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Jesus is in the storm

August 8, 2026

Pentecost 10 – 2026

Matthew 14:22-36

Marian Free

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

“If God is a God of justice and not of power, then He can still be on our side when bad things happen to us. When God is not the source of our problems we can turn to God for help.”

These words in Richard Rohr’s reflection on the Book of Job during the past week caught my attention[1]. Not only are they wise, but they created a stark contrast to one of the sermon commentaries that I had read in preparation for today’s sermon. There the author suggested that Jesus had forced the disciples into the boat knowing that they would be tested by the storm and that when they were tested, they would turn to him for help. That Jesus would deliberately put the disciples in danger so that they could learn a lesson did not sit well with me.

Certainly, the Greek does say that Jesus compelled the disciples into the boat, but there is no suggestion in the text that his intention is that they should be out at sea when a storm strikes and that in their terror, they would lean on him for help. In fact, in the text it is only Peter asks for help and that is only when he has left the boat and is drowning!). The idea that God deliberately forces anyone into a situation of danger, grief or pain is alien to me. It arises from a view that God is an all-powerful, malicious entity who creates situations that ensure dependence on, and absolute obedience to him. The evidence all around us is that the God who shared human existence, and who did not save himself from the cross, is a far cry from a puppet master who delights in keeping us in a state of perpetual fear for some purpose of God’s own.

That Jesus compels the disciples to get into the boat is only one of the curious details in Matthew’s version of the storm on the lake.

Let me take you back to how the boat got to the shore in the first place. When Jesus heard of the death of John the Baptist, he got into a boat alone. That there is only one boat (which later necessitates Jesus’ walking on the water) suggests that the disciples saw the crowds and followed them by road to the deserted place. Once they arrive Jesus enlists their help and feeds the crowds. As evening falls it seems that Jesus can finally seize an opportunity to be by himself. So first of all, he sends the disciples away probably to ensure that he finally gets time to himself. That done, he dismisses the crowds.

By now it is evening and Jesus goes up the mountain alone to pray. Jesus must have prayed for a considerable time, because it is not until the fourth watch – 3-6 am that he makes his way across the lake the only way he could – by foot.

In the meantime, the disciples are still on the boat and further from their destination than ever. The journey, which was almost certainly across the top of Galilee, would normally find them close to shore and, given that the crowds got to the destination by foot, we can assume that they only had a short distance to travel. However, a storm has blown them a considerable distance out to sea, and they presumably have spent something like seven hours at sea battling a terrifying storm[2]. (The Greek word ‘basanizo’ literally translates “tormented” – they were tormented by the storm). We are told nothing about how the disciples feel, but if nothing else they must be exhausted from trying to keep the boat afloat and to keep to their course for hours on end. 

(Interestingly, there is no suggestion that they pray, or that they call out to God or even that they express a wish that Jesus was with them. Even though they have been at sea for so long, they still seem to think that getting to shore is entirely dependent on their own skills and resource.) 

It is no wonder, given their exhaustion and their self-absorption, not to mention the wind and the waves, that an approaching figure appears to them as a phantasm or spectre.

Jesus tries to reassure them, identifying himself as “I AM”, and using the words used by all divine figures in their interactions with humans: “Do not be afraid.” It is clear to the reader who this is, because we know these literary tropes. Peter, however, is not so sure but why, when the storm is raging about him, would he want to get out of the relatively safety of the boat and not wait for the figure to come to them? And why, having established that he can walk on the water, would he then falter?

We are not given the answer to these questions, probably because that is not the point of the story (which is recorded only by Matthew). Nor are we told what it was that Peter doubted, or more accurately, what caused him to be of two minds. What we are told is that Jesus is in the storm and that when Peter begins to drown and (finally) calls out to be saved, Jesus reaches out his hand and saves him!

When we examine the details of this story, we can all too readily recognise ourselves in the picture. Too often, when we find ourselves in difficulty, our first response is to try to solve the problem ourselves. There are many times when it is only when we are at our wit’s end that we acknowledge that our own resources insufficient and we, like Peter cry out: “Lord save us.”

God doesn’t create problems for us, but when problems arise, we can turn to God for help. We know only too well that Jesus doesn’t protect us from the storms of life, but Jesus is there in the midst of the storm if only we turn our eyes to him, call out to be saved and reach out to take his offered hand.

[1] Centre for Action and Contemplation, email, 5/8/2026.

[2] Assuming that it got dark (was evening) at 8pm and that Jesus reached the boat at 3am.

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Five small loaves – giving thanks for what we have

August 1, 2026

Pentecost 10 – 2026

Matthew 14:13-21

Marian Free

In the name of God in who takes what we have and multiplies it in ways that we cannot imagine. Amen.

The great advantage of our Lectionary is that preachers cannot pick and choose readings according to their own particular agenda or preferences. The great disadvantage of our Lectionary is that what we read week-by-week has been selected by a relatively small committee of people. Of necessity, this group have had to omit passages and, in places, whole chapters, and for convenience they have made the decision not to repeat stories or parables that are repeated. Selecting what is included  leads, of course, to a certain amount of bias intended or not. Furthermore, because we read only read those parts of the scripture that the lectionary writers have selected our preaching or the way in which we hear the gospel can form the same prejudice. To give just one example, we only ever hear Matthew’s account of Jesus encounter with the woman from Samaria,  with the consequence that we completely miss the fact that Mark records a quite different conversation. We do not discover that Matthew appears to disempower the woman, while Mark elevates her.

Another consequence of the selective reading of scripture is that when we hear a story out of context we may find ourselves emphasising one thing when the gospel writer probably had quite a different intention. Take this morning’s gospel. The feeding of the  5,000 – or in the case of Matthew’s version, the feeding of the many more than 5,000 – is presented as an isolated event unrelated to what came before and what follows. This can lead a preacher, and presumably the congregation to focus, not on what was going on in Jesus’ life, but on the miraculous provision of food. 

