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Saying “yes” is all it takes

October 10, 2020

Pentecost 18 – 2020

Matthew 22:1-14

Marian Free

In the name of God who invites us all to the heavenly banquet. Amen.

Some of you will know the Jane Austen novel Emma. Emma is the daughter of a gentleman, and a member of a family of property and status in her small society. Emma takes her position seriously and believes she should lead by example and maintain the distinction of rank. There are people in the village with whom she is very happy to mingle, but she has very clear ideas as to who would and would not be suitable acquaintances. Emma takes a shine to Harriet, an orphan whose origins are unknown. She is certain that Harriet is the daughter of a gentleman and is determined that Harriet learn the niceties of mixing in society and that she should marry someone who is equal to the person Emma believes her to be. 

When Harriet receives a proposal of marriage from a tenant farmer, Emma not so subtly suggests that Harriet should decline the offer – such a match would necessarily end their friendship. In a such stratified society to mix socially with someone of another (lower) class, would be to be seen to be lowering one’s standards. While such an action might not directly affect a person’s position or rank, it would cause others to look askance and to question their respect for the values and mores of the time.  While Emma could almost certainly afford to break the rules – she might be considered eccentric – her family’s position and wealth would be secure. 

Such was not the case in the equally stratified society of Jesus’ time. People, especially those of rank, were very aware of their position and very anxious to retain the respect and honour that came with it. The difference between society in the Roman Empire and that of Jane Austen’s England was that position and rank were much more tenuous – based not on a person’s birth or wealth, but on their ability to gain and to maintain honour in the eyes of their peers. Nearly every interaction was determined by notions of honour and shame and there existed strict rules of engagement to ensure that no one unintentionally challenged the honour of another.  There was only so much honour to go around. If someone wished to enhance their own place in society, they would have to do so at the expense of another.

Honour and shame lie behind the exchanges between Jesus and the chief priests and scribes in this section of Matthew’s gospel. Jesus’ opponents felt diminished by Jesus’ actions and wanted to regain their position of influence with, and power over, the people. In order to achieve this, they tried to confound Jesus by asking a difficult question. Jesus answered a question with a question and, when the chief priests and scribes were unable to answer, he pressed his advantage by telling not one, but three parables aimed squarely at them. 

In this, the last of the three parables, honour and shame are a central theme. It was not unusual for two invitations to be issued for a meal. The first invitation allowed the invitees to determine who else had been invited and to decide whether or not their honour would be enhanced or compromised by their attendance. Invitees would only attend if other guests were of equal or higher status than themselves. For unknown reasons, the guests in this parable make light of the invitation and simply go about their business.  The host is furious, he has been seriously humiliated and his honour gravely damaged by the reaction of the “invitees”. Worse, to add insult to injury, the intended guests further slight the host by seizing, beating and killing his slaves.

It is interesting and important to note the differences between the ways in Matthew and Luke record this parable. In Matthew the invitations are issued by a king. The king restores his position by violently destroying the proposed guest list. In their place he invited people of no consequence at all – good and bad alike  – a further injury if the intended guests had been alive to see it. In contrast, Luke’s host is just “someone”, the guests make flimsy excuses for not attending, the slaves are not killed, and the guests are not destroyed. Those invited instead are, first of all, the poor, the crippled, the blind and the lame – again an insult to the original guest list but consistent with Luke’s emphasis on God’s preference for the poor.

The differences between the two evangelists are significant. They reveal the agendas of Luke and Matthew. While both suggest that outsiders, not the invited, will be the guests at the banquet, Luke sets the parable in the context of a dinner at which Jesus is encouraging humility. Matthew includes the parable in the debate between Jesus and his opponents in Jerusalem. The violence in Matthew’s account (absent in Luke) fits with the earlier parable of the vineyard and suggests that Matthew is providing a short history lesson about Israel’s rejection of God’s agents and is looking ahead to the destruction of Jerusalem. 

In this, the third parable directed against the chief priests and scribes, Matthew’s Jesus makes it clear that in refusing to accept him the chief priests and scribes are refusing God’s invitation to be a part of the kingdom. That being the case, God will give the vineyard to others and welcome outsiders to the banquet. 

Put together, the three parables in this section are a warning that we should not become complacent or to take for granted our place in the kingdom. Taking the vineyard for ourselves or being too proud to accept the invitation to the banquet demonstrate a failure to understand that our salvation depends – not on what we do bu on what God does for us. They remind us that it is God (not us) who will determine who does and does not belong and tell us that if we rely on ourselves and on what we do and do not do, we demonstrate our independence from God and are in grave danger of being oblivious to or ungracious in regard to God’s invitation. 

Our salvation relies not on anything that we (or anyone else) has done, but rather on what God has done for all humankind. Our primary responsibility is not to come to our own conclusions (about ourselves or others) but to humbly and gratefully accept the invitation to be a part of the kingdom – that the rest will take care of itself.

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Who’s vineyard is it anyway?

October 3, 2020

Pentecost 18 – 2020

Matthew 21:31-46

Marian Free

May I speak in the name of God, Creator, Death-defier and Empowerer. Amen. 

By all accounts I was wise not to try to watch the Trump/Biden debate during the week. I hear that it was a complete debacle and not a debate at all. At its best the Presidential debate (or indeed any debate between potential leaders) is intended to allow the candidates to lay out their positions and their polices and to attack and criticise their opponent’s policies and positions. Each person hopes to expose the inadequacies and flaws both of their opponents’ policies and of their capacity to lead. A skilful debater will present their position in a way most likely to gain the attention and sympathy of the audience (voters). He or she will frame questions that force the other to state something in a way that plays into their own argument or they will bait the other candidate until that person says something unwise that can (in that debate or at a later time) be used against them.

