Archive for the ‘Luke’s gospel’ Category

Barn building

August 3, 2013

Pentecost 11 – 2013

Luke 12:13-21

Marian Free 

In the name of God in whom is our life and salvation. Amen.

Studies have shown that while a certain degree of income is required to provide peace of mind, income above that base level does not appear to contribute significantly to a person’s happiness. Other studies have revealed that the people who express most satisfaction with regard to their work include the clergy and others whose jobs while occasionally stressful involve making a difference in the lives of others. The tiny nation of Bhutan does not measure its GDP as a measure of its wealth but instead measures the happiness of its people. Just recently in Australia, there was a Happiness Conference. Increasingly, happiness is becoming something which psychologists such as Martin Seligman study and sell. There is even a website called “The Happiness Project” on which the author (as far as I can tell) lets her readers know what makes her happy – the assumption being that what makes her happy will make other people happy.

All of this begs the question: what is happiness and how can we attain it? Does our happiness depend on what we earn or own or is it related to satisfaction with what we do and contentment with what we have?

Sometimes it takes a crisis or a disaster to help us to focus on where our priorities really lie, to discover what really makes us happy. People who face a life-threatening illness often report that news of their illness forced them revisit their priorities. Many say that their lives until that point were too focussed on the accumulation of wealth, possessions or status and that now they realize that in striving for such things they were missing out on the simple pleasures of life – family and friends, walks in the park. Others who have come out the other side of a major disaster like fire or flood are able to recognise that they are blessed – even if they have lost everything – so long as their family members are spared. They know (or learn) that relationships are more important than possessions. 

A reading of Luke and Acts would, on a superficial reading, seem to indicate that the author has a negative attitude towards wealth. For example, the first chapters of the Book of Acts imply that the early church encouraged wealth sharing and include the account of a couple who are struck dead because they withhold from the community some of the proceeds of the sale of their property. The Gospel of Luke includes the account of the rich young man and today’s “example story” of the barn builder who dies before he can enjoy the fruits of his labour.

However, to make that assumption would be to misjudge Luke. It is true that Luke does seem to have a concern about wealth, but his concern has less to do with what and how much people earn or own, and more to do with the attitude they have towards what they have. In other words, money itself is not the issue, but a person’s attitude to money. Do they depend on their possessions to provide a sense of contentment or to give their life meaning or do they find real happiness in relationships, job satisfaction and so on?

Today’s gospel reading implies that a focus on material (rather than heavenly) things is the barn builder’s primary fault. (“So it is with all who store up treasures for themselves but are not rich towards God.”) However, to place this statement in context, we have to remember that the rich man himself is addressing his soul (something which might be considered the place of his relationship with God). However God does not seem to play a role of any sort in the man’s present or his future.

The barn builder appears to be drawing on two assumptions: one is that wealth alone will feed the soul and the second is that in preparing for his soul’s future, he need only consider his present, physical comfort. Our fictional character, has not considered the possibility that his life is finite and that he cannot take his wealth with him. His soul might be well catered for in this life, but what about the next? Has he thought about whether he has given as much time to building his relationship with God as he has to building his wealth? Has he thought about the health of his soul or only the wealth of his soul? Has he considered the fact that he may not live forever, and asked himself whether if his end should come he would be content with the life he has lived? 

These are the sorts of issues that Jesus raises in response to a demand from the crowd: “Tell my brother to share his inheritance with me.” Jesus is suggesting that there is more to life than wealth and possessions and implying that a focus on building riches can detract from a focus on more important things – including one’s eternal salvation.

It seems to me that the story of the barn builder raises a number of questions as to how we ourselves live our lives, and challenges us to think about what we would do differently if we knew that our life was coming to an end (or indeed if we recognised that our lives could end at any time. If we were to live as if everyday might be our last, how would our values change? What would we do differently if we knew that we were to die today, next week or next year? If we were to die today, would we feel we had lived a life without regret? Would we be ready to stand before God and answer for how we had spent our time?  If we knew that we were living our final days would we be content that the life we had lived was a life that prepared us for life eternal?

At the end of the day what matters is not how many possessions we have, but whether we possess them or they us. What matters is not so much how wealthy we are, but whether we understand that our wealth, like our life is transitory. What matters is whether we are preparing our souls for eternity, or our lives for longevity?

Where do our priorities lie and does this story challenge us to change them?

Teach us to pray

July 27, 2013

Pentecost 10 – 2013

Luke 11:1-13

Marian Free 

In the name of God who taught us to pray. Amen.

 

“Lord, teach us to pray as John taught his disciples.”

He said to them, when you pray say:

“Father, hallowed be your name,

Your kingdom come.

Give us each day our daily bread.

And forgive us our sins,

for we ourselves forgive everyone indebted to us.

And do not bring us to the time of trial.”

There is a lovely story, probably apocryphal, about the Lord’s Prayer. The story concerns three hermits who had taken themselves off to a rather inhospitable island to spend time in prayer. One day the Bishop of the district thought that he should visit them. On arrival he asked them how they prayed. Their response was that they repeated the words: “Jesus, Son of God, have mercy on us.” The Bishop thought that that was good, but that he should teach them the Lord’s Prayer. Together they spent the remainder of the day rehearsing the Lord’s Prayer line by line. When at last the Bishop was sure that the three had memorized the prayer he got into his boat to make for home. He had gone only a few yards out to sea when he noticed the hermits wading through the ocean calling him to return. They had forgotten the prayer already. At that point the Bishop had to accept that the prayer with which they had become so familiar was sufficient for them. giving them his blessing he went on his way.

I imagine that for many of us, that story is a little hard to believe. For many of us the Lord’s Prayer serves as something like a mantra, words that we can repeat without thinking. It has been a comfortable easy prayer to say for as long as we can remember and because it is the prayer that Jesus taught us, it can be an excuse not to say any other prayers. Not that that is a problem if we grasp the depth and the challenge of what it is that we sometimes say so glibly.

