Swallowsrest

The Baptism of Jesus 2012

Mark 1: (2-3) 4-11

Marian Free

In the name of God who invites us into a relationship with his son Jesus. Amen.

When our children were studying drama at high school, they would often give us a running commentary on the programmes that we were watching so that we would see understand the dramatic techniques used by filmmakers to create particular effects and to elicit particular emotions. As a result, we learned that not only did ominous music suggest that something sinister or terrible was about to happen, but that the side of the screen from which an actor entered was also used to signal something in relation to the plot. These techniques operate on a sub-conscious level. We don’t need to work out which side of the screen an actor is on to understand that something bad is about to happen there are usually other clues as well. More often than not, we understand what is happening and are caught up in the story without being aware of the dramatic short cuts which make the experience more vivid and more real. The same is true of many creative endeavours and particularly of advertising. A quick look at a programme like The Gruen Transfer will open your eyes into the variety of tools that advertisers use to get the unsuspecting to purchase a product or to support a cause.

The use of dramatic tools to enhance a plot is no less true of narrative styles. Different styles of writing make the reading experience so much richer. Much more is conveyed by allusion and narrative technique than the words on their own. Today’s Gospel provides a perfect illustration of the way in which the written word can imply much more than is actually said. As you might expect, the first chapter of Mark’s gospel sets the scene for what is to come. It is something like the overture in a musical or an opera. It introduces the major themes and the key character.

The writer of Mark is a person of few words. He sets the scene for Jesus’ ministry in just fifteen verses. This is in stark comparison to Matthew and Luke who embellish the account with stories about Jesus’ parents, his birth and genealogy. In their accounts, Jesus’ baptism isn’t mentioned until the middle of their third chapters yet, without losing any of the impact, Mark has reached the account of Jesus’ baptism by the ninth verse of the gospel, and he has included all the pertinent points that Luke and Matthew take so much longer to say. That is – Jesus is announced by John (who is inferior to him) he is from Nazareth, he is the anointed one and he is of the line of David, he is also the one who comes as the Servant of second Isaiah. All of this Mark implies without directly stating any of it. How does he achieve so much in so few words? By the use of allusion and images that are already familiar to his readers, Mark allows the imaginations of his readers to fill in the gaps.

Because we are so familiar with the gospel, and because we know the story as told by all the gospel writers, we don’t always notice the subtleties of Mark’s story-telling. Let’s begin from the beginning – John the Baptist is announced with a quote that purports to come from Isaiah. However, if you were to search through the book of Isaiah you would not find these exact words. What Mark does (as do other biblical writers) is to use a composite quote from Exodus, Malachi and Isaiah. In this way he implies (at least to the ears of first century Jews) that John is the second Elijah – an idea that is reinforced by the description of John’s clothes. The Elijah reference also explains that the mission of both John and Jesus properly begins in the wilderness and that this is where the people must go to encounter God.

John’s baptism is also laden with meaning. The River Jordan had a number of important associations for the Israelites – it had parted to allow them into the promised land, it had provided healing to Naaman the leper, King of Syria, and it was the primary source of water in the country as a whole. Of further significance is the baptism itself. No one really knows the origin of baptism though ritual cleansing was a familiar practice. What is important here is that John was offering people the remission of sins – again a role associated with Elijah in the inter-testamental writings. More than this though, John is exercising a priestly function, but he is doing so outside the ritual and sacrificial practices of the Temple at Jerusalem. By implication then, John was ignoring, if not subverting, the role of the Temple and the ritual practice of the Jewish people. He seems to be promoting the idea that the priestly hierarchy and their practices are no longer valid or effective and that only a radical turn around in the lives of the people would effect the restoration of their relationship with God.

Mark’s allusions continue when John introduces the idea of the one who is coming after him. He makes it quite clear that he is subservient to Jesus to the point that even their forms of baptism will be different. The one who come after will baptise with the Holy Spirit. Cleansing from sin followed by the spirit may refer back to Ezekiel, but here it indicates that Jesus will be doing something new and different from that of John. Unlike John, Jesus will be giving the people the Holy Spirit promised by God.

Finally Jesus arrives on the scene, though all we are told of his background is that he is from Nazareth in Galilee. Jesus seeks baptism by John, an indication not that he sees himself as sinful, but that he subscribes to the radical theology and ecclesiology of John. The torn heavens, the coming of the dove and the voice are for Jesus alone, but Mark makes us participants in the scene. The splitting of the heavens suggests God’s dramatic intervention in human history, the hovering of the dove suggests God’s brooding over the waters in creation and the voice which again is a composite quote affirms Jesus as both king and servant. King because “you are my beloved son” comes from Psalm 2:7 which was used at coronations and servant because “I take delight in you” references the servant song of Isaiah.

In just a few verses, by the use of images familiar to his hearers, Mark has established a number of things – that Jesus did not just appear unannounced (John prepared the people for his coming); that Jesus came from Nazareth, but he will be more significant that than John and indeed all the prophets, God’s spirit will be on him and as God’s anointed (the Christ) he will be both king and servant. What is more, he will make the Holy Spirit available to those who come to him. Astonishingly, he will be unlike the person expected by the Jewish hierarchy – he will challenge their authority, question their integrity and announce the destruction of that most precious symbol, the Temple.

