Archive for the ‘Matthew’ Category

God is not ours to control

June 24, 2023

Pentecost 4 – 2023
Matthew 10:24-39
Marian Free

In the name of God whose ways are not our ways, whose timing is not our timing. Amen.

How you might wonder does a preacher know what to preach – especially when confronted by such diverse and complex readings as we have before us this morning? It is difficult to pass over the pettiness of Sarah and of Abraham’s willingness to collude with her mean spiritednesses. How can one possibly declare (as we did) that this is the word of God? Paul’ letter to the Romans is rich and complex but again, for the sake of time, this too has to be passed over. My habit, as is the Anglican tradition, has been to focus on the gospel, but today’s gospel – as last week’s – consists of several parts. To give the passage the attention it deserves would warrant longer than we have. So to answer my question – in the first instance I read the set texts (hoping that some idea or theme will leap out). Second, I read what other people have to say – what have they made of these diverse readings? If this fails to produce inspiration I will repeat the process until an idea begins to form. Throughout the process I place myself in God’s hands through prayer and reflection, trusting that the Holy Spirit will and does guide me.

Sometimes I am as surprised as you might be as to where I land.

This week for instance, I was convinced that the gospel provided good material for a sermon on persecution – what it is, and why some who claim to be persecuted are not. A re-reading, however, convinced me that, just as this week’s gospel concluded that begin last week, so the theme of prayer could be addressed through Jesus words to his listeners. (That is to say I saw the gospel in a new light – a light I trust given through the Spirit).

Last week I wondered whether we thought that God had a magic wand with which (if we prayed hard enough, or in the right way) God could answer our prayers. Today’s gospel makes it clear that this is not how God acts. In fact, today’s gospel is shocking and confronting to any of us who have a simplistic, naïve faith. If we believe in a God who is benign at best and a frustrated parent at worst, then Jesus’ words today fill us with disquiet – “Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword. For I have come to set a man against his father,and a daughter against her mother.” These words (and indeed those that precede them don’t conform to a picture of a Jesus who is warm, loving and protective. This angry, challenging Jesus makes us want to look the other way, to disassociate ourselves (surely he can’t mean what he is saying!)

Throughout history we have simplified and domesticated our faith. We have smoothed off the rough edges, seen conformity to the norms of society as an indication of our goodness and our moral standing. We associate ‘rocking the boat’ with non-conformist radicals, nothing to do with good upstanding Christian citizens.

We are ill-equipped to hear what Jesus is saying. But Jesus is saying something really important. His confronting language serves as a corrective to all of us who think that we know what God should do and how God should do it. Jesus reminds us that God is not ours to control (through prayer or any other means). He defies our desire that he will bring peace, restore order or conform to our expectations that faith is not costly or that as a consequence of his coming all differences between us will be dissolved. He makes it clear that he cannot change the world without first changing us.

Contrary to what we want to believe, Jesus warns us that faith can be, and often is divisive – because it calls us to stand for justice, to love the unlovable, to welcome the rejected. Our faith might bring us comfort- but Jesus warns that it is just as likely to make us uncomfortable. While he wants to shake us out of our complacency, to remind us that no amount of prayer will force God’s hand, Jesus is also keen to reassure us. We need not be afraid. Even if strife is raging around us and our prayers seem to fall on deaf ears. God knows each one of us – down to the hairs on our head and, even in the midst of our troubles God is with us, supporting and sustaining us.

In the final analysis instead of expecting God to do what we want, we have to trust God. We do not try to bend God to our will or, expect God to do what we think God should do. Through prayer we place ourselves in God’s hands, seek God’s will and rely on God’s strength to face the chaos in which we find ourselves.

Prayer changes us

June 17, 2023

Pentecost 3 – 2023
Matthew 9:35-10:8
Marian Free

In the name of God whose faith in us is beyond our imagining. Amen.

How and for what do you pray? What do you expect from your prayers? Are you sometimes completely overwhelmed by the needs of the world? Do you sometimes feel that you are inadequate for the task – that even if you did pray hard enough there would not be enough people who cared enough to alleviate suffering? Do you worry that no matter how much you pray some situations simply remain the same? Do you wonder why God does not appear to act?

At the moment many of our prayers are focussed on the peoples of the Ukraine and Sudan, but there are conflicts all over the world that equally deserve our attention and our prayers. When I wonder did you or your church community last pray for the Khmer, the people of Syria or of the Congo or the countless other places still at war? We are rightly focussed on refugees who have fled recent conflicts and especially those who risk drowning at sea, but that means we tend to forget that there are thousands who have lived in refugee camps their entire lives or that in Palestine there are generations of families who have lived in camps. It is the same situation with victims of natural disasters – we simply cannot pray for everyone impacted by fire, flood, cyclone, and our memories tend to focus on more recent events. In 2020, COVID took our attention away from those who had lost everything in the bush fires of January that year and the floods in Northern NSW and elsewhere are, to many of us a distant memory – and yet there are hundreds, if not thousands of people (in this nation alone) who are still trying to rebuild homes and lives.

At the moment those who are impacted by the increased cost of living, rising interest rates and the rental crisis are front and centre in the minds of many of us and yet we are limited in what we can actually do. Our contribution to a Parish Pantry or other charities will not alleviate the pain for one family even for one day, and few of us can afford to purchase accommodation that could be made available for the homeless.