Because I have preached on the prayer so often I thought that this Sunday I would seek some help from someone else. For those of you who will only read this on-line, I will try to give the gist of the discussion. I will call my discussion partner “May”

“Give us today our daily bread”

May began by saying how important “give us today our daily bread” was to her. For May it is a reminder of the thousands of people throughout the world who do not have enough to eat and therefore also a reminder of how fortunate and privileged we are in that we never have to think about where our next meal is coming from. More than that, May said that it challenged her to trust God – not to worry about what the future might hold. I picked up on the fact that May had understood the petition in two different ways – a challenge to care for our neighbour and a challenge to live in the present. Trusting God is not as easy as it seems. We are often consumed with events of the past or focussed on the future. Having confidence that God has our best interests at heart is liberating and allows us to pay attention to the present moment rather than to allow it to be clouded by what has gone and what is yet to come.

“Forgive us our sins”

Perhaps not surprisingly, May found this to be of great comfort. Knowing that her sins were forgiven was liberating and reassuring. However there is something about this line that is troubling to me: “forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us”. Does that mean that our being forgiven depends on our first extending forgiveness to others? But it says: “for we ourselves forgive”, May responded. Then she saw my point, the bible from which she was reading (the NRSV) does use those words, but the words which our prayer book uses are those that cause me to ponder. We were intrigued by the different translations and the different slant that put on the phrase but agreed that we needed to do some homework before we could take that part of the discussion any further.

“Save us from the time of trial”

That led us to the next phrase which caused May some disquiet. She prefers the former version: “Lead us not into temptation.” Her reason being that she does not have a dualist faith. May believes in one God who has no competition. For her that means that God (not an alternative power) is responsible for everything. I had to agree that it was a powerful argument and that there are times when we are either guilty of or in danger of giving the devil equal power to that of God, or of forgetting that on the cross Jesus defeated evil once for all. Compelling as May’s argument was I had the advantage of having recently read Hebrews chapter 12 which states explicitly that God does not lead us into temptation

Where to go from there? Neither of us accept dualism (two equal but competing powers) and both agree that people are sometimes tempted, or that we do the wrong thing. For me it comes back to creation and the fact that God gave humankind free choice. Free choice means that we sometimes (often), behave in ways that are not consistent with Godly behaviour. It could be argued that God’s gift of free choice, leads us into temptation which would support May’s view. However, the new translation: “Save us from the time of trial”, has another meaning, one which is also scriptural – that God will never allow us to be tested beyond what we are able to bear. Fortunately, for most of us in the West this phrase is never really tested but we trust that God will not let us to experience more pain, more grief or more hardship than we are able to cope with and that our trust and confidence in God will get us through the worst that life can throw at us.

That seemed like the end until I pointed out that perhaps the most powerful part of the prayer for me was the idea of God’s name being hallowed – the place at which the prayer begins. For me that line is a reminder of Moses and the burning bush, a challenge to take off my shoes in the presence of a power so awesome, so beyond my imagination that I cannot put a name to it.

Too often I think, we take God for granted, we become over familiar. We might not use God’s name in vain, but there are times when I at least am thoughtless and casual in the way I name or speak of God. I don’t always think about what I am invoking when I speak of or to God. The “hallowing of God’s name takes me back to the relationship between Moses and God, which, though familiar, was also overlaid with an awareness of the awesome power and presence of God which Moses only dared approach because he was commanded so to do. I am reminded too of the cautiousness of our forbears in faith, the Jews who refused to use God’s name but referred to God using an alternative expression which is best translated “Lord”.

 

This concept is best expressed for me in the words of an alternative “Lord’s Prayer” which can be found in the New Zealand Prayer book which seems an appropriate place at which to finish.

 

Eternal Spirit,

Earth-maker, Pain-bearer, Life-giver,

Source of all that is and all that shall be,

Father and Mother of us all,

Loving God in whom is heaven:

 

The hallowing of your name echo through the universe!

The way of your justice be followed by the people’s of the world!

Your heavenly will be done by all created beings!

Your commonwealth of peace and freedom

sustain our hope and come on earth

 

With the bread that we need for today, feed us.

In the hurts we absorb from one another, forgive us.

In times of temptation and test, strengthen us.

From trials too great to endure, spare us.

From the grip of all that is evil, free us.

For you reign in the power of the glory that is love. Amen.

Being Shown Up

July 13, 2013

Pentecost 8 – 2013

Luke 10:25-37

Marian Free

 

In the name of God who challenges us to see beyond the surface to the deeper meaning beneath.  Amen. 

I have recently signed up to receive daily emails from the Centre for Action and Contemplation founded by Richard Rohr whose books I have found both helpful and challenging. On Friday the meditation included the following quote from one of Richard’s books.

“Those at the edge of any system and those excluded from any system ironically and invariably hold the secret for the conversion and wholeness of that very group. They always hold the feared, rejected, and denied parts of the group’s soul. You see, therefore, why the church was meant to be that group that constantly went to the edges, to the “least of the brothers and sisters,” and even to the enemy. When any church defines itself by exclusion of anybody, it is always wrong. It is avoiding its only vocation, which is to be the Christ. The only groups that Jesus seriously critiques are those who include themselves and exclude others from the always-given grace of God.”

In Luke’s gospel this point is made over and over again. It is the outsider in the form of the centurion who demonstrates sensitivity to Jewish culture norms by not allowing Jesus to enter his home (7:1f). The “woman of the city”, demonstrates true gratitude in comparison with  the self-righteousness Pharisee  (7:36ff).  In 8:19 Jesus redefines family as those who follow him. Jesus heals the Gentile demoniac and commissions him to teach the gospel (8:26f)l and a bleeding woman is commended for her faith (not censured for touching Jesus) (8:48).  Those on the outside, those excluded by Jewish society, are commended by Jesus, used by Jesus to reveal the hard-heartedness, ignorance and lack of faith of those who consider themselves to be on the inside.

It is in this context that the parable of the “Good Samaritan” must be understood. Centuries of domestication have made it difficult to recover the original intention of Jesus in telling this story. Far from being an example story, it is a direct attack on the exclusiveness of the Jews who label all non-Jews as immoral and lacking in human decency.

The parable is very carefully crafted.  As is often the case in oral story-telling, Jesus sets up a pattern which leads his listeners to draw their own conclusion before he shocks them with his surprise ending which challenges and critiques their stereotypes and preconceptions about those who do not belong.  The outsider, the marginalised, the despised Samaritan is the one who behaves in the way they think a “hero” should behave. They are challenged to re-think their attitudes to Samaritans and accept that they might not reach their own high standards.