This is no gentle Jesus meek and mild. It is not a Jesus who supports the status quo and encourages his followers to conform to the world around them. This Jesus will be uncomfortable, difficult and unconventional. He will turn around the lives of those who choose to follow him and he will make such an impact that the world will never be the same.

I wonder, have we forgotten how radical and subversive this Jesus was? Have we instead put him to work to serve the needs of the church and society? Have we used his teaching to ensure conformity to certain norms and codes of behaviour? Are we guilty of using him as a crutch or as an excuse for not growing? Is the Jesus we believe in a pious, toothless Saviour or a powerful and terrifying sign of God’s presence? Who is the Jesus of the Gospels? Are we truly ready to meet him and when we do will we have the courage to trust and follow him?

Epiphany 2011

Matthew 2:1-12

Marian Free

 In the name of God whose love embraces all people. Amen.

The book of Genesis tells us that God chose Abraham to father a people of his own. God made a covenant with Abraham to be his God and the God of his children. This made the Israelites distinct from those around them. In the first instance, the children of Abraham believed in only one God – a living God, not an idol made by human hands. Yahweh, the God of Israel was, in contrast to the God of the neighbouring nations, believed to be God of all the world, not just the God of the nation. Other things set the Israelites apart. The sign of the covenant was the circumcision of all males over eight days old and the people of God were distinguished by their observation of the Sabbath, their dietary laws and cleanliness rituals. The Israelites saw themselves as the chosen ones. Others might acknowledge their God, but they could not be inheritors of the promise.

That said, there is a great deal of evidence not only that non-Jews played significant roles in the history of the Israelites, but that the Jews harboured a belief that one day the whole world would believe in Yahweh – their God. The OT books of Ruth and of Jonah are both stories that indicate a less exclusive view.  Ruth a Moabite woman not only demonstrates a great depth of faith in the Israelite God, but through marriage becomes the grandmother of David and therefore a direct ancestor of Jesus and Jonah is instrumental in saving an entire Gentile town from the wrath of God. Cyrus, the king of Babylon is called “messiah” or anointed, and his invasion of Judah is seen as an act of the God of Israel. In the Psalms in particular, there are numerous references to the whole world flocking to Jerusalem to worship Yahweh. So while the Jews understood themselves to be chosen by God and set apart from the nations, they still harboured a view that if Yahweh was THE God, then at some stage all people would come to believe.

By the turn of the eras, the Jewish nation had been in exile for centuries and having returned to their own land been subject first to Greece then to Rome. The effect of this was to strengthen and confirm their sense of identity and exclusiveness. Food laws and cleanliness rituals were strictly enforced as these were a means by which the Israelites could distinguish themselves from those around them and could build a sense of national identity and pride. While this built their sense of who they were, it had the effect of making it extremely difficult, if not impossible, for anyone else to belong.

It was into this environment that Jesus burst with his agenda of reforming Judaism.  His death and subsequent resurrection led a number of people to believe that he was the promised Christ and to form a movement which declared this to be true. For decades this movement remained primarily within Judaism, maintaining the practices of Judaism and adding to them the belief that the Messiah had come. By the time the gospels were written however, those who believed in Jesus could not longer comfortably co-exist within the faith that had given theirs birth.

At the same time it was increasingly obvious that those to whom Jesus had been sent had not responded to his message while those considered to be outsiders – the Gentiles – had responded. This created something of a dilemma for the emerging church and for the writers of the gospels in particular.  How could it be explained that those whom God had chosen were now “out” and those who had been previously excluded were not only “in”, but were the inheritors of the promises of God? A secondary, but no less important concern was whether the promises of God could be trusted if they had failed where Israel was concerned.

The gospel writers approach the dilemma from different perspectives, while Luke is at pains to demonstrate that God is faithful, Matthew is determined to show that Christianity is the logical progression of Judaism and therefore the rightful inheritor of the promises. Furthermore, the writer of Matthew is quite clear that not only has Christianity grown out of Judaism but, as the inheritor of the promises, it has now supplanted it. God’s promises to Abraham included the promise that Abraham that in him all nations would be blessed.  This promise has now been fulfilled through Jesus.

The gospels develop this theme in a number of ways. John the Baptist tells the Pharisees not to count on their descent to secure their salvation, saying that God is able to raise up descendants of Abraham from the stones. Jesus commends the faith of the Gentiles in comparison with that of the children of Abraham and Jesus’ many confrontations with the leaders of the Jews are intended to demonstrate their lack of understanding and therefore to explain their failure to believe.  Jesus commends the Gentiles and condemns the Jews.  In other words, the failure of the Jews to believe relates to their hardness of heart and the belief of the Gentiles is a part of God’s overall plan.

Matthew’s gospel begins then with the coming of the magi – the first fruits of God’s inclusion of the Gentiles. While all Jerusalem trembles at the news of a king, it is these outsiders who not only realise that something significant has happened, but who come to bring gifts and to worship the child who is born. Their presence so early in the gospel is a sign of things to come – the Gentiles will come to Jesus whereas the Jews will not.

Jesus opens the door to all nations. In him all God’s promises have been fulfilled. The God of the nations is now known and worshipped by all people, the faith that was confined to a few has been made available to the world.  Our task is to continue to ensure that God’s promises are extended to all nations in every generation. We need to be constantly alert to the way in which our attempts at self-definition create barriers to faith for others and by our practice and our proclamation, we must ensure at all times that the welcome God extends is the welcome that we give.