In the face of such mind-numbing issues, it is tempting to wish that God would wave a magic wand, end wars and alleviate poverty and suffering in the world. Yet if that were how God solved problems there would be no need to pray. God would already have responded. Why, in the face of so much anguish does God appear to stand idly by? The answer of course is complex, but God’s apparent inaction reflects God’s faith in us and God’s longing for us to be a part of the solution.

That this is how God responds is reflected in this morning’s gospel, especially in verses 36-38: ‘When he saw the crowds, he had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. Then he said to his disciples, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest.”’

First century Palestine had been under Roman occupation for decades. Land that once fed generations of families had been taken by the occupiers and given as a reward to Caesar’s soldiers. Everything was taxed – the roads, the crops, the right to fish. The church authorities were either Roman appointments or were people who had cow towed to the Romans. As a consequence, the vast majority of the population felt harassed, oppressed and utterly powerless to effect change.

Faced with the suffering and helplessness of the people, Jesus seems to be overwhelmed. You can almost hear him sigh with despair as he observes that they are like sheep without a shepherd. He is filled with compassion. The Greek word “splagnizothai” (compassion) refers to an emotion felt deep within one’s belly, with one’s whole self. In other words, Jesus’ inner being was overwhelmed with concern – but, like God, Jesus doesn’t wave a magic wand. Indeed, he doesn’t even enlist God’s assistance. Instead, what Jesus does is to pray that there might be enough will in enough people to bring about change.

The need is clear, the solution is not to miraculously make it go away but to send people to fill the need – people of compassion – to heal, to console, to challenge unjust structures, to work for peace.

Seen another way, Jesus prays not for the world to change, but for us to change. As long as there are greedy, selfish, power-hungry people in the world there will be wars, injustice, and inequity. As long as people put themselves first we will continue to rape the planet, change the weather patterns, and induce climate change. As long we continue to believe that it is someone else’s (God’s) problem nothing will change.

Mother Teresa said: “I used to believe that prayer changes things, but now I know that prayer changes us and we change things.

In the end, prayer should change us. It should open us to the ways in which we contribute to the ills of the world; reveal to us our selfishness and lack of action; and open us to the Spirit of God working within us.

We are called to be God’s co-conspirators in changing the world for the better.
We are the labourers for whom Jesus prays. Only when we change can we begin to change the world.

Models of ministry

June 10, 2023

Pentecost 2 -2023
Matthew 9:9-13, 18-26
Marian Free

In the name of Source of all being, Word of Life, Eternal Spirit. Amen.

Have you ever read or tried to read Tolstoy’s War and Peace? From memory, the list of characters extends over two pages. That, and the unfamiliarity of the names, made it impossible for me to read beyond the first chapter. Dicken’s Bleak House was not quite so challenging but, because it was written as a serial, and because there are several sub-plots, I found it difficult to follow the thread of the separate stories and to remember a character whom I hadn’t heard from for four or five chapters.

Thankfully, the gospels do not pose such a problem because the vignettes are short and the primary characters consistent. In today’s gospel, there are several unrelated sub-plots – Jesus encounters several unrelated characters whose stories do not appear to be making a particular point or leading to a conclusion. The passage begins when Jesus sees Matthew and calls him to follow. Jesus then has dinner with tax collectors and sinners and responds to the criticisms of the Pharisees. Then in the paragraph omitted by the lectionary writers (a few characters too many?) Jesus answers a question about fasting that is posed by John’s disciples. In the verses given to us for today, Jesus is approached by the leader of the synagogue and while he is on way to raise the synagogue leader’s daughter, he is touched by the woman with a haemorrhage. Finally, at the house of the synagogue leader, Jesus has to confront the grieving crowds. (Were we to read on we would see that Matthew continues the story with the healing of two blind men and healing a man who was mute.)

In only one of these encounters is Jesus’ identity mentioned – when the blind men call out: “Have mercy on us Son of David.”

The purpose of the stories then, is not to tell us who Jesus is, but more to give an insight into how Jesus is. The encounters tell us about the character of Jesus, how he behaves, with whom he interacts and, to a lesser extent, what he teaches. The reactions to Jesus, the questions of the Pharisees and John’s disciples, and the grief of the crowds. are indicative of the very human responses which Jesus’ actions elicit – criticism, confusion, lack of trust.

Through the eyes of this gospel writer, we are shown that Jesus was a risk-taker. He sees Matthew at the tax booth and says simply: “Follow me.” There is no job-interview, test of character, or referees. Jesus sees in Matthew something that no one else has seen and trusts his intuition that Matthew will make a suitable disciple.

Jesus sets no boundaries on his ministry – who might join him and with whom he might associate. He and his disciples are not discerning about whom they dine with, drawing criticism from the Pharisees (who believe that God insists that Jews keep themselves separate from Gentiles and sinners). In response to their criticism, Jesus uses his knowledge of scripture to firmly correct the narrow, judgmental, and smug attitudes of his critics.

When John’s disciples express their confusion about the differences between Jesus and John, Jesus uses practical, everyday imagery to help them understand that there is a proper time for everything. It is appropriate that John’s disciples fast, but the time has not yet come for Jesus’ disciples to do the same.

Jesus doesn’t hesitate when the synagogue leader asks him to do the impossible, but he is not so focussed on raising the young girl that he cannot stop and give his full attention to the woman with a haemorrhage. Nor is he deterred by the mourners when he reaches his destination but remains focussed on what he has come to do.

