Archive for the ‘Matthew’ Category

Lent 1 – competing with God

February 21, 2026

Lent 1 – 2026

Matthew 4:1-11

Marian Free

In the name of God, Source of all being, Word of life, Enlivening Spirit. Amen.

All around the world scientists and other professionals are doing research and offering advice to third world countries in the belief that they can help reduce food-scarcity, increase access to clean water and provide cheap, easy to construct housing that will withstand cyclones. One such programme developed bananas that contained a vitamin that was lacking in the diets of some populations in East Africa. Another produced amazing results simply by delivering salt to an isolated population in the Himalayas. The absence of salt in their diet had led to stunted growth and the early loss of teeth.  When salt was added to the diet the effect was phenomenal.

Such achievements are all well and good, but it is not always easy to predict all the consequences of these sorts of interventions. Many years ago, I watched a documentary on the effects of aid in third world countries and in particular on the unintended results. I no longer remember the country involved, but I clearly remember that the crop that was genetically enhanced was rice – the staple food of the local people. Scientists were able to develop a rice that produced a much higher yield than the rice that was traditionally grown and they were very successful in encouraging farmers to grow it. Unfortunately, while the rice produced abundantly in good years, in bad years it produced barely any grain. Before the introduction of the “new improved” rice farmers had sown a variety of rice seeds with the result that at least some of them produced a crop even in bad years. Now they no longer had those native seeds they were, at times, even worse off.

Human curiosity and the desire to push the limits of what we learn and what we can do knows no bounds, but humans have their limitations and we cannot always see the end result of what at first seems like a lifesaving, world-changing discovery.

No matter how clever or wise we think we are, only God has access to the full picture. Only God really knows what will really work long term and what will not. Only God can see the unintended domino effect that an action in one place might have in another place and time. Only God can see the length and breadth of human history and the impact of humans on the world and its peoples.

Two of this morning’s reading address the issue of the arrogance of humans who, in their desire to know and their longing to make a difference live in constant competition with God.

In both Genesis and Matthew, the devil (serpent, Satan, tempter) (1) offers human beings what appears to be a really good idea (or ideas).  In Genesis the serpent encourages the woman to eat from the forbidden tree so that she, like God will have the knowledge of good and evil. Surely it would be useful to be able to distinguish good from bad? Thousands of years later, in the desert, the devil makes a number of suggestions to Jesus, all of which have the potential for good, the potential to solve the problems of the world – bread to feed the hungry of world, power to govern justly and wisely, authority to eliminate poverty, violence and oppression and fantastic displays of God’s intervention so that the world might have absolute certainty in the identity of Jesus.  

The reactions of the humans in the two stories are polar opposites. In Genesis, Adam and Eve are seduced by the serpent.  Surely the knowledge of good and evil is just what they need to create a safe and secure community on earth? If they have the wisdom of God, what on earth could go wrong?  God’s reaction in the story indicates that God thinks that things could go very wrong indeed. God knows, as most of us do not, that knowledge in the wrong hands is a very dangerous thing. God knows too well the limitations of humankind and that humanity, represented by Adam and Eve is not ready to know all there is to know.  Indeed, there are few, if any, who have the foreknowledge, the insight and selflessness to see clearly the end results of even good intentions, few who have the maturity to understand that sometimes holding back is of more value than rushing headlong to solve a problem, or to condemn a person who does not conform and few who have the wisdom to know that power, even if used benignly has the potential to oppress and confine.

Jesus’ interaction with the devil is the exact opposite of that of Adam and Eve because Jesus, understands too well the dangers of believing that only good can come from the devil’s suggestions.  He knows that good intentions are not enough, that the issues at hand are much more complex than giving the hungry food (think of the rice), or taking it upon oneself to make changes for the better rather than empowering others to create the change they need, and that dramatic and showy interventions are more convincing than faithful, steady actions that prove one is who they say they are.

Faced with the temptation to take up the devil’s offer of short cuts to recognition, power and a world in which no one is hungry, Jesus responds with the wisdom that demonstrates that he understands that there is no magic wand. He knows that what to the devil, look like obvious solutions may create more problems than they solve.

There is only one way to bring about heaven on earth and that is to follow the example of Jesus, to entrust ourselves and the future to God and to encourage others to do the same. It is only when (like Jesus) we submit ourselves to the greater wisdom, power and foresight of God, and only when we stop trying to compete with God that God’s kingdom will come and God’s will be done.

Lent is not simply about whether or not we can spend forty days going without, it is more about what we learn about ourselves when we give up trying to be in control.

May this Lent be a time, when we see ourselves for who we really are and let go of those things that put us in competition with God.

 

  • I have used the words used in scripture, but I believe these are just ways of expressing the human desire for power, independence and control which prevent us from being in relationship with God. It is a sign of our unwillingness to take responsibility for our behaviour that we attribute our failings to an external source.

 

“Being more righteous”?

February 10, 2026

 

 Fifth Sunday after Epiphany – 2026

Matthew 5:13-20

Marian Free

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

Context is everything. If someone says to you that: “it was really dark”, they could mean a number of things. They could be saying that it was a moonless night, that they had read a book or seen a film with a depressing theme, or that it was an especially dark chocolate that they had eaten. The only way to know for certain what they mean is to know the context of the sentence – either by paying attention to what was said previously (were they talking about a time or place or were they referring to something they had read or seen) or by noticing their physical surroundings (is there evidence that they have just eaten a piece of chocolate?)

There is no reason why we should imagine that the gospels would be any different. On Sundays we hear only small segments of the gospels, but to fully understand what we hear, we have to read the text surrounding our mornings’ set piece and we have to have some understanding of the social, historical, geographical and political context of the writer and/or the community whom the writer is addressing.

