Christmas – the powerlessness of God

December 24, 2024

Christmas Eve – 2024

Marian Free

In the name of God, who comes to us as a vulnerable baby insisting on our cooperation in the building of a just, compassionate and caring world. Amen.

I am conscious that many of us come to this Christmas burdened with the state of the world – the encroaching collapse of democracy,  the internal strife in more nations than I can name, the horrific wars in and between so many nations and the toll they are taking on human lives and on infrastructure, the increasing ferocity of natural disasters – bushfires, hurricanes, tornados, earthquakes and floods –  and of our feelings of helplessness as we  watch tragedies unfold all around us. 

How does the birth of a child speak into this situation? Collectively we seem to be worse off, not better off as a consequence. It is clear that 2025 years ago, God did not sweep in and end injustice, oppression and corruption for all time; just as God did not forever disarm the natural forces of this planet.

In Christ God did not burst on to the scene and make everything right – just the opposite. What God did in Christ was to expose God’s powerless. In Christ, God gives us a glimpse into who and what God is and into what God can and cannot do.

That said, the birth of Jesus is God’s masterstroke, because it is the baby that catches our attention. Few people are unmoved by the vulnerability and the innocence of a newborn.  Most of us are filled with the desire to protect, nurture and love an infant into maturity. More than that, at Christmas time, we are captivated by the humble domestic scene of an ordinary family, and we find ourselves in awe of the miraculous – the star, the angels and the magi. It is no wonder that at this moment that our love of God is at its strongest as we kneel in homage with the shepherds and the magi, and our hearts are warmed by the thought of God’s love for us.

This is as it should be, but the danger is, that this warm glow blinds us the real meaning of Jesus’ birth and that our faith and that our concept of God does not extend much beyond the comfort and hope expressed in many a nativity scene and that we do not grasp what this scene really tells us about God. 

The birth of this child is so much more than the fulfillment of a promise, and so much more than the assurance of God’s presence with us. This birth brings us face-to-face with a confronting truth. This infant is God. God the creator of the universe is here, lying on the straw, totally dependent on Mary and Joseph for his every need and completely defenceless against the wrath of Herod. The one to whom we look for intervention in the world, the one to whom we attribute all the power and might is at this moment in time utterly powerless.

Here perhaps is the nub of Christmas – that the very being to whom we entrust our lives, entrusts us with their life. This baby, the Christ-child tells us that the presence and power of God in the world is in our hands. God is in our hands – not in the sense that we can control, manipulate or coerce God, but in the sense that God is powerless because we have it within ourselves to thwart, obstruct and to sabotage God’s plans for the world and for humanity.

Christmas, the coming of God into the world in such an unexpected, humble and vulnerable manner, is a reminder that we are in partnership with God, that we are co-creators with God and that from the beginning God entrusted us with the world and with each other. That means that if the world is not as we would wish it to be – it is on us, not God. When we wring our hands and bemoan the state of the world and when we wonder why God is not doing more to intervene, we overlook our complicity in the problems of the world and our failure to cooperate with the one who created us. We forget the helplessness revealed in the infant Jesus.

You see, God did not create humankind so that God could spend eternity cleaning up the mess that we make as a consequence of our selfishness, greed, and grasping for power. God created humanity in the hope that we would work together with God to build a just, compassionate and equitable world. God gave us the power to change the world for good or ill and more often than we have let down our side of the equation.

At Christmas, God once more brings us face-to-face with reality, with the gap between the hope offered by the Christ-child and the despair that still afflicts the lives of many, the gap between the innocence of the babe and the corruption that continues to exist in many parts of the world, and the gap between the potential of the Prince of Peace and the conflicts that rage in more places than we can name. 

The infant in the manger has no power to throw down world leaders, to destroy the arms of war, or to end the need for security and comfort that builds barriers between ourselves and others. Yet, what power this child has – the power to enter our hearts, the power to draw from us love and awe, the power to inspire us to work for peace and justice, and the power to remind us of the power that we have been given to work with and for God for the good of all.  

The life of this child is in our hands. The future of the world is in our power. How will we respond?

What will we do with the precious gift that God has given us?

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Elizabeth welcomes Mary

December 21, 2024

Advent 4 – 2024

Luke 1:39-35

Marian Free

In the name of God who alone can see into our hearts and who alone can judge between good and evil, right and wrong. Amen.

Many years ago, at church, I met a woman who worked as a prostitute. I’ll call her Jan. She was a remarkable person. After a powerful religious experience, she gave up drugs, alcohol and smoking! When Billy Graham came to Australia for what was to be his last visit, Jan attended a rally and was one of those who responded to the altar call. The team who were on hand to counsel and pray with those who had committed their lives to God recommended that she become a member of her nearest church. This happened to be the church where I was serving my curacy. As was the custom, the counsellor ran me to alert me to look out for Jan saying only that Jan had been at the rally and that she had made a confession of faith. 

There was no hint of judgement. No mention was made of her profession. This was something Jan shared over a meal after one of the services. She also felt safe enough to. tell the Parish Priest. You see, even though Jan had given up smoking, drinking and drugs, she was not in a position to stop working. Jan owed her drug dealers $5000 and no other way to repay them and, surprisingly, they were prepared to wait.

One day Jan rang me in tears. She was absolutely distraught. Her Christian psychologist had accused her of not being a true believer. Despite being a psychologist, he appears to have been a black and white thinker. In his mind, if Jan had truly given her life to Christ she would have given up prostitution. (He didn’t offer any advice with regard to the debt, nor did he offer to pay it for her.) Jan was made to feel worthless, worse, that she had been rejected by God.