There are four characters in the story, the first three of whom are Jews. Jesus’ telling of the parable, sets up an expectation that the fourth person, the “hero” will also be a Jew  – someone with whom the audience can identify, someone who will reaffirm their good opinion of themselves.

The setting of the tale – the road between Jerusalem to Jericho is notoriously dangerous. Jesus’ listeners are not at all surprised that the traveller falls among thieves. Neither are they surprised that the members of the priestly class fail to stop. Among the ordinary people of the day, anti-clerical sentiment was such that the callous actions of the priest and Levite would simply be taken for granted. That said, they believe that surely someone like themselves would stop and attend to the man. Using a pattern of words – coming, seeing, going past – Jesus builds a rhythm that not only gains the listeners’ attention and helps them to remember, but also leads them to think that they can complete the story (in the same way that children’s stories lend themselves to the child calling out the last line or identifying the “surprise”)[1].

However, in this instance, the story is not going in the direction expected. First of all, the established Jewish hierarchy – priest, Levite, Israelite (lay person) is broken. The last person in this trio is not even a Jew! Secondly, though Jesus’ language is similar, there are important differences which add to the effect.  Instead of coming, seeing, going, (like the priest and the Levite) the Samaritan comes, goes (up to) and sees.  The breaking of the pattern means that Jesus’ unexpected ending has maximum effect. His audience, having been lulled into a false sense of security that they know the ending, find that they are caught out, They presumed they knew where Jesus was going and they got it wrong.

The element of surprise means that the listeners cannot, escape Jesus’ meaning – the Samaritan, the one whom they despise – is the one who teaches them how to be a neighbour. The world of the listeners is thrown upside down – they are the chosen, they are the ones who have the law, they are the ones who occupy the moral high-ground – and yet it is their mortal enemy who shows compassion to the man left for dead. Jesus’ audience have to re-think both their opinion of themselves and their attitude to others. The “unloving Jews” are shown up by the “loving Samaritan”.

To those who are able to absorb what Jesus has said two things become evident – to remain in the story the Jewish listener has to become, not the hero, but the victim. Secondly, the listeners have to accept that the boundaries that people create to distinguish themselves do not hold. The mortal enemy can be the saviour. God can and does act in unexpected ways.

Every culture defines itself by its difference from others and by setting boundaries which reinforce those differences. Jesus’ point is that we should not allow those things which distinguish others from us be an excuse to denigrate and exclude them. Jesus’ inclusion of the marginalised and rejected, tells us something of God’s kingdom in which no one is unwelcome and all have something to offer and something to teach.

The openness of Jesus’ heart exposes the narrowness of our own. We need to understand that from the point of view of Jesus’ audience there was no such thing as a “Good” Samaritan and to ask ourselves who do we limit and confine, by our refusal to accept and understand and our unwillingness to welcome and to love.


[1]1. a certain man was going down

they-went-away

2. a certain priest was going down

on that way

and seeing

he-went-by-on-the other-side

3. a                Levite was going down

upon that place coming

and seeing

went-by-on-the other-side

4. a certain Samaritan

being-on-the-way

went up to him

and seeing

                                                                        had pity

Scott, Bernard, Brandon. Hear then this Parable: A Commentary on the Parables of Jesus. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1989, 193.

 

Sharing the Gospel

July 6, 2013

Pentecost 7 2013

Luke 10:1-12,17-24

Marian Free 

In the name of God who equips us and sends us into the world to proclaim the gospel. Amen.

Some time ago now, I read a book written by a Jesuit priest, Vincent Donovan. He tells of being sent to a mission in Kenya filled with enthusiasm to share the gospel. When he arrived he discovered that even though the Jesuits had been in the country for 100 years, they had not converted one single person to Christianity. That is not to say that they had had no impact at all. The local people, proud and independent Masai, were very happy to make use of the mission school and to bring the sick and injured to the hospital. It was some time however since any of the missionaries had left the mission station except to drive the ambulance to pick up or deliver a patient. The youthful and enthusiastic Vincent was dismayed. This was not why he had travelled so far. He had come to take Jesus to the people, not wait until they came to him. He asked for and gained permission to go out into the villages to share the gospel.

This was not easy. First, Vincent had to gain the trust of the chief of the village, then he had to arrange a suitable time for the teaching to occur. He discovered that the best time in the day was four in the morning. As the Masai are pastoralists any later would have found them scattered with their herds. Having gained a welcome and made a time to meet, Vincent’s approach was to share with the people the Gospel of Mark. This too was not without its difficulties. Many of the parables in the gospels relate to an agrarian culture – the mustard seed, the sower and the fig tree all relate to agricultural practices. To repeat these parables might well have led to confusion if not outright antagonism among his hearers. The Masai, being pastoralists, might not have understood the references to sowing. Worse, as those who needed pasture for their flocks, they were in conflict with neighbouring cultures who used the land to produce crops not pasture and may not have taken kindly to stories about growing crops.

Vincent navigated all these difficulties – teaching the gospel with sensitivity and respect for the culture of the people. At the end of the time he asked them if they would like to be baptised. If they said: “yes”, he proceeded with baptism. If they said: “no”, he respected their decision and did not press them to change their minds.

Having grown up in a barely post-colonial era, I found this a refreshing account of mission. Unlike many missionaries before him, Vincent demonstrated respect for the local culture and made no attempt to compel his hearers to abandon their culture or to convert. This is a vastly different approach from the missionaries of the 19th century who, sent out from their respective nations, undermined and denigrated local culture sometimes with devastating results. The problem seems to have been an inability to separate faith in Jesus Christ from the culture and mores of the nations from which they had come. Acceptance of the gospel in their minds equalled acceptance of Western culture. There were of course some wonderful missionaries who tried to learn local cultures and languages, who brought medicine and education that improved the lives of those whom they served. Others simply imposed their faith, their will and their culture on those whom they felt were inferior and lacking in morality. They had no regard for the people and no understanding of the cultures they were destroying.

