Archive for the ‘Mark’s gospel’ Category

Taking a risk of faith

June 26, 2021

Pentecost 5 -2021
Mark 5:21-43
Marian Free

In the name of God who calls us to step out in faith into a future that is yet unknown. Amen.

Richard Scott William Hutchinson was not expected to survive. He was born five months prematurely, weighing less than 500 grams. This week he celebrated his first birthday. No one can deny that medical science has made enormous advances during our lifetimes and that not only has life-expectancy been increased but also the quality of life for a great many people has been significantly enhanced. At the beginning of last century, a broken hip would have been a death sentence. Now hip replacements are readily available and those with new hips, new knees or other new parts can continue to live full lives – often for decades. Who would have thought in the 1950s that it would have been possible to give a chronically ill person a new heart and that the recipients would go on to lead long and productive lives or that someone would invent dialysis which would substantially extend the life of someone with kidney failure?

That said, medical intervention – whether in the form of drugs, surgery, radiation treatment or some other – carries with it a degree of risk. Medication is usually packaged with a brochure outlining the possible side-effects so that the recipient can assess whether the benefits outweigh the potential costs. Before a doctor performs surgery, he or she will ensure that the patient understands the potential risks (however small) that are associated with the operation so that they can make an educated choice to go ahead (or not). Anybody undergoing treatment for cancer will be given an estimate as to how successful the treatment will be and sometimes, how long the treatment will add to their life to enable them to decide if the treatment is worth it.

Sadly though, the ability to extend a person’s life is not always associated with an improvement in their quality of life. Life-saving drugs may leave a person constantly feeling nauseous and occasionally surgical intervention leaves a person worse off in terms of mobility or the experience of pain. Mostly though the risk is worth it as it brings the hope of a better future.

Today’s gospel tells the tale of the raising of Jairus’ daughter and the healing of the woman with a hemorrhage. Mark combines the two stories using a technique called intercalation or sandwiching. In this way he allows the two accounts of healing to speak to and to interpret each other. As Mark recounts the events, we notice a number of interesting things. Perhaps what stands out most is that Jairus has asked Jesus to come to his daughter as a matter of urgency and yet Jesus takes the time to stop and engage the older woman in conversation. Then there are the parallels between the stories. The child is twelve years old, and the woman has suffered for all that time. The girl is on the verge of her child-bearing years and the woman by virtue of her bleeding is unable to have children. The girl is surrounded by a loving family who are comfortably well off and who have status in the community. The woman appears to be alone, has used all her resources and, due to the bleeding, is considered unclean and thus is excluded from society. The child is at the point of death and the woman, as a result of her condition, might as well be dead.

It seems to me that risk-taking is at the heart of these healing stories. Neither Jairus nor the woman know whether or not they will be better off as a result of their approach to Jesus. Jairus’ daughter may live, but her quality of life may have already been seriously compromised. The woman’s flow of blood may stop but the underlying cause may remain. As the leader of the synagogue, Jairus risks ridicule and shame by approaching this strange travelling teacher. He is a man of status. If Jesus cannot heal his child, he may well lose the respect of his community. (Indeed, the laughter of the crowd indicates that his honour is already being questioned.) As a woman with a flow of blood, the woman is unclean. Her presence among the crowd will taint everyone there. No one will be able to visit the Temple for seven days if they have come into contact with her. She risks censure, even anger – how dare she break social and religious convention, how dare she threaten the people’s state of religious purity!

None-the-less, both Jairus and the woman feel that the risk is worth it and, as we see, their courage is rewarded. The woman is healed and the child (who has died) is raised to newness of life. Both are restored – one to her family, the other to her place in the community. Better still, as the Greek suggests, their healing not just a short-term fix or a prolongation of life at any cost. They are made well now and will have life (not mere existence) going forward.

Of course, Jairus and the woman were already transformed by their act of faith. Even before they had approached Jesus, they had made a decision that it was worth gambling their reputation and their life or that of their daughter. They had had the courage to believe that Jesus could work change in their lives and that any potential cost was well worth risk.

I don’t claim to know how healing works and why it works for some and not for others, but I do know that if, like Jairus and the woman, we have the courage to step out in faith, to take a risk with God and to place our lives in Jesus’ hands, then, whatever our life situation we can be confident that God will give us what we need and will enable us to live life to its fullest.

Is your God asleep on a cushion?

June 19, 2021

Pentecost 4 – 2021
Mark 4:35-41 (notes)
Marian Free

In the name of God who is with us even through the storms of life. Amen.

There is just so much contained in these seven verses that it is impossible to know where to start. What for example, are the disciples – not to mention the flotilla of boats – doing on the lake at all? Mark has already introduced us to four of the disciples. Peter and Andrew, James and John are fishermen and as such they would have been well-schooled in reading the weather and the lake. If a storm was brewing, why were they setting sail in the first place? Because Jesus told them to?

Then there is Jesus, asleep on a cushion in the boat – a lovely domestic detail. Jesus is not at all perturbed. Or perhaps after the last few days he is simply so exhausted that he could sleep through almost anything.

There is delicious irony here too. Earlier in the gospel, Jesus has explained the parable of the sower and claimed: “To you has been given the secret of the kingdom of God, but for those outside, everything comes in parables” (3:11). This suggests that understanding belongs only to his inner circle. Yet, here are the disciples, disciples to whom Jesus has revealed himself, disciples who have witnessed Jesus casting out demons and healing the sick who quite clearly do not understand who Jesus is. Worse, having witnessed his compassion towards the sick and the possessed the disciples dare to express their anxiety in language that makes it quite clear that they don’t get it. “Do you not care?” they shout above the waves. Their ignorance is exemplified by their last question: “who is this that even the wind and sea obey him?” All this time they have been with Jesus and still they need to ask.