Jan was a person of integrity. While she continued working, she refused to be baptised. (In her own mind prostitution and faith didn’t belong together.) That afternoon, it took me the best part of an hour to reassure Jan and to convince her that God knew her heart and that her faith was sincere[1].

I remember being astounded that the supporters of Billy Graham (usually from a more conservative tradition) accepted Jan just as she was and saw her as a child of God. They made no demands and withheld judgement. I was absolutely aghast that an educated, psychologist, a member of the ‘caring’ profession thought that it was in Jan’s best interest that he insinuate that she was not worthy of God’s love as long as she continued working. In so doing, this psychologist utterly undermined Jan’s confidence that she was a child of God, utterly beloved and accepted and instead left her completely bereft, uncertain of her place in the kingdom.

How different the encounter between Elizabeth and her young cousin! Mary unmarried and pregnant, a source of shame not only for Mary but for her whole family turns up unexpectedly. Elizabeth, caught up in her own untimely God-given pregnancy would have been justified in sending Mary away, or at the very least have greeted Mary with questions, cynicism and judgement. After all, if Elizabeth welcomes Mary into her home, Elizabeth is, by implication, indicating her support of Mary’s out-of-wedlock pregnancy. Instead, led by the Spirit, Elizabeth is able to see God at work in Mary’s pregnancy and to rejoice that Mary’s role was to be more significant than her own. 

We take it for granted that Elizabeth should respond to Mary in this way because that is how Luke choses to tell the story. We forget that Mary has turned up unannounced, has made a difficult journey (on her own which in itself is shocking) over a considerable distance and that Elizabeth greets her before Mary has a chance to explain herself. It would not have been at all surprising had Elizabeth thought that Mary was trying to escape her situation and her shame, hoping that her cousin would provide refuge and allow her to hide away from the prying judgement eyes of her neighbours, but Elizabeth’s openness and receptivity to the presence of God allow her to see a different story.

We live in a world that is increasing quick to judge. We are drowning in social media that provides a platform for those who want to promote their own hardline views and those who find s a sense of self-worth in condemning others. 

The encounter between Elizabeth is a reminder of how important it is that we withhold our judgement of another unless and until we are sure that we know all the circumstances behind their behaviour, more important still is to err on the side of caution unless and until we are absolutely confident that we know the mind of God. To do less might be to reject and condemn something that is the work of God or to rebuff and judge harshly someone in whom God’s will is being enacted.  

Like so many biblical accounts, the lesson to take from the meeting between two cousins is not just the miracle of recognition, but the miracle of receptivity to the work of God – in the world and in each one of us.  When we are truly open to the presence of God in ourselves and in others and when we allow our judgement to be guided by the Holy Spirit, we are better able to see all people as children of God, to love and accept them as God does, and even to recognise that God just might be teaching us something through their presence in our lives. 

[1] A year or two later Jan rang to tell me that she had given up the work and was going to be baptised.

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The meaning of repentance (John the Baptist 2)

December 15, 2024

Advent 3 – 2024

Luke 3:7-18 (thoughts)

Marian Free

In the name of God who sees into our very hearts. Amen

In Advent we read the story of John in two parts- last week, John’s baptism of repentance (and his role as the voice crying in the wilderness) and this week, the response of the crowds and John’s advice. Luke’s account gives us more detail than the other gospels and (as is typical of the author of Luke) is more inclusive. Among the crowds who come out to seek baptism are the reviled – the tax collectors and soldiers, persons associated with the Roman occupation, corruption, and extortion – those whom we might expect to be judged as unsuitable for the kingdom (guilty of the unforgivable).

Interestingly, John doesn’t exactly welcome the crowds – the exact opposite in fact. Listening to him speak to the crowds, you would think that he had no interest at all in ‘preparing the way’. When he addresses the people, John’s language is accusatory, direct. There is no subtlety or middle ground for John, the wild man of the desert.

Despite his preaching a message of repentance for the forgiveness of sins, he does not appear to appreciate the response he has received. He is in no mood to offer baptism to just anyone. He questions the sincerity of those who have come out to find him, he doesn’t seem to accept that they have responded to his message, have acknowledged their failings and are ready to repent. He wonders if they are simply self serving, if it is self interest, not genuine repentance that draws them into the desert. John calls them a brood of vipers, asks who warned them to flee from the wrath to come, and insists that their repentance be demonstrated through their actions so that it is evident that they are not simply intent on saving their skins, but really have determined to turn their lives around.

John goes even further. He challenges any idea his listeners might have that their Jewishness might help to save them – “even now the axe is lying at the root of the trees” to thin out those that don’t bear fruit. He warns that: “God can raise up children to Abraham from these stones”. (What matters – as Paul will later make clear – is not a person’s heritage (Jew or Gentile) but their relationship with God.)

Clearly he has put the wind up his audience. It seems that his attack on them has had an effect. Their easy confidence has been shattered. They are all concerned that they understand what John means by repentance, what it means to bear good fruit. The crowds, the tax-collectors, and the soldiers are all anxious to do the right thing. Each in turn ask what it is they must do, in other words what would true repentance look like for them. In each instance John’s advice is practical and doable. He doesn’t suggest that they reach for the impossible or demand that they do something that will lead to their lives being impoverished. What is more, John’s responses are tailor made for his questioners. While there is an underlying theme – that they show by their actions their concern for others, things that will not only show that they are sincere, but which will bring them peace of mind, the actions demanded of each group are particular to their situation.

In response to the question of the crowds: “What shall we do?” John encourages generosity. Those with more than enough should share with those who do not. In response to the tax-collectors’ question: “What shall we do?” John tells them to only collect what they are required to collect (not to enrich themselves at the expense of others). In response to the question of the soldiers: “What shall we do?” John advises that they should be content with what they earn and not extort money by threats or false accusations. In effect, John is saying to them all: “be satisfied with what you have, do not strive to have more than you need, and above all do not try to enrich yourselves at the expense of others.”