Miracles are all well and good, but they tell us very little about our core business -discipleship or more importantly about how to be in relationship with God which is surely our primary purpose.

If,  as presumably Matthew intended, we read the gospel in its context, we will understand that the account of the miraculous feeding has much to tell us about Jesus’ humanity, Jesus’ reliance on God, and Jesus’ ability to draw on resources that perhaps he did not know that he had. We will see too that Jesus didn’t carry the burden of ministry by himself but modelled a form of ministry based around delegation of responsibility. Here, as elsewhere, Jesus involved the disciples – to source and distribute the food. Finally, Jesus focussed on what he had, not what he would have like to have had. He took the resources that were available and used them rather than thinking that because he didn’t have what he needed, he should do nothing. His mind-set was one of abundance not of scarcity. He made himself and his resources open to God and trusted God with the rest. 

This is a vastly different attitude from that of the church in which I have grown up. For almost as long as I can remember the church both locally and institutionally has focussed on what it does not have rather than being grateful for what is available for it to use. 

Over at least the last sixty years there has been a great deal of navel gazing in the church. We have fretted about declining numbers and worried about how we can encourage families and youth to join our congregations. We worry so much about the future that we have forgotten to pay attention to, to give thanks for and to share with others what we do have – a faith that has sustained and inspired millions of people for generations, a scripture and a spiritual practice that is life-giving, restorative, challenging, comforting and encouraging,  hymnody and music that is inspiring and transcendental, and faithful, hard-working congregations.

Over the past fifty years, the Anglican Church of Southern Queensland has built schools, aged care facilities, and accommodation for youth. It has expanded its home nursing programme and much more besides. Individual parishes have provided facilities in which rough sleepers can find a meal and spend the night. Others have set up or supported pantries for those in need. Parishioners have collectively and individually welcomed new-comers into their communities, offered care to the sick and the grieving and in circumstances which are sometimes difficult have maintained ministries and the buildings that support those ministries. 

Instead of worrying about what we cannot do, or what we do not have, perhaps it is time to count our blessings, to look around and see how God has already resourced us and to trust that God can use whatever we have – five small loaves of bread or aging congregations – to do something miraculous. Instead of taking the burden of responsibility on ourselves, perhaps we should learn from Jesus to share the burden with others – accept what they have to give us, even if at first look it doesn’t seem to be nearly enough.

As the day draws to a close, Jesus’ disciples tell him to send the crowds away – a sensible suggestion, after all they need to eat. Jesus sees another possibility, to use what is available and to believe it will be enough. He knows that where there are generous hearts there is always enough and more. Instead of wishing that there was more food, Jesus gives thanks for what there is and enlists the disciples to distribute the food. Everyone is fed and there is more to spare.

Instead of focussing on what we do not have or what we have not done may we, as church and as individuals, open our eyes to God’s providence, to see what it is that we already have and, giving thanks, allow God to use us and our resources as God will.

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The kingdom of God is like yeast?

July 25, 2026

Pentecost 9 – 2026

Matthew 13:31-33, 44-58

Marian Free

In the name of God whose creative power operates out of sight and in extraordinary ways. Amen.

I wonder what image do you have in your head when you hear “the kingdom of God” or if you have an image at all? Maybe your mind goes to Revelation 21 – to a city adorned with every jewel through which runs the river of life, which has on every side trees providing fruit for every month and leaves for healing. A place in which death, mourning and crying will be no more?  Or perhaps you imagine the images in Isaiah of deserts blooming, hills and mountains singing, of full harvests and banquets with plentiful food or of swords beaten into plough shares. 

I confess that I’m not entirely sure that I have tried to visualize the kingdom of heaven and that if I did it would have been an idealistic image of a perfect society – a place in which everyone is happy, everyone has a home and enough to eat, a place in which there is no war, no crime, and in which governments have the best interests of their people at heart.

As we have studied the parables these last three weeks, I’ve had to re-consider and to ask what it is that Jesus actually saying here? I am clear that the kingdom is not the same as heaven and that the kingdom parables are speaking of the kingdom of God breaking into the present. What I have learnt over the past three weeks is that the kingdom of God to which Jesus alludes is not, as we often imagine, God’s working among us to create some perfect, ideal society future but rather it is the presence of God in the midst of all the messiness and imperfection of our present existence – a presence which accepts the way things are, is not trying to force us to be what we are not, but which is loving us into what we could be.

For example, we learn through the parables that the sower continues to sow the seed – on all sorts of soil, the good, the bad and the indifferent. The weeds are allowed to remain in the midst of the wheat. That which is not perfect is not rooted out, the infertile soil is not improved so that it will be responsive to the seed. The sower allows the seed to fall where it will, no matter the state of the soil and the farmer is confident that the wheat and the weeds will be able grow together without the wheat coming to harm.

The parable of the yeast makes this point even more strongly though its meaning is not obvious to our 21stcentury ears. 

Yeast as you may know is a fungus, a contaminant. Anyone who has ever made bread knows that the fermenting yeast both looks and smells unpleasant. It is almost impossible to envisage the smelly, bubbly mess turning into anything we would want to eat, let alone a warm loaf of delicious bread. In the first century, the starter for bread was an old piece of leavened dough. It would have looked and smelt disgusting. People did not need to know that it was a fungus to consider it to be unclean, a source of corruption and contamination. It was for this reason that leavened bread was not eaten at all during Passover and that all homes were completely stripped of any trace of leaven before the feast. Yeast as a symbol of corruption is referred to by Jesus who tells the disciples to beware of the leaven of the Pharisees (Matthew 16:6) and by Paul who writes to the Corinthians telling them to cleanse out the old leaven (1 Corinthians 5:7). 

Yeast was, you might say, a necessary evil. Yet here Jesus can say: “the kingdom of heaven is like yeast!” 