No wonder Jesus accuses them of having no faith!

It would be easy to see this short account as a demonstration of Jesus’ power over the natural elements (and an expose of the disciples’ lack of understanding) but it is so much more. The language that Jesus uses to calm the storm is the same as that which he uses to cast out demons (1:25 for eg). Jesus “rebukes” the wind and demands that the sea “be silent” (translated as ‘peace’ in many versions). More is at stake here than a dramatic miracle. This is apocalyptic a realignment of a world that is perishing. It is evidence of the breaking-in of God’s kingdom (the subject of the preceding parables). The kingdom is bursting though as a seed breaks the ground. Jesus is setting the world to rights. When Jesus rebukes the wind and silences the sea, he is demonstrating that his mission has little to do with miracles and more to do with a cosmic battle. More, Jesus is making it clear that he has the power to prevent the world (the cosmos) from perishing. (Perhaps a play on words: “Do you not care that we are perishing?”)

No wonder that the disciples are terrified – filled with a great fear . This is a side of Jesus they have not seen before. Compared to the terror of the wind and waves the revelation (apocalypse) that Jesus is much more than a teacher (the word they use when they waken him) is utterly unexpected and overwhelming. Here is a man who possesses power that is far beyond their ability to comprehend. Here is man who exercises power that is associated with God not with human beings. To whom have they attached themselves? They were looking for a safe harbor, not a dynamic, world altering experience. (It is like thinking that you have laid for a ride on the merry-go-round only to discover that you are on the octopus.)

As the Old Testament attests, being in the presence of God is more often terrifying than comforting, more challenging than reassuring. The awesome presence of God can make a person feel exposed, sinful, or insignificant. Being in the presence of God can make a person want to sink into the ground or hide behind a post – after all the living God can see us through and through.

Seen in this light, the story of the calming of the seas challenges us to ask ourselves whether we have domesticated and tethered God. Is “our” God gently asleep on a cushion waiting to be woken to get us out of trouble or is God a force beyond our imagining whose concern is less with the petty and every day and more with the cosmic battle between good and evil?

Who or what is God to you?

Weed or towering cedar? The Kingdom of God.

June 12, 2021

Pentecost 3 – 2021

Mark 4:26-34 (some thoughts)

Marian Free

May I speak in the name of God who created us, Jesus who redeemed us and the Spirit who enlivens us. Amen.

A key theme of the Hebrew Bible is the Kingdom of Israel. From the time Saul is appointed as the first king, the historical books are concerned with the rule of the various kings, their victories (or losses) in battle, the size of their kingdoms, their wealth and, of course, their relationship with God. Never was the kingdom so powerful, grand and wealthy as in the time of Solomon who had “dominion over all the region west of the Euphrates from Tiphsah to Gaza, over all the kings west of the Euphrates; and he had peace on all sides”. Not only was his kingdom extensive, but his wealth was legendary. Just imagine: “Solomon’s provision for one day was thirty cors of choice flour, and sixty cors of meal, ten fat oxen, and twenty pasture-fed cattle, one hundred sheep, besides deer, gazelles, roebucks and fatted fowl. Solomon also had forty thousand stalls of horses for his chariots, and twelve thousand horsemen.” Under his rule Judah and Israel lived in safety – under their vines and fig trees.

Solomon’s wealth and power were displayed in the houses that he built for himself and for his wife which were made of the finest stone and timber and lined with gold and precious stones. Likewise, Solomon’s Temple was extraordinary – filled with vessels of gold and silver and bronze, adorned with carved timber and furnished with the finest of cloth. So rich was Solomon and so secure his kingdom that it was said that: “The king made silver as common in Jerusalem as stones, and he made cedars as numerous as the sycamores of the Shephelah.” He had seven hundred princesses as wives and three hundred concubines!!! (See the first few chapters of 1 Kings for details.) Even allowing for exaggeration, the description of Solomon’s power and wealth gives some idea of the the sort of kingdom that Jesus’ contemporaries might have been expecting God to restore.

To them, the comparison of the kingdom to a mustard seed would have been utterly surprising, shocking and even offensive. Not only that, Jesus is using imagery that would have been confusing. When the Hebrew Bible wanted to use plants to symbolise powerful kingdoms, the writers chose plants that were equally powerful and majestic – the mighty cedar tree or the cosmic tree that represented the Babylonian Empire.  (“it was large and strong, with its top touching the heavens, and it could be seen to the ends of the earth. … Under it the wild beasts found shade, in its branches the birds of the air nested; all men ate of it”; Dan 4:8-9), Or the vision of Ezekiel in which the restoration of the people of Israel after the Babylonian captivity is imaged as a shoot plucked from the crest of a cedar (Babylon) and planted on mountain heights, where it becomes a majestic cedar and “birds of every kind shall dwell beneath it.”( (Dennis Hamm SJ. http://www.liturgyslj, 13/6/2021).

Not only does Jesus chose something as pedestrian as a mustard seed with which to compare the kingdom – he mixes his metaphors. Even though mustard is a short, scrubby plant and small, Jesus still envisages birds making nests in its shade. He inverts and subverts the Old Testament imagery of the mighty cedar. As he describes it, the kingdom of God is not majestic and powerful. It will not come with force and overwhelm all that is before it. Instead, the kingdom will come subtly and quietly – like the seed whose growth cannot be observed until the first shoots push themselves above the ground. What is more the kingdom of God will not tower over or overshadow those beneath it, but will still spread out and provide shelter and shade for those who seek it.

The kingdom of God does not consist of mighty armies or lavish palaces. Its king does not enforce submission, but rather encourages loyalty through love. Its leader does not impose his will, but instead models servant leadership.