I find this particularly important when it comes to the gospel of Matthew. Read in isolation, Matthew’s gospel can appear to be harsh and legalistic. In fact, in the first year of my ordained ministry I struggled to preach on Matthew. It seemed so oppressive and so lacking in the grace that I found elsewhere in the gospels, setting standards that few but the most holy among us could achieve that it was difficult for me to find something inspirational and encouraging to say.

Take for example the last saying from this morning’s gospel. “Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets; I have come not to abolish but fulfill. For truly I tell you, until heaven and earth pass away, not one letter, not one stroke of a letter, will pass from the law until all I accomplished. For I tell you, unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.” (Mt 5:17-18, 20).

At first glance the emphasis on the law, in particular on keeping the letter of the law, contradicts what we know about Jesus’ general antagonism towards the law, and his general disregard for laws that had become burdensome rather than liberating. (His insistence on working on the Sabbath being just one example.)

So what is going on the background of this gospel, that the author of Matthew should be so insistent that Jesus had demanded that the law in its entirety should be kept if one is to enter the kingdom of heaven?

As I often tell my students, the only way we can build up a picture of the situation in which and into which Matthew is writing, is through the clues that we find in the gospel. While the social/historical situation at the time of writing can provide us with some background, there is no external evidence for the life of Jesus or the life of the Jesus’ communities.

It is generally agreed that all the gospels were written after the fall of Jerusalem in 70CE. Jerusalem had been destroyed by the Romans and with it the Temple. Any who survived the slaughter were forced to leave the city and to begin life again. Without a Temple, there was no central focal point for the Jewish faith and no place in which to practice the sacrifices and rituals that were the established means of expressing and maintaining a relationship with God. As a consequence, there developed a reliance on the law as a replacement for the Temple – a practice which had already begun with the Pharisees (who rejected the Temple) and which, after the destruction of Jerusalem developed into what we know as Rabbinic Judaism. The development of Rabbinic Judaism explains a post-Temple emphasis on the law, but not why this emphasis impacts on the Matthean community, for this we have to turn to the gospel itself.

From the way in which the gospel is written, and from certain sayings and inclusions, it is possible to discern that the author of Matthew was writing for followers of Jesus whose origin was Jewish. For instance, unique to Matthew is an emphasis on the ways in which Jesus fulfills Jewish scriptures, Jesus’ genealogy which goes back to Abraham, the father of Judaism, (not Adam as in Luke), Matthew’s use of the title ‘Son of David’ for Jesus and the comparison of Jesus (new law-giver) with Moses (the giver of the law), not to mention the command “to go only to the lost sheep of Israel”.

Historically, there is some evidence that post 70CE a number of Pharisaic Jews found a home in a place called Jamnia. Here they were able to pursue their focus on the law unimpeded. Scholars believe that a community who believed in Jesus likewise found a refuge in Jamnia and that these two “Jewish” groups both claimed to be the true continuation of the historical Israel and in some small way competed with each other for that title.

It is this that helps us to make sense of Matthew 5:17-20.  “Unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees” could well be an incentive for the Matthean community to prove themselves as the true Israel by being more righteous than the Pharisees whom they viewed as their competition.

When it comes to reading the scriptures we should not be naïve or simply take the words at face value. We should do all that we can to understand what is really being said and why. The alternative to this spirit of inquiry is at best to risk misinterpretation, but at worst is to impose burdens on ourselves and others that were never intended by Jesus.

Faith is not a competition, but a relationship, a relationship based on God’s unconditional love as revealed by Jesus, a gift to be received not earned. Any other reading of scripture risks being coercive and even abusive.

We owe it to God, to ourselves and others to delve beyond the surface into the truer meaning.

 

 

Blessings (and responsibility)

February 7, 2026

Fourth Sunday after Epiphany

Matthew 5:1-12 (some thoughts)

Marian Free

 

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

“Blessed are the poor in spirit.” Right there we have a clear indication that Matthew’s voice is very different from that of Luke who doesn’t qualify or try to expand the meaning “of poor”.  Luke simply says: “Blessed are the poor,” making it quite clear that those who are not poor are not included. He makes this even more explicit in his second major departure from Matthew’s wording: “Woe to you who are rich.” Unlike Matthew, Luke’s beatitudes are followed by a list of woes – to the rich, the full and the laughing. (This is consistent with Luke’s agenda which is to make explicit God’s preference for the poor and marginalised – think of the Magnificat which is mirrored here.)

 

It is often assumed that Matthew has spiritualised the Beatitudes, taken the sting out of them – we don’t have to actually be poor to belong to the kingdom of heaven, we can simply be humble, aware of our spiritual poverty. That said, being “poor in spirit” doesn’t seem to be a commendable state of being, certainly not one that would seem to warrant the status of blessedness! So we are left with something of a mystery.

 

Beatitudes simply means blessings. They are not unique to the gospels but are found throughout scripture. There are seven individual beatitudes in the Book of Revelation. What we know as The Beatitudes is a group of blessings which are found only in the gospels of Matthew and Luke.

 

Scholars believe that the authors of both Matthew and Luke used Mark’s gospel as their starting point and that they had another common source (for convenience called Q or ‘source’) from which they drew material. Each them also appears to have had access to teaching that was unique to them. (For example, only Luke records our favourite parables – the Good Samaritan and the Prodigal Son.) Both authors follow Mark’s ordering of events, but because they were writing independently, they have used their common material quite differently. Matthew for example begins his first block of Jesus’ teaching with what we call “The Sermon on the Mount”. Luke includes much of the same material, but splits it into two parts – a sermon and a travel discourse. Another difference between the two gospels is that while Matthew places Jesus on a mountain for this important block of teaching, Luke places Jesus on the plain. It is possible that Matthew, addressing a largely Jewish audience, uses the mountain to draw out the similarities between Moses the giver of the law and Jesus the new law-giver. For the writer of Luke who was writing for a largely Gentile audience, the allusion to Moses would have been missed.