That alone would have been confronting enough for Jesus’ audience, but there is more. As Dominic Albaria points out there are two other unexpected, shocking elements to this parable.  “The kingdom of heaven is like yeast that a womantook!” Jesus has made a woman God’s agent. In Jesus’ time women had no role in the religious life of the community, no voice and no legal rights, yet Jesus elevates a woman to a role which facilitates God’s kingdom.  Finally, in a culture which valued openness and in which nothing good happened in secret, the transformative work of the yeast happens in the dark, in secret![1] Yeast is good, women can do God’s work and darkness is not all bad!

In so many ways, this one sentence parable would have unsettled every one of Jesus’ listeners. In effect he is saying that the unclean, the impure, and the immoral not only belong to, but are essential to the growth of the kingdom and that things that are hidden in darkness are not of necessity bad! The parable has the power to shock and surprise even us and to make us re-think all that we thought we knew about the kingdom and, dare I say, all that we thought we knew about God.

Alongside the parable of the sower and the weeds, the parable of the yeast reveals the inclusive nature of the kingdom. No one is excluded from the kingdom, no one, that is no one, is beyond the reach of God’s love. That means that the kingdom, whatever it may be, is not made up solely of the good, the pious and the pure, but includes the bad, the flawed, the damaged, the corrupted and corruptible and, more shocking still, the bad, the flawed, the damaged, the corrupted and the corruptible may in fact contribute to the growth of the kingdom.

Heard in this way,  the parables of the kingdom tell us that it is not our place to determine who is in and who is out, remind us to be grateful that we, with our own imperfections are included in the kingdom and insist that we extend God’s loving welcome to all people without question and without exception because they will change us as much as we might hope to change them.

The kingdom of God is like yeast – it is a smelly, disgusting, contaminate – but it is also transformative in ways we cannot begin to imagine.

[1] https://www.fermataministries.com/post/when-god-uses-what-we-reject-the-parable-of-the-yeast

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Growing together- wheat and weeds

July 18, 2026

Pentecost 10 – 2026

Matthew 13:24-30, 36-43

Marian Free

In the name of God who holds all people in God’s heart – the good, the bad, the lovely and the unlovely, the deserving and the undeserving. Amen.

To me, the Bible is endlessly fascinating. It is so complex and varied that every time one reads it, it can reveal new insights, or connections that you hadn’t noticed before. Thus, having seen the parable of the sower with new eyes I can see that there is a connection between this and the one that follows – the wheat and the tares (most likely darnell, a grain that is very much like wheat.

There are seven  parables in this chapter and it seems that Matthew may have grouped them according to their broad themes. They are the parables of the sower, of the weeds and the tares (inclusion), the parables about the mustard seed and the yeast (unseen growth), the parables about the hidden treasure, the precious pearl (value) and the fishing net (which stands alone). With the exception of the parable of the sower they all begin: “The kingdom of heaven is like.” It is important therefore to try to understand what Jesus is saying about the kingdom rather than trying to find a way to apply the parables to ourselves, to our behaviour or to the present situation.

The number of parables should in themselves tell us that the kingdom of heaven cannot be easily described or defined by a single image, but that it is significantly unlike anything we can truly comprehend that it must be described in a multitude of different ways.

For the moment, we have two parables about sowing and harvesting. Today’s parable of the wheat and the tares presents a very different picture from that of the sower with which the chapter began yet it makes something of the same point – God’s all-embracing, non-discriminatory, unconditional love includes all people. There are also significant differences between the two parables. For example, the farmer in this second parable is richer (he has slaves) and he is much more thoughtful. The field in this instance has been carefully prepared and the seed sown where it will grow not scattered carelessly.  The problem is not that the seed lands where it has no hope of growing, but that an external agent has sabotaged the crop by planting weeds among the wheat. There are weeds in both parables, but in the second they play a completely different role in that they do not choke out the wheat but can grow alongside  it.

So, Jesus is describing a careful, rich sower,  an enemy and the seemingly irrational decision to allow the weeds to grow alongside the wheat and to harvest the plants together. The shock factor lies here. No experienced farmer would allow the darnell to grow. Wheat and darnell (which is the most obvious candidate for the weed)  are difficult to distinguish once grown. In fact, darnell is deadly poisonous, and if the darnell seed contaminates the wheat the ground wheat becomes unusable. What is more, allowing the darnell to grow and seed leaves open the possibility that the darnell will spout next year and the year after and the year after. Allowing the two plants to grow together is a much bigger problem than at first appears.

There is a tendency for us to focus on the end of the parable, the burning of the weeds. It can be used (as can the parable of the sower) as an excuse for us to try to distinguish between people, to make a guess as to whom God will or will not condemn. Believing that the end is the point of the parable, allows us to take a certain amount of satisfaction in concluding that those who have hurt us (or others) will get their just deserts (while we, of course, will emerge unscathed).  But is that the primary point of the parable, is that the thing that pulls us up short and makes us rethink the way we view the world, the way we understand the kingdom? Surely the shock value lies, not in  the harvest, but in the initial, unwise (unthinkable) decision to allow the two plants to grow together until harvest?

Scott Hoetze writing for the Centre for Excellence in Preaching points out that the farmer knows that the weeds are not a threat to the wheat but that the wheat is perfectly capable of growing to maturity alongside the weeds. The issue, he suggests is not the weeds, but how we react to the weeds[1]. Do we, like the slaves wish to preemptively pull up the weeds? Are we so keen to judge between the good and the bad, those who are up to standard and those who are not? Are we sufficiently arrogant as to believe that our careful weeding will ensure an harmonious, bland, devoid of anything or anyone that falls short of our concept of the kingdom? Are we so blind to our own imperfections that we believe that we are entitled to remain while others deserve to be removed? Do we really think that we are in a position to know who is within the scope of God’s love and concern?

Just as the wheat and the darnell are allowed to grow together, so God gives each one of us room to grow, allowing us to change and mature, to draw closer to God and to allow ourselves to be more fully formed into the image of God. The weeds (which may describe us) are not torn out because it is God’s place, not ours, to make the distinction. We are not, and cannot be, the judge of others. Ultimately only God can truly see the good in them and the bad in us.