You will no doubt have noticed that Luke’ focus is on wealth. Repentance is repentance for having (or wanting to have) more than enough.

“What should we do?”

This Advent as we prepare our hearts for the coming of God among us (as he did and as he will) let us strive to live lives that are authentic, generous and just, let us endeavour not to hold on to our possessions but to be generous towards those who have less and, recognising God’s abundant generosity towards us, let us be content, indeed more than content with what we have.

 

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Preparing the way

December 7, 2024

Advent 2 – 2024

Luke 3:1-6

Marian Free

In the name of God who constantly surprises and whose presence and purpose catch us off guard. Amen.

 

It is said that Albrecht Durer’s sculpture of his brother’s praying hands was a tribute to the sacrifices that Enders, also an aspiring artist, made on behalf of Albrecht. The family who were goldsmiths did not have enough money for both brothers to become artists, so Endres remained at home while Albrecht went to Art School. The story goes that when Albrecht returned and saw the gnarled hands of his brother, he asked him to pose as if in prayer. The result was a carving that has been much copied in 3D and as a drawing/painting.

There are many stories of people who foster the talent of another – sometimes at the cost of their own work. It is possible that Australian author Charmaine Cliff may have been a more prolific author had she not married George Johnston and supported his writing career sometimes at the expense of her own. Parents often put the needs of their children before their own ambitions. In bygone eras women were expected to prioritize their spouses’ career no matter how talented, educated or intelligent they were. Others, recognizing their husband’s gifts sometimes took a step back and of course, there have always been men who encouraged and supported women whose contribution to knowledge, medicine, art they saw as more important than their own careers.

Sometimes such sacrifices build resentments and disappointment but often they are derived from a genuine belief in the other’s giftedness and a real desire to see them succeed and to contribute to their craft, the advancement of knowledge and so on.

An alternative – chosen by most couples in todays world – is that both members of a partnership make compromises so that each may flourish, even if it means that, at least for a time, neither flies as high as they might.

John the Baptist is something of an anachronism. He appears, seemingly out of nowhere, an obscure ‘prophet’ living in the wilderness – possibly known only to a few. Only Luke provides any backstory – his miraculous conception and his naming – but even then we know nothing of his childhood or early adulthood. What we are told is that the word of God came to him in the wilderness and propelled him to travel throughtout Judea proclaiming a baptism of repentance.

It is not even clear that he proclaimed the coming of Christ – only that he announced the coming of God’s wrath.

Just as there was no adequate Old Testament image for Jesus the Christ, so there was no exact model for John the forerunner. The gospel writers, knowing that John emerged from the wilderness, used the only OT text that seemed to fit – a voice in the wilderness. Isaiah’s voice proclaimed disruption and chaos. John, however, preached repentance for forgiveness. He didn’t preach the coming of Jesus, but the coming of God’s wrath. As there was no image that was an easy fit for John, the evangelists seem to have found a text that referred to a voice in the wilderness – even if that voice declared God’s violent, disruptive, world-shaking coming into the world to set things right, rather than the quiet coming of a gentle, forgiving, inclusive, peasant from Galilee.

John had a number of roles in the gospels, none of which are presaged in the Old Testament. He prepared the hearts of the people so that they would acknowledge and repent their failure to live in relationship with God. John was used a a scene setter. He prepared the stage for Jesus, making it clear to the readers of the gospels that Jesus didn’t emerge in a vacuum. God had sent someone before him, preparing the way, turning hearts of God (and maybe making them aware of their shortcomings). John’s role was to make it clear that Jesus was not unexpected. He was announced (at least at his baptism) and that therefore the people had no excuse for not recognising him.

A third role fulfilled by John was that of putting his own interests last, allowing Jesus to flourish, enabling Jesus to fulfill his destiny. John appears to have been secure in his own role. Despite having developed a substantial following of his own, he was not seduced by the headiness of success into forming his own movement or into going into competition with Jesus. He knew himself to be the forerunner- not the Christ. His task as he saw it was to ensure that the hearts of the people were turned to God, open to God’s presence in the world, to build within them a sense of hopeful expectation and to enable them to recognise the Christ even though the Christ would look and act like one of them. He would point away from himself in the direction of Jesus no matter the cost to himself.

Advent and Christmas are overlaid with so much tradition and myth that sometimes we miss what the scriptures are really saying. Sometimes we create a story around John that is not necessary justified by the text.

This Advent, may we see beyond the myth of the wild man in the desert, to the humble, self-effacing prophet who knew his role and who was content to live out his role, without striving to be anything more. May we learn from John the importance of knowing ourselves and may we try to be true to ourselves – not competing with or trying to emulate others.

 

 

 

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Your redemption is drawing near.

December 4, 2024

Advent 1 –  2024 (belated thoughts)

Luke 21:25-38

Marian Free

In the name of God, whose presence, sometimes barely perceptible, is always here if we open our eyes to see. Amen.

I am the daughter of a biologist and while I didn’t always appreciate it, I was taught to pay attention to the natural world – droplets on the female gingko (waiting to be pollinated), the tiny buds of green presaging the onset of spring after a long winter, the bird’s nest almost hidden from view – the wonders of nature that are often passed unnoticed. I am the daughter too of a mother who would take us walking after rain so that we could see how the river had grown, and the hyacinth filled its lower reaches. In my adult life I have been so grateful to have a sense of hopeful expectation whenever I am in the natural world or even my own garden, to have a sense of wonder at the power and changeability of the world around me.

Be alert at all times – or you will not notice the signs of life and growth that signal new beginnings.