The way in which Jesus responds to each of these situations reveals something about the nature of Jesus and of his ministry. Through these encounters Jesus shows us how to be courageous, inclusive, non-judgmental, open, empathetic, unhurried, and life-giving. By the way in which he interacts, he makes it clear that he doesn’t have criteria by which he determines who may or may not be a disciple, with whom he will or will not associate or whom he will or will not heal. He is not cowed by the Pharisees, confused by John’s disciples, or caught off guard when the woman touches his cloak. He will not be bound by social convention, religious expectation, or stereotypical definitions.

From these encounters we can deduce that Jesus is self-assured and confident of his role. He will not be rushed or forced to do anything he does not want to do. So, while we might hold our breath when Jesus stops to attend to the woman with a haemorrhage – instead of hurrying to the already dead girl – Jesus is clear that attending to the person in front of him will not detract from his ministry to the person who awaits him. (He is not so full of his self-importance that he feels he has to ignore the woman to get to the child and his closeness to God enables him to trust that all will be well.)

This lengthy passage, with its variety of scenarios, provides a model of inclusive community and of pastoral care. Jesus demonstrates through his reactions to those whom he meets that no one is to be excluded and no one is to be given priority over anyone else. He makes it clear that ego has no place in ministry and, in stopping to address the woman who has touched him, Jesus proves how important (and life-giving) it is to be fully present to those whom we encounter – rather than worrying about where we have to be and what we have to do.

Jesus’ interactions become a model for our interactions and his character a model for us to aspire to. The responses of the Pharisees (and of John’s disciples) provide a yardstick against which to measure our own reactions especially to those who like Jesus, break cultural norms or religious expectations.

May Jesus always be our model and our guide, and may we with him be open and compassionate, confident and wise, responsive and present, that our interactions with others may be sensitive, respectful and life-giving.

Trinity Sunday

June 3, 2023

Trinity – 2023
Matthew 28:16-20
Marian Free

In the name of God, creative, generative force, loving, sacrificial being, empowering and energising breath. Amen.

A little while I saw a meme that featured Jesus and the disciples. The first frame, pictured Jesus preparing the disciples for his ascension. Jesus was saying: “Don’t make this too complicated”. In the next frame, after Jesus has ascended the disciples see a group of people coming over the hill. “Oh no”, they say, “here come the theologians!” The creator of the cartoon was implying that theologians complicate simple tenets of faith by analysing and explaining them.

It is easy to imagine that we would be better off without those academics who make meaning out of scriptures, who turn apparently simple texts into complex ideas. The fact is, that without theologians, we would be confronted with a multitude of conflicting ideas and no arbitrators to determine which interpretation was more accurate or more reflective of the teaching of Jesus and its reception by the first believers.

The early church provides two cases in point – the Incarnation and the Trinity – both of which proved controversial in the first few centuries. In the gospels, Jesus is depicted as both human and divine, but there is no detailed argument as to how this works in practice. The most direct claims are those of Jesus in John’s gospel in which Jesus consistently claims that he and the Father are one. In the Synoptics, there are no direct claims that Jesus and the Father are one (Mt. 11:27 being an exception), but in those gospels Jesus shown to have power over demons, over the natural elements and over life itself – powers previously associated only with God. It seems obvious that the gospel writers took for granted. that Jesus was both fully human and fully divine, but they provide no explicit statement to this effect, and give no explanation as to how such a thing could be. It was left to the early church to determine what this meant and how it could be explained. The result was a number of theories about the nature of Jesus and fierce arguments between various bishops and theologians.

Similarly with the Trinity. God as Creator/or Father, Son/Christ/Lord and Spirit is referred to unselfconsciously throughout Paul’s letters and to some extent in the Gospels, but nowhere is there any explanation as to how God can be both three AND one. There is no biblical description of the way in which the three persons of God relate to each other. A Trinitarian God was such a departure from the strict monotheism of Judaism, that there was no language to accommodate a new way of thinking about this same God. The first believers took for granted that God was in some way three persons in one God, but they did not have the appropriate language to defend that belief. It was left to later scholars to find language that honoured the equal value of each member of the Trinity and to describe the relationship between the three – language that often takes away from the relaxed way in which the early community accepted and related to a Trinitarian God.

Interestingly, though the Pauline letters use the language of God, Lord, Christ, and Spirit interchangeably, and though Paul coined prayer: “The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God and the communion of the Holy Spirit, the Trinitarian formula with which we are most familiar “Father, Son and Holy Spirit” occurs only in Matthew’s gospel. This is in no small part because the gospels were trying to tell the story of Jesus and to record his teaching – rather than to make meaning. of his life, death, and resurrection.

That said, the conclusion to Matthew’s gospel tells us two things – one, that by the 80s, Trinitarian language was being used as a matter of course and two, that the language of Trinity was an essential component of the baptismal liturgy. In other words, at least by the time Matthew was written, the idea of a three-fold God had solidified into a formula – a formula that was accepted even by this most Jewish of the gospel writers. At the same time this formula was used (without explanation) as an essential part of the liturgy that welcomed new believers into the community.

It seems that the early church did not have to reflect on the nature of the Trinity or on the relationship between the members of the Trinity. Early believers appear to have taken three-fold nature of God for granted – without seeing any contradiction between that belief and their existing belief that God was one.

Perhaps the best attempt to make sense of a three-fold God is the Athanasian Creed, which can be found in the back of your Prayer Book, and which used to be said on Trinity Sunday. “So there is one Father, not three Fathers; one Son, not three Sons; one Holy Ghost, not three Holy Ghosts. And in this Trinity none is afore, or after other; none is greater, or less than another; But the whole three Persons are co-eternal together and co-equal. So that in all things, as is aforesaid, the Unity in Trinity and the Trinity in Unity is to be worshipped. He therefore that will be saved must think thus of the Trinity. For there is one Person of the Father, another of the Son, and another of the Holy Ghost. But the Godhead of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, is all one, the Glory equal, the Majesty co-eternal.)