Just as God keeps throwing the seed with wild abandon, so God is willing to wait until the end to make the decision as to who might or might not be discarded. In the meantime we will all grow together as best we can and with whatever cards have been dealt us.

 

[1] https://cepreaching.org/commentary/2020-07-13/matthew-1324-30-36-43-2/

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Tossing the seed – parable of the sower

July 11, 2026

Pentecost 7 – 2026

Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23

Marian Free

In the name of God whose, wild, careless generosity spreads love and goodness without regard, without distinction and without expectation. Amen.

Parables are perhaps the most contested area of study when it comes to the gospels. In trying to discern their original meaning scholars are faced with millennia of  previous interpretations. In their original form parables had a sting in the tail that was intended to bring Jesus’ listeners up short, to make them see the world in an entirely new way. This is particularly obvious in two of the parables recorded by Luke – those we know as the Good Samaritan and the Prodigal Son. In the former Jesus sets up the scene such that his audience – good, observant Jews expect that it will be one of their number who reaches out to the injured man. It is hard for us to imagine their utter shock when it is a complete outsider, one of the despised Samaritans who is the hero of the story. The latter describes a father who defies convention and is totally without shame. No self-respecting, first century, Palestinian man would divide his inheritance before his death, let alone run down the road to the son who had so publicly shamed him. Jesus’ listeners were confronted by the impossibility that a Samaritan might be good, the idea that God would be so undignified that he would run towards a sinner, and with the absurdity that a shepherd would leave 99 sheep exposed to thieves and predators while he goes off in search of one.

Over the centuries the shock that Jesus intended has become domesticated to the point that most modern listeners find these parables comforting and worse, instead of being confronted and changed by them have reversed the stories to make them more about themselves than about God or the kingdom. So, the Good Samaritan, instead of being a story about the wrong people doing the right thing, has become an example of good people doing good deeds. Likewise, the story of the forgiving Father has become a story about God loving us instead of a story about God’s inclusion even of those who embarrass and shame him. 

We should not be surprised then to learn that the parable of the sower has also been adapted in a way that makes it more about us than about God. We insert ourselves into the story asking what sort of soil we are and making judgements about those who have not accepted the gospel whereas it is really a parable about the sower, not the soil, about God, not about us. (As I have revisited the parables over the last couple of weeks I have been amazed to realise that in some ways we have managed to reverse the gospels and have made faith more about what we do for God, rather than understanding that faith is all about what God does for us.)

With this in mind, let’s have a new look at the parable of the sower. 

The first thing to notice is the utter carelessness of the sower. In a country in which good ground is a scarce commodity and few farmers can afford waste, this sower tosses the precious seed with wild abandon, allowing it to fall in places in which it has absolutely no chance of growing.  The resulting crop is not the primary consideration. The main concern is that the seed be spread as far and wide as possible. Another factor that seems to escape our notice is that soil is neutral. Soil is passive, it does nothing in and of itself. Unless the soil has been tended carefully by a third party it is simply fertile or infertile, rocky or not rocky, weedy or cleared, watered or not. Soil may be improved by the addition of compost or fertiliser – but it cannot improve itself. Someone has to tend the soil – break up the hardened patches where people have trodden it down, pull up the weeds, add water when it does not rain – the soil itself is not responsible for what it produces. Seeds on the other hand will do everything they can to grow – often putting down roots in the most extraordinary of circumstances.

Seen in this way, it is clear that the parable has nothing to do with the way in which people (the soil) respond to God, but everything to do with what God does. God tosses God’s love, God’s word, God’s healing power with a wild generosity, completely indifferent as to where it might land and how the soil might respond. God keeps tossing the seed regardless of whether or not it will grow and bear fruit, confident that when it does hit the right spot it will produce more than can possibly be imagined.[1]

God continues to toss the seed indiscriminately into a world that is sometimes uncomprehending,  sometimes ungrateful and often indifferent, because God knows that the soil is not wholly responsible for its reaction, but the soil, good or bad, rocky or weedy needs to know God’s forgiving, non-judgement love. In other words, the parable suggests, God continues to shower the world with love, because the world needs love. God knows that there are people whose life circumstances have closed them off to the possibility that they are loved, people who have been so mistreated and abused that they have withdrawn into themselves, become bitter and angry, or have sought solace in addictive substances or the pursuit of wealth and possessions. God knows that some people will be harder to reach than others and that only unconditional love will bring about the conditions that will allow them to heal.  

Seen in this light, the parable might be intended to be explanatory, a non-judgement justification for why some people don’t respond to Jesus. Jesus is challenging his listeners to ask themselves what it is that leads some people to close themselves off to Jesus’ message? Are they so hurt, so damaged that they simply cannot believe that they might be loved? Are their lives so filled with worries about how to feed their families, how to meet the deadlines of their job, how to face another day that there is no room to stop and see that there might be anything good? Have they been disappointed so often that they cannot trust that this won’t be another way in which they might be let down?

God will keep on tossing the seed of God’s love, God’s word and God’s healing power, because God knows that people who are loved unconditionally will eventually open themselves to love and healing. Our task, it seems, is to join God in the indiscriminate, unjudgmental, generous distribution of God’s love, to be understanding, compassionate, generous and nurturing even of the most difficult, most closed off and most negative people – not expecting them to change but believing that there is a possibility that love will bear fruit – 30, 60 or 100-fold.

As the sower tosses the seed of love and compassion with wild abandon so should we.

[1] A yield of 10 fold is what might be reasonably be expected let alone 30, 60, 100-fold.

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Giving our burdens to Jesus

July 4, 2026

Pentecost 6 – 2026
Matthew 11:15-19, 25-30
Marian Free

In the name of God Source of all Being, Eternal Word, Holy Spirit. Amen.

“Hear what comfortable words our Saviour Christ saith unto all that truly turn to him:
Come unto me all that travail and are heavy laden, and I will refresh you. St Matthew 11:28.”