Today’s parable about the vineyard and the “wicked tenants” has to be seen in the context of this sort of debate. Jesus’ triumphant entry into Jerusalem and his subsequent actions in the Temple have given him the ascendancy over the leaders (secular and religious) in Jerusalem. He has gained the attention and the loyalty of the crowds – at least for now.  Threatened and anxious about losing their place in the community the various leaders approach Jesus in turn, each trying to trap him or expose him in argument. 

The question with which this section of Matthew’s gospel began was about authority. The chief priests and elders ask: “By what authority are you doing these things, and who gave you this authority?” The leaders, who have authority by virtue of their role and wealth, hope to demonstrate to the crowds that Jesus has no legitimacy in the wider community and certainly no authority to teach and to heal. They hope to expose him as a charlatan, and thereby to re-establish their own positions of leadership among the people.

Jesus is not so easy to ensnare. He responds by turning the table on his opponents. Firstly, he asks them a question that he knows that they will not be able to answer. Then, pressing his advantage, Jesus continues by telling three parables that are intended to support his own claim to authority while at the same time exposing the illegitimacy of the Jerusalem establishment.

The parable of the vineyard uses imagery from Isaiah 5. Though Jesus begins the parable in the same way, he takes it in a very different direction. In both instances we are to assume that it is God who has planted the vines, built a watchtower and dug out a wine vat. The results of the planting are very different. In Isaiah, despite the best efforts of the one who planted the vine, the yield is no good. The vine (Israel) produces wild grapes. As a consequence, the vineyard is abandoned to the elements, which in turn leads to its destruction. In contrast, as Jesus retells the parable, the issue is not the quality of the fruit but the desire of the tenants to have control over the yield. It is a matter of who gets what and how do they get it.

Absentee landlords were a common feature of the Palestinian landscape. Soldiers, senators and others loyal to Caesar were rewarded with tracts of land in the nations that had been conquered by Rome. That did not mean that the recipients wanted to live so far from the centre of power. Their land was leased to tenants who were expected to look after the land and its crop in return for a portion of what was produced. 

On a superficial level Jesus’ parable is a short history of Israel who shunned and even killed those whom God sent to bring them back to God and a prediction of what is about to happen to the son (Jesus), who like the prophets has been sent to disrupt the status quo and to reassert God’s sovereignty over the people of Israel. In the context of Jesus’ debate with the chief priests and elders, the underlying issue must be seen as one of authority. By killing, first of all the slaves, and then the son, the tenants are trying to establish control over the distribution of the crop. They are claiming responsibility for the vineyard and therefore for the fruit. Killing the son will only establish what they already believe to be true – that the crop is the result of their efforts and is therefore theirs. 

We are to believe that the tenants are the chief priests and elders against whom Jesus tells this parable. His point seems to be that they have such a high opinion of themselves and are so confident of their roles as leaders of the church that they believe that any growth, any success (failure) is a result of their efforts. In other words, they have taken upon themselves something that is essentially God’s. Given that Jesus is telling this parable about the chief priests and the elders, it appears that Jesus is accusing them of trying to take over the vineyard or in other words trying to take God’s place in the life of Israel. The authority that they claim for themselves is authority taken and not bestowed. Worse it fails to acknowledge God’s ultimate authority.

It is easy for us to sit back and pass judgement on the egocentric, power-hungry leaders of the first century. But, just as Jesus takes a story from centuries past and applies it to his own generation, so we need to understand what this parable is saying – not to the chief priests and elders – but to us and to the church of ourday. 

Imagining that Jesus is critiquing us and our desire to be in control, we could ask ourselves some questions. As church, do we really understand ourselves to be tenant farmers producing a crop for the landowner (God), or do we, like the leaders of the Jerusalem community feel that we need to be in control of the outcomes? Do we believe that the fruit that is produced (if there is fruit) belongs to God or do we want to claim all the credit (and the fruit) for ourselves? In these times of COVID are we afraid to cede control of the vineyard (the church) and the crop (the results of our efforts to maintain the church) to God or do we need to retain our control? 

So much of our (the church’s) effort over the course of my life (50+years) has been expended on worrying about the future of the church – as if it all depended on us and on our own individual and collective efforts. This parable reminds us whose church it is and who has ultimate authority. When God asks for what is God’s, let us pray that we have the grace to let go and let God have what is God’s.

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Authority that emanates from within

September 26, 2020

Pentecost 17 – 2020

Matthew 21:21-32

Marian Free

May I speak in name of God who is and was and is to come. Amen.

In the distant past when I was studying undergraduate subjects in biblical studies, I had an amazing lecturer. I can no longer remember which subject we were studying but I do remember his innovative way of teaching. At the beginning of Semester, he presented us with a copy of the lectures that were sent to external students. The idea was that we should read the lectures and come to class with our questions. This was so novel that I was particularly diligent and, though I don’t remember what spurred the question, I clearly remember asking what it was that made Jesus different. Why, in other words, did the early church so readily identify Jesus with God? Apparently the answer was simple and clear – it was Jesus’ authority. The lecturer did not point to Jesus’ miracles, his power over nature or his teaching, but to his authority – not authority given or assumed, but authority that was innate, that was an integral part of who and what Jesus was. He did not need to have anyone or anything authorize his actions or his words, he was sufficient I and of himself.

The Greek root ‘auto/autos’ means “self” or “directed from within” and the Greek ‘autos’ can be translated as self or same. We use it in a great many words – automobile, autonomy automatic, autograph. It is also the root of the word authority. Jesus had authority in that he relied on himself and not on his role, his job description or his superiors. He did not defer to others or call on his position to justify himself, nor did he need to. He did not need to claim an external support in order for demons to obey him, for the winds to cease or for people to believe him. His authority – derived from his very being – was evident to the natural world, the supernatural world and to humankind.