The Trinitary is first and foremost relational and communal. The persons of the Trinity are non-competitive, inclusive. No one person of the Trinity has priority and no one person of the Trinity is dispensable, but all work together in unity.

The God whom we are called to worship in not a lonely, isolated, all-powerful despot, but a loving community whose roles are both distinct and indistinguishable. The God whom we worship is not a distant and indifferent power but a fellowship that is so concerned with our well-being that God’s very self shared our humanity becoming one of us and one with us. The God whom we worship is not static and unchanging, but dynamic and innovative, dancing through time and space – before time and beyond time.

The God whom we worship invites us into the dance, into communion with Godself and promises to be with us always, to the end of the age.

Christianity that is bland and unchallenging – a sermon for St George

April 21, 2023

Easter 3 – 2023
(Celebrating St George at Maleny)
Matthew 28:8-15a
Marian Free

In the name of God, Earthmaker, Painbearer, Lifegiver.

How often have you been threatened with death as a consequence of your believing in the risen Christ? In nearly seventy years of life and 27 years in the ordained ministry, I have only been threatened once. It was 1998, Martin Bryant had recently massacred 35 people and injured 18 others. Our then Archbishop, had asked all Parishes to encourage their parishioners to sign a petition calling for gun reform. On the appropriate Sunday, I duly made the announcement – naively thinking that my fellow Christians would have no objections to such a petition. That afternoon, I received a most abusive phone call from a Parishioner who threatened to shoot me if I ever stepped inside his fence. The event left me startled but, so long as I kept my distance, I was not in danger.

It is difficult in our time and place to imagine the Christian faith being so intimidating that the ruling powers would want to destroy it or to persecute, imprison or kill believers, or that our neighbours would shun and harass us. For the most part, Christianity in Australia has been so benign and inoffensive that at least in the last decades few people seem to take much notice of what we do or think. There is little, if anything, to distinguish us from any other member of society. By and large we blend in. Only occasionally do we collectively challenge government policy and even then, I am not sure that anyone thinks we are relevant enough or powerful enough to be a danger to authorities.

As long ago as the fourth century, Constantine made Christianity the official religion of the Roman Empire and the church became so entwined with the government and the surrounding culture, that it has been difficult to draw a clear boundary between societal values and Christian values ever since. To be fair, in the intervening centuries the church has had a significant impact in areas related to social justice – the building of hospitals, the abolition of slavery, the improvement of conditions in prisons and universal franchise (at least for non-indigenous women). In this nation, the support of the churches played an important role in ensuring the passage of the 1967 referendum. While some of these actions caused antagonism and disquiet, few unsettled the government or society sufficiently that supporters of these causes were thrown in jail let alone executed.

The situation was very different in the first three centuries of the common era. Then, as often as not, Christians were considered a threat to the well-being and the status quo of the societies in which they found themselves. This should not surprise us. Before there was a church, there was Jesus – a person who presented such a challenge to the political and religious leaders of his day that he was put to death; a person whose influence, and teaching were so radical and unsettling that he had to be silenced; a person who was considered such a risk to the stability of the state, that even his death did not ensure that the establishment felt secure. That is why the authorities posted a guard at Jesus’ tomb and why, when the tomb was found empty, the priests and elders paid the guards to lie.

For the first three hundred years after Jesus’ death, those who believed in Jesus had an uneasy relationship with the communities in which they found themselves. In the worst-case scenarios, they experienced persecution, but by and large this took the form of local, sporadic harassment and exclusion from the social life of the community. State sanctioned persecution occurred briefly under Decian and Valerian, but it was the Emperor Diocletian who was responsible for the most sustained and bloodiest persecution (nine years from 303-312). It was his goal to return Rome to the golden age – a time before novel religions, specifically Christianity, had begun to emerge. Diocletian surrounded himself with opponents of Christianity, tried to purge the army of Christians, rescinded the legal rights of Christians, and tried to force believers to adopt local religious practices.

It was in this environment that George lived. As is the case of many saints, we know little about George and what we do know is shrouded in myth. One tradition has that he was born in the late third century Turkey to a noble Christian family, another that he was born in Greece and moved to Palestine when his father died. We know he did become a soldier and officer in the Roman army. However, when Diocletian demanded that he renounce his Christian faith (along all other members of the army), George refused and, as a consequence, was tortured and decapitated.

Veneration of George was well established by the fifth century, but he really came to prominence during the crusades at which time he became a model of chivalry. In 1350 King Edward III made him the patron saint of England in . According to Ian Mortimer: “St. George stands for the courage to face adversity in order to defend the innocent. The triumph of good over evil, through courage. …The king who adopted him might be almost forgotten today, but for centuries Saint George represented the idea of courageous leadership and, with it, the unifying popular will to be governed well and protected .”

It was not long after Diocletian that Constantine, anxious to unite the Empire under one banner, made Christianity the official faith of the Empire. Since that time, church and state, church and society have become so intertwined, that sometimes it is difficult to draw a clear boundary between culture and faith or to determine which influences which. There have since then been times when the church has been at the forefront of social change, but at least as often, proponents of the faith have been just happy to support the status quo as to challenge it.

Jesus was feared because he sided with and therefore empowered the marginalised and dispossessed, thus threatening the existing power structures. Christians like George were persecuted and killed, because they stood apart from the structures of power that held up the Empire and threatened to undo them.