Those of us who were brought up with the Book of Common Prayer will have heard these and verses of scripture Sunday after Sunday in our worship. Coming as they do between the Absolution and the Prayer of Thanksgiving, they are verses that assure us that forgiveness is real, that our shortcomings have been overlooked and our misdeeds put behind us. These words have been seared into our memory, and they assure us (should we need assurance) that in Christ we are forgiven and set free. No wonder they were called comfortable words. Their repetition week after week after week, means that they are phrases to which we can hold on, words that we can pull out of our memory when the going gets tough or if doubt threatens to grasp hold of us.

“Come unto me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light”. This comforting, wonderful, liberating saying occurs only in Matthew where it brings to a close a difficult passage in which Jesus expresses his frustration with all who are deaf and blind or resistant to his life-giving presence among them, and in which he voices his annoyance that nothing he does seems to be moving the hearts and minds of some his audience.

Jesus has concluded his instructions to the twelve and sent them on their mission while he himself continues to teach and proclaim his message. At this time John the Baptist, whose truth-telling has become a thorn in Herod’s side, is in prison. Perhaps his imprisonment has put a dent in his confidence, because he seeks assurance from Jesus that he really is the one who is to come. Jesus’ points to what he is doing as saying as evidence that yes, he is the one. “The blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them. And blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me.” (Mt 11:5,6)

“Blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me.” These words set the tone for the remainder of the chapter.

Jesus’ response to John’s disciples leads him to reflect on the different ways in which people have responded to John and to himself. It seems that between them they are in a no-win situation. Neither have conformed to the expectations of the people who have rejected them – John’s ascetism has left them cold and Jesus’ engagement with life is regarded as unnecessarily frivolous. Those at whom Jesus takes aim are offended by both John and Jesus because neither fit the mould, neither meet their expectations of a prophet – not someone as wild and as passionate as John, but definitely someone more serious and more law-observant than Jesus. Both Jesus and John make them feel uncomfortable. John’s asceticism shows up their love of a good life, and his strict adherence to the law exposes their failure to observe to its every detail. Jesus’ engagement with all comers – tax-collectors, prostitutes, sinners – exposes their pettiness and their focus on the letter rather than the spirit of the law and his enjoyment of life demonstrates that it is possible to be both godly and to enjoy God-given pleasures. John is too holy and Jesus is not holy enough.

Jesus is frustrated not people’s indifference to and rejection of him, their misunderstanding of what it means to be a part of the kingdom, and perhaps most of all by their antagonism to him and to what he represents.

He is frustrated, angry even, but all is not lost. It is true that those who should have recognised him – the wise and educated – have been blind and deaf to his message and his deeds, but those who have no expectations, no prior conceptions are able to see and hear clearly. The knowledge and learning which should have led the priests, the scribes and the Pharisees to recognise Jesus are the very things which prevent them from seeing who he really is. Relying on their own interpretation of ancient documents and of the law, they cannot see beyond their own fixed ideas. On the other hand, those whose knowledge is based on experience can see clearly that Jesus has been sent by God.

These are the “infants” whose innocence allows them to be open and receptive. It is presumably these whom Jesus addresses when he invites the weary and heavy laden to come to him. It is the poor, the uneducated, the marginalised whose burdens Jesus wants to lift. He wants them to know that faith in him, membership in the kingdom is not onerous, does not depend on exacting adherence to laws and practices, and does not demand the sort of self-denial that is soul destroying and destructive. Those who follow Jesus will not have burdens imposed, but burdens lifted. They will not be bound to regulations that limit and define them but set free to live life as fully as they can. They will not be forced to follow mindless rituals, but liberated to worship God in body, mind and soul.

Those who have made up their own minds about what to believe and how to practice their faith are unable to hear Jesus and to recognise him for who he is. They have become so dependent on their intellect, their concept of right and wrong, their confidence that they know what God wants that they have come to believe that the burdens they carry (knowledge, piety, certainty) are evidence of their faithfulness. They cannot believe that letting go will free them to be truly dependent on and nourished by God. They simply cannot understand that God wants nothing of them!

It is the innocent, the trusting, those who are willing to admit that they need help, who know and welcome Jesus. They will readily lay their burdens down and trust in the one who makes no demands and imposes no rules, asking only that they love – him and one another.

These comfortable words have a sting. They are also uncomfortable words for they ask us to lay down our burdens of certainty, and self-reliance, and pride, to let go of the desire to please God or impress others, and to suspend our need to know. Being truly set free comes at the cost of leaving behind all those things that allowed us to feel secure, and truly believing that our only security comes from God through Jesus.

What are the burdens that you are carrying? Burdens that allow you to feel good about yourself, burdens you willingly bear believing that in doing so you please God, burdens that you you impose on yourself because you don’t believe God loves you as you are. If you are burdened by these or any other burdens isn’t it time to accept Jesus invitation to lay down our burdens and to accept his easy yoke?

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Receiving a cup of water

June 28, 2026

[Today’s Old Testament reading about the sacrifice of Isaac is very confronting. You might like to read the sermon by the Rev’d Suzanne Grimmet. You can find it here. https://anglicanipilly.org.au/2026/06/28/turning-this-dark-gem-of-a-story/?fbclid=IwY2xjawStrvhleHRuA2FlbQIxMQBzcnRjBmFwcF9pZBAyMjIwMzkxNzg4MjAwODkyAAEeKmPHFZml_NaG9rntmYImzqUOa2Iq6Ch0TngedgxGBFZxjyYe5vykAG1gOsg_aem_YWdncwBbaPtKfuXeOgSKxq5ZiZ6i&brid=YWdncwGzd4MctsrFZRMPEGHjM3mQ]

Pentecost 5 – 2026

Matthew 10:40-41

Marian Free

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

For centuries mission societies saw their role as one of converting “the heathen” to Christianity. In retrospect we can acknowledge that missionary activity was often associated with colonialism and with an air of condescension. There was a commonly held view that Western civilisation was superior to all other civilisations and that “the heathen” not only needed to accept Jesus, but that they had to adopt Western values and behaviours. During the last century most missionary societies have recognised the arrogance of this approach and the damage that was been done as a result – loss of culture and language being just two examples. Today, these organisations work alongside local cultures assisting them to identify their needs and providing resources and education to help them achieve their goals.