Today’s gospel is about authority – who has it and from what does that authority derive?

As is so often the case, the setting of this encounter is important. The lectionary takes us from chapter 20:1-16 to 21:23-32. As a consequence, unless we are studiously reading Matthew’s gospel in its entirety, we see Jesus’ argument with the chief priests and elders as an isolated event rather than in its context. To fill you in – Jesus has come into Jerusalem amid much fanfare and adulation. He has entered the Temple and overturned the tables of the moneychangers and he had further enraged the elders and chief priests by healing the blind and the lame who in turn identified Jesus as the Son of David. On the next day, as Jesus returned to Jerusalem, from Bethany, he cursed a fig tree that had no fruit and the tree withered at once. His authority – over nature, over illness and over the people – is obvious. No wonder then, that the chief priests and the elders were questioning the source of his authority. Jesus’ very presence challenges their authority – in the Temple and as leaders of the people. If they are to regain their position of authority (an authority bestowed by role or by wealth) they will need to reassert themselves. They attempt to do this by taking Jesus on, hoping that their question will stump him and will thereby bring him into disrepute with the people. If they succeed Jesus will be put to shame and the people will turn from him and submit to them.

What happens is just the opposite.

Today’s battle for authority is just the beginning of a series of challenges that the various leaders put to Jesus.  Once the chief priests and elders have been defeated (and been exposed in a series of parables), the Pharisees attempt to entrap Jesus (sending in their place their disciples and the Herodians). Next a group of Sadducees try to expose him. Lastly, a lawyer puts a question to Jesus. When all these attempts to trap Jesus fail, Jesus turns the tables on the church leaders who “from then on do not dare to ask him any questions.” This effectively puts an end to the debate but, but not to their rage as Jesus has inflamed rather than dampened their sensibilities.

Today’s gospel describes the first of the challenges. The chief priests and elders approach  Jesus and ask him to justify himself. They ask two questions which are only slightly different. “By what authority (or what kind of authority) are you doing these things (i.e., casting the money changers out of the Temple and healing the blind and the lame )?” and “Who gave you this authority?” ‘The first question is about the nature of Jesus’ authority, the second about its source. (see also Matthew 9:34, 12:24).[i]‘  Jesus answers a question with a question. What, he wonders, do they mean by authority? Can they tell the people, for example, where John’s baptism came from – ‘from heaven or from man’? Of course they can’t. Jesus has them over a barrel. If they say from heaven, the crowd will ask why they themselves have not been baptized. On the other hand, if they say from man, they will antagonise the very crowds whose loyalty they are trying to regain.

In this first challenge, Jesus has maintained the upper hand. The chief priests and elders are forced to acknowledge that they don’t know from where John’s baptism comes. Jesus presses home his advantage by telling parables directed at them. Their authority is baseless. It is entirely dependent on their ability to influence and control the crowds and very little to do with an authority which should be derived from their service to God. The crowds are already resentful of an elite that depends on Rome for validation. On the other hand, they recognise that Jesus’ authority emanates from himself. He needs no external validation and it is this that draws the crowds to him.

We don’t have to understand the Nicene Creed or the complex theological arguments as to why Jesus might be both God and man. Jesus’ own authority affirms his divinity. The crowds needed nothing more – neither should we.

[i] Direct quote from Stanley Saunders, Working Preacher for today.

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Being seen with God’s eyes

September 19, 2020

Pentecost 16 – 2020

Matthew 20:1-16

Marian Free

In the name of God who sees us for who we are, not for who we are not. Amen.

There is a video that does the round of FACEBOOK from time to time. In it a group of Christian school leavers are lined up as if for a race. They are told that the winner will receive $100 – but this is no ordinary race. The organiser begins not with a starter’s gun, but with instructions: “I am going to make a couple of statements. If those statements apply to you, take two steps forward.” He begins: “take two steps forward if you grew up in a stable household, take two steps forward if you had access to a private education, take two steps forward if you never had to help mum and dad with the bills, take two steps forward if you never wondered where your next meal was coming from[1].” As the ‘race’ continues those who are taking the lead become increasingly uncomfortable as they leave the others behind. At the end of the instructions, some are near the finish line, but there are still a few who have not even left the starting blocks. When he has finished with the instructions, the organiser reminds the students who are in the lead: “Every statement I’ve made has nothing to do with what you have done or decisions that you have made. The reality is that despite that you have been given a head start and its only because of that head start that you are going to win this race called life.” 

While video is simplistic and just a little preachy the “race” is something of an enacted parable. It dramatises the fact that some of us have advantages that give us a head start with regard to education and therefore to employment and to a career.  The “race” serves as a reminder that there are many in our community who never get to leave the blocks in the race of life – children who can’t concentrate at school because they are always hungry, who can’t complete their homework because they do not have a stable home, or because they cannot afford school books. It helps us to recognize that there are adults who have never been able to overcome the abuse or neglect that they suffered in their childhoods or who have physical or mental disabilities that limit what they can and can’t do: that there are men and women who cannot work because they have been severely injured in an accident or who are suffering from a terminal disease. At present, we are being forcibly reminded that forces not of our own making can leave people without work or with reduced hours at work. The global pandemic has meant that even those who thought that they were secure, that they were easily employable and that they could always pay their bills are now in danger (through no fault of their own) of falling behind.

Today’s parable is problematic for many of us. It offends our sense of justice. We see only the surface of the story and bristle with indignation at the unfairness of it all – what possesses the landowner to pay everyone equally? The latecomers – the lazy, good-for-nothing lay abouts – do not deserve a handout. 

The video of the race, however simplistic, gives us a different way of looking at the parable. Hopefully it helps us to be more sympathetic to the late comers – there might after all be reasons for their still being in the marketplace at the end of the day.