God’s promises cannot be contained, nor can they be limited to a chosen few. If we attempt to hold them to ourselves, we can be certain, that God will find ways to extend them to others.

No room at the inn – a reflection

Christmas 2011

Marian Free

In the name of God who is longing for us to give him a place in our hearts. Amen.

One of my most vivid childhood memories was our trip to Scotland when I was ten years old. It was, I think ,the summer holidays and we had driven up from London – my father, my mother, my younger sister and brother and myself. All was going well until we got to the motel where we were to spend the first night. To our surprise and consternation (not to mention my ten year old distress), they weren’t expecting us. What was worse was that they had no rooms that they could give us. Worse still was the fact that due to the school holidays there was not a room to be had in the whole town.

It was the same everywhere we went. We would confidently arrive at our planned accommodation only to find that they were not only not expecting us but that they and the whole city was fully booked!

You may have guessed by the fact that it happened more than once that we continued our holiday. We were truly blessed.  At each and every place room was found for us, sometimes even in the home of the motel manager. Stretchers were pulled out and linen provided and so we were protected from the cold and wet and didn’t have to drive all the way home and miss our holiday.

It is only recently that I have drawn on this experience to try to really imagine what it was like for Mary and Joseph.

In the first century there were inns for travelers, but most would have been on trade routes. Few people could write or even afford letters, so there would have been no way of booking ahead or even of warning your friends that you were on your way. However, in the first century Mediterranean culture there were strict rules of hospitality. A person could travel the countryside and be reasonably confident of finding a welcome somewhere.

However, this was no ordinary journey. It was undertaken for the specific purpose of the census. This made it worse than the summer school holidays in Scotland everyone was on the move and every bed, every space was taken.

How distressing it must have been to have been turned away time after time, from every place where they sought shelter. How anxious must Mary have been to find somewhere to rest, somewhere safe and warm to bring her child into the world! How relieved they must all have been to have found somewhere at last – even if it was the place in which the animals were stalled, it was dry and warm.

It’s an extraordinary story. One would have thought that God could have been better prepared  – chosen to be born at a less busy time, ensured that Mary and Joseph had arrived before the crowds, or even burst into the world without the inconvenience of birth and childhood.

God doesn’t choose this way, because the last thing that God wants to do is to impose himself on humankind. God chooses to enter our lives not as a separate and inaccessible being, but by becoming one of us – from birth to death.

Even now, God refuses to impose himself or force his will on the world. God continues gently and persistently to ask us to make room – to open our hearts so that God can come in and to open our lives so that God’s presence can be known through us. Without us, God cannot enter the world. Without our cooperation, God cannot be brought to birth.

Just as Mary and Joseph were totally reliant on the kindness of strangers to provide a space in which God could be brought to birth, so God continues to rely on us to open the door to our hearts and make a space for God in our lives.

It’s a long time since Jesus was born, but God is still knocking on the doors of our hearts asking if there is room.  Are we going to leave Jesus outside in the cold and dark with no place to be born, or are we going to open our hearts and let him come in and transform our lives by being born in and through us?

In the name of God who appears at unexpected times and in unexpected places. Amen.

 I’d like to share with you a poem by Louis William Countryman. It’s called “Going to God with the Shepherds.”[1]

“If you want to go to God, go without

your certainties. Take your graces. Leave

your certainties behind…..”

I’m sure that if we had been able to ask a first century Jew how they expected God to enter the world the last thing that they would have expected was a baby in a manger. They might have said – as would have been reasonable that God would come on the clouds in judgement, or perhaps that the Messiah would be a ruler or a prince. No one it seems expected God to arrive in the world as a totally naked, vulnerable, dependent newborn child. God is meant to be majestic, powerful, extraordinary, instantly recognizable simply because God is so different from anything worldly. The Old Testament texts present God in many different ways, but none of them lead us to expect that God would come among us in such a humble, unexpected and unrecognizable way.

It was because Jesus was undistinguishable from any other person (with some notable exceptions) that so few of the establishment recognised him. They were looking for someone else. They were expecting someone they could relate to, someone who would fit their model of what a Messiah, what God would look like among them. They were looking so hard for what they expected, that they completely failed to see the presence of God even though it was right in front of them.

In the poem, Countryman suggests that we have the same problem. We are so busy hurtling towards our own idea of God, so sure that we know what God is like and where we will find God, that we fail to see God in a child playing on the lawn, or a woman laughing with her friends. We are so convinced that God is so utterly other, that we are oblivious to the presence of God all around us.

If you want to go to God, go without your certainties. As the shepherds left their sheep to follow the news of the angels, so we should leave behind all our images of God, all our expectations of God’s coming. Only then will we be free to be surprised by God’s presence in the ordinary and the everyday. Only then will we truly recognise the child in the manger or the condemned man on the cross.

Advent 3 2011

John 1:6-8, 19-28

Marian Free

In the name of God, whose presence is known to us in many and varied ways. Amen.

 Some time ago I was fortunate to be able to do the Ignatian Retreat in everyday life. It was an experience that I can highly recommend, but which is too complex to explain now. One of the practices that I continue to use is called The Awareness Examen or the Examen of Consciousness (not conscience). The Examen is a prayer which takes the form of a review of the day. As you might imagine, it is a particular kind of review, one that is intended to help the practitioner become more aware of God’s presence and grace in every aspect of their day.

