Jesus’ baptism

January 6, 2024

Baptism of Jesus

Mark 1:4-11 (12-13)

Marian Free

In the name of God who calls us to give of ourselves. Amen.

Mark’s account of Jesus’ baptism is typically bald and lacking in detail. In fact, it raises more questions than it answers. 

For example: Why does Jesus seemingly appear out of nowhere? Why does he seek out John’s baptism? Is Jesus seeking to become a disciple of John? Does he, like John want to be a part of reforming the practice of Judaism? Has Jesus, at this point, any real understanding of who he is, and what his role is to be? 

Given the starkness and brevity of Mark’s introduction, it is no wonder that when Matthew and Luke penned their versions of events they felt a need to fill out the story with accounts of the lead up to Jesus’ birth, the birth itself and subsequent events. Their stories are filled out with genealogies, angels, shepherds, wise ones and so on. In different ways, both build up to the beginning of Jesus’ ministry and in so doing provide the readers with some background as to who this man Jesus might be. By the time we come to Jesus’ baptism in Luke and Matthew we have heard that he is – Emmanuel, Son of David, Son of God, the anointed one, King of the Jews. We know that he is to be called Jesus and that he will save his people from their sins. In other words, by the time Matthew and Luke come to reporting Jesus’ baptism, we already know a great deal about him. 

Mark however has no time for what came before. He is not interested in Jesus’ birth or childhood. He feels no need to establish Jesus’ lineage or miraculous origin. For him the beginning of the good news is not Jesus’ mysterious birth or the missing thirty years of his life, but his bursting on to the scene at the time of his baptism. 

Who Jesus is, and what his purpose in the world is, is announced not by an angel, but by John the Baptist, that wild, strange figure whom we met during Advent. John, so Mark briefly tells us, is the messenger predicted by Isaiah to “prepare the way in the wilderness”. We know little of John apart from what is recorded by gospels[1]. It is possible that he is representative of all those who thought that the present state of religion in Israel was in a dire state. The Pharisees, who sought a solution in the law. The writers of the Dead Sea Scrolls (Essenes) who took themselves into the wilderness on the shores of the Dead Sea and created a society based around ritual cleansing. John the Baptist seems to fit somewhere in the middle – through baptism he encouraged ritual cleansing and he demanded repentance as a means to restore the relationship between Israel and God.

In seeking out John and submitting to John’s baptism Jesus, is at the very least, indicating that he supports John’s preaching and ministry. Indeed, like John, Jesus begins his ministry by calling people to “repent”. The difference is that John demands repentance and points to Jesus and Jesus announces the good news and points to the coming of the kingdom.

None of this however explains why Jesus needs to be baptised for ‘the forgiveness of sins’.  

Was his baptism an affirmation of John, an indication of Jesus’ desire to fully identify with humanity in all its sinfulness, or was it “to fulfill all righteousness” (Mt 3:15)? Whatever the. reason, it is clear that Jesus’ baptism is a watershed moment. Until this point in his life Jesus had lived in obscurity and had done nothing remarkable. From now on he will preach the kingdom, confront the Pharisees, Sadducees, the elders and the scribes, he will challenge practices and teaching that binds rather than liberates and he will bring good news and healing to all those who are marginalised. 

Jesus may have sought baptism because he knew his trajectory and the task set before him. Or it may be that Jesus’ baptism confirmed and consolidated what, until that point, he had only suspected – that he was God’s anointed, sent into the world to bring the people back to God, and that he was integrally related, indeed a member of the Trinity.

This knowledge – unveiled by the tearing apart of the heavens, the descent of the Spirit and the voice from heaven (“you are my Son, the Beloved”) – is not a cause for triumphalism. We must read on to understand the impact of these events on Jesus whose response to the divine revelation is revealed as much in Jesus does not do, as it is through what he does do. What Jesus does not do, is to claim his Godly power and authority. What Jesus does not do is to go to the Temple and lord it over the priests and Sadducees. What Jesus does not do is to perform miracles that serve his own purposes. What Jesus does not do is to demand obeisance and subservience.

Instead, Jesus allows the Spirit to drive him into the wilderness where, presumably he confronts the temptation that comes from knowing who he really is. Then, he disappears into the relative anonymity that is Galilee. He chooses, not to go it alone, but to share his gifts and his ministry with others and he uses his authority, not for himself but to ease the burdens of others.

At his baptism, Jesus discovers that he has the world at his feet and  yet, knowing this, Jesus chooses not to lord it over the world, but to put himself at the disposal of the world. 

[1] Mandeans consider themselves disciples of John the Baptist, but so far as I can tell, that is where the connection ends.