Today’s gospel is a parable, not a story or a piece of history – there is no vineyard and no marketplace. It is intended to challenge or confront our established modes of thinking about God.

A little background is useful. Palestine in the time of Jesus was occupied by Rome. Large parcels of land had been given to Roman soldiers as a reward for their service. The effect of this was to push farmers off the land. People who had previously scraped a living from the soil were now forced to earn a pittance as day-labourers. This entailed going to the square in the morning and hoping that someone would employ them. Employers had their pick. One imagines that they would pick the fittest first. Why pay for someone who would not work as quickly and as productively as another? 

Parables are notoriously short on detail, so we tend to add our own. It is unlikely that a landowner would return again and again to the marketplace – he would have known how many people he required. Maybe rain was imminent, or the original workers were not as efficient as the landowner had hoped. Whatever the case, when the landowner returned to the marketplace, he found those whom others had not employed – those who would contribute little to the harvest, those who clearly had less to offer an employer. Regardless, they have not gone home. They have not given up. The workers who are still there at the end of the day are not lazy. They are still there – waiting, waiting and hoping that they might get at least one hours work and have some small amount of pay to take home to their families.

In the end the detail does not matter. The parable is not about who gets paid what or who works the longest. The point is that God does not distinguish or discriminate. God doesn’t measure us up one against another or dole out God’s love according to merit. God loves us equally – whether we deserve it or not.

It is not, and never will be a competition – you can pray more than me, you can fast more than me, you can come to church more than me, you can do more good works than me, you can be more humble than me – and all that is good. But I am confident that no matter how far short I fall; how imperfect I am or how faltering my spiritual journey – God will not love you more and me less. At the end of the day I know that God loves you and I can be confident that God loves me.

[1] For the video and a commentary see – https://www.yahoo.com/lifestyle/as-a-video-about-white-privilege-goes-viral-again-experts-caution-it-could-actually-cause-more-damage-170528763.html

I’ve adapted it somewhat as it is a little superficial and very American.

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Something for nothing

September 12, 2020

Pentecost 15 -2020

Matthew 18:21-35

Marian Free

In the name of God who longs to gather us under his/her wings as a mother hen gathers her chicks. Amen.

God can’t make it right.

I don’t often, if ever, begin where I left off the previous week, but it seems particularly appropriate this week. Chapter 18 of Matthew is best considered as a whole. In it the author of Matthew has gathered the sayings of Jesus that have advice as to how to live in community. It includes an exhortation to become as a child and warns the community not to do anything that would hurt the vulnerable among them. Jesus continues with a dramatic and gruesome encouragement to look to their own lives and remove from themselves all that causes harm. Jesus’ concern for the outcast is illustrated by the parable of the lost sheep (which is also a not so subtle reminder that he expects the majority to remain in the fold while he is off looking for the one that is lost). In last week’s reading from the gospel, Jesus gave the community some advice regarding dispute resolution suggesting at the same time that what was bound on earth was bound in heaven.  

Finally, Jesus responds to Peter’s question about forgiveness, specifically forgiveness of a fellow member of the community. 

Peter, who obviously knows Jesus’ attitude to forgiveness, asks a question intending, it seems, to demonstrate his own magnanimity – forgiving seven times seven is surely generous!  Jesus plays Peter at his own game – not seven times seven but seventy times seven! Peter’s question indicates that he has in fact learnt nothing. It also exposes his own small-mindedness. In God’s eyes there is no limit to forgiveness. In fact, God does not even keep count! Peter’s question alone reveals that he believes that forgiveness has its boundaries, that it can be used up if a person goes too far. 

By way of illustrating Peter’s niggardliness, meanness and lack of generosity, Jesus tells a parable about an extraordinary debt – something like $2.5m in today’s terms. No one would have a hope of paying back such an amount, let alone a slave and surely no one, not even a king, could afford to lose (forgive or overlook) that sort of fortune. Yet, in response to the man’s pleas, the king forgives the debt – every cent. There is no suggestion of paying it back with interest and no hint of indebtedness. The slate is wiped clean, the slave owes nothing at all. You would think, wouldn’t you, that the slave would leave the king’s presence overwhelmed with gratitude, wonder and a deep sense of humility, but no, the man has learnt nothing from the experience. (One notices in retrospect that he has not even thanked the king!)

Perhaps then we should not be surprised to learn that his first action on leaving the king is to grab hold of a fellow slave and demand the repayment of a paltry amount. Unlike the king, the first slave is completely deaf to the pleas of his fellow slave and has him thrown into prison. He has learnt nothing. The king’s generosity has not touched his heart. It appears that he simply could not understand that his slate could be wiped clean, nor could he believe that repayment would not be exacted at some future date. His failure (or inability) to truly grasp the generosity and magnanimity of the king has denied him the benefits of forgiveness and has shut him off from the generosity that was so freely offered. (One could argue that he was already in a prison of his own making or, as Kavanaugh suggests, the state of his soul had been so hardened that no amount of compassion and kindness could soften it[1].

Peter’s mistake was to believe that there was some sort of mathematics of reconciliation (Kavanaugh again), that forgiveness was a numbers game that could be measured and doled out. Jesus’ response and the accompanying parable give the lie to this point of view. God simply does not operate in this way. God’s forgiveness knows no limits. There may come a time when we turn our backs on God, but God never turns God’s back on us.

In our “tit for tat” economy, we find it hard to believe in something for nothing. If someone hurts us, we expect some form of recompense and sadly we attribute to God our own smallness of mind and meanness of spirit. Yet surely the message of the cross is this – humankind had done nothing at all to warrant, let alone earn such self-sacrificial love, but God extended that love anyway.

It is our foolish pride, our unnecessary self-consciousness and our stubborn independence that cuts us off from the love of God. It is not God, but our failure to believe that we are loved and forgiven that locks us out of the kingdom. If we shut ourselves off from God’s boundless love, if we fail to believe in God’s limitless forgiveness and if we refuse to allow ourselves to be carried back to the fold, there is nothing that God can do.  