For many then, the idea mission has left a bad taste. The arrogance and presumption of some that western society had reached some sort of pinnacle of moral goodness and knowledge that meant that it was the standard by which others had to be judge leaves those of us who know its weaknesses embarrassed and ashamed.

This creates a dilemma. In the multi-faith, multi-media world of the 21st century, how do we make sense of Jesus’ sending out first of twelve and then of seventy to proclaim the kingdom? What is our responsibility with regard to sharing the gospel today? Do we, you and I believe that it is our duty to ensure that as many people as possible are “saved”? Do we live in a state of terror that those who have not heard the gospel will be eternally damned? I suspect that the answer to both those questions is “no”. If anything, our behaviour tends to reflect a live and let live attitude a belief that while our faith is good enough for us, we do not need to inflict it on others.

Our response to the mistakes of the past should not be to do nothing. We believe, or at least claim to believe that Jesus’ life and teaching are transformative, that Jesus’ death and resurrection have reconciled us to God, that the Holy Spirit inspires and empowers us. This surely is something worth sharing.

In an increasingly secular world, many people are hungry for meaning, searching for something to nurture their soul. Our task is to get alongside people, to listen to the stories, to try to understand their dreams, to recognise their hurts, to help them deal with their modern day demons of loneliness, busyness, stress, to try to bring about healing of minds as well as bodies, to respond with integrity to their questions, to be open to their doubts and equipped to share with them our journey of faith.

“How are they to call on one in whom they have not believed? And how are they to believe in one of whom they have never heard? And how are they to hear without someone to proclaim him?” (Rom 10:14)

It is not our task to impose the gospel on those who do not want to hear or accept it, but unless we take the time to share something that is important to us, how will others know the difference it might make in their lives?

Staying the course

June 29, 2013

Pentecost 6 – 2013

Luke 9:51-62

Marian Free 

In the name of God who asks nothing less than all that we are and all that we have. Amen.

When reading the gospels it is often important to see the pattern that is developing. Luke, like the other gospel writers, carefully crafts his account of Jesus’ life. Some stories are clustered together for maximum impact, the whole gospel is framed by Jerusalem and Jesus’ travels are recorded in such a way as to point the reader or listeners to certain conclusions.

Today’s gospel sets the scene for Jesus’ final journey to Jerusalem. Jesus undertakes this journey with a certain amount of foreboding, he is well aware that entering that city is filled with risk, that his very life is at stake. Luke builds the tension through the way he organises his story and by his use of language. The narrative leading up to this point includes Peter’s recognition of Jesus and Jesus’ prediction of his death and resurrection. “The Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, chief priests and scribes, and be killed, and on the third day he will rise” (9:22, 44).

The readers know then that the words “taken up” refer to the crucifixion and understand that Jesus is turning towards Jerusalem even though he knows the likely consequence. They will recognise that Jesus does not take this journey lightly. The language: “He set his face” makes this clear that for Jesus the decision to go to Jerusalem is an act of will, not a whim. Against his inclination to turn back, Jesus none the less resolves to complete his mission, to go to Jerusalem whatever the outcome might be.

Jesus’ courage and determination to finish what he started may well determine his responses to the three would-be disciples – not one of whom seems to recognise or share Jesus’ utmost commitment to the task ahead. The situation now is different from that when Jesus began his mission – when people like Peter and Andrew, left everything without a thought for the future. As Jesus nears the end of his journey and his time on earth, he realises that those who wish to follow him must understand the costs involved before they join him otherwise they will not last the distance.

At first glance, Jesus’ response to the three would-be disciples is harsh and uncompromising – not to mention ungrateful. However, he knows that what lies ahead for him (and for those who follow) will take great courage and fortitude – it is not for the faint-hearted or for those who will waver in the face of difficulty. Those who would be his disciples must “take up their cross, lose their life in order to follow.” (9:23ff). Discipleship is more than a grand adventure, more than healing and miracles and it will not lead to earthly glory or recognition. Following Jesus will require fortitude and commitment, a willingness to cope with difficult circumstances and an acceptance that discipleship might cause a re-alignment of loyalties. Discipleship is something that should only be undertaken if the would-be follower is determined to see it through to the end.

On the way to Jerusalem three different people engage with Jesus. Two say that they will follow him and the third is asked by Jesus to follow. Jesus’ response provides an idea of what he believes discipleship to entail. In the first instance someone offers to follow him wherever he may go. Instead of welcoming the offer Jesus responds that in fact he has nowhere to go. Following him means leaving behind all security, no longer belonging anywhere.

A second person when asked by Jesus to follow him, responds that first he would like to bury his father. Jesus’ reaction is not one of compassion as we might expect, but the rather cold: “Let the dead bury their own dead.” There can be no prevarication, no half-hearted measures. What lies ahead will demand the full attention and commitment of those who follow. They must be prepared to leave behind those things that would hold them back.

Finally, a third person says that he will follow Jesus – after he has said “good-bye” to those at home. Again we are surprised by Jesus’ response. Instead of commending the man, he implies that he implies that he does not have the steadfastness to complete what he begins. The journey of discipleship requires persistence. There is no point starting if one does not intend to finish, if one is always going to be looking back to what one left behind.

While it is true that these definitions of discipleship are contextual, it would not be true to draw the conclusion that they do not apply to us. Being a disciple of Jesus is not something that we can do with only part of us, not something to which we can commit only a portion of ourselves. We are followers of Jesus or we are not. It is not possible to be a partial follower. That being said, it is important to recognise that discipleship has consequences – it means accepting that there may be times when we feel that we do not fit in, that we cannot tie ourselves to the past and that those to whom we belong will be re-defined.

Jesus’ willingness to see the task through to the end led to the cross. Without the cross, there would have been no resurrection. He asks only that as followers we demonstrate the same commitment to the task at hand and the same willingness to follow it through to the end. If at times the cost seems more than we can bear, we need only to look to Jesus to be reminded that if  we stay the course, we will come out the other side richer, stronger and transformed into the likeness of Christ.

Accepting Difference

June 22, 2013

Pentecost 5 – 2013

Luke 8:26-29

Marian Free 

In the name of God whose love embraces all God’s creation. Amen.