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Our bodies – God’s interface with the world

December 30, 2023

Holy Family

(Initially written for the series When Women Preach. If you’d like to hear it in my voice go to https://australianwomenpreach.com.au/)

Luke 2:22-30

Marian Free

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

The Book of Common Prayer provided the liturgical resources for the world-wide Anglican Church   up until 1975. It included a rite called the Churching of Women   (latterly known as Thanksgiving after the Birth of a Child.) This rite is based on Leviticus 12:2-8 which refers to the purification of women after childbirth. It is worth quoting the text in full as it lies behind the gospel set for today; “If a woman conceives and bears a male child,   she shall be ceremonially unclean seven days;    as at the time of her menstruation, she shall be unclean.   On the eighth day   the flesh of his foreskin shall be circumcised.    Her time of blood purification shall be thirty-three days;    she shall not touch any holy thing, or come into the sanctuary, until the days of her purification are completed.  If she bears a female child, she shall be unclean two weeks, as in her menstruation;    her time of blood purification shall be sixty-six days. When the days of her purification are completed, whether for a son or for a daughter,   she shall bring to the priest      at the entrance of the tent of meeting    a lamb in its first year for a burnt offering,    and a pigeon or a turtledove for a sin offering.”

Though the Anglican service does not use the language of purification, it was known colloquially as “the rite for the purification of women” and, in some parts of Australia was still practiced in the 1960’s.  I can still remember someone telling me of the humiliation that she felt at having to undergo the ritual, the sense of degradation that came from an understanding that somehow her God given body, the body that had given life to another, was considered impure by the church community in which she worshipped. 

It was not only birth that was considered to render a woman unclean. In Old Testament times and, in some contemporary cultures, menstruation was/is viewed as a source of impurity that required women to separate themselves from their community during the time of their period. This is also based on Leviticus which tells us that anyone who touches a menstruating woman will be unclean until evening. {And} The woman herself is considered to be unclean for seven days. And anyone who touches her,   or who touches something that she has touched in that time   is likewise thought to be unclean.

In the church, attitudes to women’s bleeding have varied through the centuries, but Leviticus 12 continued to influence the opinions of some. For example, in the seventh century, Bishop Theodore of Canterbury stated that: “During the time of menstruation women should not enter into church or receive communion.”

While this sounds archaic to modern ears, it was one of the reasons that women continued to be excluded from the sanctuary. In living memory, flower arrangers, had to leave their vases on the sanctuary steps so that they could be put into place by a male churchgoer. (This was true whether they were menstruating at the time or not). (And) As recently as the 1980’s a bishop (who was very much in favour of the ordination or women), shared with me that he had a lingering (if irrational) sense of discomfort that a priest who might be menstruating could be presiding at Holy Communion.

In our day and age, it seems an extraordinary idea that menstrual blood could be seen to render a woman unclean, that the source of all human life could be understood as a cause for impurity and that the act of birth could likewise render a woman impure. 

In today’s gospel, Mary and Joseph bring themselves to do that which is required by the Torah (Lev 12). There is so much detail in these verses – the offering of the doves, Simeon’s gratitude, Anna’s excitement, Simeon’s song and prophecy – that it is easy to overlook why the couple are there – for Mary to undergo a process of purification – and that after having given birth to God’s very self. (A detail balanced only by fact that God did not consider a woman’s body an unworthy vessel for the Saviour of the world.)

Sadly, there has developed in Christendom a distrust of the body which is seen as the origin of desire, passion and sin. Our relationship with our bodies is complex. Without our bodies we do not exist, but bodies can be weak, frail, and broken. They do not always perform as we would wish. Bodies come with physical needs     and our natural bodily functions cannot always be controlled and are often experienced as a source of inconvenience, discomfort, or embarrassment.

Mary’s body is the reason that the family go to the Temple, but hers is not the only body.  In this short vignette, we have infant bodies and aged bodies, fertile bodies and infertile bodies, female bodies and male bodies, bodies losing their functionality and bodies that have yet to learn how to self-regulate.  Jesus’ body is small, vulnerable, and dependent. Mary’s body is young and strong and fertile and unclean. Anna’s is long past the time of being able to bear children yet is still filled with life and energy. Simeon is ready to abandon his body in death but before he does, he takes the embodied God into his arms. 

For all their frailty and inconvenience, it is our bodies that give us existence and it is “the body with its appetites, its pleasures and all its various functions    that God has chosen to make his love known among us”.[1] God’s very self did not despise the human body but chose to inhabit it and to share in all its fullness, in all the messiness of human existence: “he became like his brothers and sisters in every respect.” (Hebrews 2:14-18)

However we try to sanitise our scriptures, however we try to separate our physical bodies from the life of the spirit, we cannot ignore the fact that the gospels themselves are earthy and bodily. From Jesus’ bloody, violent, and messy birth, to his bloody, violent and messy death the Incarnation is proof positive that holiness and bodilness cannot be separated, that our bodies are not to be despised but to be treasured as the place in which God did and does make God’s home.