If we shut ourselves off from God’s love, if we refuse to be gathered into the fold, there is ultimately nothing that God can do for us. If having been forgiven a debt of the size of that of the slave, we still don’t understand God’s goodness and boundless generosity, there is little more that God can do to prove that love. If we don’t want to be held in God’s loving embrace, or to be carried on God’s shoulders back to the fold, God is not going to force our hand. We have to swallow our pride and relax into God’s all-embracing, forgiving love and, when we do, we will discover in ourselves the same expansive generosity that will allow us to love and to forgive – not seven times seven, but seventy times seven.

[1] https://liturgy.slu.edu/24OrdA091320/theword_kavanaugh.html

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Heaven can’t make it right

September 5, 2020

Pentecost 14 – 2020

Matthew 18:15-20

Marian Free

May I speak in the name of God, in whom we have our beginning and our ending. Amen.

Those of you who have written a eulogy for a loved one will know how difficult the task can be. If the deceased has lived a long and rewarding life it is impossible to condense that life into just a few paragraphs. If the deceased is young, it is even harder. How do you make sense of the lost potential and find words to honour a life that was too short? Perhaps the most difficult eulogies to write are those for people whose lives have caused pain and trauma for others. I attended one such funeral. The deceased was known to have been an abusive person and I waited uneasily for the eulogist to stand and extol them, to gloss over their defects and to make out that theirs had been a good and worthy life. Thankfully, I need not have worried – what was said was an honest reflection of the life of the deceased. It referred to the usual things: birth, marriage and work and while it did mention the person’s achievements, it didn’t shy away from mentioning their negative characteristics. While the eulogy didn’t directly name the abusive behaviour, it did make clear that the deceased had at times acted in such a way as to cause harm to those closest to them. The eulogy allowed us to farewell someone whom we knew – not some idealised figment of the imagination.  

Clearly, I believe that honesty at a funeral is important. Those present need to feel they are saying farewell to someone whom they know, not to a romanticised stranger. That said, a funeral is not, I believe, a place to settle scores or to air dirty linen – something that Bill Edgar has turned into a successful business. Edgar, a private detective, has morphed his role into what he calls “a coffin confessor”[1]. Clients can employ him to gatecrash funerals where he exposes the secrets and the hypocrisy – not of the deceased, but of the living. For a figure of $10,000 Edgar will attend a funeral to interrupt a eulogy and inform the congregation that the eulogist was trying to have an affair with the wife of the deceased. Or, he might be paid the same amount to escort from the church members of the family who had not visited the deceased for thirty years or more. If anyone tries to prevent Edgar from carrying out his instructions, his client will have pre-empted the situation and have authorised him to take the body away for a private ceremony.

Edgar justifies his role by saying that he has to respect his client’s wishes and by asking: “how many funerals have you been to and listened to absolute rubbish?” 

Surely though, funerals are for the living and not for the dead, they are an opportunity to honour a life and to draw a line in the sand that helps family and friends to acknowledge their loss and to begin to adapt to absence. They are not the place to open or to rub salt into wounds, to exact some sort of retribution or to expose unresolved issues. Employing a “coffin confessor” in the end says more about the person employing him than those whom they see as having caused the injury.

As a culture we are not very good at dealing with conflict – but imagine reaching your deathbed being so bitter and so angry that you would want to cause irrevocable harm after you have gone. Imagine nursing a festering wound for months or years, not wanting it to heal but instead unleashing all its pain when the relationship has no opportunity to be restored, when no redress can be made, and no apology offered? Imagine how unhappy a person must be at the point of dying if they have stored up the hurts and grievances of a lifetime instead of confronting them? I wonder what satisfaction they think that they will get from exposing the perpetrators of that harm, when they themselves are no longer around to see the effects of their action? 

One wonders what sort of vision such a person has of the afterlife? Do they really expect to spend eternity filled with malice and unhappiness – nursing their grievances but secretly pleased that they have been able to unleash havoc on those whom they hold responsible for their pain? Indeed, do they believe that there is a place in heaven for those who wish to lick their wounds and to gloat over the retribution that they have exacted on those whom they have left behind? 

Today’s gospel points out the danger of not resolving conflict in this lifetime. In dealing with differences in the community, Jesus seems to be suggesting that what we bind and loose in the present is somehow bound and loosed for eternity; that there are some things that heaven itself is unable to undo. He implies that those issues that we do not deal with in the here and now cannot be dealt with in the hereafter but remain an integral part of who we are forever. The hurts we inflict, the injustices we create or sanction and the injuries that we harbour stay with us unless we are able to seek and to offer forgiveness, to work through our differences, and most importantly to let go of our egos. 

There is no room in heaven for the sort of self-centredness that demands retribution from the grave and that wishes harm on others. Heaven cannot and will not make it right and it will be too late for us to make changes once we are dead. Any bitterness, resentment, frustration, fear, hurt or self-righteousness that we carry to the grave will remain with us. The endless joy and peace that we had hoped to inherit may be out of our reach in the future if in the present we are unable to find ways to be at peace with ourselves and with each other.  

Let that not be us. May our deaths find us to be the people we hope to be for eternity.

[1] https://www.abc.net.au/news/2020-09-02/coffin-confessor-bill-edgar-reveals-secrets-of-dead-at-funerals/12619946

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Order and chaos

August 29, 2020

Pentecost 13 – 2020

Matthew 16:16-21

Marian Free

In the name of God who shatters our certainly and our preconceptions and who continually reforms us in God’s image. Amen.