 

In Matthew, this block of teaching or “Sermon on the Mount” takes up all of chapters 5 through 7 and, while links between the different sayings can be discerned, it is basically a collection of individual sayings which have been collected by Jesus’ followers and recorded together. It is very unlikely that Jesus would have simply have stood on a mountains and reeled off a list of proverb-like sayings. It is much more feasible that Jesus said many, if not all these things, but said them in conversation, over meals, or while journeying with his disciples as the occasion arose. Then after his death his followers would have repeated them when they met together and finally someone would have gathered them into a collection something like that which we have today.

 

Returning to Matthew’s record of the Beatitudes, perhaps they are not as starkly different from those of Luke as I have made out. Warren Carter suggests that, in much the same way as Luke, the first four beatitudes that are recorded by Matthew, refer to the oppressive situation in which believers find themselves and the Sermon as a whole addresses the ways in which the Kingdom of God is breaking in to address those situations. He argues that the first beatitude has less to do with being humble and patient as I suggested above, but refers to those who are “materially poor and whose spirits are crushed by economic injustice, deprivation of resources and few options.”

Blessing of the meek (the third beatitude) is proclaimed in Psalm 137. The first four beatitudes emphasize God’s actions “promising divine reversals in both the present and the future.” Carter suggests that the next five beatitudes turn our attention to human behaviours which contribute to the building of the kingdom – doing mercy, making peace and, when necessary accepting persecution in the cause of justice and peace.

Jesus begins his ministry saying: “Repent for the Kingdom of Heaven is near.” In this collection of sayings, beginning with the Beatitudes, Jesus begins to set out what the kingdom might look like – what God will do, and how we are called to respond.

Whatever Jesus’ original meaning, we who are relatively well-off and who are not under the thumb of an oppressive and exploitive colonial power are blessed. We are blessed because we already have glimpses of the kingdom. We are blessed because we know what it is to be in relationship with the living God. We are blessed because Jesus has shared our existence and demonstrated that it is possible to grow into our divinity. And we are blessed with the power of the Holy Spirit.

With those blessings comes responsibility – the responsibility to play our part in making the kingdom a reality on earth, to work for justice and peace, to hunger and thirst for righteousness to challenge unjust structures and to confront oppression of any kind.

Like most of Jesus’ sayings, the Beatitudes come with a sting – the blessings are ours, but so too are the responsibilities. We who are blessed should become a blessing for others.

 

 

 

 

 

Repent! (or Pay Attention)

January 26, 2026

Third Sunday after Epiphany – 2026

Matthew 4:12-25

Marian Free

In the name of God who is all around us –  if only we would pay attention. Amen.

The fourth verse of the poem “Sometimes” by Mary Oliver reads:  

“Instructions for living a life:
Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it.”

“Pay attention. Be astonished. Tell about it.”[1]

Today we are quick to criticise our youth (or chastise ourselves) for spending too much time on our devices – phones, tablets, computers – and not enough time noticing, socialising, reading or whatever else we deem they/we are missing out on. It may be true that modern technology has made it easier to communicate, to seek out information or to be entertained, but I would argue that those of us with leisure to do so have always been easily distracted, have always wanted to be entertained and have often failed to notice what is right in front of us. Why else would the saying: “Take time to smell the roses” be used so often.

We may not always have had devices, but we have always had other excuses for not paying attention. In fact, sometimes we make not paying attention a virtue. I am just too busy; my children/parents/work need me; if I don’t do it (cook/clean/teach) who else will and so on? 

Interestingly, both John the Baptist and Jesus begin their ministry by calling for repentance: “Repent for the Kingdom of heaven is at hand.” The Kingdom of heaven is at hand.” Where? How? What is this kingdom and why should we “repent”?

As I prepared for this week’s sermon two reflections caught my attention and made me think very differently about Jesus’ announcement of the kingdom, his demand for repentance and his calling of the disciples. Even though they make the same sort of argument I’d like to quote from both – partly because the thought is new to me as well.

The first reflection comes from the sermon commentary in The Christian Century which lands in my email box each week. In it, Christine Chakoain points out that Jesus calls for a redirection of priorities. Reflecting on repentance she writes: “‘Repent, for the kingdom of God is at hand.’ What,” she asks, “if Jesus doesn’t want us to miss the kingdom that could be right here, right now, if we just focused on the things that really matter? What if he’s calling us to set down what’s getting in our way?” 

In his comment on this week’s gospel Archbishop Jeremy Greaves stated that: “When Jesus announces that the kingdom of God has come near It is not an abstract theology statement. It is a declaration about God’s presence here and now. It is not somewhere we escape to nor simply a promise of something in the future. It is God’s life breaking into ordinary human existence – in fishing boats and on dusty roads among the anxious the hopeful and the overlooked. When Jesus heals, gathers and teaches, we get a glimpse of what God’s reign looks like: wounds attended, dignity restored, communities reconciled.

To repent then, is to turn towards this reality, to realign our lives with God’s compassion and justice.”[2]

When I preached about John the Baptist recently, I reminded you that the Greek word “metanoia” which we translate as “repent”, doesn’t mean to be sorry, but to turn around, to turn our lives to face the kingdom, to turn away from the world and towards God. Chakoain and Greaves make this point even more clearly. To repent is to pay attention to the kingdom moments in the present to see that God is already present and at work among us.  Jesus calls us to “repent”, to pay attention to what is happening around us. Jesus does not want us to miss out.

This extraordinary (to me) insight makes sense of both the Synoptic and the Johannine versions of Jesus’ calling of the first disciples. It explains why Peter and Andrew, James and John were so willing to abandon their livelihood (and possibly those who depended on them) to follow Jesus and why Andrew and the other disciple of John left him to see where Jesus was staying.  They didn’t “repent” in the way that we normally understand that word (nor did Jesus ask them to). They were already paying attention and because they were paying attention, they saw Jesus for who he was, somehow, they understood that in Jesus the kingdom was breaking through and they simply could not wait to be part of it. They did not abandon their master (in the case of Andrew and the other of John’s disciples) nor did they give up their trade (in the case of Peter and Andrew, James and John) for a random stranger. They left everything behind because, in Jesus they recognised that the “kingdom of God” was already here.  