We are gravely mistaken if, like Jesus’ contemporaries, we are expecting God to break in to our world with power and might ready to bend the whole world to God’s will or (worse) to establish us as God’s representatives on earth. Jesus’ life and ministry illustrate the sort of kingdom about which he speaks. It will (it has) enter(ed) our world unexpectedly and quietly and has disrupted our preconceptions and our expectations. In fact, it was for the majority of people, completely unrecognisable.

In the Lord’s Prayer we pray for God’s kingdom to come. Let’s be sure that we are not looking for it in the wrong places.

Nothing is perfect, nothing is permanent, nothing is complete

June 5, 2021

Pentecost 2 – 2021
Mark 3:20—35
Marian Free

In the name of God – changeless yet ever new. Amen.

I am sure that many of you have heard about the Japanese practice of Kintsugi or golden joinery. The history of Kintsugi is shrouded in mystery, but legend has it that a Japanese shogun, Ashikaga Yoshimasa sent a cracked tea bowl to China to be mended. When it was returned to him, he was distressed by the crude repair. Ugly metal staples had been used so to hold the broken pieces together. In response, Japanese craftsmen determined to find a more aesthetically pleasing method of repairing broken bowls. The practice of Kintsugi uses lacquer mixed with gold, silver or platinum to join broken pieces of pottery with the result that though the breaks are clearly visible, the repaired bowl is often more beautiful than the original.

A number of Japanese philosophical ideas are associated with this practice. Foremost among these is the principle of wabi-sabi which acknowledges that everything is imperfect, everything is impermanent, and everything is incomplete. In Kintsugi, the repairs allow the imperfections to be visible, thus illustrating the impermanence of the original bowl and pointing to the incomplete nature of all things. An associated philosophy is that of mushin (no mind) which emphasises non-attachment and the acceptance of change. Instead of trying to hold onto or to recreate an unblemished past, the repaired vessel bears its scars boldly, proudly carrying them into the future.

Kintsugi illustrates the fact that change is not to be feared or resisted but is an integral part of existence. What is more, it demonstrates that change has the potential to forge something new and beautiful.

One of the problems with institutions is that they tend towards stasis. Once established, organisations develop practices, traditions and customs that can become very difficult to change. “We’ve always done it that way.” “It’s worked in the past,” workers or members say. A person who has a vision to improve a company’s bottom line by changing the way it does things is liable to be ridiculed, treated with suspicion and even ostracised. People who see flaws in the way our society operates are likely to be called troublemakers, radicals or revolutionaries. This is as true of the church as it is of any enterprise. People become comfortable with the way things are done and, in the worst-case scenarios, actively resist any attempt to innovate preferring a slow death to a revitalised, but different way of being.

The problem with Jesus was that he represented change. He refused to conform to the societal norms of his time, and he actively defied attempts to make him fit in. Instead of supporting the religious institutions of his time, he seemed to be undermining everything that they stood for. This I suspect is part of the tension that is recorded in today’s gospel. Jesus’ actions are making people uncomfortable. He is behaving in ways that are unconventional. He seems to have some sort of hold over the crowds. He is putting the whole fabric of society and of the church at risk. Who knows what might happen if he is allowed to continue unchecked?

Jesus’ behaviour is causing anxiety at every level – from his family to the state (as represented by the Temple). Jesus’ notoriety has grown to the point where he cannot find time or space even to eat. His family, who have heard that people are saying: “He is out of his mind,” have come to constrain him. In a world in which the honour of a family depends on all its members conforming to the cultural customs of their society, Jesus’ behaviour was a source of embarrassment. His family needed to stop him, to bring him back into line so that their reputation could remain intact.

While the people attribute Jesus’ behaviour to madness, the scribes take it even further and accuse him of being possessed by Beelzebul. After all, how else could he have such a sway over the crowds unless he was possessed by some supernatural power? Jesus’ influence over the people threatened the authority of the scribes (the Pharisees, the Sadducees and the High Priests). Worse, Jesus’ popularity threatened the whole religious establishment. If Jesus could heal and teach and cast out demons, what role was there for the Temple, its representatives and its sacrifices? If Jesus was able to point out the flaws in the religious practices of his time, how could the church continue to exist? The stakes were high. No wonder the scribes accused Jesus of being in league with the devil. They needed to bring him to heel, to discredit him, to make him conform.

Centuries of religious practice could come tumbling down if the people discovered that healing and forgiveness could be found beyond the walls of the Temple. The institution of the church would break apart if the people refused to be bound by age old traditions and customs. It was impossible for the scribes and other religious leaders to see that the change Jesus heralding would lead not to the destruction of all that they knew, but to a renewed and revitalised relationship with the living God. They were so sure that they were doing all that God wanted that they had lost sight of the fact that God was dynamic, vital and creative not static, lifeless and unchanging. They had become so comfortable in their own ways that they could not see that God in Jesus was trying to break open their narrow vision and their stagnant practices. They were blind to the fact that Jesus was attempting to re-energise their relationship with a life-giving and innovative God. They could not see that if only they could allow their rigidity and their conformity to be cracked and broken that they would be put back together, stronger, more resilient and even more beautiful than they had been before.

The scribes wanted things to stay the same, so they chose stasis over growth, stagnation over change and their current practice over the possibility of new life in Jesus.

Our present situation is a stark reminder that nothing stays the same. Let us pray that we might always be open to the living God, expectantly waiting to see what it is that God will do next and ready and willing to join God in whatever it is that God has planned.

Death is powerless

February 27, 2021

Lent 2 – 2021

Mark 8:31-38

Marian Free

In the name of God who invites us to risk everything in order to gain more than we can imagine. Amen.