In his daily reflections over the past three weeks, Richard Rohr has been examining the theme of Order, Disorder and Reorder.[1] He writes: ‘It seems quite clear that we grow by passing beyond some perfect Order, through an often painful and seemingly unnecessary Disorder, to an enlightened Reorder or resurrection. This is the universal pattern that connects and solidifies our relationships with everything around us.’ Rohr argues that this pattern is found in all the world religions. In Christianity this pattern is expressed/lived out in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus or in Paul’s confidence that “in Christ everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new!” (2 Cor 5:17) or that we must be “transformed by the renewal of our minds” (Rom 12:2). 

It is impossible to live in a world in which everything is constantly changing, in which our footing never seems secure. We all need some stability and consistency if we are to develop trust and confidence, if we are to build a sense of self and to grow. Thankfully a great many of us have that experience as children and adolescents. The problem is that a sense of order and security can be so comfortable that some of us never want to leave it. A few people stay in a state of perpetual childhood, terrified of facing the real world. Others put up strong defences to protect them from hurtful or damaging experiences. Still others rigidly hold on to “truths” learned when they were young even though all the evidence proves them to be lies. By surrounding themselves with a safety net, many people avoid pain, but they also deny themselves the opportunity to grow and to experience the richness that life has to offer – love/loss, achievement/failure, order/chaos and so on.

In a spiritual sense as well, holding on to the past can be both stultifying and life-denying. A reliance on order and security can lead to an over-dependence on self or on worldly things such as wealth, recognition or power. It is only when that sense is unsettled or disturbed that that dependence can be broken, and (ideally) a person is forced to turn once again to God and to those things that really matter – the things of the kingdom. In the same way a failure to more from the simplistic teachings of our Sunday School days leaves us ill-equipped to face the complexities of the world. (How many people have lost their faith because the image of God brought over from their childhood failed them as adults?)

I have found these past three weeks of reflections particularly useful for two reasons. One is that they have nicely complemented my reflections on the gospel readings for those weeks and the second is that of course, the pattern of Order, Disorder and Reorder perfectly fits the current situation in which certainty and security have been stripped from all of us. Thanks to COVID few of us have control over our lives in the way that we used to and many of us are wondering what the future will look like. None of us know how, let alone when, the virus will leave us. In this situation – brought upon us by external circumstances that affect the whole world – not many have the capacity or the tools to predict, let alone determine our futures.

It is perhaps not surprising that the movement from order through disorder to reordering is reflected in our gospel readings for this same period. After all the theme of life, death and resurrection lies at the heart of the gospels. 

On August 16 we heard once again the account of the Canaanite woman who changed Jesus’ mind. She challenged Jesus’ long-held convictions of right and wrong, about who belongs and who does not. Jesus’ inherited beliefs were challenged, shattered and replaced. Through this process Jesus’ understanding that his ministry was only for the house of Israel was torn apart and replaced by a view that the gospel was for all people. 

Last week Peter, in response to Jesus’ question, “Who do you say that I am?” responds that Jesus is “the Christ, the Son of the Living God”. However, today’s gospel makes it quite clear that despite his declaration, he has no idea what this really means. His understanding of “the Christ” has been determined by the teachings of the synagogue and the community in which he lived. Even though he was the first disciple to be called and has been a part of Jesus’ inner-circle, Peter’s views and expectations have not been shattered to the point at which he is able to relinquish the past and envision a new sort of future. As we can see, the idea that the Christ might suffer is completely abhorrent to Peter – so much so that he tries to dissuade Jesus from this trajectory.  (In fact, Peter’s determination that things stay the way that they have always been is tenacious. His thinking will not change until he is completely unmade by his denial of Jesus.)

Life does not always run smooth. Its ups and downs will, if we let them, build us into people of compassion, wisdom and resilience. 

Jesus does not promise us that discipleship will spare us from trouble, pain or sorrow. Just the opposite. Jesus asks his disciples to give up everything that until now has given their lives meaning – family, occupation, reputation and he tells them that they must take up their cross if they are to follow him. In return he offers them only the hope of a kingdom that they cannot see and which they do not as yet understand. 

As disciples of Christ, we are challenged to place our trust not in the comfort, security and safety of the values of this world, but to open ourselves to the abundant love of God and to trust that in following Jesus we will be enriched and rewarded in ways far beyond our ability to comprehend.

At this time, we can (and often will) look back to the ways things have been, but the lesson of the gospels is that our lives will be far more productive if we can let go of the past and make our first tentative steps into whatever it is that the future will be. 

[1] You can sign up for the daily meditations on the CAC website.

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Context is important

August 22, 2020
Pan’s Cave Caesarea Philippi

Pentecost 12 – 2020

Matthew 16:13-20

Marian Free

In the name of God who knows what we need to hear and speaks to us where we are. Amen.

Context is everything. Some years ago, the well-known broadcaster and journalist, Philip Adams was invited to address the VFL[1] Grand Final breakfast, this, despite his well-known aversion for the game. Attendees at the breakfast included die-hard fans, high-ranking officials and very often even the Prime Minister of the day. Strangely, for such an experienced writer/speaker, Adams chose that venue and that audience to mock the sport that they all held dear. Adams reports that he “explained to the crowd that Aussie Rules was, in fact, an ancient fertility rite. Like Easter”, he said, “it is all about eggs. The footy is an egg. The game is played on an egg-shaped oval. The goal posts are there to be impregnated” and so on[2]. Needless to say, no one thought that he was remotely funny. Adam’s address was met with horrified silence.  He had completely misjudged his audience. There might have been a place to mock Australian Rules Football, but this was not it. 

If we want to get our message across, if we want people to laugh at our jokes, or to be shocked into changing their ideas or to be comforted by our platitudes we have to be sensitive to our audience. We have to ask ourselves – what is their starting point? what can I say that will speak to their situation? what language will help them to understand what I want to say? Will my words be helpful, or will they add to someone’s pain? 