Archbishop Jeremy contended that: “The nearness of the kingdom is both comfort and calling: comfort, because God is closer than we imagine; calling, because we are invited to participate.” 

Jesus announces the nearness of the kingdom and this is why Jesus’ public ministry begins with a call to: “repent”. Jesus is not calling us to consider our worthiness for the kingdom or not, rather Jesus is anxious that if we don’t pay attention, if we don’t open our eyes to the presence of God (in him and in the world) that we will miss out, that we won’t see God already working among us, the kingdom already beginning to be present.

The kingdom of God has come near: “Pay attention, be astonished, tell about it.”

Open your eyes, your minds and your hearts. Don’t miss out!


[1] https://readalittlepoetry.com/2014/09/10/sometimes-by-mary-oliver/

[2] For the full recording go here: https://anglicanfocus.org.au/2026/01/09/sundayiscoming-reflection-25-january-2026/

Jesus’ baptism – complete surrender

January 10, 2026

Baptism of Jesus – 2026

Matthew 3:13-17

Marian Free

Loving God, open our minds to your word, our hearts to your spirit and our lives to your will. Amen.

There are only five verses in today’s gospel, but they contain so many complexities that I am not sure we will get to the bottom of them today.

If you read all four accounts of the baptism of Jesus you will see that there are substantial differences between them which means that each author, or the communities for whom they wrote, has interpreted the story in a way that was helpful for them. What the accounts have in common, is that Jesus came to John and that something called baptism happened. Also, all four gospels try, in some way or another t play down the role of John the Baptist which reflects a certain embarrassment concerning Jesus’ baptism by John. This is most clearly articulated in Matthew’s gospel in which John says – “I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?”   

Matthew’s account of Jesus’ baptism raises a number of questions for me including:
What is actually happening here? What were the Jewish practices – if any – of baptism? How much has the early church read their practice into the story? What does Matthew’s account of Jesus’ baptism tell us about his agenda? And, for me, the most challenging question: What does it mean when Jesus says: “Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.”

The beginning of the first century was a time of religious upheaval in Judea. Many Judeans were disillusioned with the Temple and its rituals not least because the priests were political appointees and therefore owed an allegiance to Rome. The Pharisees responded by developing a practice based more on law than ritual and the Essenes withdrew into the desert to practice a more aesthetic version of Judaism. John, and his call for the people to return to God, is representative of this situation. Like the Pharisees and Essenes, he appears to have believed that there was a need for the nation as a whole to purify itself and he does this by calling people to turn their lives around and to wash themselves in the Jordan. That he touched a chord among the people is evidenced by the fact that people from all over the country, including the Pharisees, Sadducees and even soldiers and tax collectors came to him for baptism.

I use the word “wash” because this word more accurately represents Jewish practice and the meaning of the Greek word – baptizo. To really grasp what is happening we have to remember that a person was a Jew by virtue of birth. There is little evidence of Jewish evangelism in the first century and what we call “baptism” was not a rite of entry into the Jewish faith. Immersion in water was a rite of purification and there were a number of pools at the Temple for this purpose. This was a personal action and did not require anyone else to be present. John’s call for people to immerse themselves in the Jordan indicates a rejection of the Temple and its practices. The Jordan had the further advantage in that it symbolised a movement from wandering in the desert to life in the promised land.

John calls the people to “repent because the kingdom of heaven has come near.”   “Repent,” the translation of the Greek “metanoia,” is commonly understood to mean being sorry for one’s sins (as it is in our form of the Confession). In its original context however it simply meant to turn around. In calling people to repent John – then Jesus – was challenging people to stop going their own selfish way and to turn around, to return to God. This means that we don’t have to worry about a sinless Jesus being baptised to cleanse him from his sins. Instead, we can see that baptism, immersion in water by or in the presence of John, was for Jesus, a public declaration of his willingness to give his life entirely into the hands of God.

At the beginning of his public ministry, Jesus has come to John in order to demonstrate his complete submission to God and his readiness to live a life directed by God’s will and not his own.

We still have to explain the mysterious statement that we find only in Matthew’s gospel. In response to John’s objection Jesus justifies his baptism by saying that it is “to fulfill all righteousness.” Matthew is fond of both expressions “fulfill” and “righteousness. He wants to make it clear that Jesus is the fulfillment of scripture and also that a key characteristic of the Kingdom of Heaven is righteousness.  

Righteousness is a difficult term to define, especially as we commonly use the word to refer to the observance of a religious or ethical norm. Being “righteous” in our minds is associated with being “good.” In Old Testament terms though and in Matthew’s usage, righteousness refers to a quality of God – God’s dispensation of justice and salvation, or as Albright and Mann suggest, it is a term that refers to “the whole purpose of God for his (sic) people”[1]. It is God who makes righteous. Righteousness as Paul makes clear is not earned but is a gift. So, when Jesus states that his baptism by John is to “fulfill all righteousness” he is saying that his submission to the ritual of washing demonstrates his complete identification with God and God’s purpose for God’s people. Through him, God’s purpose for God’s people will come to fruition and as a consequence, “all righteousness will be fulfilled”. Through his baptism, Jesus makes it clear that he is the prototype of the peopel we are all called to be.

Through his baptism by John, Jesus signals his complete submission to the will of God and his desire to have no life of his own but only a life that is given over completely to the will of God, directed by the presence of God within.

Our modern practice of baptism with its emphasis on turning from sin is a poor imitation of Jesus’ baptism. Kingdom people are people who have utterly surrendered their lives and their wills to God.