Some of you may have seen the 2018 movie that was loosely based on Mary Magdalene. I have to admit that I found it unsatisfying and historically inaccurate. Apart from anything else, it appeared to set the story of Jesus in the period of the Jewish insurrection against Rome, in particular the time when Vespasian and his son were sent by Nero to quell the rebellion that had begun in 66 CE. At that time nearly every Jewish rebel in Caesarea and in northern Galilee was slaughtered. In fact up to 10,000 Judeans were killed or sold into slavery at that time. The movie provides vivid imagery of the butchery and of the resulting antipathy of the Judeans towards Rome. In the movie it is the character of Judas who is most convincing. Judas is depicted as a young man who is keen to rise up against the oppressors in vengeance for the losses that he has experienced. He finally hands Jesus over to the authorities because it is clear that Jesus will not be the revolutionary leader that he had hoped for.

In reality, Jesus’ ministry took place some thirty to forty years before the uprising and its suppression. While life under the Romans was difficult in Jesus’ time, it was not accompanied by the level of violence that occurred during and immediately after the insurrection. There is not even concrete evidence that there were garrisons of Roman soldiers in Galilee during Jesus’ lifetime. That said, the Romans were foreigners who had installed their own administrators and even appointed priests to the Temple. Herod was known to be cruel, and Pilate too had a reputation for brutality. Crucifixion appears to have been a common punishment for rebellion. So there was no love lost between the citizens of Israel and their Roman overlords and there were often bands of zealots and messianic figures who gathered followers to try to defeat the Romans. 

It may surprise you to know that at the beginning of the first century CE there was no fixed idea of a messiah. Despite the unified picture that we have, based on the New Testament evidence, there is no one, fixed expectation as to how God would save Israel. In line with God’s promise to David (that there would always be someone to sit on his throne), some people expected a kingly (military) figure to intervene on Israel’s behalf. Others thought that God would send a prophet of the like of Moses; or that Elijah would return. Still others hoped that God would send a priestly figure to restore Temple worship and return the hearts of the people to God. The community responsible for the Dead Sea Scrolls had a foot in many camps. They expected God to intervene in history by sending a military figure, a king and a priest.

What the people of Israel did not expect (despite the imagery of the suffering servant in Isaiah) was a saviour who would suffer and die and who would expect his followers to share in the same fate. It is no wonder that Peter is so shocked by Jesus’ announcement that he begins to rebuke Jesus. In his mind what Jesus is saying must seem to be utter nonsense. No one can save a people by dying! What is more, the disciples have witnessed Jesus’ healing power and his influence over the crowds. The evidence before them is of someone whose mission – even if it isn’t conventional – is at least successful. And hasn’t Peter recently been commended for identifying Jesus as God’s anointed (the messiah)? Peter and the other disciples must be completely stunned that Jesus is now claiming that he must suffer and must die.

Peter, it seems, has been so caught up in Jesus’ apparent “success” that he has failed to see the counter-cultural nature of Jesus’ mission. He has not seen how Jesus’ determination to associate with sinners, to support the marginalised and outcast and to critique the practices of the Pharisees has alienated and antagonised those who are invested in the status quo. Peter has been so caught up in his own hopes and dreams that he has not seen how Jesus’ commitment to show compassion in defiance of any religious tradition that might impede it, was leading him directly into confrontation with the leaders of the Judeans – a confrontation that would end badly for Jesus.

Over the last few weeks our readings have allowed us to focus on the person and nature of Jesus. We have learned that he was comfortable in his own skin, so sure of himself that he did not need to prove himself and did not need recognition, power or material goods. Jesus’ transfiguration provided evidence that Jesus was not bound by time and space, but that should lead us to lose sight of the fact that Jesus was fully human and that his full humanity is absolutely essential for our salvation[1].

At this point in Jesus’ ministry, Peter’s vision was narrow and was determined by his own hopes and dreams. After Jesus’ death and resurrection, Peter’s understanding developed to the point where he was able to follow in Jesus’ footsteps and to take up his cross and follow where Jesus had led.

If we too follow Jesus’ counter-cultural example, if we stand beside and for the marginalised and the oppressed it is possible that we too will antagonise those who prefer the world as it is rather than the world as it could be. As followers of Jesus, we are called to do justice, love mercy and walk humbly with our God. If that leads to the cross we should not flinch because, as Jesus has both taught and demonstrated, if we lose our lives we will gain our lives and that death, even physical death cannot ultimately contain us.


[1] See the sermons for the last three weeks. 

Is God masquerading as a human being or is Jesus fully human?

February 20, 2021

Lent 1 – 2021

Mark 1:9-15

Marian Free

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

I am aware that a number of people struggle with the idea that Jesus is fully human. That is not really surprising. It is an extraordinarily difficult concept to get one’s head around and yet the belief that Jesus is fully human and fully divine is at the centre of our faith – as we confess each week in the Nicene Creed. 

The significance of Jesus full humanity is clearly illustrated in two lines from this morning’s gospel. “And the Spirit immediately drove him out into the wilderness. He was in the wilderness forty days, tempted by Satan; and he was with the wild beasts; and the angels waited on him.” Something external – the Spirit of God – drove Jesus the human into the wilderness. There his true mettle was tested. Without food, water, shelter or even human contact would he succumb to the temptation to take short cuts or would he trust in God to see him through? Would he complain and wish himself at home (as did the Israelites did in the desert) or would he have faith that God would sustain him? Would he try to take control of the situation or would he allow himself to be completely vulnerable?