There are five steps to this prayer.  The first is to give thanks for all the gifts tor graces that God has provided during the day. This might be as simple as giving thanks for the smile of a child that brightened up the day, or as profound as giving thanks for the restoration of health after an illness. As well as giving thanks for the events of the day, this practice always includes giving thanks for the constant presence of God as a friend and companion.  In the second step, the practitioner asks the Holy Spirit to help them to see themselves more clearly and to discern God’s working in their life. This stage leads naturally into a review of one’s own behaviour and attitudes – stage three. At the end of each day a practitioner looks back over the day – all the activities engaged in and all the people met. Perhaps the most confronting part of the prayer, this step demands that the practitioners be honest with themselves by asking: Have I been selfish or angry or have I consistently behaved with love and understanding towards others? In other words, have I behaved as someone created in the image of God?

 Step four is the response to this personal review. It might involve repentance and a determination to live tomorrow in a way that is less selfish and more caring, but there is also room for joy and gratitude in the recognition of the presence of God in acts of generosity, grace and courage. The review of the day concludes with a decision to live tomorrow differently,  to be more Christ-like, to recognise and to endeavour to share with others the presence of God.

 There are a number of advantages of this form of prayer – one is that it is realistic, but not judgemental. It grounds one in the present reality and at the same time encourages growth and development. Above all, the Awareness Examen helps us to identify the presence of God in every aspect of daily life, to recognise that we belong in God as God belongs in us.

 This can be a very helpful exercise because our ability to see God in our day-to-day lives is often compromised by other agendas, by self-centredness, by an introspection which is focussed on the self and not the divine, by expectations of God that are unrealistic or by an unwillingness to take responsibility for our own actions.  For example, too often we take credit for what we have achieved but blame God for those things we were unable to achieve, or we take responsibility for all that is good in the world, and make God responsible for all that is bad in the world. At the same time our ability to see the presence of God in our lives can be due to the fact that our vision is distorted by false images and unreal expectations of God. While it is easy to see God in events that are miraculous and astounding it is possible to continue to overlook the everyday miracles of God’s grace.  Those who see God as some sort of supernatural puppeteer or judge in the heavens, cannot always see God in the moments of peace and beauty in their lives.

 Such false perceptions can blind people to the true nature of God, to God’s presence among us and, just as importantly, to God’s presence in us. The reports of the New Testament miracles and the vivid and sometimes frightening depictions of the second coming and of judgement can have the effect of clouding our sight and dulling our memories. It is possible to allow ourselves to become so absorbed by such powerful images that we forget that God has already come and that through Jesus’ resurrection and the Holy Spirit God remains with us and in us.

 God in Jesus needed no fanfare to draw attention to his entering the world. Jesus’ birth wasn’t announced to the whole world but only to some shepherds who happened to be nearby. His birth wasn’t noticed by the educated and knowledgeable, but only by some magi from the East. During Jesus’ life there was not a great deal to set him apart from others. He gave no displays of power and might. Jesus didn’t impose his authority on any not did he seek attention or notoriety. Instead Jesus spent most of his ministry in the countryside and rather than seeking to rule over his disciples, he demonstrated a willingness to serve. He did not keep his gifts and ministry to himself, but shared them liberally with those who followed him. In fact, Jesus was so unlike anything that had been expected and so like those around him that many failed to recognise him.

 There is a lesson for us here. In trying to identify the presence of God in our lives, we must learn to look in the right places – to take our gaze from the sky and bring our attention to the world around us, to stop expecting God only in the extraordinary so expect God in our ordinary, everyday experiences, to stop willing God to judge and to understand that God seeks justice for all. We must learn too that the presence of God in the world is dependent on us, on our actions, on our ability to demonstrate God’s love and compassion and on our willingness to create a world of justice and peace.  

 John the Baptist announced the coming of the light into the world, but it seems there were few who were willing to open their eyes and minds to something so radically different from what they had expected.  The situation today is much the same – God’s presence is in and around us in the most surprising and unexpected ways – yet very often we fail to see or recognise it because we are looking for something different.

In order to make God a central part of our daily life, we must learn to recognise God in the quiet and unexpected moments of grace, to see God in the cradle and on the cross and to understand that it is in God’s self-giving- moment by moment – and in our participation in the Divine, that God will be known and continue to be the light that has come into the world.

Advent 2 2011

Mark 1:1-8

Marian Free

In the name of God who, if we allow him, constantly moulds and re-moulds us so that we are formed into the image of Christ. Amen.

 C.S. Lewis was a profound Christian thinker whose works extend from children’s books – the Narnia series, to works of theological imagination – The Screwtape letters, to theological treatises. Most of what he has written is easy to understand and his works of imagination provide deep insights into the Christian faith. Lewis understands only too well that the world cannot be easily categorised into good and evil, black and white, that faith is so much more than ethics or morality (important as these may be) and that God cannot be contained by human thought. He is able to perceive and to describe the subtleties of faith that may escape many of us. For example, he knows how easily we can be tempted to believe that if we are doing good, then we are good and how quickly we forget that that being good is quite different from being godly.

In his essay: “Man or Rabbit?” for example, he suggests that we have to learn that what we have previously thought of as ‘good’ – ‘leading a decent life’ and ‘being kind” – is nowhere near as significant or as important as we have a tendency to think it is. None of us, he reminds us, can be completely ‘good’ – not even for one day. What is more, even if we could be ‘good’ for twenty-four hours together, that would by no means achieve the purpose for which we were created. Morality – while important – is not the goal.