What are we prepared to surrender in order for God’s righteousness to be fulfilled?

 


[1] Albright, W. F. and Mann, C. S. (1971). Matthew: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary. Sydney: The Anchor Bible, Doubleday, 31.

Hezekiah’s tunnel which directs water to the Pool of Siloam – one of the pools for ritual washing at the Temple.
Steps leading to Pool of Siloam

Holy Innocents

January 5, 2026

Holy Innocents – 2025

Matthew 2:13-23

Marian Free

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

This morning I would like to begin with a story, the story of Marmour an Anglican priest in the Diocese of Brisbane. He shared the story in Anglican Focus and I’d like to use his own words. 

He wrote: “I fled South Sudan for Ethiopia when I was 11. The journey across the desert without clothing or shoes was very bad. We travelled for many days – we walked for more than a month across the desert to escape the persecution of the Khartoum government who wanted to abduct boys so they couldn’t join the rebel groups once they became older.

More than 20,000 boys walked across the desert as unaccompanied minors. We are known as the ‘Lost Boys of Sudan’. There were seven from my extended family and we walked with 13,000 others. I left my parents with only the food I could carry, which my mum packed for me, and a two litre container of water. My mum packed simsim for me, a sort of produce like peanuts that doesn’t need cooking so it was easy to eat. I didn’t see my parents again.

We travelled at nighttime, mostly so the Khartoum government military in helicopters could not find us. We ran out of food quickly and ate wild animals, although not all of us would get a portion. It was a struggle.

The desert was very dry and it was dangerous. We could be abducted. Some children were eaten by lions. Most children who died just fell asleep and did not get up as they were too weak to walk any further.

Arriving in Ethiopia was another bad experience. We had no food at all and we arrived in Ethiopia with no place to go. So we had to sleep under trees. There was nowhere to go to the toilet so the children defecated anywhere, which spread cholera. Children also died of tropical diseases, which spread quickly because we lived close together. Many of us also died of malnutrition.

It took three months for the United Nations to come with food and medical supplies, although the strongest medicine they had was Panadol and hydration salts. They did not bring water so we had to keep drinking from the diseased river. There was no clean water until more than four years later in 1991.

Around 1991 we were forced back to the Ethiopian-Sudanese border to Pochalla. The United Nations moved us out because of the threat of the Eritrea-Ethiopian rebels’ movement. Because there was no airstrip, the United Nations could not fly us in food. We left the Panyido refugee camp in Ethiopia in two groups, going in separate directions. It took me and my group three weeks to get to Pochalla on the border. It was easier the second time for me as I packed more food and was a few years older. Many of the children in the group that went in the other direction were shot at by rebels and either died in the gunfire or drowned as they tried to escape across the river Gilo. Some managed to get safely across the river.

We lived in Pochalla for a couple of months. The Khartoum government bombed the area from helicopters a few times and sent troops to attack us on the ground. Because of this, the United Nations decided it was an unsafe place for children so we had to move again, this time to Kenya.

The walk to Kenya was more than two months. It was bad. There wasn’t much food. We walked at night to keep safe. The United Nations did not have enough vehicles to transport the children so we had to walk across Kothngor desert. They did not plan well.

We arrived in northwestern Kenya at the Kakuma refugee camp in 1992. Over 15,000 of us had travelled there. We were very weak when we arrived, but life was better in Kakuma.

In 2003, more than 15 years after I first left my parents, I came to Australia. When I first came here, I went to Tasmania. So – I went from Kenya, which is extremely hot every day of the year and where I lived for over 10 years to Tasmania. As the Tasmanian weather was too much for me, after two months I moved to Sydney.

Can you imagine being a parent so desperate to keep their child safe that they would send them into the desert alone knowing that they might never see them again? Or imagine watching your child slowly fade away from hunger because war, drought or other natural disaster means that you cannot find enough food to feed them? What must  it be like to be the parent of a daughter kidnapped by ISIS or Nigerian ISIS fighters – knowing that they will almost certainly be forced into a marriage with their captors? 

On the first Sunday of Christmas, we are brought down to earth with an awful jolt. The account of the slaughter of all the male children under two stands in distinct contrast with the irenic scenes of the Nativity. All the hope and possibility that Jesus’ birth represented seems to have been a false promise. But, as we witnessed in Australia just three weeks ago, the world is a cruel and unpredictable place – joy can turn to tragedy in a moment and as the last few years have illustrated there is far too much tragedy in the world.

There is no historical evidence for the account of the slaughter of the innocents but this story, on this Sunday is a reminder both that faith is no protection from the .. of the world and that God is not unaware of the cruelty of which humanity is capable.  This story is for every parent who has lost a child to preventable disease, to a bomb or a terror attack, for every parent who has held a child whose stomach is swollen thanks to malnutrition, for every parent who this Here, in our holy scripture is a story that tells them that their story is part of the story.

Our scriptures don’t sugar coat what it means to be human. In its pages are almost every human experience. THE story is our story, in scripture we can find a story that matches our own and which tells us that we are not alone but part of the vast expanse of human experience. THE story tells it how it is, and in so doing reminds us that no detail of human existence – however awful is beneath God’s attention.

Subverting power – the wise ones

January 3, 2026

Epiphany – 2026

Matthew 2:1-12

 Marian Free

In the name of God who taught us that true power lies in vulnerability, that real influence lies in empowering others and that true victory is sometimes disguised as defeat. Amen.

It’s all about power – who has it and who wants it. 

The curiosity of the visitors from the east and their desire to see the child for themselves, the mystery and miracle of the star and the gifts pregnant with symbolism  all distract us from the competition for power and the underlying sense of menace which permeates the story of Epiphany. We are blinded by our wonder at the mysterious strangers travelling from far away to worship the one whom we know to be the Christ. For us, their visit provides the definitive sign that the child whom they seek  is the one promised by the prophets of old. Yet there is still a sense of foreboding. Something tells us that this story will not end well. 