Today gospel urges us to pay attention, to take notice of what is happening around us, to note the smallest detail and to grasp the broader picture. It comes at the end of long chapter on the tragedies and traumas that were being experienced and witnessed by those to whom Jesus was speaking and by for whom the gospel was written. In the time of Jesus people of Israel had been under the domination of Rome or other nations for centuries (with only a short break), the Temple was considered to be corrupt, and its priests were Roman appointments and the people were burdened with taxes and had had their lands confiscated. Luke is writing at a time when the Jewish revolt had been brutally and completely crushed, the Temple (that splendid symbol of God’s presence) and even Jerusalem had been razed to the ground and the link between early beliefs and their Jewish roots had been irrevocably broken.

In the 60s earthquakes had destroyed many of the cities in the eastern Mediterranean. Many will have lost homes, income and family members. To some it must have seemed that there was no hope for the future, much that they had assumed would last forever had been destroyed.

Be on your guard, these things must take place.

It would be easy to fall into despair given the current state of the world, to feel that God has abandoned the world to its own devices, to wonder if God is going to let the world run headlong into destruction

We are living in times of great uncertainty. The reality of human nature – the greed, selfishness and desire for power that feeds conflict and civil unrest, the unpredictability of the planet which has been worsened by our own actions and the frailty of the human body are the constant background of our lives.

“Heaven and earth will pass away but my words will not pass away.” 

Today’s gospel reading can be read as a warning to be constantly on our good behaviour, anxiously awaiting the coming of a fierce tyrannical judge, or it can be seen or, as I choose to read, it it is a message of hope, a call to steadfastness in the midst of and despite the chaos and to see the signs of God’s presence in the small things.

Jesus seems to be reminding us that faith is not about the big dramatic interventions of God in the world, nor is faith dependent on miraculous events, faith is not a panacea against all the ills in the world. Faith is not a shallow, superficial fix-it or nor is it a way of warding off trouble. Faith is a stable centre in the midst of instability, a still small voice in the centre of the storm, a firm a bed-rock in shaky ground.

The kingdom is near – notice the signs (however small). Be on your guard – don’t be so distracted by what’s going on around you that you take your eyes off God (and what God’s doing). Be alert – because God’s presence is all around you – in the budding fig, the smile of a child, the small acts of kindness, the generosity of a stranger. The world might fall apart around you but your redemption has been won/is drawing near. If everything seems to fall away remember that the words of Jesus will never fall away.

So, no matter how bad things seem to be, hold fast to faith, ground yourself in the love of God, notice God’s presence everywhere.

This Advent, in a world which is increasingly volatile and unpredictable, don’t let yourself be overwhelmed by fear and anxiety- see the fig tree, know that your redemption is near, know that my Jesus’ words are the ground on which we stand.

 

 

 

 

 

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What sort of king?

November 26, 2024

Christ the King – 2024

John 18:33-37

Marian Free

In the name of God who continues to surprise, confound and amaze us.  Amen.

Many years ago, I read an article in an occupational therapy journal about children in foster care. It reported that no matter how much abuse or neglect a child had suffered at the hands of a natural parent they still wanted to go home. It seemed that the idea of family, mother, father created a deep longing to belong, even if the child’s reality did not live up to expectation. Apparently, an abusive mother was better than no mother, a disparaging, derisive father was better than no father. 

Terms like mother, father, mum, dad, family come laden with meaning – often idealistic and vastly different from many people’s reality. Few parents are perfect and even if they were, their styles of parenting would differ according to their own experience, their personalities and the relationship that they have with each other – no one family is the same. Even though the definition of “family” has vastly changed over the last 50 years, still many of us have an idea of what a mother/father/family should be like[1].  

The same is true of the expression “God”. In the eighties and nineties many feminists and others chose to use the term “Godde” to make it clear that the divinity in whom they believed was not a bearded, white-haired man sitting on a throne, condemning people to the fire of hell and that “Godde’ was much bigger and broader than the narrow image that was circulating. Many of us still confront the problem that the God which many of our friends have rejected is unrecognisable to us – a human invention not a revelation of scripture ad certainly not related to our experience.

Over and again, scripture confronts a narrow, unimaginative concept of God, an image of God that is easier to manage, understand and, dare I say, control. In a phrase that I often repeat, Isaiah says: “God’s thoughts are not our thoughts and God’s ways are not our ways.” (Is 55:8).  Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians makes the same point when he  argues that the cross exposes our false understanding and overturns all our preconceptions. “God’s foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God’s weakness is stronger than human strength.” (1 Cor 1: 28).

Though there might be some assumptions that we can make about God, God consistently overturns and challenges our simple-minded ideas.  Nowhere is this more obvious than with the person Jesus. On every level, Jesus failed to meet expectations and at every turn Jesus refused to be bound by the limits of the human mind. Jesus came to serve not to be served, he argued that the first would be last, and announced – not that he would lead the Israelites to victory – but that he would suffer and die.

That Jesus confounds every attempt to label him and to box him in, is particularly clear in Jesus’ interaction with Pilate. Despite the fact that Pilate is in a position to put Jesus to death, Jesus refuses to give Pilate a clear answer to Pilate’s question as to who he is. In response to Pilate’s questioning Jesus is evasive, elusive and enigmatic. 

Until the moment of Jesus’ trial, Jesus was probably unknown to Pilate and now he is brought before him by the Jews (whose traditions and laws Pilate does not understand, and over whom he has no jurisdiction). Pilate makes an attempt to discover who and what Jesus is, yet Jesus speaks in riddles and throws Pilates’ questions back to him. “What makes you think I’m a king?”