Jesus’ “mission charge” (to which we have been listening over the last two weeks) instructed the disciples to “proclaim the good news, ‘The kingdom of heaven has come near.’ Cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, cast out demons.” (Mt 10:6-8). Two weeks ago, we explored the apparently exclusive nature of this mission. Jesus tells the disciples, “go nowhere among the Gentiles. Go only to the lost sheep of Israel.” Even though the disciples are going only to their own, Jesus informs them that sharing the good news will come at a cost. Jesus knew from experience that those with power, wealth and authority would not welcome the disciple’s message, just as they had not welcomed his message. Jesus warns, the disciples that they could expect to be hated, persecuted and betrayed.

What I find interesting about this “missionary discourse” is that nowhere does Jesus mention that the disciples are to convert people from one form of belief to another.  Their task is to bring hope and healing and the good news that the kingdom is near.

Today we come to the end of Jesus’ instructions to the disciples. For reasons that I don’t understand, these three verses are often misinterpreted. Whereas the wording suggests that those who are rewarded are those who welcome and support the disciples, it is usually read to mean that the disciples who do good works will be rewarded. Both the commentaries I read this week suggested that Jesus’ meaning was that if we welcome a prophet, give “one of these little ones” a glass of water that it will be credited to our account. Indeed, as Chelsea Harmon points out the conclusion to Jesus’ instructions is often called the “rewards” section. That is, after Jesus has carefully delineated the problems and the dangers the disciples will face and the near certainty that they will be persecuted, Jesus turns to what it is that the disciples will receive. 

It is certainly tempting to believe that Jesus concludes his descriptions of all the trials that the disciples will face, with a promise of reward or recompense.  

But is that what the text says? Does Jesus actually say that the disciples who are open, kind and generous will be rewarded. OR, does it the text say that those who are open, kind and generous to the disciples will be rewarded? I suggest that the text refers to what other people give or do to us not what we give or do to others.

 “Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me. Whoever welcomes a prophet in the name of a prophet will receive a prophet’s reward; and whoever welcomes a righteous person in the name of a righteous person will receive the reward of the righteous; and whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple—truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward.”

“Whoever welcomes you welcomes you welcomes me.”  “none of these” (not “none of you”).  Jesus is not speaking of what the disciples will do for others, but what others will do for them. 

If this is the case, it completely upends the idea that our role is to “do good” and to bring others to faith. If this reading is correct, it makes much more sense of the confronting and exclusive direction with which Jesus began his discourse, go only to “the lost sheep of Israel.” It shatters the notion that Jesus thought that everyone had to believe in him in order to receive the reward (presumably eternal life).  The “lost sheep of Israel” (as we saw two weeks ago) were a special concern of Jesus because they had gone astray. Those who did not belong to the house of Israel were not outside Jesus’ line of sight, but it seems clear from today’s gospel that their welcome and support of Jesus’ representatives, was an indication of their acceptance of him and of the one who sent him – even if they didn’t themselves become disciples. 

There is no evidence here that the disciples are being sent out to make people believe in him, no suggestion that Jesus want the disciples to compel people to change, and certainly no implication that if the disciples give someone a drink of water that they will be rewarded.

If this interpretation is correct it means that narrowly limiting a “reward” to those who profess faith in Jesus misses the mark. Openness, welcome and generosity towards those who profess faith seem to be the prerequisites for receiving a reward. 

Jesus concludes his directions to the disciples with a statement that completely undermines any notion of exclusivity and any idea that it is only the lost sheep of Israel who will be saved (rewarded). Jesus appears to be saying that those who will receive rewards will not be exclusively those who belong to the house of Israel, or that rewards be given only to those who profess faith in Jesus. The reward it seems will be extended to those who recognise that someone has a message from God, those who accept that a person is righteous and those who offer something as apparently insignificant as a cup of cold water to someone who does believe in Jesus.

It is not our task to think about whom God rewards and why. Our task is spread the good news, to bring hope and healing and, instead patting ourselves on the back because we have done so well, we are to politely and thankfully  receive from those who are different from but gracious to us.

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Of more value than the sparrow

June 22, 2026

Pentecost 4

Matthew 10:24-39

Marian Free

In the name of God who sees, hears and supports the outcast, the oppressed and the persecuted. Amen.

It is not often that our lectionary brings us readings that support one another, but today Jesus’ warnings and reassurances to the disciples facing a hostile reception from their fellow countrymen and women is fortuitously matched with the account of Hagar being sent out into an unforgiving desert because of Sarah’s insecurity. In both cases, those who are persecuted (or at risk of persecution) are assured that God sees, God hears and God will strengthen them.  At their most exposed and fearful, those who face persecution, opposition or abandonment can be certain that they (and their trials) are not beneath God’s notice.

When people are afraid, insecure or vulnerable they have a tendency to assert control over or to tyrannise another (others). This gives them a sense of power and affirms (to themselves and others) that they are entitled to protect what they have – be it knowledge, wealth or power.

I do not want to excuse Sarah’s behaviour (behaviour condoned by Abraham), but despite having an apparently loyal husband, she has until recently been denied the one thing that gives her status in her community – a child, specifically a son. In desperation, she has followed the practice of using another woman to bear an heir for Abraham. This, instead of giving her the peace she seeks, only serves to diminish her self-confidence when Hagar, having conceived with apparent ease, “looks down on her”. Finally, Sarah has a son of her own, but it is not enough. Now she sees the son of Hagar as a threat – he is after all Abraham’s first-born. Even though Ishamel is not Abraham’s heir, Sarah obviously feels that the future of her son, Isaac is not secure as long as Hagar and Ishmael remain with them. As a consequence, she insists that Abraham thrust Hagar into a forbidding, uninhabited desert to survive as best she can.