Indeed, Matthew’s account of the visit of the magi sets the tone for the whole gospel and prepares the reader for Jesus’ crucifixion.

In each gospel a sword hangs over Jesus’ head almost from the moment of his birth. In Luke Simeon declares: “This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and a sword will pierce your own soul too.” Mark has barely begun the story of a Jesus when he reports that Jesus’ ministry was so controversial that: “The Pharisees went out and immediately conspired with the Herodians against him, how to destroy him.”

Matthew sets the scene quite differently, but the the threat is the same. By naming Jesus as a future king within the very halls of power in Jerusalem, the strangers from the East alert us to the conflict that will ensue between the earthly and the heavenly powers and eventually lead to Jesus’ death.

Jesus is born into a volatile political situation. In his corner of the Empire, Herod’s position as Tetrarch of Galilee is entirely dependent on the goodwill of Caesar, his ability to prove his loyalty and on his ability to keep the local population under control. Life was no less precarious for the citizens of Palestine. Herod’s grip on power was maintained by violently quelling any opposition and by making a public example of trouble-makers by crucifixion. Those who held power as political appointees  – including the priests and the scribes – were, in turn, dependent on their being seen to support Herod.

What is more, the stability of the nation as a whole depended Herod’s ability to assert his dominance over the populace. An insurrection would have threatened not only Herod’s grip on power but also the security of the nation. Were there to be a popular uprising not only would Herod would be swiftly deposed but the Roman army would be sent in to brutally suppress the rebels. As a consequence, it did not matter how much the people resented the power of Rome, many of them feared direct intervention even more. Keeping the peace was the order  of the day.

It is not surprising then that the news of another, rival king  filled not only Herod, but all Jerusalem with fear.

Deliberately or not, what Matthew does in the account of the magi is to expose the conflict that exists and which will intensify between the worldly idea and practice of power, and the heavenly notion and exercise of power.

The visit of mysterious strangers from the east, exposes the way in which the in-breaking of God’s kingdom into the world will subvert the earthly concepts of power and control, how this subversion will increasingly bring Jesus into conflict with the authorities and will ultimately cost him his life.

It’s all about power – how to gain it and how to hold on to it OR about letting it go and gaining it all the same.

According to Matthew the magi boldly, shamelessly and possibly naively inform Herod that a rival king has been born. Herod can only think of a King in the worldly sense- one who would unite the Judeans, raise up an army and challenge the authority of Rome. The possibility that such a person might have been born fills Herod with dread. If the child were allowed to live Herod would certainly lose face, if not now then when the child grew up. News of the birth of a king might unite the people behind him even before he is old enough to lead and army.  

What Herod cannot imagine and what causes conflict nonetheless is the the ways in which this child will subvert conventional notions of power.

It begins with his birth. Jesus is born outside of the centre of power and with none of its trappings – wealth, subjects, servants, an army – nothing that would distinguish him or would enable him to impose his will on the people. Yet people are drawn to him all the same. As he matures and begins his ministry, Jesus continues to subvert and redefine the usual expectations of leadership. He refuses to take advantage of his divinity to benefit himself; rather than lord it over his followers, he devolves his power to them – gives them the ability to heal, to cast out demons and to teach. He will earn the loyalty of his followers and not impose it, he will empower, not disempower others and at the end he will submit to the earthly authorities rather than call on the angels to defend him.

The political and religious leaders do not understand this reversal of their understanding of power. Jesus confuses and threatens them – a leader of a rebellion or a king with an army they would understand and defeat, but Jesus is a very different kind of opponent – he exposes their flaws and their misunderstanding of where real power lies. He must be destroyed.

It is easy to be seduced by the powers of this world – riches, status, and influence – powers that are self-serving and which separate us from each other and from God.To be seduced is to buy into a way of being that contradicts the values of the kingdom. Jesus practices resistance – seeking nothing and ultimately gaining everything. This is our call – to show by example that society does not have to be built on competitiveness, that we gain more by generosity than by protectionism and that it is more satisfying and productive to build others up than it is to pull them down. 

This may lead to misunderstanding, confusion and even conflict, but by living kingdom values now we will be ready for the kingdom when it comes in its fulness.

E

Being good or being godly – Joseph takes Mary as wife

December 20, 2025

Advent 4 – 2025

Matthew 1:18-25

Marian Free

With Joseph and Mary, and all the prophets and saints, may we never fear responding to the call of God, no matter how difficult, or outrageous the call. Amen.

Some of you may remember that on Advent 1 I said that being a Christian is not about being good, but about being in relationship. At the time no one challenged me so I’m thinking that we are all on the same page – that we understand that following Christ is the centre of our faith and that goodness flows from that relationship not the other way around. Goodness on its own does not build ties of loyalty, develop a depth of spirituality, encourage submission to the Creator of the universe, or create an understanding that even though we can never be good enough, we are loved and treasured just as we are. 

My view is this: being good does not in itself distinguish a Christian from a non-Christian. Anyone can be good in the conventional sense – by not breaking laws of the state or of the church, by being kind and thoughtful to others and by observing cultural norms. However, I would claim that goodness and godliness are two different things and that godliness does not always equate with goodness – in fact just the opposite. There will be times when being godly (allowing our lives to reflect the presence of God) may require us to be anything but good in the conventional sense. In fact, godliness may demand only that we ignore the norms of the society in which we live, but that we challenge and even overthrow those norms. 

For proof of this view, we need look no further than the example of Jesus, but here in the Christmas narrative are the first signs that responding to and following God does not mean following the crowd. In both Matthew and Luke, the Jesus’ story has barely begun when already we are confronted by the fact that through the life, death and resurrection of Jesus God is turning everything upside down. It is no wonder that the ‘good’ people of the day failed to see what was happening and that God was acting in ways that they hadn’t begun to imagine. 