Jesus does not deny that he is a king, but he is clear that like “God” and “family” the title “king” is impregnated with meaning and expectation and that if he admits to being “king” Pilate (and the crowd) will impose their own understanding on the word – Pilate will see Jesus as a threat to Caesar and the crowd will expect him to seek power.

By prevaricating, by being evasive, by not directly answering Pilate’s question, Jesus is trying to redefine “kingship”. Yes, he is a king, but not the sort of king that people are used to – not a king who enriches himself at the expense of others, not a king who expects everyone to be subservient to him, not a king that seeks to dominate and oppress all the nations of the world. Jesus is king of an unworldly kingdom, a king whose primary purpose is to testify to the truth – the content of which is contained in John’s gospel, the purpose of which is that those who hear Jesus’ voice will attain eternal life.

In just five verses the author of the gospel has de-stabliised and undermined the traditional understanding of what it means to be king. Jesus is king, but he is king on his own terms, he will not be defined and confined by the expectations of others – whether they be his fellow Jews or the representatives of Rome.

The passage is left hanging with Pilate’s question: “What is truth?” 

There is an interesting twist to John’s account of Jesus’ trial and crucifixion. Traditionally a name is attached to the cross to identify the one being crucified. Pilate orders that the sign on Jesus’ cross read (in Hebrew, Latin and Greek): “Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews.” Despite the objections of the Jews, Pilate leaves the wording as it is. Has Pilate come to see the truth? Has he grasped that Jesus is a king (albeit a very different one) or is this is Pilate’s way of justifying an execution which at heart he believes is not justified.

Either way, Jesus’ crucifixion is the ultimate act de-stablises, unsettles and even undermines all our expectations of what it means to be King of the Jews, the one sent by God, the anointed.  

Jesus’ dialogue with Pilate, is a reminder that the narrative is not within our control, that God the Trinity will always act in ways that we do not expect and will always defy our attempts to categorise and define.  In the face of Pilate’s efforts to label him Jesus infuses the expression with new meaning.  He is a king, but he is a king like no other (before or since).

May all our longings for the kingdom be tempered by the knowledge that the kingdom is not of our making and that our human intellects are inadequate to the task of truly comprehending who and what God is, what it is that God plans, and what the kingdom will finally be revealed to be.

[1] Of course, the nature of families has completely changed and with that comes a change in expectations.

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See what large stones! Trusting in the temple or trusting in God.

November 16, 2024

Pentecost 26 – 2024

Mark. 13:1-8

Marian Free

In the name of God in whom we trust. Amen.

One only has to read/watch the news to see the catastrophic state of the world: the unimaginable devastation and loss of life from the floods in Valencia and the wars in the Middle East, Ukraine and elsewhere, the disorder and civil unrest in Haiti, the drug-fuelled violence in Mexico, the displacement of people in the Sudan, Burma and elsewhere, the increasing polarisation between people of the same nation and background and between people who confess the same faith, and the exaggerated rhetoric and personal attacks around differing political views and cultural values – even in countries like our own. 

It is difficult at times not to fall into despair. It is tempting to look at the state of the world, to ask “what is going on?”, to wonder what the future might hold and to ponder where God might be in all this upheaval. Are all these disturbances a sign of more to come (as the changes in climate seem to threaten)? Are we witnessing the end of life as we have known it OR is this really the beginning of the end of the world?

It is human nature to want to make sense of calamity[1]. Collectively, we want to give meaning to the death of a child, the destruction of our home, a life-threatening illness – to any unexpected tragedy or calamity. So great is our need to give meaning to something that has no meaning that we fall into the trap of making up trite, often pious explanations for such events. We are anxious find explanations that cover up our feelings of inadequacy, our inability to find the right words to say, or which to help us to avoid facing the trauma of the inexplicable. 

I’m sure that you know what I mean. You may even have used phrases yourself. “God wanted another angel”, “They are in a better place,” “This will make you stronger” and so on. There are any number of such sayings that have entered our vocabulary to be trotted out when we have nothing better to say.  Sadly, by failing to honestly acknowledge someone’s pain, by not facing the trauma head on, we often increase a person’s sense of isolation and grief. Instead of providing comfort, we reveal our own failure to understand and our unwillingness to engage.  When say these things to ourselves, we withhold permission from ourselves to express our heartache, to sit with our grief until such time as the healing process can begin.

Today’s gospel forms the beginning of what is known as the “Little Apocalypse”, the description of things to come. Very often these are taken to be sign of the end – in fact that language implies that that is what Jesus is saying.

I want to suggest that Jesus’ meaning is much broader and much more related to the present (at whatever time in history that present might be). 

Scholars believe that Mark’s gospel was written to and for a community under threat. It written to reassure believers that their experience is not out of the ordinary, that in fact it was to be expected as a consequence of following Jesus. The gospel is a reminder that 

following Jesus is not a protection against the world’s ills. Faith in Jesus is not some or of amulet that will protect believers from harm. Believers will face the same travails and encounter the same losses as anyone who does not believe.

In our reading this morning the disciples look at the Temple which appears to have been built to withstand any threat. It was by all accounts a magnificent structure, built of huge stones, some of which were fifty feet long and eight foot high and thousands of tonnes in weight. To the disciples – Galileans all – the Temple must have seemed indestructible[2]. At the same time, despite all that Jesus has tried to teach them – about his suffering, about their taking up the cross – they still seem to hold the belief that Jesus has come to Jerusalem to confront the Romans, to restore Temple worship by removing the corrupt priests.

It is possible that for most if not all of the disciples are visiting Jerusalem for the first time. As followers of Jesus, they experienced his triumphal entry into the city and now they can sit and admire the Temple – the meeting place between YHWH and God’s people. “Look, Teacher, what large stones and what large buildings!” 