Those of us who claim to follow in Jesus’ footsteps and who claim George as one of our own, should perhaps ask ourselves why it is that we are not held in awe, why we don’t challenge and unsettle the establishment and why our lives are so bland that we are not in danger of losing them.

The resurrection – an event without witnesses

April 8, 2023

Easter Day – 2023
Matthew 28:1-8
Marian Free

Christ is risen!
He is risen indeed! Alleluia!

In the final scene of Mel Gibson’s Passion of the Christ, a translucent figure (Jesus) rises from the slab in the tomb and walks out of view. It is a somewhat anti-climatic end to a movie that had been dominated by violence and drama. But how else I wonder, could Gibson have portrayed the resurrection? Unlike the empty tomb, which by all accounts was witnessed by a number of disciples, there were no witnesses to the resurrection. Indeed, on close inspection, the gospel accounts are tantalisingly unhelpful when it comes to details about the actual resurrection. No matter which gospel we read, the story is the same – by the time the women had reached the tomb, Jesus had already risen from the dead and left the (still sealed) tomb, unnoticed by anyone.

If Gibson’s depiction of the resurrection is a little disappointing, so too are the gospel accounts, which are very short on drama and which in fact, do not even mention the actual resurrection. More astounding, according to the gospels, Jesus did not hang around to see if anyone would come. In the briefest account of events, that of Mark, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary find to their surprise that the stone has been rolled away from the tomb (answering their question as to who would move it). A young man seated in the tomb tells them that Jesus has been raised and shows them where he had been lying. Jesus himself does not appear. According to Luke, the women came to the tomb only to find it open, and the body gone. Angels tell the women that Jesus is risen, but Jesus himself does not appear to anyone at all until later in the day. In John’s gospel, Mary Magdalene arrives at the tomb and sees that the stone has been rolled away. She runs to report to the others that Jesus body has been moved. Later, after Peter and John have confirmed that the tomb is empty, Jesus appears to Mary.

Of all the accounts, that of Matthew is the most dramatic. When the two Marys arrive at the tomb an earthquake signals the appearance of an angel who moves the stone to reveal an empty tomb. As in Mark, the angel informs the women Jesus has already risen and shows them where Jesus had lain. Jesus, who is not at the tomb, meets the women as they make their way to report to the disciples that Jesus has risen. The disciples themselves will not see Jesus until they make their way from Jerusalem back to Galilee. Even then, Jesus will not hang around, but having given his disciples their final instructions, he will ascend into heaven.

All we know for certain then is that sometime between the crucifixion and the morning after the Sabbath, Jesus rose from the dead and had left the tomb – leaving the stone in place. In other words, the most extraordinary claim of our faith – resurrection of Jesus – took place without fanfare and without an audience. We don’t know what happened or how it happened. We only know that Jesus’ disciples know that he has risen because he appeared to them – after he had first appeared to the women.

Gibson’s understated depiction of the resurrection is true to the gospel accounts of the event. The resurrection was not, as we might have expected it to be, an earth shattering, ground-breaking event – just the opposite. It occurred quietly and unobtrusively and without a single witness.

What a waste of an opportunity! Imagine the capital that could have been made by a very public, explosive event! Imagine If Jesus had chosen to stay in Jerusalem. Jerusalem was, after all, still filled with the pilgrims that had swelled its population for the Passover. What better place to announce Jesus’ victory over death, his triumph over his enemies? What better occasion to prove his detractors wrong? Why would he not use this opportunity to proclaim that he is indeed the Christ – the one sent by God? Why make the journey to the relative obscurity of Galilee and why, when there, does he only reveal himself to his disciples?

Why indeed? Because this is the whole point of the gospel. As we should know by now, Jesus was not an attention getter. In fact, the story of Jesus’ ministry ends as it began, with Jesus’ absolute refusal to be tempted to behave in any way that would attract acclaim, power, or glory. As with the earthly Jesus, so with the risen Jesus. He does not want to attract followers who are only interested in the hype – the miracles and the extra-ordinary. The risen Jesus, as was the earthly Jesus, is looking for followers who are there for the long haul, who will stick by him through thick and thin – followers who will take up their cross and follow him, followers who will not fall by the wayside when the going gets tough, followers who understand that faith is about relationship with Jesus and with the one true God, not about a life that is shielded from struggle and suffering.

We forget this at our peril.

Faith is not a series of dramatic, life-changing events, but a relationship based on the quiet assurance that Christ is alive and is as present to us as he was to his disciples. This is the message that we have to share – not that an all-powerful God will miraculously free us from all minor irritations and all serious inconveniences, but that God, in the risen Jesus is a constant presence with us – a source of peace, hope and strength. A God who may not prevent our suffering but will come alongside us in our distress. A God who does not seek power, and glory for their own sake, but who was prepared to abandon heaven, to show us how much we are loved.

Christ is risen!
He is risen indeed! Alleluia!

What is temptation?

February 25, 2023

Lent 1 – 2023 (Notes)
Matthew 4:1-11
Marian Free

In the name of God, Creator, Redeemer and Sanctifier. Amen.