There is an extraordinary story of a boy (now a young man) who lives in Fiji. His name is Sujit and his story is difficult to piece together. It appears that he may have been born with slight cerebral palsy and epilepsy. His father was murdered and his mother committed suicide. When Sujit was given to the care of his grandfather at two years old he was locked in a chicken coop (possibly because he was thought to be demon-possessed). Not surprisingly, the child developed behaviours not unlike those of the chickens with whom he spent so much time. At age eight, having been found on a road, he was consigned to an aged care home, where his behaviour was so disturbing and difficult to manage that for the next twenty-two years he was tied to a bed. No attempt was made to change his behaviour or to offer any kind of nurture. He was left to his own devices and his chicken like behaviour was allowed to continue without any intervention.

Elizabeth Clayton, an Australian living in Fiji came across Surit when she visited the care facility to deliver some plastic dining tables. He was filthy and covered in sores. Elizabeth felt she had no choice but to get him out of there and to provide the care that was so badly lacking. Even then at around age 26, the young man still clucked like a chicken, clawed at his food and didn’t know how to walk, let alone speak. His fingers still turn inward like claws, he understands only a minimum of speech and is not toilet trained.

As awful as this story sounds it is not unique. Out of ignorance or despair, many parents and institutions resort to what appear to be harsh and unnecessary forms of control for children whose behaviour they do not understand or cannot manage. In China today for example, there is no support for parents of children who are autistic. When such children exhibit violent or self-harming behaviour, parents feel that they have no option but to restrain the child – for the child’s safety as well as their own. With little knowledge and no help, these parents can only do their best to keep their children safe. Even if they want to, without support, they are unable to help the child to develop and to live a relatively normal life.

Our failure to understand difference has meant that even until quite recent times those with mental illness or disability were shut up or isolated from the mainstream of society. In many cases those who suffered from mental illness were feared and misunderstood. Not many people knew how to interact with them or considered that they might possibly have something to contribute to society. As a society we are still unable or unwilling to provide the support to families or individuals who do not fit the so-called norm.

In the first century the situation was no better and probably worse. Medical knowledge was extremely basic and demon possession was seen as the cause of many medical conditions which are understood quite differently today. From the New Testament accounts we surmise that conditions attributed to evil spirits or demon possession would have include mental illness and epilepsy to mention. Depending on the nature of the condition, family and friends would have resorted to a variety of treatments and forms of care – exorcism was a popular treatment.

In today’s gospel, we meet a man who is bound by chains among the tombs. In this case there are no clues to help us to understand what his condition might be in today’s terms. We simply know that according to those who knew him, the condition was so severe that he was believed to be possessed by a multitude of demons (Legion). Whatever is troubling the man it gave him such strength that he could not be managed. His behaviour was so intolerable and frightening to those around him that not only was he bound, but he was confined in a place as far away as possible from everyone.

It is shocking to think that people who through no fault of their own are violent and distressed are not only excluded from our presence but bound both by their condition and by the ties that others impose on them. Thankfully research and public education has reduced our fear of those with mental illness and of those who are differently abled. Our education system no longer excludes those who require additional support and we are challenged by the brilliance of such people as Stephen Hawking to reconsider our stereotyping and prejudices. Psychology and Psychiatry have made great strides in understanding not only what goes on in the mind, but how to treat mental illness and to enable sufferers to hold down jobs and to contribute to society in a wide variety of ways. Technology has made it possible for mute to communicate, the deaf to hear and the paralysed to contribute to society.

Jesus is not afraid of the man with the demons, nor does he see any reason not to intervene (despite the reluctance of the demons). He restores the man to his right mind and to his rightful place in the community. More than that, Jesus gives the man a responsibility – he is to be the bearer of the gospel to those among whom he lives. The outsider becomes the insider, the rejected becomes the accepted and the one who was excluded becomes the one chosen and commissioned by Jesus to share the gospel.

In a world that is uncomfortable with difference and which seeks the comfort of conformity, Jesus teaches us that love, compassion and understanding can transform the lives of those who were previously misunderstood, mistreated and excluded. We are challenged by Jesus’ example to create a society that is welcoming, empowering and inclusive of all God’s creation – no matter their race, their gender, their faith, their sexuality or their ability.

 

Forgiven and free to love

June 15, 2013

Pentecost 4 – 2013

Luke 7:36-8:3

Marian Free 

In the name of God whose unconditional love sets us free to love. Amen. 

Long before I saw Les Miserable the musical, I happened upon a non musical version of the story. From memory, I came in at the point at which the priest, having offered hospitality to an ex-convict, was faced with this same man whom the police had dragged back because they had found him with silver that could only have come from the priest’s household. The priest knew that the silver was stolen, but instead of expressing outrage, he corroborates Valjean’s story that the silver was a gift and compounds the lie by adding to stolen goods two candlesticks insisting that Valjean had forgotten to take them.

At the time I didn’t know the beginning of the story. That scene depicted such an unexpected act of generosity, understanding and hope that I will never forget the impression that it made upon me. Jean Valjean had stolen the silverware and yet the priest the not only over-looked the theft and corroborated Valjean’s story, but he added to the treasure. In such circumstances we might perhaps expect the priest to offer forgiveness, but to extend such generosity without any expectation of restitution takes us by surprise and forces us to question whether we would be so forgiving or so generous.

Of course, this is a fictitious tale, so let me share with you a true story. Some of you will recall that in 1998 a young nurse, Anita Cobby, was abducted, gang raped and left by her attackers to drown. After the perpetrators were arrested, Anita’s father Garry Lynch went to the local RSL where he thought he would the father of two of his daughter’s assailants. He knew that the man worked there, that he was believed to be doing a good job and that he was well liked. In his own words, Garry says: “I went up to him and I just held my hand out and I said, ‘Look, I want to say to you that we hold no responsibility on you whatsoever for what your sons did.’  And he just grabbed my hand in his two …. in tears … and there was just a silent interchange.”

I could tell you dozens of such stories of people who find it in their hearts to forgive the most horrendous acts and who are somehow are able to get on with their lives.