It would appear from the gospels that the leaders of the day had begun to confuse goodness with godliness, observance of rules with relationship. For example, the Pharisees believed that if only they could get the minute details of the law right, they would be put right with God. The priestly class on the other hand appear to have relied on getting the Temple rituals right as a means of getting close to God. Society as a whole seemed to believe that not rocking the boat would enable them to keep on the right side of the Roman oppressors would. 

To be fair – they might have been misguided but they did believe that they had to put themselves right with God and they did it the only way they knew how – obedience to law and proper observance of ritual. The problem was that though they hoped that God would send a Saviour, they believed that it was their actions that would lead God to act, thus demonstrating that they had totally missed the point. Observance of rituals and law were simply evidence that, at least subconsciously, they believed that their own efforts could force God’s hand– that they, not God, were responsible for their own salvation. 

At the heart of John the Baptist’s message is the refrain: “Repent for the Kingdom of God is near”. The Greek word “metanoia” does not mean “to be sorry”, but “to turn.” Both John, then Jesus are calling the people not to be good, but to turn their lives around, to turn towards God, to live lives that demonstrate a relationship with the living God. From the very beginning faith in Jesus was never about being good, but about being godly, about allowing the divine in us to have full reign – which has nothing to do with goodness as it is usually understood.

Take the story of Joseph – whose first reaction is to separate himself from the pregnant Mary. If we forget the sentimentality that presents Joseph as holy and righteous and selfless and take a look at some hard cold facts, we see a different story. 

Joseph is minding his own business when he learns that Mary – his betrothed – is pregnant. He does not know who the father is only that it is not him.  Can you imagine how that news must have hit him? He knows the baby cannot be his, he presumably wonders if he completely misjudged Mary and he almost certainly feels cuckolded. Did Mary tell him or does he know because of the gossip that is swirling around the village? No matter how he responds his reputation has already been ruined. He will have lost face in the eyes of community. Mary’s shame will not only be his shame but will reflect on his whole family. 

Joseph was within his rights to claim compensation, to expose the situation further – even demand the legal consequences – Mary should be stoned to death. He does none of these things but resolves to quietly free Mary of her obligations to him. This will not diminish the shame but will spare Mary the added consequences of her pregnancy. Already Joseph has shown a casual disregard for the law, but when the angel appears his actions become even more radical. In response to God’s call, Joseph ignores his obligations to his church, his community and his family. He agrees to marry Mary and to raise a child who is not his own one consequence of which will be that the child will inherit and Joseph’s line may come to an end. Not only that, his actions mean that he will lose face in the eyes of his community. 

It is easy to read this as a sentimental story about an honourable man protecting his fiancé, but in the cold, hard light of a first century day, Joseph is both defying the law by not allowing Mary to be stoned to death and breaking convention through his decision to marry her regardless of the shame. But, and here’s the point, Joseph is being obedient to God even though obedience to God means disobedience to religious law, cultural norms and familial obligations.

Joseph chooses fidelity to God over observance of human law; he chooses godliness over goodness, so should we no matter the cost or the shame. 

How do we know it’s Jesus?

December 14, 2025

Advent 3 – 2026

Matthew 11:2-11

Marian Free

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

 

Recently I have come to understand the appeal of ‘the rapture’ – the idea that Jesus’ return will be accompanied by angels with trumpets and those who are considered worthy will be swept into heaven while the unworthy will be left to face the utter destruction of the world. It occurs to me that believing in the rapture makes everything so easy. When Jesus returns it will be clear that it really is Jesus – angels, trumpets and the raising of the dead will be obvious to all and are definitely not associated with any other expectation. It will it be impossible to miss the rapture (and Jesus’ return). The other advantage of the rapture is that belief in the rapture is that it has the effect of taking away personal responsibility. Somehow the belief itself  builds up confidence in believers that they are among the ones who will be gathered up because they are among the chosen.

According to this the surprise has been taken away. Jesus’ warning that the day will come as a thief in the night is conveniently ignored. The timing of the rapture can apparently be predicted. Those who believe in the rapture do not have to worry about being prepared, because they have prepared themselves simply by being members of  the believing group. (The fact as recently as this year the prediction failed to come to fruition does not seem to worry adherents, they will happily accept the explanations offered for its failure to materialise.)

Another flaw in this belief is that those who believe in the rapture also seem to think that the rapture will occur in a particular place at a particular time and that believers have to be in that place to be gathered up. This would imply that Jesus’ coming at the end of time will not be a universal, but a very limited event OR that those of us who are not in the in crowd will simply  be left behind.

I’ve been thinking about the rapture, not because some people expected it occur in September this year, but because I’ve also been pondering Jesus’ return – how it will happen and how we will know. It seems to me that if it was difficult for people to recognise Jesus in a tiny nation with a relatively small population how much more difficult will it be today when the population has blown out from 170 – 300 million to around 8.26 billion. How would the word spread? How would we know if it really was Jesus if he appeared in a place a long way distant from where we live to a people with a culture very different from ours? If say, people in Mongolia were convinced that Jesus had come among them, what would they need to do to convince the rest of us to believe them?  Even if Jesus came to a city like Brisbane with a population of nearly 3 million, most of us would only hear rumours that someone amazing was making a difference in the lives of the poor and marginalised. It would be easier not to believe that it was Jesus, easier to believe that those making the claims were simply religious fanatics.

For me this has always been a challenging issue.  We are led to expect that when Jesus comes it will be glaringly obvious – angels and trumpets making the announcement so clear that no one will miss it but is that really how it will be?

In today’s world which is surely as rife with injustice, inequality and conflict as that of the first century there are thousands of good, selfless people, risking their lives and living simply in order to bring healing and hope in places of despair and turmoil. In a time of heightened expectation (or despair) anyone of a number of today’s heroes could be named as (or could claim to be) the one sent by God.