I wonder what comes to your mind when you think of sin? I know a number of people who associate sin with breaking one of the Ten Commandments. A phrase that I have often heard is: ‘I don’t need to come to church, I am a good person, I don’t break the Ten Commandments.” When they say this, they are usually referring to the last six of the Ten Commandments – those that refer to murder, lying, adultery, murder, envy, honouring one’s parents and stealing. The problem with this attitude is twofold. Firstly, the these six commandments are relatively easy for most of us to keep. Secondly, they are the ground rules for living together in relative harmony. They are not unique to the Judea-Christian tradition, but are common to most cultures.
It is the first four commandments that are challenging and which people who consider themselves to be ‘good, Christian people’ seem to overlook. ‘I am the Lord your God, you shall have no other gods before me. You shall not make for yourself an idol. You shall not make wrongful use of the name of the Lord your God. Remember the Sabbath Day and keep it holy.’ The first four commandments have to do with our relationship with God, the last six, with our relationships with each other. The first four demand an exclusive relationship with the God who brought the Israelites out of Egypt, loyalty to the one true God. The others have to do with our relationships with each other. One could go so far as to argue that it is only the former that have to do with faith. The latter are common sense, practical rules to guide our lives together. (Going to church is not a prerequisite for keeping them.)
Unfortunately, the institution of the church has contributed to this oversimplified view of sin. Many of us grew up in a church culture that emphasised goodness over faithfulness. We were led to believe that God wanted us to behave and not taught that what God really wants is to be in relationship with us. This has led to a trivialisation of ‘sin’; a belief that ‘sin’ is misbehaviour and that earning God’s approval is a matter of being good, keeping the rules. As long as we don’t commit the big ticket crimes, we can assure ourselves that God is happy with us and that all is well with the world.
‘Sin’ properly understood is separation from, or competition with, God. This is clear from the very beginning. The first sin, that of eating the fruit from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, was just that – wanting to be like God, wanting to be God. There is only one tree forbidden to Adam and Eve. It is not the tree of life, but the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. As the serpent points out if they eat of the fruit of that tree: “You will not die; or God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil” (Gen 3:4,5). The first sin, was was not so much simple disobedience, it was the desire to be God, a desire that is played out again when the Hebrew people build the Tower of Babel.
Murder is a crime, lying, stealing and adultery hurt those whom we deceive or rob, envy eats away at us and failure to honour those who gave us life is a particular sort of selfishness, but believing that we can be God, failing to trust God (creating another kind of security net), or looking for quick fixes are the real sins that separate us from God and ultimately from each other.
These are the temptations that Jesus faces in the wilderness. Jesus is not tempted to steal or lie or to commit adultery. There is no little devil on his shoulder suggesting that he have a second helping of chocolate pudding (or some other trivial test of his character or will power). Jesus is being tempted to give in to those parts of his human nature that would destroy his relationship with God – pride, self-sufficiency and a desire for personal power. If he were to change stones into bread – which of course he could do – he would be demonstrating a reliance on himself rather than trust in God. If he were to throw himself off the steeple, he would be revealing that he saw God as a ‘rescuer’, a deliverer of ‘quick fixes’. If he were to bow down and worship the devil, he would be implying that God was not sufficient.
The temptations in the wilderness had nothing to do with our normal understanding of temptation, but with sin in the true sense of the word – separation from, distrust of and competition with God.
The three temptations can be summed up as: Stones into bread – ‘I can do it! (I don’t need God)’, throwing oneself off the cliff – God is only any good, when God performs miracles and, bowing before Satan – real power doesn’t belong to God.
This Lent, when you think again about what you might give up, what temptations your might resist think of the temptations faced by Jesus and ask yourself not whether or not you will be tempted to eat chocolate, but whether, put to the test, you would hold firm in your faith and resist the lure of self-sufficiency, quick fixes and ‘easy’ power.

What is temptation?

February 25, 2023

Lent 1 – 2023 (Notes)
Matthew 4:1-11
Marian Free

In the name of God, Creator, Redeemer and Sanctifier. Amen.