However, we can be seduced into believing that “being good” is our final purpose, that goodness will earn us a place in the kingdom. Goodness, in the sense of keeping the Ten Commandments and observing the golden rule, is very tempting. It is observable and measurable and it allows us to believe that we know where we stand, to make up our own minds as to whether or not we have met the criteria for entry into heaven. The problem is that goodness on its own is a human and not a godly endeavour and as such it has the potential to bind us to this life and to confine us to mortality because it measures us by human standards and fails to see things from God’s perspective.

Goodness – simply because it relates to things that we do – can blind us to the possibilities of what God can do – with us and in us. Goodness that can be defined and quantified limits us to earthly achievements and denies us the possibilities available to our heavenly nature. Our final and ultimate purpose is not goodness but godliness, and our true goal is not perfection in this life but immortality in the next. In the final analysis, all our human striving will come to nought. Nothing that we do or achieve in this life will mean anything in the life to come.

God who has given us life, and made us in God’s own image has also given us the power to become children of God. The Divine Life which gives itself to us and which calls us to be gods intends us to be so much more than “good”.

Only God can make us fit for to eternity, only God can draw out the divine in us. This process may be a painful. In the first instance we have to have the courage to abandon our belief that somehow to make it on our own merits. Secondly, we have to recognise that our confidence in ourselves and in our ability to be good is misplaced. Finally we have to submit ourselves to God’s creative power. If we are going to exchange mortality for immortality we will need to be re-made. In order to be re-made we may first need to be un-made – to allow our old selves to be torn and broken so that the new shape, the new creature – our divine nature – can be brought forth and given life – life that will last for all time.

During Advent we traditionally focus on the four last things – Death, Judgement, Heaven and Hell. This is not to frighten us, but to encourage us to remember that this human body is finite and that this earthly existence will come to an end – no matter how good we have been. The readings confront us with the need for repentance and re-construction, the necessity for preparedness in the face of the coming judgement and of the chaos and destruction that will precede order and re-creation.

Today, John the Baptist calls us to prepare a way, to make our paths straight, in effect to make it possible for God to enter our lives to change and restore us. The Baptist calls us to  “repent” – to turn around, to change direction, to stop going our own way, and to choose to go God’s way. He demands that we be washed clean so that we can start again. In a sense, John holds up a mirror in front of us so that we can see ourselves more clearly. By demanding that we repent, he is challenging us to understand that “good” and “godly” are two distinct ways of being, that being “godly” will endure forever while being “good” has only a limited life span.

I suggested last week, that one of the themes of Advent is the movement from chaos to order, that in order for the new life to come into being, the old has first to be removed. Advent begins with descriptions of the cosmic chaos and disorder which are necessary before the earth is to be renewed and restored. Today we move from the cosmic to the personal, from the disruption of the cosmos, to a more personal sense of disquiet – the recognition that we must experience the discomfort of our own lives being disrupted and pulled apart so that they can be restored and put back together again.

Having said all that, it is my observation and belief, that those of us who gather here, do so, not because we believe that we are good, or even because we believe that we can be good. We gather week by week, because we have recognised our need for God’s intervention in our lives. We come together because we understand that our life’s goal is not to achieve perfection, but to attain immortality and that we can only achieve eternity if we allow God to continually unmake and remake us until that which is eternal – all that is wise and beautiful and holy and true – is allowed to shine through and we become who we are intended to be children of God, made in the image of God.

It is not so much what we do but what we allow God to do that will enable us to inherit the kingdom of God.  This Advent and in all our lives to come, may we be willing to let God in so that God might let the god in us come out.

Sermon – Advent 1 2011

Mark 13:24-37

Marian Free

 In the name of God who forms and re-forms us. Amen.

A chair

An egg

Uncut cloth

This chair needs repainting. I could just buy some new paint and apply it over the existing paint. However, if I were to do that, the original paint  would continue to peel and flake and the new paint job would not look good for very long. I would achieve a much better result if I carefully sanded the chair back to the original before I began to paint it afresh.

This is a piece of fabric which I can turn into something to wear, but it is really no use to me unless I cut it into appropriate shapes and sew it together to make a dress or some other garment. The final product will have been considerably cut and put together and will only look like the original in colour and texture.

This egg was laid this morning. It is perfect. The shell is hard and perfectly formed. However, as it is, it is no use at all, it will eventually rot and smell, so I will at some point have to break it and eat it. Even if I hard-boil the egg, it will have to be broken in order to be of any use.

So often it seems, destruction precedes building. Chaos and order are opposites yes, but very often it appears they are simply different sides of the same coin, one precedes and is necessary for the other to occur. Rotten timber has to be removed before the new can be installed. The ground has to be broken up before seeds can be planted and produce. Forests have to be burned before the banksia seed can be freed from its cone. Rivers have to flood so that the rich silt can enrich the land.

Images such as these abound in the Old Testament – grapes have to be pruned if they are going to yield a good crop, clay that doesn’t form into the correct shape has to be pummelled down into a lump so that it can be re-thrown and re-shaped and silver and gold have to be refined in fire to rid them of impurities.