It is precisely because Jesus is human that the wilderness experience has any value. In the absence of any physical comfort Jesus learns that he is able to rely on God for nourishment. Without human companionship, Jesus discovers that God’s presence has followed him into the barrenness of the desert. It is as a human being that Jesus faces the privations of the desert. It is as a human being that he deals with hunger and loneliness and the voices that taunt him. It is as a human being that Jesus confronts Satan.  

If Jesus is simply God – all of this becomes meaningless. The wilderness would not be a test because God would not be impacted by hunger, fear or loneliness. Forty days would be as nothing to God who created time and space and Satan would be no match because God is strongly than Satan and it is impossible for God to be tempted. 

The whole point of the Incarnation, of God’s coming to earth among us, is that God chooses to fully share our human existence, to become one of us. It is only by fully inhabiting the human condition that Jesus is able to redeem the human condition. Jesus can save humanity from itself precisely by being human, by demonstrating in his own (human) life that our human nature is not an impediment to our divinity. Through the human Jesus, we are reminded that are we created in the image of God and we can be restored to our original place in creation. 

It is only because he is human that Jesus is able to reverse the damage done to our relationship with God inflicted by that first human – Adam. Adam was disobedient, Jesus was obedient. Adam desired to be as God. Jesus resisted the temptation to compete with God. Adam sought control; Jesus chose submission. Jesus demonstrated that we, as human beings, do not have to be determined by Adam’s misstep, but that we can choose a different way of being, a different way of relating to God. He demonstrated in his own life that it is possible to transcend the limitations of being human. 

Examples of Jesus’ humanity abound in Mark’s gospel. Jesus eats and drinks and sleeps. He is compassionate (1:41) angry and sad (3:5, 11:14,15). He expresses amazement (6:6). He becomes tired (4:38) and needs to find time and space for himself (6:30f). He sighs and groans (7:34, 8:12) and becomes annoyed (10:14). He gets frustrated and impatient with his disciples (4:40, 8:21, 8:31) to the extent of calling Peter ‘Satan’. He becomes indignant when the disciples send the children away (10:14). His miracles do not always work the first time (8:22-26) and he does not display foreknowledge (he doesn’t know who touches him). He allows the Syrophoenician woman to challenge him and to change his mind. He is disappointed in, critical of (7:9f, 8:15) and rude to the Pharisees (7). 

In the garden of Gethsemane, Jesus was distressed and agitated, he confessed to being deeply grieved and prayed that God might spare him (14:33f). He experienced betrayal at the hands of two of his inner circle and finally, he was arrested, beaten and crucified. Jesus died, really died – if he did not then the resurrection means nothing.

I put it to you that if Jesus is simply God masquerading as a human being then our faith becomes a nonsense. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to believe in a God who just pretends to be one of us, who is play-acting sharing our experience and who does not really know what it is to be one of us. Because if God is just pretending, Jesus’ torment in the garden becomes a farce, as does his agony and confusion on the cross, not to mention his frustration, his exhaustion and his grief. If Jesus is God impersonating us his death means nothing. 

The reality is that God does not and did not need to go through the drama of coming to earth if God did not believe that by sharing our experience God could somehow enrich that experience, remind us of our true nature and awaken the divinity that resides within each one of us. God, being God could simply have waved his hands and reversed everything that had gone wrong since creation. God, being God, could simply have bent us to God’s will. From the beginning of time, God has not enforced God’s will, but has allowed us to choose our own way. 

The whole point of the salvation event is God’s identification with God’s creation. God in Jesus became one of us to show us creation at its very best and to remind us of what we were intended to be. As the orthodox would say: “Jesus became fully human so that we might become fully divine.” Can we honour that intention this Lent?

What sort of church?

February 13, 2021

Transfiguration – 2021

Mark 9:2-9

Marian Free

In the name of God whose presence in the world is independent of anything that we might do. Amen.

During the week I had the privilege of listening to Sam Wells, the current Rector of St Martin in the Fields in London. Our Diocese, in conjunction with Heartedge, an initiative of that church, has organised a number of presentations/discussions to help us think about the church after COVID and to discern the direction in which God might be calling us as we move forward[1]. In looking at the church before COVID (BC) and after COVID (AC) Sam distinguishes between “strategic church” and “tactic church”. Strategic church, he says, builds a citadel and makes occasional forays out of the citadel before returning to the safety of the base. “Strategic church” assumes, Sam argues, that Jesus ascended into heaven before he concluded his work on earth and that therefore it is up to the church to do that work for him. In this model, the church is ‘the principle and definitive way’ God continues to work (and to be known) in the world. “Tactic church” on the other hand has no fixed home base, nowhere to store it’s booty and survives through hand-to-hand engagements with those on the ground. “Tactic church” understands that Christ ‘plays in 10,000 places’[2] and is therefore not reliant on anyone least of all us. “Tactic church” does not have to be ‘the source from which all blessings flow.’

By way of illustration, Sam told the story of three women who got together to think how they might spend their Sunday mornings while their church was closed for repairs. One woman decided that she would go to a car boot sale, another to a Sunday league football games and the third to IKEA. Each Sunday they engaged with the people whom they met in those settings and learnt something about their lives. They were excited by their encounters and by what they experienced. After three weeks, when the church reopened for worship, they were genuinely unable to decide whether or not they should return. Their engagement with the community had opened their eyes to new ways of relating to and sharing the gospel with the world. They had discovered that church was not the sole source of relationship, nor the only place in which God could be encountered. In the words of one, their God was now too big for the church. Without having a name for their experience, the women had moved from “strategic church” to “tactic church”.