Jesus’ response would have been entirely unexpected. instead of joining in their wonder, Jesus announces the destruction of the Temple. “Do you see these great buildings? Not one stone will be left here upon another; all will be thrown down.” The Temple is not as indestructible as they think. Like everything else on earth, it is ephemeral and temporary, subject to destruction and decay.

This is too much for them to comprehend. The disciples need details, they need to make meaning out of what Jesus has said, they want to be able to prepare for such a catastrophic event. So they ask: “Tell us, when will this be, and what will be the sign that all these things are about to be accomplished?” It is then that Jesus begins to tell them of all the things that might happen. These, as I have suggested, are not so much signs of the end as Jesus providing a corrective – don’t look for signs even the angels in heaven do not know the time (13:32). Understand (Jesus seems to be saying) that worldly existence is precarious, humans are susceptible to variations in the weather, human bodies are vulnerable to disease and deterioration, and human nature tends towards competitiveness and selfishness. Peace and prosperity, health and fitness are not a given, but a privilege enjoyed by a few.  There are no simple, trite answers to trauma.

Our faith does not protect us from wars, earthquakes, famines, from hardship, poor health, or frailty. What faith does at its best is determine how we react to setbacks, traumas, and loss. What matters is not so much that we are able to interpret the times, but how we respond to what is going on around us. 

As people of faith, we cannot cut ourselves from the realities of human existence, but we can learn to live in the present, accepting what is rather than looking back to an idealized past or striving for an unrealistic future.[3] As people of faith, we are to learn to  place ourselves, our loved ones and the world in entirely in the hands of God, believing – sometimes against all evidence to the contrary, that all things will work for good. In this way, and this way alone, we will be ready for whatever is to come because we will already have placed our trust in things eternal, things that will last.

 Jesus’ comments about the destruction of the Temple are less about the timing of the end, and more a corrective of the disciples’ belief that Jesus has come to overthrow the leaders of Rome and of the Temple. They are a reminder not to look back to an idealised past or forward to an unrealistic future, but to live fully in the present, with all the good and bad that comes with that and to trust that God is with us through it all. 

[1] When my parent’s home was completely covered by flood waters in 1974, my father wandered round in a daze half-jokingly asking why God had asked him to build an ark!

[2] All that remains today are the Temple steps (see photo)

[3] It is important to note that non- resistance does not equal passive acceptance. If we can change things, if by the way we live and the way we act we can make a difference in our lives and in the lives of others, then we should do so.

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Praise or sarcasm – the widow’s mite

November 9, 2024

Pentecost 25 – 2024

Mark 12:38-44

Marian Free

In the name of God who consistently demands that we care for the alien, the widow and the orphan. Amen.

Recently I had cause to meet someone for lunch in Beenleigh.  Just prior to the shopping centre I made a wrong turn. We found ourselves in what had been a park. Well, it was still a. park, but now every square inch was covered with tents and tarpaulins. People who for whatever reason had nowhere to live had made homes of a sort in this relatively out of the way place. 

I cannot imagine what it must be like to be a parent who has to put their children to bed without a proper meal, to send them to school  without the right school books or who has to tell their children that their home is no longer their home and that they will be living in a tent or in a car or in someone’s garage until they can find another home to rent. The current cost of living crisis and the shortage of accommodation means that more and more people are finding themselves in these sorts of situations – tossing up between paying the power bill and buying nutritious food, having to rely on food banks and the kindness of others, and constantly having to say “no” to one’s children.

In Jesus’ time there was no welfare. The poor were totally reliant on the kindness of others. Women were entirely dependent on their families – their fathers and then their husbands and then their sons.  Widows who did not have sons were particularly vulnerable. The Temple offerings were meant in part to support the widow and the orphan, but Jesus’ attack on the scribes suggests that this was not a current practice.

Our use of scripture is fascinating. Despite the fact that this morning’s gospel begins with Jesus’ attack on the scribes (scribes who ‘devour widow’s houses’). Most preachers (myself included) have tended to use the widow’s actions as an example of sacrificial giving. Many a stewardship sermon has urged congregation members to give until it hurts, using the widow’s willingness to give her last coins as a model for the giving approved by Jesus.

At first glance, Jesus does appear to commend the widow for giving everything (in contrast to the rich whose large gifts represented only a small proportion of their total wealth).  “For all of them have contributed out of their abundance; but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on.” But is this really the point that Jesus is making? Can we really imagine Jesus – the same Jesus who raised the son of the widow of Nain and so saved her from destitution – taking delight in the actions of a widow that will leave her nothing to live on? Could Jesus, raised on the Old Testament insistence that the Israelites care for the widow and the orphan, simply commend the woman from a distance and allow her to return home to die (if indeed she has a home to go to)?

The usual interpretation, tempting as it is to all clergy who would like to encourage parishioners to be more generous, denies the widow of her personhood. She becomes an object lesson rather than a flesh and blood individual. No attention is paid to her life, how long she has been widowed, whether or not her husband had left her with something or nothing, whether or not she ever had sons, where her father and brothers might be, or how she has survived until now. No thought is given to her current state of destitution – her two small coins would only have been able to purchase enough flour to make one or two biscuits. No one asks whether she is giving away the coins, not as a sign of generosity, but as evidence of her complete despair – her willingness to give up and die.

Interpreting the widow’s act as a sacrificial also fails to take into account the immediate and the wider context of the story. Given Jesus’ prior comments about the scribes – who not only do everything they can to draw attention to themselves, but who also use their status and their education to impoverish widows – (charging for legal assistance, taking advantage of a widow’s hospitality, taking money on the promise of a prayer)[1] – it is more likely that Jesus is here continuing his critique of the scribes. You can almost hear his voice dripping with sarcasm – rather than commending the widow, he is condemning the scribes – she is giving all she had to live on. The scribes, whose task it was to interpret the law, appear to have forgotten the law’s instruction to care for the widows. While they give only what they can afford, they treat the widow as if she doesn’t exist.