I could tell you too of those who allow their indignation and outrage to get the better of them in lesser or similar situations. Those who, like the crowds who recently gathered outside the court on the day the young man accused of rape and murder, were not only angry but who had hung a noose over the branch of a nearby tree. This sort of lynch mob mentality is, thankfully, not common, but it does expose a desire to take justice into our own hands and an unwillingness to see the ugliness in oneself and the humanity in another.

Those who hold on to their indignation and their grief fail to see that it reveals as much about their own hardness of heart and their own self-righteousness as it does about the person who committed the offense against them.

Why is it that a father whose daughter was brutally murdered offers forgiveness to the perpetrators, whereas a crowd who know neither the victim nor the accused are filled with vitriol and hate?

I believe that the difference is faith. Faith not only gives us strength and support in times of trauma, but it gives us a different perspective on things. As Christians we know that we are not perfect but we are forgiven – even though we have done nothing to deserve such forgiveness. Knowing ourselves forgiven and loved, we are better able to extend such love to others. Knowing God’s generosity towards us, we are able to be generous in our attitudes towards others. Knowing that God understands our weakness and frailty, we are more willing to understand the weakness and frailty of others.

Jesus makes it clear that none of us is perfect. We are all in need of forgiveness. Imperfection is imperfection – there is no hierarchy – we are either perfect or we are imperfect. Nearly perfect is not perfect. If no one is perfect, then everyone is imperfect. If everyone is imperfect, then everyone – whether they have sinned greatly or only a little – is in need of God’s forgiveness.

This is the point of today’s gospel. Simon, believing that he in some way is better than the woman, judges her and finds her wanting. He is surprised because he thinks/expects that Jesus should do the same. He has failed to understand that if Jesus were to mix only with perfect people Jesus would not be dining with him. Simon’s sense of his own righteousness leaves little room for him to understand that the woman is worthy of Jesus’ attention. He is mean and narrow in his view of others because he has failed to identify his own shortcomings.

In response to Simon’s judgmental attitude Jesus tells the parable about forgiveness forcing the Pharisee to acknowledge that those who are forgiven more, love more. Those who know themselves forgiven, accepted and loved cannot help but extend that love, acceptance and forgiveness to others.

God did not and does not wait until we are perfect before God extended his all-embracing and unconditional love. When we truly understand that we will be overwhelmed by God’s boundless generosity. When we truly understand our own need for forgiveness, we will be hard pressed not to extend forgiveness to others. When we truly accept that we ourselves are not perfect, we will be more willing to accept imperfection in others.

I’ve said it before and no doubt I will say it again: “There is nothing we can do to make God love us more and nothing that we can do that can make God love us less.” If that doesn’t challenge us to share that love with the world, to extend God’s forgiveness to others, then we just don’t get it and as Paul said: “Christ died for nothing”.

A reason to party

March 9, 2013

Lent 4

Forgiving Father Luke 15:11-32

Marian Free

In the name of God whose love always welcomes us back. Amen.

Whenever the parable of the forgiving Father is read, more often than not I am told: “I really relate to the older brother!” This is a significant reaction and it tells us three things. One is that the sting in the parable has not been properly understood. A second is that it is very hard for most of us to let go of our egos. We are so bound up with concepts of fairness and judgement and we allow the injustices experienced in our past to dominate and determine our feelings in the present. The third is perhaps the most serious.  As the Father is clearly meant to represent God, our discomfort (resentment) at the treatment of the prodigal tells us something about our trust or lack of trust in God.

There are a number of differences between the two fictional sons. The older is sensible and responsible, willing to conform to societal and family norms and to work for his father until his father dies and passes his share of the property to him. We can imagine that, as a result, his life has had very few highs and lows. He has just gone about his business day by day secure in the knowledge that he has shelter, enough to eat and some sort of a future. He may even believe that he has all that he needs.

The younger brother is the opposite. He is reckless, irresponsible and impetuous. This son has no thought for centuries of tradition or for the respectability of his family. All he thinks about is himself. Half the property is due to him. His father can manage financially and otherwise without him. Why not take his share of the property now? Why not see the world and have adventures while he is still young enough to do so? Why submit himself to the humdrum of daily existence at home when the world has so much more to offer?

One stays and the other goes, with alarming consequences for both.  The younger son very quickly discovers that going it alone is not all that he had dreamed it would be. In a distant land, starving and condemned to feeding pigs he realises how good home really was. Having chosen adventure, he now longs for security. Aren’t his father’s servants better off than he is? What is he doing? Life as his father’s servant would be better than his present conditions. The humiliation of admitting that he was wrong, of confessing that he has squandered his inheritance and the shame of ending his days as a servant or slave are nothing compared to the degradation he is currently experiencing. He has sunk as low as it is possible to sink. Returning home cannot make him feel any worse.

The older son stays at home satisfied that he is doing the right thing. Possibly he even thinks that he is content. However, while his brother is away learning about the world, the older sibling has nothing to challenge his sense of security, nothing to force him to question whether he has made the right choice. He is relying on history and tradition to justify his position and, had his brother never come home, he might have remained smugly content, sure that he was the favoured son. After all, wasn’t he the one doing the right thing?

All the certainty of the older son is thrown into disarray when the younger son comes home. Instead of being met with censure and condemnation this wayward child is met with rejoicing! It is impossible for the older son to make sense of what is happening. His own certainly that he was doing what was right has not prepared him for something so totally unexpected. He has not learnt the lessons that his brother has been forced to learn. He has not descended to the place which has forced him to see his own short comings and to value what he does have, in particular his father’s love for him. He has based his decisions on a belief that his father needs him and has failed to realise his need for his father. His very “goodness” and his strict observance of societal norms have confirmed his sense of his own value and have ill-equipped him to understand either his brother, or his father’s reaction. His black and white view of right and wrong and his lack of self-knowledge will not allow him to move beyond conformity to compassion.