I wonder what comes to your mind when you think of sin? I know a number of people who associate sin with breaking one of the Ten Commandments. A phrase that I have often heard is: ‘I don’t need to come to church, I am a good person, I don’t break the Ten Commandments.” When they say this, they are usually referring to the last six of the Ten Commandments – those that refer to murder, lying, adultery, murder, envy, honouring one’s parents and stealing. The problem with this attitude is twofold. Firstly, the these six commandments are relatively easy for most of us to keep. Secondly, they are the ground rules for living together in relative harmony. They are not unique to the Judea-Christian tradition, but are common to most cultures.
It is the first four commandments that are challenging and which people who consider themselves to be ‘good, Christian people’ seem to overlook. ‘I am the Lord your God, you shall have no other gods before me. You shall not make for yourself an idol. You shall not make wrongful use of the name of the Lord your God. Remember the Sabbath Day and keep it holy.’ The first four commandments have to do with our relationship with God, the last six, with our relationships with each other. The first four demand an exclusive relationship with the God who brought the Israelites out of Egypt, loyalty to the one true God. The others have to do with our relationships with each other. One could go so far as to argue that it is only the former that have to do with faith. The latter are common sense, practical rules to guide our lives together. (Going to church is not a prerequisite for keeping them.)
Unfortunately, the institution of the church has contributed to this oversimplified view of sin. Many of us grew up in a church culture that emphasised goodness over faithfulness. We were led to believe that God wanted us to behave and not taught that what God really wants is to be in relationship with us. This has led to a trivialisation of ‘sin’; a belief that ‘sin’ is misbehaviour and that earning God’s approval is a matter of being good, keeping the rules. As long as we don’t commit the big ticket crimes, we can assure ourselves that God is happy with us and that all is well with the world.
‘Sin’ properly understood is separation from, or competition with, God. This is clear from the very beginning. The first sin, that of eating the fruit from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, was just that – wanting to be like God, wanting to be God. There is only one tree forbidden to Adam and Eve. It is not the tree of life, but the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. As the serpent points out if they eat of the fruit of that tree: “You will not die; or God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil” (Gen 3:4,5). The first sin, was was not so much simple disobedience, it was the desire to be God, a desire that is played out again when the Hebrew people build the Tower of Babel.
Murder is a crime, lying, stealing and adultery hurt those whom we deceive or rob, envy eats away at us and failure to honour those who gave us life is a particular sort of selfishness, but believing that we can be God, failing to trust God (creating another kind of security net), or looking for quick fixes are the real sins that separate us from God and ultimately from each other.
These are the temptations that Jesus faces in the wilderness. Jesus is not tempted to steal or lie or to commit adultery. There is no little devil on his shoulder suggesting that he have a second helping of chocolate pudding (or some other trivial test of his character or will power). Jesus is being tempted to give in to those parts of his human nature that would destroy his relationship with God – pride, self-sufficiency and a desire for personal power. If he were to change stones into bread – which of course he could do – he would be demonstrating a reliance on himself rather than trust in God. If he were to throw himself off the steeple, he would be revealing that he saw God as a ‘rescuer’, a deliverer of ‘quick fixes’. If he were to bow down and worship the devil, he would be implying that God was not sufficient.
The temptations in the wilderness had nothing to do with our normal understanding of temptation, but with sin in the true sense of the word – separation from, distrust of and competition with God.
The three temptations can be summed up as: Stones into bread – ‘I can do it! (I don’t need God)’, throwing oneself off the cliff – God is only any good, when God performs miracles and, bowing before Satan – real power doesn’t belong to God.
This Lent, when you think again about what you might give up, what temptations your might resist think of the temptations faced by Jesus and ask yourself not whether or not you will be tempted to eat chocolate, but whether, put to the test, you would hold firm in your faith and resist the lure of self-sufficiency, quick fixes and ‘easy’ power.

Sustaining faith in the mundane

February 17, 2023

Transfiguration – 2023 (some thoughts)
Matthew 17:1-19
Marian Free

In the name of God who sustains us in good times and bad. Amen.

There are a number of expressions that are used to describe the spiritual journey – ‘mountain top experiences’, ‘the desert’ and ‘the dark night of the soul’. Our experience of God is constantly changing. There are times in our spiritual journeys that come close to ecstasy and other times that seem mundane (and even tedious). The great spiritual writers speak both of times of great closeness to God and times of absence or dryness. Somehow, they found ways to sustain their faith even when the presence (or sense) of God was elusive.

Such was not the case for the ancient Israelites, at least as we read the accounts of the escape from Egypt. As Moses led the people through the desert, they constantly complained about God’s failure to provide for them. They looked back on their time of slavery with rose coloured glasses and, when Moses was on the mountain top conversing with God they made a golden calf and worshipped it. It seemed, that, without the constant, physical evidence of the presence of God, they could not maintain their faith in God. Or perhaps it was that their faith in God had not been built on a foundation that could sustain them in times when God’s presence was not blatantly present in signs and wonders.

it is not our place to stand in judgment but we can perhaps think of people among our own acquaintances whose faith seems to be shaken by (to us) the smallest of things, or whose faith is destroyed when tragedy strikes. We might also be able to think of people or faith communities that are always looking for the next high whether in worship or in their daily prayer lives.

‘Mountain top’ experiences or spiritual highs can be addictive. They make the illusive presence of God real and tangible. It is no wonder that we don’t want to let go of such experiences, that we want to make them last as long as possible. We can all relate to Peter and his desire to capture that moment on the mountain-top – “I will make three dwellings here,” he says. For this fisherman, this was almost certainly the most extraordinary experience of his life. It was also proof positive that Jesus was indeed someone special, someone close to, in a deep relationship with God, someone worth following. But even while Peter is still speaking, he is overcome with fear, and when he looks up he sees Jesus alone. The moment has passed.

God’s presence is as terrifying as it is exhilarating and no one can sustain the intensity of that experience. Jesus’ companions, Peter, James and John must return to their everyday lives and find ways to sustain their faith in the midst of the ordinariness, and in their case, the stresses and anxieties of discipleship. (A lesson they must learn again when Jesus leaves them to return to the Father.)

Not all of us are blessed with intense spiritual experiences, but all of us, like Peter must discover tools that support our faith journey in the mundane as well as in the sublime. We must find a bedrock on which to build a strong and solid faith that will not waver in the most testing or the driest of times.

One way to do this is through the discipline of the Daily Office. The Office (from the Latin for ‘work’) – is a unique way to pray. The text (which is based almost entirely on Scripture) is predetermined. This means that no matter what our state of mind, we can say the words on the page (or the ePray app) and, because the form and the words are in front of us, saying the Office helps to keep our thoughts in check. The Office is not the emotional, spur of the moment prayer of pleading or of giving thanks, but a dispassionate form of prayer that takes our own needs and desires out of the equation. We can say the office anywhere and at any time, by ourselves or in company. In a sense however, we never say it alone, because at any one time, there is sure to be someone, somewhere joining with us. The Office, said by lay and ordained members of the Anglican Communion, is a continual prayer – as one person finishes, someone, somewhere begins.

Praying the Daily Office, sustains us in those times when we don’t feel particularly connected to God, when we are anxious or afraid, when we are grief stricken or filled with despair. At such times the structure and discipline provides a sense of stability, order and groundedness.