It could be argued that the Transfiguration illustrates the difference between “strategic church” and “tactic church”. A number of clues point in this direction. In the first instance Jesus’ meeting with Moses and Elijah is a clear reminder that Jesus is not restricted to time and place. If he is not bound by time and place, his ascension into heaven does not herald and end to his ministry – which existed before he began his earthly existence and will continue after his ascension. In other words, the church has no need to replace Jesus who continues to be present in the world – a core assumption of “tactic church”. 

Secondly, Peter’s reaction is telling and is probably a good example of the “strategic church” model. Peter (who, to be fair, is terrified) wants to hold on to the moment, to build booths for Moses, Elijah and Jesus. In other words, he seems to want to create a citadel from which ministry can be carried out – to freeze the moment in time so that it can be relived over and over. Jesus, however, is more interested in a church that is on the move, that is engaged with the world. Jesus promotes “tactic church”. He leads the disciples back down the mountain where they are immediately plunged into the fears, the hopes, the doubts and the faith of the community in which they live (9:14-29).

Then, there is the voice from heaven. You will recall that there was also a voice from heaven at Jesus’ baptism.  “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” The language here is very much the same: “This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!”  but there is a significant difference. On the occasion of Jesus’ baptism, the voice from heaven was principally for Jesus’ benefit. On the mountain, the voice from heaven is for the disciples – “listen to him”. 

Finally, there is Jesus’ discussion with the disciples on the way down the mountain (their return to the mundane and the ordinary, to their engagement with the world). Jesus instructs the disciples not to tell anyone what they have seen “until the Son of Man had risen from the dead.” Peter, James and John have been given a glimpse of Jesus’ true nature, they have learnt that the one whom they follow is not bound by time and place and have been entrusted with the knowledge that even though Jesus will die, he will rise from the dead (be with them always). 

When the disciples are plunged back into the world, they carry with them God’s vision for the church – the glory of God cannot be contained in booths, God’s presence in the world cannot be limited to the three years of Jesus’ ministry, and the role of the disciples (the church) is to throw themselves into the lives of the community, where they will discover that Jesus is there ahead of them.

We, of course, have no idea what the world will look like post-COVID, nor can we begin to imagine how the church will emerge from this time of uncertainty and ambiguity. What we can be sure of is this – with or without us, God is at play in the world and God invites us to join in that grand adventure.


[1] A recording of the talk is available. https://www.facebook.com/theHeartEdge/videos/424181598801239

[2] From Gerald Manly Hopkins.

Being truly oneself is to be truly God’s

February 6, 2021

Epiphany 5 – 2021

Mark 1:29-39

Marian Free

May I speak in the name of God, in whose eyes we are perfect. Amen.

When I was a child, children used to receive prizes for being the most regular attendees at Sunday School. The prizes were always books. I don’t remember how many I received, but I have clear memories of two. One was the biblical story of Ruth and the other told a story of Jesus as a little boy – as a good and obedient child. I have no idea what the content of the latter was, but one of the illustrations has stuck in my memory. Over time, the image may have shifted a little, but in essence it is the same. There is a woman in a kitchen with a child at her feet. For some reason, I remember the woman dressed in clothes that were fashionable in the 1950’s but I may have added that detail.  What I am sure of is that the toys with which the child was playing included painted wooden blocks and other toys that would have been popular in my childhood – but not in the time of Jesus. 

As an adult, influenced by that book, I searched the gospels in vain for stories of Jesus as a child. Surely, somewhere in the gospels there was evidence to back up the story. No. The only record that we have of Jesus before he begins his ministry is the account of the twelve-year-old in the Temple where, like any adolescent, he is presuming an independence beyond his years and causing his parents great anxiety.[1]

According to the canonical gospels, Jesus simply bursts on the scene after John begins preaching repentance and baptising penitents in the river Jordan. Apart from Luke’s account of Jesus’ precocious wisdom, there is no record of his childhood, his adolescence or his early adult years. Mark’s gospel simply tells us that he was a carpenter (or craftsman) and Matthew’s gospel only that he was the son of a carpenter. Beyond that we have no actual details. Based on the gospels we can conjecture that Jesus’ ability to argue with the Pharisees implies that he was well-versed in the Hebrew scriptures and we can speculate he regularly attended the synagogue. The fact that his early ministry was based in Galilee suggests that he didn’t travel far as a young man and the fact that he was in Capernaum when he called the four fishermen leads to the conclusion that he was resident there at that time. His baptism by John hints that he was one of John’s followers before he struck out on his own.

We can, I think, also conjecture that Jesus was his own person, that he was completely self-contained. Whatever his childhood was like, it seems that he grew into someone who was comfortable in his own skin and who did not need to be affirmed by the externals of power, wealth or appreciation. The evidence for this is compelling. Jesus was not afraid to speak his mind – even when to do so meant making enemies. He did not seek recognition, praise or affirmation even though that would have some easily. He did what was right with no expectation that he would be rewarded, and he gave himself completely without expecting anything in return.

From the very beginning of his ministry, Jesus made it quite clear that he was not and would not be dependent on externals to give his life meaning, or even to help him gather a following. So, when Satan tempted him in the wilderness, Jesus did not give in to the allure of power, showmanship or material gain. He did not need any of these things because he did not feel the need to prove himself to anyone. Jesus knew who he was and knew who he was before God.  Jesus’ confidence, his sense of self, came – not from anything he had or anything that he could do – but from a relationship with God that gave him the certain knowledge that he was valued and loved. This informed everything that he did. Jesus’ relationship with God meant that he was secure in himself. He was liberated from any need to feel important, freed from any desire to have power or control over others (or even over himself) and he did not require possessions, achievements or even followers to reassure himself of his own worth. 