As we can see from the first few verses of chapter 15, Jesus is telling this parable against the Pharisees. Like the older son, they have relied on their observance of the Jewish tradition for their salvation. In doing so however they, like the older son, have lost sight of their dependence on God and on God’s grace. Instead of seeking a genuine relationship based on an honest view of themselves, they have developed some sort of replacement for a relationship based on formulas and rules. Their resultant self-assurance means that they have no reason to look beyond the surface of their lives to see that they are in fact self-righteous, judgemental, unforgiving and self-serving. They don’t understand that by hiding their real selves behind observance of rules and the keeping of traditions, they are not only limiting their growth, but they are also denying themselves an authentic relationship with God. At the same time, they are so used to measuring themselves against those who don’t measure up that they cannot comprehend that God might be able to have a more meaningful relationship with those who are more aware of and more readily acknowledge their imperfections. So it is with the older son.

Richard Rohr suggests that: “Sooner or later, if you are on any classic ‘spiritual schedule’, some event, person, death, idea, or relationship will enter your life that you simply cannot deal with, using your present skill set, your acquired knowledge, or your strong willpower. Spiritually speaking, you will be, you must be, led to the edge of your own spiritual resources.”[1] Sometimes, like the younger son, we need something to shake us out of our complacency, to help us to accept the love of God in our lives and to realise that ultimately nothing less than complete dependence on God will satisfy the longing of our souls. Until that point, we remain like the older son, limited to a superficial relationship with God, reliant on sterile observance of laws. We think that we have to earn God’s love and, blind to our own flaws and imperfections, we resent God’s generosity to others because we have not fully understood the generosity of God’s love for us.

The older son was not a bad person, just as the Pharisees were not bad Jews. Their mistake was a failure to understand that God’s love could not be bought by obeying rules and by observing traditions. They could not comprehend that it was in God’s nature to love and that as God loved them despite their shortcomings, so God loved all those who did not live up to their high standards. What the Pharisees and the older son simply did not understand is God’s love just cannot be bought. It is ours for free. It is when we truly comprehend how much our flawed, imperfect selves are loved by God that we understand God’s desire and right to extend that love to others. Knowing ourselves flawed and yet loved, lost and now found, we will be incapable of resentfully standing outside. Instead we will joyously and gratefully join in the celebrations, knowing that we ourselves are a cause for the party.


[1] Rohr, Richard. Falling Upwards: Spirituality for the Two Halves of Life. San Francisco: Jossey Bass, 2011, 65.

Contradiction

March 2, 2013

Lent 3 – 2013

Luke 13:31-35 (Isaiah 55:1-9, 1 Cor 10:1-13)

Marian Free

In the name of God who turns our expectations upside down, who challenges and comforts us and who never, ever withdraws God’s love. Amen.

When you read the Bible, what are the passages that stand out for you? Are you more alert for the voice of judgement or the voice of love? Do you look out for the rules that you must not break and the specific directions that you must follow, or do you instead seek out the promises of growth and new creation? From start to finish, the Bible is full of contradiction.  In it we find both censure and approval, judgement and forgiveness, punishment and redemption, restraint and extravagance.

The Old Testament prophets threaten the Israelites with all kinds of penalties if they refuse to return to God then, almost without taking breath, they assure the people that God will never abandon them. Side by side in Isaiah, Jeremiah and Hosea and elsewhere we have evidence of God’s frustration and confirmation of God’s faithfulness. The Gospels express similar contradictions. Calls to repent are balanced by stories of the lost being restored. Jesus’ attacks on the righteous throw into relief Jesus’ acceptance of those outside the law.

This morning’s readings are a case in point. The generosity and free-spirited invitation of Isaiah 55 stands in stark contrast with the harsh, judgmental and condemnatory sentiments of 1 Corinthians 10.

How are we to make sense of the paradox – judgement and repeal, condemnation and forgiveness, law and freedom? It is my belief that both sides of the coin are necessary to sustain healthy individuals, healthy societies and healthy religions. Freedom is essential for creative energy to thrive, for people to love and be loved, for compassion and generosity. None of these things can be forced or legislated. On the other hand, lawlessness leads to disintegration, violence and repression. Without some sort of law no one can achieve their full potential.

There needs to be some sort of balance between law and freedom.  It is not healthy to be completely unrestrained, but neither is it good to be so restrained that we forget how to live. If we fence ourselves in with rules, we reduce our ability to be spontaneous and carefree. Somewhere in the middle is an equilibrium, an ability to self-regulate, to use the rules and the threats of judgement to control our baser instincts and to trust in God’s goodness and mercy to liberate our finer, more selfless characteristics.

Interestingly, in the Bible, it is not disobedience or even the breaking of the Ten Commandments which is the source of God’s anger and the pre-condition for punishment. What causes the prophets to proclaim God’s judgement and Jesus to condemn the people of Israel is a breakdown in the relationship between the people and God.

God doesn’t expect perfection. That much is clear in God’s choice of Jacob the deceiver, God’s selection of Moses the murderer and God’s continued love for David the adulterer. That God is not looking for flawless followers is demonstrated by Jesus’ choice of disciples, Jesus’ readiness to forgive and Jesus’ easy acceptance of tax collectors and sinners.

It appears that the primary safeguard against condemnation is not so much to be law-abiding (though that is good), but to accept God’s invitation to be in relationship, to trust God’s offer of a covenant, to believe in God’s faithfulness to God’s promises.

Jesus weeps over Jerusalem, not because its citizens have failed to keep the law _ if nothing else, the Pharisees were assiduous keepers of the law.  Jesus weeps because the people of Jerusalem, the leaders of the Jews, have demonstrated their inability to put their trust in God. The Pharisees, Chief Priests and Scribes have put all their trust in the law and their ability to keep the law. They are so sure that they can achieve perfection by their own effort that they have effectively locked God out of their lives. They have so little confidence in God’s love and faithfulness that they are using the law to paper over their imperfections. They are so afraid that scrutiny will find them wanting that they kill the prophets who hold a mirror to them and to their lives. They cannot have a real relationship with God because they cannot have a real relationship with themselves.

No wonder Jesus weeps, he understands that the Jerusalemites are so sure that God cannot love them as they are, that they not only try to become what they are not, but worse, they shrink from God, they refuse God’s invitation and will not be drawn into God’s loving embrace.

How different they are from Zacchaeus who has the courage to respond to Jesus’ invitation and who finds that his life is transformed as a result. How different from the woman who anointed Jesus’ feet, who could take such a risk because instinctively she knew that she was loved and accepted. “Law-breakers” and outsiders who already knew and accepted their imperfections welcomed Jesus’ love and invitation, entered into a relationship and allowed themselves to be gathered under his wings.