Hagar’s back story is unknown to us. We know that she was an Egyptian and that, probably when she was quite a young girl, she was separated from her family and sold into slavery. At some point she has been bought by Abraham and given to his wife Sarah. Hagar has been torn from her family and all that was familiar to her and has been thrust into servitude, and enslaved to people of a different culture, with different gods, who are living a nomadic life in what was often a hostile country. Her owners can control every aspect of her existence, even her own body. 

What is important about Hagar’s story is that even though she is a rank outsider with no agency, she is not outside God’s sphere of attention. Earlier, when Hagar ran away, God saw and heard her. Now, when she is despairing of life, God provides for her and promise that her son will become a great nation.

Fast forward some 2,000 years. Jesus is addressing the twelve, preparing them for their mission and warning them of the dangers that might lie ahead. Jesus knows from experience that the radical nature of the good news he has commissioned them to share will, in all likelihood, threaten the status quo, undermine the religious leadership and destabilise the family unit. No one likes change, particularly change that challenges their position in society, questions their wealth, upends their understanding of the world (or their faith) or which creates an imbalance in the family structure. Most people will do almost anything to resist change and to ensure that their lives and beliefs continue much as they always have.

It doesn’t take great foresight for Jesus to see that if his message is met with resistance the disciples will also meet resistance from every level of society, but especially from those who have power, authority or wealth (or typically all three). If we read the verses that immediately precede today’s gospel we will remember that Jesus has already warned the disciples that they will be hated and persecuted, betrayed even by members of their own families. They will be flogged in the synagogues and dragged before governors. Just as Jesus has been considered to be the devil, so they can expect the same reaction to their mission. In other words, they are being cast out into the wilderness where any number of dangers will confront them.

It is no wonder that Jesus continues his directions with words of encouragement and assurance. He tells the disciples not to be afraid or timid but, as it were, to shout the gospel from the rooftops – no matter what the consequences. Nothing is to be kept hidden. They will be engaged in radical, subversive, life-threatening work, but they need not be afraid for the Spirit of God the Father will speak through them. More than that, no matter what the consequences of their mission, Jesus insists that their value to God is incalculable.  

“Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. And even the hairs of your head are all counted. So do not be afraid; you are of more value than many sparrows.” (10:29,30)

The story of Hagar reminds us that no-one, not even a disposable Egyptian slave girl is beneath God’s notice. Jesus’ words of assurance to the disciples reinforce this concept. God may not always intervene as he did for Hagar, but this does not mean that God is indifferent. 

God sees, God hears and God will provide strength and encouragement in the most difficult of circumstances. No matter what difficulties we face, God who values us more than we will ever know, will be beside us, within us and before us, giving us strength, and courage and insight.

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Harassed sheep and selfish shepherds

June 13, 2026

Pentecost 3 – 2026

Matthew 9:35-10:8

Marian Free

In the name of God who overturns earthly rulers, subverts earthly values and equips disciples for ministry without distinction. Amen.

I have often struggled with Jesus’ command to the Twelve that they should go nowhere among the Gentiles but only to the lost sheep of Israel. Why, at this point in his ministry is Jesus being parochial and exclusive.

The answer I think may lie in the political subtext. 

We tend to get distracted by images of sheep and shepherding, thinking of the lost sheep and the Good Shepherd who lays down his life for his sheep. 

But shepherding in the context of the ancient Near East is a political image. Kings were referred to as shepherds and the symbol of their rule was a shepherd’s crook. While in practice it was rare, the primary responsibility of kings was to guide, protect and care for their subjects. Also kings were seen to be an intermediary between the divine and the people. 

That this was a commonly held view is evidenced in the OT. Moses asks God to raise up someone so that the congregation might not be like sheep without a shepherd. David, king and shepherd was, according to Psalm 78 to tend and guide the sheep – the people of Israel. Sadly, more often than not the kings fail in their role and the prophets castigate them accusing them of being stupid, and of not inquiring of the Lord. As a consequence, the sheep have not prospered and the flock has scattered. (Jeremiah 10:21) When this happens God has to step in to “seek the lost, bring back the strayed, bind up the injured and strengthen the weak (Ezekiel 34:16).

So, when Jesus speaks about sheep without a shepherd, it is highly probable that he calling out the leaders of his time – the religious elite, chosen by Rome, who have aligned themselves with the colonial power and who have become complicit in the social, economic and political abuse of the people. Who rather than tending and nurturing the people have instead exploited and oppressed them and made impossible demands of them. 

Interestingly, nowhere in this gospel does Jesus claim to be a shepherd, but right at the beginning of the gospel Matthew has informed his readers that Jesus is the fulfilment of God’s promise to provide a ruler who will shepherd the God’s people of Israel (Matt 2:5,6).  

Those who are supposed to shepherd Israel have failed so God has raised up someone who will.

Jesus as shepherd/ruler declares his “political” agenda, by proclaiming a different political economy – “the kingdom of heaven” – a kingdom in which justice, freedom and equity will prevail. The kingdom he announces upends the ideas of kingdom which prevail – that in which there are rulers and ruled, rich and poor, advantaged and disadvantaged, powerful and powerless. Not only that, but he also completely subverts the notion of shepherd or ruler. To begin with, Jesus shepherds as God would shepherd. He takes to himself none of the privileges of ruler. He does not isolate himself in a palace but immerses himself in the lives of the people. He gathers the sheep, seeks the lost, heals, strengthens and raises the flock.

Perhaps more shockingly, in the context of his time Jesus expands the definition of shepherd by appointing twelve to share equally in the role of shepherd. The chosen twelve are not distinct in any way. They have no qualifications, no status, no birth-right nor any other credential that might give them authority, yet Jesus commissions them to shepherd the sheep – not as his lieutenants, but as equal partners. He empowers them to do everything that he has done and will continue to do. They are sent out to “to proclaim the good news, that the kingdom of heaven has come near and empowered to cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, cast out demons.”