Rather than be an example of sacrificial giving, the widow serves to expose the self-serving, self-obsessed scribes who think only of the attention that they receive if they wear their long robes and make long prayers. 

The wider context of these verses supports this interpretation. It commences with Jesus’ Cleansing of the Temple (11:15-19) and concludes with Jesus’ prediction of the destruction of the Temple (13:1-2). Throughout the section the focus is on the corruption of the Temple worship and on the failure of the leaders of the church.  

In this broader context the widow becomes an illustration of just how far from God’s ideal the church has fallen. That a widow, who has nothing left to live on should feel that she has to continue support the Temple (instead of it supporting her) indicates that the system has become so corrupt that it cannot sink any lower. 

This gives us pause for thought. What does Jesus see when he looks at our society, our care (or lack of care) for the poor, the vulnerable, the homeless? Had Jesus been in the car with me in Beenleigh, would he have commented: “Look how simply they live.” meaning, “how well you and your kind are living”?

What does Jesus see and how is he calling us to respond to the present economic crisis?

[1] Chelsey Harmon points out that the scribes were guilty of taking advantage of widows: 

  • though it was forbidden, many took payment from widows for providing legal assistance;
  • while serving as lawyers, some cheated on the wills or mismanaged the widows’ estates;
  • some scribes were known to take advantage of, and freeload upon, the hospitality offered to them by widows;
  • certain scribes were in the habit of taking payment and promising to make intercessory prayer for widows (i.e., making it a business transaction);
  • and if a widow could not pay, there were known cases where scribes literally took the widow’s home as payment for services rendered,
  • offering to invest their money, then robbing them of it. https://cepreaching.org/commentary/2021-11-01/mark-1238-44-3/

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All Saints

November 3, 2024

All Saints – 2024

John 11:37-44

Marian Free

In the name of God, who created the universe out of nothing, and who gives life to the dead. Amen.

Today we celebrate all the saints who have inspired, challenged and changed the church for the better. These would be saints whether or not we believed in the resurrection.  Their example and faithfulness would be remembered and would stand as a beacon through the ages. We would remember them with fondness and (as best we could), would model our lives on theirs regardless of whether or not we believed that they continued to exist. As it is we are confident of the resurrection, and such can find strength and courage in their continued presence with us.

Because, not only can we be inspired by their lives, but we can continue to be in relationship with them. That relationship will vary depending on our background and our temperament. Many in the Roman Catholic tradition believe that the saints intercede for them. In practice this can take the form of almost superstitious prayers (to St Anthony of Padua to find something that is lost, or to St Christopher to keep a person safe when travelling) or the more profound prayers for healing, support in grief, guidance for the future. In some churches in Italy, tombs of the saints are covered in post it notes and adorned with cards that carry pleas for the saint to intercede for those in need.

In the letters of Paul, everyone who believes is called “αγιος” (holy or saint), but it seems that very early in the life of the church a belief emerged that those who had died continued in some way to be part of the community, these were also called saints. Hebrews for example, tells us that we are surrounded by a great company of saints. “Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, (martyrs) let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, who for the sake of the joy that was set before him endured the cross, disregarding its shame, and has taken his seat at the right hand of the throne of God” (12:2).

This conviction that there was life after death is significant as the notion of the resurrection to eternal life was a matter of some controversy in the first century. From the gospels we can tell that while the Pharisees believed in resurrection, the Sadducees did not. In fact, the Sadducees tried to trip Jesus up over this very question. According to the Psalms and other Old Testament writings, those who had died did not rise to new life but went to Sheol ,a shadowy place from which a person could no longer worship God. As the Psalmist says: “In death there is no remembrance of you; in Sheol who can give you praise?”  

It was during the exile, when the Hebrews lived in Babylon and were influenced by the culture around them, that ideas of resurrection began to influence the Jewish faith.

Even though the idea of resurrection was not embraced by all people of the Jewish faith, belief in life after death is attested to in the Book of Maccabees an inter-testamental book in which each of seven brothers refuse to eat pork – even under torture. The fourth of the brothers to be tortured states: “One cannot but choose to die at the hands of mortals and to cherish the hope God gives of being raised again by him” (2 Macc 7:14). The mother of the seven young men, who watches her sons tortured to the point of death, encourages them to be steadfast believing that: “the Creator of the world, who shaped the beginning of humankind and devised the origin of all things, will in his mercy give life and breath back to you again” (2 Macc 7:23).

In the beginning of the first century, Jesus’ resurrection confirmed once for all, that the dead would be raised. The raising of Lazarus pre-figures Jesus’ own resurrection, and powerfully demonstrates Jesus’ power over life and death. It also provides an opportunity for Jesus to teach about the resurrection. Lazarus is raised to life in the present, but not for eternity.  The sisters believed that Jesus had the power to prevent Lazarus from dying. Jesus is more concerned that they understand that he is the resurrection and the life, that he is the one who will defeat death once for all. in other words, the raising of Lazarus is but a foretaste of Jesus’ ultimate victory.

The message of Jesus’ resurrection lay at the heart of the proclamation of the gospel, it gave heart to those who were persecuted for their faith and strength to those who were facing difficult times. If this life was not all there was, then anything could be borne.

As the church spread and grew, and as it settled into a more sedentary form of existence, there was less need for courage and strength, but there were still those

whose lives of faith stood out from the crowd. Those whose wisdom, holiness, fortitude,  self-sacrifice set them apart and those whose gifts of prophecy, teaching or healing made them distinct, came to be revered in life and, on their death, to be considered not only as examples to follow, but as saints whose continued presence could influence and sustain the faith journeys of others.