Today’s gospel is a perfect example of Jesus’ self-assurance, of his commitment to his mission and not to his own aggrandisement and of his unwillingness to create a movement that was centred on him[2]. Mark’s gospel began with demonstrations of Jesus’ authority and power. Jesus had taught with authority, he had rebuked a demon, healed Peter’s mother-in-law, cured many and cast out many demons. By any account that would be enough to draw a crowd and to form a popular movement. It would have been so easy for Jesus to stay where he was, basking in adulation and enjoying his popularity. It certainly would have been safer. But when Jesus’ disciples tell him that “everyone is searching for him”, he insists that the good news must be proclaimed elsewhere and he, with them, moves on.  

Jesus understood that his role was to liberate, heal and restore others, not to promote or to advantage himself.

As we approach Lent, we are challenged to place our own lives under the microscope – to fast from, or free ourselves from those things on which we have become dependent. I can think of no better place to start than considering how reliant we are on the good opinion of others or how much our sense of worth is tied up in what we own and what we have achieved or how dependent we are on having control over our own lives or worse, over the lives of others.

Jesus knew who he was and knew that he was valued by God. This liberated him to think of others and not himself. If we are to truly follow Jesus, we too need to find that inner sense of worth that frees us from striving for recognition, for influence or personal gain.

Jesus freed himself from everything that might constrain and limit his ministry and his relationship with others. I wonder what we might decide to let go of this Lent? 


[1] In “The Infancy Gospel of Thomas” the child Jesus not only heals and raises from the dead, but he also strikes down (dead) those who disagree with or provoke him. The child Jesus in this gospel is disrespectful not only to his parents but also to his teachers. It is unlikely that we would want to include in our canon something that describes Jesus as a punitive, vindictive child which makes us think that the Gospel is just that “apocryphal”.

[2] Remember too, that before Jesus does anything else, he chooses others to share his ministry. Jesus was never a “one-man band”.

Truth/untruth. God/not god

January 30, 2021

Mark 1:21-28

Epiphany 4 – 2021

Marian Free

May I speak in the name of God Earth-Maker, Pain- Bearer, Life-Giver. Amen.

During the week a candidate for the Liberal Party in Western Australia was asked to resign. Andrea Tokaji had written an article on a website suggesting that there might be a correlation between the roll out of 5G Towers and COVID -19. Ms Tojaki also claimed radiation destroys human immunity to airborne viruses, a theory that is not accepted by doctors and which has not been supported by credible scientific studies. Over the past four to six years truth has become a causality of ego and conspiracy. Phrases like ‘fake truth’ and ‘alternative truth’ have been uttered by world leaders and their spokespersons who present their own view of the world, current events and scientific research as ‘truth’ even in the face of evidence that clearly points in another direction.

The internet has given us access to a vast amount of information. With a few strokes of a keypad we can settle arguments about the capital of Uzbekistan, the life span of bilbies or the composition of the sun. Within seconds we can find references to topics that forty years ago would have taken hours of research to uncover. At the same time, the internet has also provided a platform for misinformation and conspiracy theories. It is easy, as we have seen, to promulgate wild fantasies such as that promoted by QAnon (a secret group of Satan-worshipping, cannabalistic, pedophiles is running a sex trafficking ring and that high ranking Democratic Party officials are among its members). Or, less wild, that there is a link between 5G and COVID.

That said, truth has always been something  of a slippery animal. Scientific research has not always been objective –  tobacco companies have funded research into the positive effects of smoking. Before the internet, charismatic leaders could convince their followers to believe their reality – even if it led to the deaths of millions of people. When there are no objective measures (like tickets) event organizers or protesters have always been able to  exaggerate the number of attendees in order  to inflate the success of their event.

Religions, even our own, are not immune from the tendency to find evidence to support a particular viewpoint; from the emergence of charismatic leaders who convince their followers to behave in ways they otherwise would not; or to present themselves as more successful than they are.

So where does that leave us? What is truth and how do we recognise it? More particularly, how in the context of something as ephemeral as faith, can we properly discern what is real, what is true?

There is not enough time, nor am I fully qualified to answer those questions but I believe that the gospel and the reading from Deuteronomy today challenge us to consider how we discern what is of God and what is not. In Deuteronomy God promises to raise up a prophet who will speak everything that God commands. God says: ‘Anyone who does not heed the words that the prophet shall speak in my name, I myself will hold accountable. But any prophet who speaks in the name of other gods, or who presumes to speak in my name a word that I have not commanded the prophet to speak—that prophet shall die.’ It is a serious threat – one that does not seem to have been heeded by Jesus’ contemporaries. Today’s gospel is about the recognition of one who speaks as God.

So how do we know who is speaking for God, who is speaking God’s truth?

As I said, I am no expert, but I suggest that in order to answer the question we have, at the very least,  to rid ourselves of our egos, our self-interest and of everything that ties us to the minutiae of our earthly existence. In other words, to truly hear and to truly recognize God, we have to silence all the competing voices that struggle to be heard. As Jesus himself suggests, we should not even worry about ‘what to wear and what to eat’. Like Jesus, we should not be overly concerned with our personal comfort and security. We should try not to worry about what other people think about us. For only if we let go of our own desires and fears will we learn to hear the distinction between authenticity and inauthenticity, will we be able to understand whether a speaker (or the internet) is feeding our own fears or offering practical information and we will be ready to listen critically to those who are making promises and to decide whether they are feeding their egos (or ours), and to question whether their ‘facts’ are supporting one, or another, agenda.