Mountain top experiences are inspiring and exhilarating but they rarely last. The majority of our spiritual journey will occur during the daily grind of everyday living. We cannot capture and contain the highs which by nature are few and fleeting, but we can be continually sustained and fed through regular and dispassionate prayer.

If this has not been your practice, perhaps you could try the Office as your Lenten discipline. Who knows, you might find that you want to make it a part of your daily routine.

You have heard it said, but I say

February 11, 2023

Epiphany 6 – 2023
Matthew 5:21-37
Marian Free

In the name of God, who sees not only our outward behaviours, but who also knows the state of our hearts. Amen.

“But let’s not fool ourselves; there is a place called hell. It’s the place we create for each other every time we choose an easy and austere legalism over an arduous and radical love.”

As I prepared for this week’s sermon, I was particularly taken by this quote from Debie Thomas’s reflection on today’s passage. Jesus’ teaching and, in particular the way in which Matthew records Jesus’ teaching, has all too often led to a narrow, legalistic and therefore harsh, judgemental and condemnatory understanding of Jesus’ teaching and therefore of God.

A first look at the so-called anti-theses of the Sermon on the Mount would certainly seem to suggest that Jesus is presenting a stricter, tighter view of the law than the contemporary interpretation of it. Six times he says: “I have heard it said, but I say to you.” “You have heard it said: ‘Do not murder,’ but I say to you whoever calls their brother ‘fool’ is liable to the hell of fire.” “You have heard it said: ‘you shall not commit adultery’, but I say to you: ‘whoever looks at a woman with lust has already committed adultery in with her in his heart.’” When one considers that Jesus has introduced these verses by saying that he had not come to abolish the law, but to fulfill it, it is possible to mistakenly believe that Jesus’ purpose was to ensure strict adherence to the letter of the law, and to refine the definition of certain laws so that there might be no mistaking what it meant to break the law.

A closer reading of the text (and the gospel as a whole) reveals that Jesus’ intention is just the opposite – that instead of imposing “an easy and austere legalism” he is preaching “an arduous and radical love”. Jesus is not, as it might first appear, insisting that his followers be more righteous than the scribes and the Pharisees. Instead, he is using exaggeration to expose the absurdity of a strict legalistic point of view. Jesus makes it clear that while it is relatively easy to obey the letter of the law, it is almost impossible to truly honour the intention of the law – which is a relationship with God and with each other that is free from pettiness, competition, hatred, selfishness, and all other emotions that come between us. Indirectly then, Jesus is making it clear to the self-righteous, law-abiding citizens of Israel, that it is not the letter of the law, but the spirit of the law that is important. In other words, a superficial observance of the law will not change the heart, nor will it restore broken relationships, demonstrate compassion, show forgiveness or indicate understanding instead, it will lead to judgmentalism and self-righteousness or to self-loathing, fear, and anxiety.

That Jesus is using hyperbole is evident in the phrase with which this section of the Sermon on the Mount concludes: “Be perfect therefore as your heavenly Father is perfect.” Jesus’ listeners would have understood that no one could achieve perfection, let alone compare themselves with God. This would have put all that preceded these words into perspective. They would have realised that if no one can be perfect and in true humility have lowered their expectations of themselves and others – making them less judgemental and more tolerant and forgiving.

That Jesus is critiquing the outward observance of law is evidenced in the next section of the Sermon (which will be read on Ash Wednesday) in which Jesus warns against “practicing piety before others in order to be seen by them” (6:1). That Jesus’ interpretation is expansive rather than restrictive and that he is speaking of “radical love not narrow legalism” is demonstrated through a thorough investigation of this whole argument – not simply of the three anti-theses that we are asked to read today.

There are six anti-theses in all. In each Jesus expands the contemporary interpretation of the law – emphasising generosity of spirit over hardness of heart. If the first four can be misread as Jesus’ tightening legal restrictions, the last two certainly cannot and it is in the light of these (and in what follows), that we must interpret them all. “You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth. But I say to you Do not resist an evil doer. If anyone forces you to go one mile, go also the second mile” (5:38-42). “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbour and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, ‘Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you’” (5:43-47).

Jesus begins with the 6th commandment: “You shall not murder.” Then, as now, there would have been people who congratulated themselves for keeping the 10 commandments and thought that thereby they had fulfilled the requirements of the law. They would have congratulated themselves because they were not murderers or adulterers, not thinking to ask if at the same time they despised or demeaned other people, or whether they objectified or depersonalised women – faults that are not so blatant to be sure, but which are equally damaging.

It is people such as these whom Jesus is calling to task. He is exposing the fact that keeping the letter of the law is relatively easy, but that we can’t congratulate ourselves for not being murderers when our hearts are filled with hatred or contempt for our fellow human beings. Jesus’ anti-theses are not intended to create a new legalism or to weigh his listeners down with impossible demands. Rather by using hyperbole to make his point, Jesus’ anti-theses shine a light on a narrow interpretation of the law which is limited and limiting, controlling, and damaging –to the perpetrator as well as to the target.

Jesus exposes the limitations of an interpretation of the law which allows people (who have adopted and “easy and austere legalism”) to believe that they have fulfilled the law’s requirements, and which gives them permission to overlook their shortcomings.

Through six ante-theses, Jesus enlarges the understanding of the law, reminding us that perfection is almost certainly beyond our reach. In so doing Jesus saves us from self-reliance, self-satisfaction and pride – which are the real sins that separate each other from God.

“But let’s not fool ourselves; there is a place called hell. It’s the place we create for each other every time we choose an easy and austere legalism over an arduous and radical love.”