Law and freedom together create a necessary life-giving tension in our relationship with God. An over-reliance on law can have the effect of locking God out of our lives whereas an over-emphasis on freedom can lead us to believe that we don’t need God. It is important to relish our freedom, but to understand its bounds, to trust in God’s unconditional love, but not to use that love as an excuse to be unloveable, to recognise that law has its place, but not to use it as a replacement for relationship.

God invites us into a relationship that is based on mutual trust and respect. God offers us an unconditional love that sets us free to be ourselves. To say “yes” to God, is to say “yes” to ourselves and to know ourselves welcome in the shadow of God’s wings.

 

 

 

 

 

A matter of heaven or hell

February 23, 2013

Lent 2 – 2013

Luke 13:1-9

Marian Free

Figs

Figs

In the name of God who created all things, and saw that they were good. Amen.

Today’s gospel reading includes two discrete parts. A couple of sayings about repentance are followed by a parable about growth.  The first sayings certainly get our attention – Galileans whose blood Pilate mixed with their sacrifices and 18 crushed by a falling tower. Shocking as these events are they are not a sign that those killed were more sinful than others. All of us need to repent. Luke follows these sayings with the parable of the fig tree. Repentance alone is not sufficient, believers are called to grow into full maturity rather than to rest on their laurels for the remainder of their lives. (Salvation is not dependent on a one off decision, but process that begins when we repent and turn to God.)

Jesus’ parable about the fig tree is often misunderstood. An emphasis on keeping the ten commandments and doing good works has led to the conclusion that if the fig tree will only be spared if it produces fruit, that we will only be spared if we can manage to build up a folio of good works that can be measured on the day of judgement. However, in this instance, as in most cases in the New Testament, fruit represents much more than external deeds or measurable goodness. As the parable implies, the fig’s bearing fruit is dependent on its receiving enough fertilizer – that is, on its internal health. Fruit trees in general are very reliant on nourishment, they cannot bear fruit unless they have been properly fed and watered. (The first and only time that my parent’s persimmon bore fruit was the year after the ’74 flood had deposited a substantial amount of fertile silt on their garden.)

Many fruit trees need to reach maturity before they bear fruit. Figs generally take two or three years to be well enough established to produce figs and then they will produce best only if they have been given a good start in life – planted in the right situation and fed and watered well. Without help, a fruit tree will probably attain a reasonable height and appear to be growing well, but without the required fertiliser, no amount of growth will produce fruit.

It is possible that Luke combined the sayings about repentance with the parable of the fig tree because he understood that a change of heart (repentance) was required before growth (maturity) could occur. Conversely, repentance alone is not enough, but is a pre-requisite for future development. A change of heart – repentance – creates the sort of internal environment that allows fruit (the external evidence of change and growth) to be produced. That being the case, it becomes clear that Jesus is speaking of fruit (behaviour) which is driven by a relationship with God that is strong and healthy and which is nurtured and developed by the presence of the Holy Spirit. Seen in this light, fruit refers much less to good deeds and much more to the characteristics that result from such a change of heart.

Paul understood this when he wrote of the fruit of the spirit. When he lists the fruit he doesn’t refer to keeping the commandments or doing good deeds but to the external signs of a person at peace with God, with themselves and with the world. Love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, patience and self-control are the fruit that we are to bear. These are the characteristics that will be a sign of our growing spiritual maturity.

Jesus’ challenge to the disciples that they are not to make the mistake of believing that their turning to him (repentance) is some simplistic, easy fix that will ensure their salvation. Turning to Jesus is only the first step in a process of development that will continue for the rest of their lives and that development, as the parable indicates, will need to be encouraged, fed and nurtured.

Richard Rohr considers spiritual development in his book Falling Upward – a spirituality for the two halves of life[1]. He argues that many people never develop beyond the superficial declaration of faith. Having come to faith, they fail to feed and nurture the depths of their being such that they bear meaningful fruit as a result of their faith. Because they do not pay enough attention to what is going on internally, their external lives never really change. They cannot bear fruit because they have not developed a healthy spirituality that can drive their behaviour.

Rohr suggests that this internal growth is at the core of all religious practice and that it is essential not only for the individual but for the world as a whole. This he claims is because: “God gives us our soul, our deepest identity, our True Self, our unique blueprint at our own ‘immaculate conception’. We are given a span of years to discover it, to choose it and to live our destiny to the full. Our True Self will never be offered again”. The unique person that is ourself has this life only to be the unique person God intends us to be, to achieve the unique goals God has in mind for us and to contribute to the world the unique gifts with which God has endowed us. Our one essential task in this life is to discover and to be that True Self, that unique part of God’s creation. Rohr believes that this task is absolutely imperative for all of us. Heaven and earth, all that is, depend upon our trying to become the person God intended us to be.

Because the implications of this task are so vast, its importance cannot be underestimated. In fact, Rohr suggests, it is because so much is dependent on our spiritual health that the discussion surrounding it is accompanied by such emotionally charged words as “heaven” and “hell”. It is why the vineyard owner threatens to uproot the tree when it is not fulfilling its purpose, why the call to repentance is set in the context of such shocking stories as the slaying of the Galileans and the fall of the Tower of Siloam. The consequence of not nurturing our souls is not something to be taken lightly – it has ramifications for the future of the whole world.

If we allow ourselves grow into our souls, to become the unique being envisaged by God at our creation, God’s purpose not only for us but for the world will be achieved. If we do not grow into our own unique being we hinder God’s purpose, we fail to make our own unique contribution and we refuse the invitation to take part in bringing about the coming of God’s Kingdom.

The purpose of the fig is to bear figs. Without fruit it is taking up space, that could be used to grow something else. It is not fulfilling the purpose for which it was created. Our purpose is to grow into our full identity, that unique self that God has given us and by doing so to share with God in bringing about the kingdom, the salvation of the world.

 


[1] Rohr, Richard. Falling Upward – a spirituality for the two halves of life. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 2011, ix. Note: I acknowledge that I have used Rohr as my starting point, but I am aware that  he may not agree with my use of his premise.