Doing all those things might help us to discern fact from fiction, but how do we know that someone is speaking on behalf of God – is God? Here, we are more fortunate than the scribes because generations before us have affirmed that Jesus is God. If we didn’t know that, where would we begin. Again, I can only make suggestions, but it seems to me that some clues are in today’s gospel. Even though Jesus apparently introduces new teaching, his listeners recognize that he speaks with ‘authority’. This is a phrase that is repeated at the beginning and the end of section making the exorcism secondary to the teaching.  Jesus is believable because he is authentic. He is not self-serving. He has nothing to gain and nothing to lose. He speaks the truth from God even when it brings him into conflict with the forces of evil and with the religious and secular powers. Jesus has no thought for his own security, let alone advancement. His ego was ceded to God during his time in the wilderness and now he is truly free of any temptation to seek power, riches or fame. Jesus is God and speaks for God because he has rid himself of anything that might separate himself from God.

Jesus has nothing to gain and nothing to lose. He does not need to persuade or to coerce people to follow him. He can extend an invitation and give people the freedom to accept or reject him. His teaching, healing and compassion are directed outwards. He has no ulterior motive. His desire is not for himself but for others and he refused to do those things that might have saved him from an ugly death. His authority comes from his integrity, his authenticity.

So how can we discern the truth? How can we recognise God in others?

In answer to the first we should seek to liberate ourselves from any self interest that might blind us to the truth.  And in response the second we can start by asking ourselves whether the speaker is self serving or selfless, whether they are following their own agenda or whether they have the interest of the whole community[1] (the whole world) at heart.

Discerning the truth, recognizing God in the world is our purpose and goal. It might be harder than we think, but that is no reason not to try.


[1] There is not time to look at the reading from Corinthians, but you will see that putting others before oneself is a value that Paul promotes.

Embracing our true humanity

January 9, 2021

Baptism of our Lord – 2021

Mark 1:4-11

Marian Free

In the name of Jesus our Saviour – fully human and fully divine. Amen.

“We believe in one Lord, Jesus Christ,

the only son of God, 

eternally begotten of the Father,

God from God, Light from Light,

true God from true God,

begotten not made,

of one being with the Father,

through him all things were made.

For us and our salvation,

he came down from heaven

was incarnate of the Holy Spirit, and the virgin Mary 

and became fully human.”

The Nicean Creed, which we recite Sunday after Sunday, and which is the statement of faith for all orthodox churches, was born out of turmoil. In the fourth century there were many who considered themselves to be Christians but there was considerable disagreement as to exactly what this meant. Jesus had not spelled out creeds or doctrines, neither had he established any form of organisation for any church that might form to worship him. This left the ground wide open for interpretation – as even the New Testament testifies[1]. There were at this time disputes over the dating of Easter and the consecration of bishops, but the most significant and divisive issue related to the nature of Jesus. The gospels, in fact, the New Testament is silent on this point, meaning that a number of different opinions arose – Jesus was divine and only appeared to be human, Jesus was human but became divine at the resurrection and so on. As there was no central form of governance for the church there was no mechanism for resolving the question. Individual bishops held authority in the regions for which they were responsible, and their opinions usually held sway in the Dioceses. As a result, there was no universally held belief.

In 325CE, the major protagonists were Arius who insisted that Jesus was a created being and therefore did not exist from the beginning[2] and Athanasius who insisted that Jesus coexisted with God[3]. Their disagreement regarding the nature of Jesus impacted churches throughout the Empire.

Emperor Constantine, who, in response to a dream, fought and won the battle of Milvian Bridge in the name of the Christian God wanted to unite his Empire under this same God. He was troubled however, by the fact that the church itself was divided and did not create a suitable umbrella for the unification of the Empire. He called the bishops together at Nicea and insisted that they come to an agreement with regard to the nature of Jesus[4].

Legend has it that Constantine locked the bishops in to the hall and that one person was killed during the heated debate. Whatever the truth, in the end the Council sided with Athanasius’ view against that of Arius and drew up a statement of belief (Creed) that made it absolutely clear that Jesus was both fully divine and fully human. 

Jesus’ baptism is one of the New Testament conundrums that face anyone trying to come to a conclusion regarding his true nature. Why would someone who is fully divine need to be baptised “for the repentance of sin”? It is a question that troubled even the gospel writers – Matthew has John the Baptist question Jesus’ need to be baptised and John fails to mention that Jesus is baptised. However, Jesus’ baptism is at the heart of the matter. Kavanagh points out (in agreement with Athanasius) that in order for humanity to be saved, Jesus – fully divine – had to be one with us in every sense[5]. In order to reclaim us, God had to fully identify with the human condition, to be one of us in every respect – including our propensity to sin. Only by being identical to us and yet entirely obedient to God, could Jesus redeem us from ourselves. Only by embracing the human condition could Jesus show us how to be fully divine.

Kavanagh actually says that it is the precisely fact that Jesus does not sin, that makes him fully human. Sin, he argues is our refusal to accept our humanity – our desire, like that of Adam to be God. Jesus’ full acceptance of our humanness reverses that trajectory and opens the way for us to become the people God created us to be.

For us, baptism is a different kind of reversal. It is an acceptance of our flawed humanity and an expression of our desire to be restored to our full humanity, which carries with it our full divinity. 

Though not explicitly stated, the gospels are full of hints that Jesus is both fully human and fully divine. For him to be either one or the other would not have led to the redemption of the human condition. We are beneficiaries of the wisdom of the fourth bishops who wrangled their way to an agreed statement of faith. Sunday by Sunday, let us say the Creed with conviction and affirm as truth that Jesus who is “God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God” did indeed “become fully human.”


[1] See for example the disputes recorded in Romans and Galatians.

[2] If Jesus came from God, he could not have pre-existed with God.

[3] If Jesus was not fully human, he could not save us.

[4] For one version of events see https://christianhistoryinstitute.org/study/module/nicea/

[5] Kavanagh, John, SJ. https://liturgy.slu.edu/BapLordB011021/theword_kavanaugh.html