The gospel writers were masters of context. Each author tailored their retelling of Jesus’ story in a way that they felt would speak directly to their listeners, that would meet them where they were in their faith journey and would draw them into a deeper understanding of that faith.  Their goal, as the gospel of John specifically says: “These are written so so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name” (Jn 20:31). 

In other words, the gospel writers knew the importance of setting out their accounts in such a way as to give the listeners the best chance of grasping the message of Jesus the Christ. At the same time, they could confront, through their re-telling of Jesus’ stories and miracles, the anxieties and the shortcomings of the communities. Matthew, Mark and Luke were writing to completely different communities – to people with different backgrounds, different experiences of the world and people whose contexts differed greatly. Being sensitive to the needs and experiences of their listeners, each author ordered his account and adapted his story-telling to ensure that the communities for whom they wrote heard what they needed to hear in their current situation – a situation that was vastly different from the time of Jesus and which had its own challenges for the emerging believers. 

Mark’s version of today’s gospel with that of Matthew for this reason. Both authors place Peter’s confession in the vicinity of the city of Caesarea Philippi but there are subtle and not so subtle differences in the telling. Mark emphasises movement not place, journey not destination. His language implies movement. “Jesus was asking (the question is repeated) his disciples while they were on the way (Jesus and the disciples are moving from one place to another).” Movement is an important of Mark’s setting, but so too is his language. “On the way,” is a phrase that Mark uses repeatedly as shorthand for discipleship. Mark presents Peter’s recognition of Jesus as a stage in the journey of discipleship. As we shall see, despite Peter’s declaration that Jesus is the Christ, he has no idea what this means. His declaration is a stage in the journey, not the end of the story.

Matthew’s emphasis is primarily on place or at least the significance of place. Jesus has come into the district of Caesarea Philippi. He is stationary not moving. Caesarea Philippi was close to a cave and a spring that were dedicated to the Greek god Pan and was believed to be the entrance to the underworld. Herod the Great had built a Temple to Caesar Augustus here to curry favour with the Emperor. The region was inherited by Herod’s son Philip who made it his administrative headquarters and dedicated it to the then Caesar. Caesarea Philippi was important for other reasons. It was near a major trade route and it was the place to which the commander of the Roman army had returned to celebrate with his troops after they had crushed Jerusalem. In other words, it was a place that was redolent with symbolism – of power, religion and economic viability. 

Whereas in Mark, Jesus’ question: “Who do you say that I am?” is primarily a question about Jesus’ identity, in Matthew the question has more to do with allegiance. Matthew’s readers are being challenged to ask themselves in what and in whom do they trust. Are they over-reliant on their economic security? Are they tempted by their culture’s latest fancies? Do they place their trust in the power of secular rulers? Where – in the midst of all the worldly distractions – does their loyalty lie – with earthly powers or with the power revealed by Jesus, “the Christ, the Son of the living God”? 

The gospel writers knew their communities and understood their needs. They knew when to challenge and when to comfort their audience. Mark wants to move the community along the road to belief, Matthew wants them to consider where their true loyalty lies.   

Context is important. If we want to share the gospel with our contemporaries we need to understand where they are coming from. We need to recognise and understand their longings and their fears, their strengths and their weaknesses so that we can speak in a way that will touch their hearts, utter a message that responds to their deepest needs and offer a word that will bring them into the presence of the living God.

[1] For overseas readers, VFL in those days highly parochial. Most Melbourne suburbs had their teams and followers were fiercely loyal even fanatical in the way of many soccer fans.

[2] Reported by Phillip Adams The Australian Magazine, August 15-16, 2020.

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Hearing the cries of the oppressed

August 15, 2020

Pentecost 11 – 2020

Matthew 15:21-28 (some thoughts)

Marian Free

In the name of God who is dynamic and active not confined by human imagination. Amen.

Sometimes it takes spontaneous movements to bring about institutional change (the Arab spring for eg) and sometimes it is the quiet persistence of just one person that sets a ball rolling that starts a chain of events that lead to real and lasting change.  In 1955, on a bus in Montgomery, Alabama Rosa Parkes refused to stand for a white man. Her action inspired the Montgomery Bus boycott which lasted for over a year at the end of which the United States Supreme Court ruled that segregation was unconstitutional. In turn the boycott gave courage to the millions of disenfranchised and disenchanted black Americans who under Martin Luther King began the civil rights movement. Later, in 1977 Harvey Milk was elected as a city supervisor in the city of San Francisco. Milk had become increasingly politicized – in particular by the prejudice and discrimination he witnessed and experienced as a gay man. It has been claimed that Milk was the most famous and significant  LGBT official elected in the United States. His time in office was short lived. Milk was assassinated by a disgruntled city supervisor eleven months after being elected to office. Milk served almost eleven months in office, during which he sponsored a bill banning discrimination in public accommodations, housing, and employment on the basis of sexual orientation. His impact was acknowledged in 2009 when he was awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom.

Parkes and Milk and numerous others demonstrate that quiet, firm persistence, an awareness of one’s own worth and an insistence that that worth be recognized can overturn unjust institutions and prejudicial laws.

The woman from Canaan was one such person. Jesus’ refusal to respond to her request did not deter her. She had a clear sense of her own value (and that of her daughter). Neither Jesus’ silence nor his disciples’ demand that Jesus send her away had the capacity to make her feel underserving of his notice. She would not allow them to ignore or demean her. Even when Jesus tried to defend his response – claiming that her daughter’s distress was not his problem, the woman stood firm, she engaged him in debate and in so doing convinced Jesus of the justness of her cause. As a consequence of the actions of the woman, the whole course of history was changed. Jesus’ claim that he was sent ‘only to the lost sheep of Israel’ was successfully challenged and, as the letters of Paul make clear, the definition of Israel was broadened to include not only those of Jewish descent, but all those who believed in Jesus.