Further evidence of the redefinition or reclamation of the language of shepherd is Jesus’ injunction that as they received without payment so they should give without payment. In order words, their newly received authority is not something to be used for their own advantage, nor is it an excuse to lord it over others. They are commanded to be vulnerable and dependent in the same way that Jesus has made himself vulnerable and dependent. For only in this way will they avoid the traps that come with authority – the temptations to exert authority, to exploit others for their own advantage or to seek to enrich and protect themselves.

Understanding that Jesus’ political agenda is to challenge and replace the shepherds who are derelict in the duty and to show compassion to the harassed and helpless sheep may help us to make sense of the jarring language of 10 v 6 “go nowhere among the gentiles, go rather to the lost sheep of Israel.” The role of the shepherd is to attend to the flock, the flock which at this point in time is not being shepherded by those whose responsibility it is.

Elsewhere however, Matthew makes it quite clear that Jesus’ overall programme is to expand the kingdom to open it to all people. This is heralded by the visit of the Gentile magi, reinforced by the quote from Isaiah that Jesus will proclaim justice to the Gentiles and bring them hope in his name (Matthew 12:18-21) and reinforced by the risen Jesus’ great commission when he sends the disciples out to make disciples of all the nations (28:19). Shepherding the few will become shepherding all. What offered to one nation will now be open to all comers.

In our increasingly fractured world, there are many who are feeling harassed and helpless, vulnerable and unwelcome, lost and alone. We are called to be shepherds, not of a few, but of all. Through our baptism we are commissioned to proclaim the good news, to heal the sick, to seek out the lost and to do everything without favour or distinction and with no expectation of reward.

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Celebrating when there seems to be nothing to celebrate – Easter 2026

April 4, 2026

Easter Day – 2026

Matthew 28:1-10

Marian Free

In the name of God who wrought the universe from nothing, who brought life from death, and who, in Jesus, gives hope to all who suffer and are filled with despair. Amen.

I have to confess that I have never felt less like preaching on Easter Day. Easter this year does not feel triumphant or jubilant. The new life wrought from death by Jesus is barely visible in a world torn apart by conflict and marred by poverty. We will go home this morning to news of an escalation of the war in the Middle East or to reports of new lows perpetrated in the war in Ukraine. It is impossible for us to ignore the fact that throughout the world literally millions of people have been displaced from their homes or to close our eyes to the fact that families who were already struggling with the high cost of living are now facing increased petrol costs and who have no idea where it all will end. 

In the face of all that and more it is difficult to sound a note of victory, to celebrate new life, a new beginning. Indeed, such triumphalism would seem like a slap in the face to all those who this morning have woken not to joy or even to hope, but to despair, grief or terror or to all three together. Proclaiming the victory of Easter in today’s context today would feel like an affront to those who, years after war has ended, or natural disaster has come and gone still have not been able to rebuild their lives. 

And yet we (or at least humanity) have been here before, not once, not twice, but again and again and again as humankind demonstrates its propensity for violence, greed, injustice and indifference to the needs of others. We have been here before and have found reasons to celebrate.

We have been here before.

In the last century alone humanity has witnessed not one but two world wars, in which approximately 90 million people died and in which many millions more were permanently injured or displaced. In the last twenty years we have witnessed a tsunami which wiped the lives of nearly 230,000 people, and floods and other disasters which have destroyed the homes, communities and livelihoods of hundreds of thousands of people; and we have stood by helplessly as civil war and climate change wreaks havoc in the lives of many and still we believe and still we hope because Jesus has risen from the dead.

We have been here many, many times before. We will be here again and still we have found reasons to celebrate.

Today and every day we have reasons to celebrate, not because we have woken to a world restored and renewed but because we have woken to be reminded once again that there is always hope, because Jesus’ resurrection assures us that death does not have the final word, that sorrow and grief and pain can be transformed and that God, has not abandoned us, but in the risen Christ is alive and at work in the world.

It is important to recognise that Jesus’ resurrection was not some magical, instant, romantic fix. God didn’t simply wave a wand and make everything new, put an end to all conflict and pain. Jesus’ victory over death came at an enormous cost not least to Jesus himself. For there would have been no resurrection if there had not first been a crucifixion. Before Jesus could be restored to life he had to die. Before Jesus could die, he first had to experience life, to surrender his divine status and be fully immersed in the human condition – not the condition of the rich, the comfortable and the powerful, but the condition of the poor, the oppressed and the powerless. Before Jesus could be crucified he had to suffer betrayal and humiliation, and then to endure flogging, nailing, jeering and ultimately suffocation. Before Jesus could rise he had to truly die and to be sealed in a tomb. 

The world looked much the same that first Easter Day as it had on all the days that came before it. The poor were still poor, the embattled were still embattled, the defeated were still defeated. The world looked the same and yet nothing would be the same again. Jesus’ resurrection demonstrated beyond doubt that death is not the end – the dead do not remain dead. Jesus’ resurrection showed the world that love can conquer hate, good can defeat evil, and that the best of humanity will ultimately triumph over the worst. Jesus’ resurrection reminds us that even in the worst of circumstance there is always room for hope. Because Jesus rose from the dead we can be sure that a new day will dawn and the world will be restored. We can believe that there will come a time when all suffering will cease, when the bombs will stop falling, when the rich will no longer hoard their wealth, when the hungry will be full, when creation will be restored and the world will be whole once more. 

The resurrection may not have changed the world, but it should and must change us, so that through us the forces of death will not be able to rob people of dignity, identity and hope and that through us and in us life (not death) will have the final word.

In the words of one of our post communion prayers, let us pray:

Father of all, we give you thanks and praise, that when we were still far off you met us in your Son and brought us home. Dying and living, he declared your love, gave us grace, and opened the gate of glory. May we who share Christ’s body live his risen life; we who drink his cup bring life to others; we whom the Spirit lights give light to the world. Keep us in this hope that we have grasped; so we and all your children shall be free, and the whole earth live to praise your Name; through Christ our Lord. Amen.

Christ is risen. Alleluia. He is risen indeed. Alleluia.

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