That said, the promised violence and devastation of today’s gospel – both human and cosmic  – can still cause us some disquiet. Mark 13 describes a cataclysmic end of the world which will affect humanity, the world and even the cosmos. Brother will betray brother, nations will make war on nations. The earth will experience famines and earthquakes and, more startling, the sky will be darkened, the stars will fall from the sky and even the heavens will be shaken. Everything that we know and don’t know (in heaven as well as on earth) will be devastated if not destroyed. This is not an event to be eagerly anticipated as Paul would have us believe, but an event to be awaited with fear and dread.

It has always fascinated me that the lectionary writers should choose to begin Advent in this way, that the beginning of our church year is filled with such a sense of foreboding. Just when we feel that we are about to focus on the wonderful events surrounding the birth of Jesus, we are hit over the head with the threat of Jesus’ second coming and reminded that the end will be dramatic and violent, sudden and unexpected. We are terrified by warnings to keep alert and to stay awake so that we won’t be caught unawares when he comes. Jesus’ coming as an infant and his return at the end of time are thus confused or at least brought together. It seems that before we even begin we have come to the end.

There is, however, some sense in approaching the Incarnation in this way. Just as my old paint must be dealt with before I can apply the new and just as my cloth must be cut before it can be useful, so God’s new creation cannot come into being unless the old has been properly dealt with and even removed. God cannot make something new, without some pain or without breaking the old. There needs to be a clean sweep before the kingdom can come in. God’s kingdom cannot simply be plastered over the world as it is. The old, damaged creation would eventually break through the new and everything would return to waht it was before. In order to perfect creation, the old and the flawed has to go – at least figuratively speaking.

God is so distinct from anything earthly, that it is in fact impossible to imagine God entering history without creating a massive disruption to the whole of the natural world. The world, even the cosmos, is not sufficient to contain God, therefore it is not surprising to learn that God’s coming will involve some tearing and breaking and burning, even as the coming of God heralds renewal, restoration and re-creation.

All of which makes the birth of Jesus so surprising. Jesus is born without any fanfare. He slips into the world unheralded and largely unnoticed – only the magi notice a new star in the sky. For thirty years Jesus will live inconspicuously among us, before he makes his presence known and even then his public ministry will be carried out in the obscurity of Galillee before his dramatic and fatal trip to Jerusalem. Even so, the same pattern is evident – destruction before re-creation, death before resurrction.

Before the new can come the old must go. In order for something beautiful to be wrought out of something plain, it must be cut and re-shaped. This in part is the journey of faith, allowing ourselves to be formed and re-formed such that we will indeed be part of the new creation and therefore will have nothing to fear and everything to anticipate when Jesus comes again to gather us to himself.

Christ the King 2011

Matthew 25:31- 46

Marian Free

In the name of Jesus who will come in glory to judge all the nations of the world. Amen.

There is a story about a monastery in which all the brothers were unhappy. They were constantly criticising each other, competing with each other, complaining about life in the monastery, resenting the achievements of others and so on. It was a very unpleasant atmosphere filled with bitterness and strife. Needless to say, there were very few new vocations. Who would want to join such a community? and who would want to live in such a toxic atmosphere? Things were so bad, that it looked as though the community would have to disbanded.

One day, a visitor came to the monastery and, despite the argumentative nature of the monks, he stayed for a few days. When he left, the visitor told the monks that God had revealed to him that when Jesus returned to earth, he would come to that particular place.

Well, what a change came over that community. Now nothing was too much trouble, no one complained, each monk was the anxious to be the first to offer to help and everyone treated each other with great respect and love. All the jealousy and small-mindedness of the monks disappeared. Instead of closing, the monastery flourished as the community’s reputation for love and joy spread far and wide.

The community realised that if Jesus was going to come to this community when he returned, what was to say that he was not already there? If he was already there, then each of the monks had to treat the others as if they were Jesus himself – that is with love, kindness, compassion and generosity.

***

Matthew’s gospel is a gospel of judgement. The teaching of Jesus that was aimed at the Jewish community Matthew turns towards those who believe in Jesus. Today’s gospel is part of a sub-section devoted particularly to the subject of the final judgement.  In it Matthew warns the community to be constantly alert because the Son of Man will come without warning. He describes the events that will accompany the end. They will be violent and dramatic – nature itself will be in turmoil. The temple will be destroyed. There will be famine, wars and earthquakes. The sun and moon will be dimmed and stars will fall from the sky.

Matthew continues his theme with the parables of the ten bridesmaids and of the talenta – parables that are directed specifically at the church. Being a member of the church is not enough to be assured of a good outcome at the judgement. The bridesmaids who were not ready were locked out of the party. Being in receipt of the gifts of God is not sufficient if one does not put them to good use.

In today’s gospel, Matthew moves from the specific to the universal, from the believing community to the judgement of the nations, from parable to description. The story of the final judgement, of the separation of the sheep from the goats is full of surprises, as it was no doubt intended to be. One can imagine Matthew’s community breathing a sigh of relief when the story begins – the focus has moved off them and onto the world. Surely the unbelieving will have a harder time at the judgment than they will. However they are in for a shock. They are not off the hook, in fact far from it. This scene Matthew describes is designed to force the community to think again about what it means to believe and what the judgement will entail for themselves as well as for others.

There a two major causes for astonishment. in the story First of all, it appears that the criterion for judgement is not faith, but the behaviour that results from faith. Secondly, it is made clear that believers are not privileged over non-believers. Everyone is judged according to the same criteria. Feeding the hungry, providing the thirsty with something to drink, welcoming the stranger, clothing the naked, caring for the sick and visiting those in prison are the behaviours that will lead to a good outcome at the judgement – not membership of the Christian faith. This fact cannot be ignored – Matthew repeats these criteria no less than four times in the story – twice by the judge and once each by the righteous and the unrighteous.