We are all created in the image of God. None of us should feel that we deserve to be demeaned, put down or put upon. Confident in God’s love, each of us should be able to be certain of our place in the world and entitled to claim it. More importantly, those of us who are privileged by virtue of our place of birth, our education or our income should be willing to hear the voices of the oppressed, the marginalised, the disadvantaged and the disenfranchised.

Despite his hesitation, Jesus responded to the woman’s plea and to her argument. So we too should be open to having our opinions, our values and our prejudices challenged and changed.

If through our own parochialism, ignorance or arrogance, we remain deaf to the cries of others, we may find ourselves thwarting the will of God.

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Stormy waters

August 8, 2020
The Jesus boat

Pentecost 10 – 2020

Matthew 14:13-21

Marian Free

In the name of God who understands our deepest fears and who overlooks our multiple weaknesses. Amen.

The most visited tourist destination in Israel is Kibbutz Ginosar on the shores of Galilee. It was here, in 1986 that two brothers, Moshe and Yuval Lufan, found the remains of a first century boat. That year the water levels were particularly low and the brothers – who spent a great deal of time looking for artifacts – came across a rusty nail which, on inspection belonged to a boat, buried in the mud beside the water. Recovering the boat was a mammoth task. Archaeologists had to work out how to excavate the boat without damaging or destroying it. This meant keeping the timbers wet, moving the fragile structure in one piece, cleaning off the mud without touching the boat, and finding the right fish to keep the bacteria away. Thankfully the hard work was rewarded with success and the boat can now be seen in a museum close to where it was found.

Boats are a feature of the gospels. Jesus calls four fishermen to follow him, he teaches from a boat, is responsible for an extraordinary catch of fish from a boat and he himself seems to criss-cross the Galilee in a boat. The discovery of the “Jesus boat” puts flesh on the gospel stories and enables us to visualise Jesus and his disciples as they sail from one side of the lake to another. The popularity of the “Jesus boat” lies in the fact that it is probably the most intact structure that can be related directly to Jesus’ life and ministry. 

Fishing, in the time of Jesus was regulated by the Roman government – delegated to local officials. Anyone who wanted to fish needed to purchase fishing rights and a proportion of the catch was subject to tax. Fishermen were at the mercy of the brokers and tax-collectors. They were also vulnerable to the vagaries of the sea – a good catch was never guaranteed and the sea could whip up into a storm at any moment. Most fishermen could not swim, and, as the sea was considered to be the home of demons, falling overboard was doubly dangerous. No wonder the disciples were terrified when they found themselves on the lake, at night, in the middle of a storm.

An account of Jesus calming the sea is one of the few stories that occurs in all four gospels – sometimes twice. In Matthew, Mark and John it follows Jesus’ feeding of the 5,000.  Matthew and Mark have included an account of Jesus’ walking on the water. In every instance, the event illustrates Jesus’ power over nature and over the demonic forces, but the authors use the story in very different ways. (Only Matthew chooses to include Peter’s attempt to walk on water – his initial confidence and his ensuing doubt.) 

In Mark, Matthew and John, Jesus is not in the boat when the storm blows up. He has stayed behind. Later, during the storm, he walks across the water towards the boat. A comparison of Mark and Matthew is interesting and illustrates the different purposes of the gospel writers and the different ways in which they depict the disciples and the disciples’ reaction to the stilling of the waters[1]. In Mark, the incident is directly related to Jesus’ feeding of the 5,000, specifically the bread. When Jesus enters the boat and the wind ceases the disciples are utterly astounded, but there is no expression of faith because: “they did not understand about the loaves, but their hearts were hardened.”[2] Matthew reports an entirely different reaction. When Jesus and Peter get into the boat (after Peter’s failed attempt to walk on water) and the wind ceases, the disciples worship Jesus as the Son of God. 

In Mark’s gospel, the disciples never identify Jesus as God’s son. Indeed, other aspects of Mark’s telling of the story, suggest that the question of Jesus’ identity remained a secret until the resurrection. Throughout that gospel the disciples are consistently depicted as foolish and lacking in understanding. In contrast, Matthew suggests that despite the fact that the disciples do recognise Jesus as the Son of God, they constantly waver between doubt and faith (even after the resurrection – Mt 28:17). 

We will never know for certain the purpose of the authors. (We have nothing except the gospels on which to base our conjectures). Is Mark, the first of the gospel writers, describing the disciples as they really were and did Matthew, dismayed that the founders of the church were presented as such poor role models, remodel their failings from misunderstanding to doubt? Or did the community for whom Mark was writing need models that shared their misunderstanding, and did Matthew’s community need to feel that even the disciples had moments of doubt? 

Whatever the truth of the matter, the writers of the gospels have given us disciples with whom we can relate, real people with real fears and failings. This means that if we are confused, we can be reassured that the first disciples were confused. When we are afraid, we can identify with disciples, who despite being in the presence of Jesus still experienced fear.  At those times when our faith wavers or when we are overwhelmed by the circumstances in which find ourselves, we can be comforted in the knowledge that the disciples too had moments of doubt. 

Our gospel writers did not gloss over the failings of the disciples, nor did they present them as exemplary models. In our gospels we find disciples with whom we can identify. Through them we are assured that God does not expect perfection but will find ways to use us – however weak our faith, however wavering our courage and however poor our understanding. 

There is one thing of which we can be sure that, whether we falter or not, whether we are uncomprehending or not, whether we are brave or not God’s love for and confidence in us is steadfast and unwavering.

[1] Read Matthew 14:22-33, Mark 6 45-52 (John 6:16-21 Jesus doesn’t calm the storm, but he does walk on the water.)

[2] Hard to know just what this means!

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