and walked his own path not God’s. He could have remained in Galilee and lived out his life as a well-respected teacher and worker of miracles.  He could have kept quiet about the misleading teaching, the corruption, and the injustices that he observed both within the church and in the governing powers. 

Jesus would not save himself if it meant being complicit with the powers that control and subdue the people, he would not take the easy way out and protect his own life when there were truths to be told and he would not make compromises that would in effect be colluding with the powers of this world. 

Even though the cross led to Jesus’ death, the author of John can claim that the cross (not the resurrection) is the place of victory because Jesus did not allow his message to be contained, colonised, sanitised, or moderated. He held to the truth even though to do so was dangerous. He refused to compromise, even when compromise would have been safer.  He defeated evil by refusing to give evil the last word. 

Today, in the face of the horrors that we are witnessing in Gaza, the Ukraine, the Sudan, Haiti, Afghanistan, Iraq, and countless other places I find myself asking in what way is the cross a sign of victory here and now? How can we claim victory when injustice abounds and whole nations are oppressed, when people continue to live in abject poverty and when there is an inequitable distribution of the world’s resources?  

I suspect that the answer lies with us. The cross was the place of victory, because on the cross, instead of putting himself first, Jesus aligned himself with all the suffering of the world.  That the world continues to promote violence, oppression and injustice, relates in part to our desire to conform to society rather than to confront injustice, our concern to protect our own comfort and security and our refusal to see that our relative comfort comes at the expense of the discomfort of others, and our willingness to make compromises that result in our shoring up the status quo.

The cross is the place of Jesus’ victory, but it can only be the place of victory for all people if we make it so, if we continue Jesus’ self-giving, self-denying confrontation of evil.

Jesus has demonstrated that evil can be defeated, but it will only be truly defeated when it loses its power over us.