In view of this story, it is impossible to have an exclusive view of Christianity. According to this account, all nations (and presumably all faiths) are judged by the same criteria. The qualities that this judge is looking for are the same for everyone – for those who believe in Jesus and those who do not. Love, generosity and compassion are the qualifications for a good outcome at the time of judgement, not belief and certainly not pious self-righteousness.

Matthew is writing to a community whose initial enthusiasm for the gospel has waned. Their faith has become lukewarm. They are beginning to take their salvation for granted. They are no longer living as if Jesus might return at any time and they appear not to be making use of the gifts that God has given them. Within the community – as the rest of the gospel makes clear – there are those who were grasping for power and those who hated other members of the church. Matthew is warning his community that that they are not in a position to judge the other members of the church – God is the judge, God alone can determine the goodness of a person. In taking them to task he is also making it clear that a person’s relationship with God cannot be separated from their relationship with people – love of God and love of neighbour go hand in hand.

Today, the last Sunday of the church year, climaxes with this account of Jesus’ return and the coming judgement. We do not know exactly what form that judgement will take, but we do believe that at some point we will all stand before the throne of God and answer for what we have done and not done. If that time were today, what would you regret? what would you wish you had done?

As we come to the end of another year and prepare to begin a new one, we have the opportunity to look forward and to look back, to review and lay to rest what has been and to set goals for the future.

When the end comes, what would you like your life to look like and what do you need to do in the present to make that happen?

Pentecost 22

Matthew 24:14-31

Marian Free

(Last week I was on holiday – apologies to those who looked and found nothing new. MF)

In the name of God whose abundant love is more than we can measure or imagine.
Amen.

The recent visit of Kim Kardashian intrigued me. Until her visit to Australia I was only vaguely aware of this reality star who had had a very extravagant and public wedding, so the fact that her visit made it to the front page of the newspaper fascinated me. It represents a growing trend. In the past few years it has become possible to become famous (and rich) just by gaining enough attention to oneself. Kim has become her own brand and now earns in the vicinity of $72 million a year because she is so
good at selling herself. Of course she works very hard at what she does and her
success is only possible because people do take notice of her and of what she
does.

In many areas of life today self-promotion works as well, if not better, than
sheer talent. We live in a world that encourages us to believe that we can
achieve anything we set our minds to (regardless of our background or ability).
So pervasive has this attitude that something like 30 percent of American
teenagers told a recent survey that their life goal was to be famous. While
having goals and striving to achieve them is commendable the sad truth is that
there is not enough room for all of us to be at the top. For one person to earn
huge amounts of money a great many have to earn less. for a person to receive
massive media attention, there have to be hundred of people willing to purchase
or watch the media. Not everyone’s circumstance is such that their hard work
will earn them the recognition that they deserve or seek. We can’t all be rich
and/or famous.

Today’s parable seems to suggest that we have an obligation to strive to get the most
value out of the gifts we have been given – to be like the Kim Kardashians of
this world. In fact the parable HAS been used in the past to defend ruthless
profiteering – often at the expense of others – on the basis that the slaves
who doubled their talents were commended and the one who buried his was not
only censured, but punished. In more recent times, interpretations have
confused the monetary value (a greek “talent”) with our English word
“talent” which means gift or ability. Congregations have been urged
to make the best use of their gifts and abilities and the enormity of the trust
overlooked.

There is not time or space to go into all the intricate details and levels of meaning
or to elaborate on the history of the parable’s development. Suffice to say
that like many of our Gospel readings, this too has undergone some development
and interpretation at the hands of Matthew and to note that there are at least
three extant versions – that of Matthew, that of Luke and that of the later
document the Gospel of the Nazarenes. Behind all of these lies Jesus’ original
parable. Similar stories can be found in Jewish literature, and there is at
least one fairy tale that strongly resembles the parable. All imply – on one
level – that growth on a loan or gift is expected.

In Matthew’s account three slaves are given – according to their ability –
portions of their master’s property – ten talents, five talents and one talent.
Even in our terms, these are large sums of money. A talent was the largest
denomination of the Roman coinage. Its physical weight was significant and it
was worth something like 15 year’s wages. That means that even the slave who
was given one talent was entrusted with a very large sum of money.

All the attention in this story is focused on the third slave. Our interest is piqued
when he behaves differently from his fellow slaves. they trade with their money
whereas he buries his. When the master returns, we are alert and waiting – what
will be the master’s response to the third slave? At first this man has our
sympathy – his actions were a reaction to the greed and cruelty of his master.
However, if we have paid attention, we notice too that the slave is defiant and
sullen as well as afraid. Is it possible that his actions were designed to
ensure that the master did not profit, but only got back what he had given?

There is reason to believe that Matthew is writing to a community that has become
lax and complacent. They no longer share the enthusiasm of the first converts
and neither are they living in such a way that they draw others into the
community of faith. Matthew arranges and edits his material in such a way as to
challenge and re-enthuse the community of faith for whom he writes. Jesus
called the nation of Israel to repentance. Matthew records Jesus’ teaching on judgement, but he applies it to the church. In Matthew’s view it is the church that needs to look to itself, to understand the magnitude of the gift that they have on
trust and to put it to good use. The third slave represents all those believers
who have taken the gift for granted or worse have failed to recognise its value
and to build on it.