The Feast of All Saints is a reminder that we are not alone in this journey of faith. Those who have gone before us continue to exist, to give us strength when we face dark times (after all many of the saints faced far worse), to give us hope when all seems hopeless (they did not give up when times were tough), to teach us compassion when we are tempted to ignore the suffering around us (they were not afraid to embrace the leper, to feed the hungry), and to seek the peace and joy that comes from within rather than to depend on the things of this world to meet our deepest needs. 

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I once was blind but now I see – the healing of Bartimaeus

October 26, 2024

Pentecost 23 – 2024

Mark 10-46-52

Marian Free

In the name of God who opens the eyes to the truth of God’s being.  Amen.

One of the privileges of ministry has been teaching religious education. Trying to share the faith at age-appropriate levels or finding ways to encourage children to understand that God wants to encourage, not demand; to affirm, not condemn has led to some very deep reflection, to some amazing insights and above all to some magical moments in the classroom.

Children, at least those of eight years old and older, bring to religious education a degree of scepticism. Without fail, someone in the class will ask: but what about the dinosaurs? They, possibly influenced by their parents, want to challenge the creation story – the one at the beginning of Genesis that, if taken literally, suggests that God created the world in seven days. As someone who grew up with a copy of The Evolution of the Species on my bookshelf, I was never fazed by the question. The problem was, how could I explain say that I didn’t think the Genesis story was true without discrediting the Bible as a whole – especially when the students were only in year four (turning nine).

After some thought and much prayer, it occurred to me that Aesop’s Fables might provide the answer. When asked the question I would tell the story of the tortoise and the hare and ask the children if it were true. Students, eager to please, often said: ‘yes’. To which I would respond can animals really talk? ‘No’ they would say. ‘Does it tell us something that is true?’ I’d ask. ‘Yes!” would be the answer. This gave me an opportunity to draw a parallel with the accounts of creation in Genesis. They are not historically accurate, but they do reveal truths – truths about creation, about the human desire to be independent of God and so on.

One of the most rewarding lessons was the occasion on which I could almost see the cogs turning in a young girl’s head and a light bulb coming on as she realised that the Bible didn’t have to be historically accurate to be true. It was truly like watching her eyes open for the first time, as if this was something that had puzzled and now everything had fallen into place. 

Many of us have had such light bulb moments – those occasions when suddenly we see clearly – what we have to do, how to move forward, how to let go of the past. Sometimes those moments are lifechanging and we cannot believe that we had lived without such insights.

What does this have to do with Bartimaeus I hear you ask. Well, in one sense nothing. But it does have a lot to do with Mark’s telling of the Jesus’ story and in particular Jesus’ teaching on discipleship.

Many scholars believe that Mark 8:22 –10:52 form a discrete section in which Jesus teaches the disciples. Here, Jesus is revealing his true self and his mission to the disciples and educating them as to what it means to be disciples. Three times in these chapters Jesus announces that he is to suffer and die and to rise again, twice he reminds his disciples that the greatest among them will have to become their servant, and that they must become like children to enter the kingdom. The disciples are told that they must take up their cross and follow Jesus, that they must lose their life to gain it, and that with mortals it is impossible to enter the kingdom of heaven.

Throughout this section, as Jesus tries to prepare the disciples for what Jerusalem has in store and the disciples consistently reveal their failure to understand, their determination that Jesus should be the type of Messiah that they were expecting. Peter rebukes Jesus when he says he has to suffer, the disciples argue about who is the greatest, and James and John ask to sit at Jesus’ right hand and his left.

Interestingly, the discussion on Jesus’ suffering and what it means to be disciples is framed by accounts of Jesus’ healing a blind man. The stories are very different, which suggest that Mark has deliberately sandwiched Jesus’ announcements between two stories of receiving sight. It is the differences between the healing stories that lead to this conclusion.  

In the first account (Mk 8:22-26) the blind man is brought to Jesus. Jesus takes the man outside the village, puts saliva on the man’s eyes and lays hands on him. When he asks if the man can see, he responds that he can see people but that they look like trees walking. Jesus tries again and this time the man is able to see. Once he is healed, he is sent (and he goes) home.

Bartimaeus does not need to be brought to Jesus. He is sitting begging on the road to Jerusalem.  When he hears that Jesus of Nazareth is near, he calls out: “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”  Bartimaeus has agency (he does not need to be brought to Jesus). He has insight: he knows that Jesus is the one promised by God – Son of David. He is enthusiastic: he springs up and goes to Jesus. He is healed by Jesus’ word, and he is fully healed. He is told to go but instead he chooses to follow Jesus.

That Mark has chosen to frame Jesus’ journey and his revelations about himself, his mission and discipleship with stories of people coming to sight suggest that the gospel writer is describing for his readers a process of coming to understanding, of gaining insight that leads them to a fuller understanding of Jesus. That the first blind man didn’t see immediately reflects partial knowledge, knowledge that allows one to accept healing, but not to follow.  Bartimaeus is healed, he sees clearly, he leaves everything[1] and follows Jesus. All that Jesus has been trying to teach his disciples, Bartimaeus knows in an instant. His eyes have been opened to the truth and he cannot unsee it.

By framing the section on discipleship with the two different descriptions of healing, Mark illustrates the journey to faith – with all its missteps, setbacks, misunderstandings and finally submission. It is a story for all time. A journey into discipleship through ignorance and self-centredness to yearning, comprehension and finally to complete surrender.  

[1] It might not seem like much, but begging was a source of income, and presumably his home and family were in Jericho.

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