So you see I have a great deal of sympathy for John the Baptist. His successful ministry has brought him into conflict with Herod and he is now in prison – a particularly unpleasant place to be in the first century. He will not have known what the future would bring, but it is not surprising that he is questioning his choices, asking himself if he got it right, if Jesus really was the one who was to come. (After all in his time too there were many ‘messianic’ figures.) John had handed his ministry to Jesus but he is not seeing the dramatic changes he might have expected – the nation as a whole has not turned back to God, the Romans continue their oppressive rule and Jesus is not behaving in a way that will bring about radical change. He must have wondered whether he had got it right.

Jesus’ reply echoes the words of God in the Psalms and in Isaiah, in which God’s promise is that the blind will receive their sight, the lame will walk, the lepers will cleansed, the prisoners set free, the deaf will  hear, and the dead will raised. These subtle signs are evidence of God’s presence on earth but they are signs that we might miss. It is much easier as John’s question attests to look for the more dramatic, earth-shattering signs of disruption and the heavenly signs of angels and trumpets.

If we are to know Jesus at his coming, it is essential that we come to know Jesus now, that we open our hearts and lives to his transforming love, that we seek to understand (and practice in our own lives) his preference for the marginalised, and that we are always on the lookout for signs of his presence among us now. If we are really attuned to him now not only will our lives already be lived as if he were here, but we will not fail to meet him when he returns (in glory or not).

 

Pointing beyond ourselves. Advent 2

December 6, 2025

Advent 2 – 2025

Matthew 3:1-12

Marian Free

In the name of God who calls us to point away from ourselves to God. Amen.

I am the first born in my family, so I have very little experience of what it is to live in someone else’s shadow. No one has ever said to me: “You’re not as clever as or as good as Marian.”  No teacher, guide leader or other adult has ever been able to compare me with a family member who came before me. No one has had unrealistic expectations of me based on what an older sibling achieved before me.  I do know that this is a realty for many younger siblings – always having to live up to some sort of standard set by the eldest, always having their own gifts and talents ignored. It is slightly different if the younger excels more than the elder but differences between siblings tend not to go unnoticed – at least by the siblings themselves.

This week I found myself wondering about John the Baptist, and whether his childhood and youth was overshadowed by that of his cousin, Jesus. John’s calling was predicted before his birth, and it is clear that by the time he was thirty he was living out his vocation and that he had a passion for God that drew a significant following (one sufficiently strong that it continues to this day). It makes you wonder: How did he feel when his younger cousin Jesus came along and started preaching the same message: “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near”? 

If Luke’s account is correct John, even though he was the elder by a few months, must have always been overshadowed by Jesus.  You can imagine some of the conversations when he was growing up: “John, it is true that God has given you a role to play, but your role is to support not to outshine Jesus.” “John, I know that your father prophesied many things about you, but remember your task is to point away from yourself to Jesus. You are to prepare the way, but Jesus will be the way.”  “Yes I know that you and Jesus are the same age that he is allowed to drink, but the angel specifically said that you were not to drink wine or strong drink.”

I wonder if there were times when a teenaged John quietly raged against the expectations that were placed on him – even before he was born. I wonder too, if there weren’t times when he was furious that his younger cousin had so much more freedom, possibly even fewer expectations. Were there moments when John thought that it was simply unfair that Jesus, who didn’t even have his priestly heritage, was chosen for the more important role? Were here times when the idea that he had to serve his younger cousin simply rankled? Later, after John had begun his ministry, fired up with a desire to restore the people to their right relationship with God, calling them to turn their lives around, did he feel just a pang of resentment when Jesus came along to steal his thunder, to draw his disciples away from him and to begin a movement of his own? 

From before his birth John was destined to be the forerunner, to always be in Jesus’ shadow. Our scriptures and religious art smooth over any questions John might have had about the clear distinctions between the two but that is not to say that there were not tensions or misunderstandings. After all, prophet or not, John was a real person with real feelings and almost certainly with real failings. To make him a super human is to do him a disservice. It also diminishes his role as a model and guide to those of us who come after.

That John was very much a human being will be made evident in next week’s gospel when, despite his confidence at Jesus’ baptism, John, now in prison, begins to question whether Jesus really is the one who is to come.

In order for us to identify with John we have to see in him characteristics that we can reasonably emulate. 

Whether or not John felt the imbalance between himself and Jesus, it is clear from our gospel accounts that at least once he had begun his ministry John understood that his vocation was to prepare the way. This he does with such grace. Even as the people, including the church leaders, throng to him he resists creating his own movement but points away from himself to Jesus, with whom, he says he is not worthy to be compared. 

John may well have known his destiny from birth, but as we have the story, he was one of those rare people who was willing to allow himself to diminish so that someone else could flourish, he was able to allow someone else take the credit for the movement he had begun, and to allow that person to take his movement forward and in a different direction.

John, as we meet him in scriptures, models what it is to be people who point the way to God and who draw others into faithful relationship with Jesus. He models what it is to proclaim the one who has come and is coming. He encourages us to prepare the way for God – smoothing away the difficulties that prevent people from engaging with the faith and removing the obstacles of bad theology and bad behaviour that turns good people away. He reminds us that if others take the credit for the ground work we have done, we are to rejoice that someone has come to faith and not be resentful that we have not received praise for simply doing what we are called to do. He shows us that instead of drawing attention to our own talents and abilities, we are to encourage and build up others so that they might discover and develop their own gifts and abilities. 

In Advent we the church proclaim the coming of Jesus. May we with John, point away from ourselves so that others might see Jesus, enable others to develop and flourish (even at our own expense) and rejoice when seeds that we have sown take root and grow under someone else’s watchful eye. 

Preparing the way, is never about us but always about the one who is to come.