Read in this light the parable becomes a modern parable for the church. Until the
last fifty years or so we have taken for granted our place in the world. We
have blithely believed that that place was assured and so have done little to
encourage others to join us or to spread the gospel to those for whom it has
become stale or to those who have never heard it. We have accepted the talent
with which God endowed us and have expected life to continue much the same –
that is that we would live in a world that was nominally Christian and that
people would continue to attend church on a more or less regular basis. The
consequence of our complacency and our timidity has been the decline in
congregation numbers and the increasing marginalisation not only of our
practice but of our faith.

In Matthew’s version of the parable the inaction of the third slave results in the
confiscation of the one talent and his being cast out of God’s presence. The
one talent is given to the slave who know has twenty one.

God’s gifts to us are beyond measure, God’s love for us is beyond our imagination. If
we grasp their significance our lives will shine with God’s presence, our love
and enthusiasm will spill over such that they affect the lives of others. Even
one talent will be more than enough. We can’t afford to prevaricate now is the
time to embrace all that God has entrusted to us and to play our role in the
expansion of the kingdom.

Pentecost 20

Matthew 23.1-12, 37-39

Marian Free

 In the name of  Jesus who came among us as one who serves and who calls us to be an example of humility and love to those around us. Amen.

Two very different leaders have been in the news lately and for very different reasons. The recent visit of the Queen was greeted with much excitement in this nation. People waited for hours in the hope of catching a glimpse her and the media was consumed with accounts of what she wore, to whom she spoke and what she ate. One person who waited in the crowds saw only the Queen’s hat and yet was satisfied that the wait had been worth it and that the view of the hat was reward enough.

Despite the efforts of the Republican movement the Royal family is still much loved in this country and elsewhere. This has not always been the case. In past centuries the Royal family, like Royalty elsewhere was remote and inward looking, more interested in furthering their own interests than that of the people whom they governed. Over time the power of the monarchy has been reduced, but the affection in which they are held has grown.

How very different this is from the scenes we have witnessed recently in the Arab world and in Libya in particular. Authoritarian leaders who have inspired only fear and loathing, have faced angry crowds calling for their demise. In Libya, a family which once had wealth and power were forced to flea and the nation’s former leader was dragged from a drain in which he sought refuge from the mob.

The reaction to these very different leaders tells us something about the nature of their leadership. While she has little formal power, the Queen is gracious and compassionate, demonstrating an interest in those for whom she has titular responsibility. At the time of the floods in Brisbane and the earthquake in Christchurch, the Queen sent messages of condolence and Prince William paid a visit to demonstrate the concern felt by the Royal family for those in this far flung part of the Commonwealth. In contrast, it appears that Gaddafi had little interest in or regard for the people he governed. From what we can gather, he enriched himself and his family at the expense of the Libyan people, he was removed from the concerns of the people, he limited their freedom and ruthlessly quelled any opposition.

Gaddafi was not alone in the way he exercised his power. In many parts of the world there are leaders who, sometimes despite good beginnings, get caught up in their own self-importance and self-aggrandisement and become increasingly divorced from the people whom they are called to serve.

Of course, democracy does not prevent arrogance and self-centredness in those who lead, but there are checks and balances to ensure that leaders exercise their leadership responsibly, that they don’t take advantage of their position to enrich themselves and that they don’t use violence to quell opposition. If the checks and balances fail, the people can hope for an election at which those who are found wanting can be removed from office without civil war or assassination.

Power and authority can be very seductive. It is human nature for someone to want public recognition and to want to be in a position in which to be able to make decisions about the things that affect their life. The problem is that the desire for recognition can turn into the desire for adulation, and decisions which are made to benefit one person or group of people very often disadvantage another.

In today’s readings we have a number of different examples of leadership. In the Gospel, Jesus attacks the Pharisees who use their leadership status to gain benefits and recognition for themselves and who in the process of seeking ease for themselves have placed burdens on the shoulders of others. In contrast, Paul’s concern for the Thessalonians outweighs his concern for himself.  He cannot rest until he knows how they are and how they are bearing up under persecution. He is so worried that he sends Timothy to encourage them and so relieved when he hears that they are holding fast. Even when Paul was with the community in Thessalonica he put their needs before his own, saying that he wants to share with them not only the gospel but also his very self.

Yet another example of leadership is found in the reading from Joshua. Joshua takes over where Moses leaves off. It is his task to lead the people of Israel across the river Jordan and into the promised land. In order to do that, he and the priests stand in the breach, holding back the water and putting themselves at risk for the sake of the people and seeing them safely across.

The leadership that Jesus models and that Joshua and Paul exhibit is that of service, of putting the other first, of standing between them and danger, and ultimately of risking their lives for those whom they serve. This sort of leadership does not seek public recognition or reward but finds satisfaction in promoting the happiness and security of others.  A leader who follows Christ does not seek to promote his or her own interests, but aims to encourage and build up those around them.

Whether we have responsibility for large numbers of people or only a few, whether we exercise influence on a wide scale or only within the scope of our families and friends, whether we have power over many or only over one, we are called first and foremost to serve, to exercise leadership by putting ourselves and our own needs second and the needs of others first. Only in this way will we break down the barriers which divide, contribute to harmony and peace in the world and demonstrate God’s love for all people.