Jesus’ birth, Jesus’ presentation in the Temple, Jesus’ life and death, and even his scarred resurrection body, are all evidence that Jesus fully embraced the human condition – that God in Jesus was vulnerable and in control, weak and strong, sorrowful and joyful – “like us in every respect”. 

Our bodies, our frail, imperfect bodies are God’s interface with the world. Our bodies, our very human bodies, were and are the dwelling place of God for whom no task is too mundane, no activity too ordinary, no function unspeakable and no part impure. 

“Let us glorify God in our bodies.”

{In 2011, Colleen Fulmer uploaded this song to You Tube

We are the body of Christ,

birthing, feeding,

touching, weeping. 

We are the body of Christ,

mending, bleeding,

healing, dancing,

Glorify God in our bodies.

Dance with God in our lives.

Colleen Fulmer, 2011

https://www.google.com/search?client=safari&rls=en&q=we+are+the+body+of+Christ%2C+glorify+God+in+our+bodies+-+lyrics&ie=UTF-8&oe=UTF-8#fpstate=ive&vld=cid:ba648b42,vid:XOKJVxJguug,st:0

[1] (The. Message Devotional Bible: featuring notes and reflections from Eugene H. Peterson, (Colorado Springs, CO: Nav Press,  2018) 3563, Kindle.

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Open to possibility, Mary’s “yes” to God

December 23, 2023

Advent 4 – 2024

Luke 1:26-38

Marian Free

In the name of God who gives us courage to face life’s challenges and who through them brings new things to birth. Amen.

When I told my mother that I was expecting a third child her first reaction was to ask: “Was it planned?” It was not that she was not happy for me, but she wanted to be able to support me if I’d been caught off guard and if my life-plans had been turned upside down by this turn of events. She knew that an unexpected pregnancy would bring with it all kinds of anxieties like – can I/we afford another child? will I/we need a new car? how will this impact on my/our older children? will it make a difference to my/our career? what will other people think? 

Those are the questions and then there are the realities. Even if a pregnancy is planned or greeted with joy it comes with significant discomfort – morning sickness, swollen ankles, and the discomfort of another body inhabiting one’s own. After the birth, there are the sleepless nights, the nappies, and the constant demands not to mention the multitude of accessories that go with infancy.  My pregnancy was planned, as was the new car, but for many people news of pregnancy is not a joyful experience, rather a time of confusion and fear. I can’t begin to imagine what it must be like to know that you are carrying a child and to know that it is the last thing that you want.

Luke’s brief account of the Annunciation carries none of the emotion that one might expect to accompany such momentous news. It is a highly romanticised depiction of an event which seriously understates the terror that an angel would inspire and which ignores the possibility that Mary might have experienced any disquiet at such an unexpected announcement.  Remember, Mary is young and unmarried, far from ready to take on the responsibility of pregnancy and motherhood.  She lives in a culture in which she could be stoned for adultery and, out of the blue, an angel pops by with some shocking, incomprehensible news. “You are favoured by God and by the way, God will demonstrate how favoured you are by making you pregnant in a culture that could stone you to death for being pregnant outside marriage.”  

Note that Mary is not offered a choice, she is simply told how things are. The angel goes on to tell Mary what her son will be, but he gives her no suggestions as to how she might manage the situation – how to break the news to her parents – let alone to Joseph, how to face her neighbours’ contempt and judgment and above all, how she is to manage as a single mother.

From now on Mary’s life will be irrevocably changed (possibly for the worse) and Luke expects us to believe that she simply bowed her head and said: “OK whatever God wants”. I wonder how many women, let alone girls, you know who would be so unperturbed by the angel’s perplexing and terrifying announcement?

While Luke’s account does tell us something about Mary’s humble submission to God’s will, might it not also be challenging us to consider how we respond to interruptions to our plans, asking us to think about how we might adjust, adapt, and even see God’s hand in life-altering events, especially those that at first glance appear to be calamitous. I’m thinking of devastating diagnoses, destructive natural disasters, traumatic ends to relationships, loss of a child, termination of a job, or any number of things for which we do not (cannot) plan, but which dramatically alter our life’s trajectory.

When we receive unwelcome news we usually go through a number of stages – disbelief then fear or anger, and then acceptance or resistance. In my experience, people of faith almost always choose acceptance. No matter how awful the circumstances, we find strength in the knowledge that God is with us and will give us the courage to carry on. We know too that the God who created the universe out of nothing and who brings life from death, is able to transform tragedy into possibility, and “to conceive hope in the midst of every tragic loss.”[1] In retrospect we can see the seeds of new birth in what appeared to be the death of all our hopes and dreams. As our lives take on a completely different direction, we grow in ways that we had never imagined and which, had we continued on our previous trajectory, would have been impossible.

Let me be plain, we do not have a fickle God who inflicts pain and sends disasters to shock us out of our selfish ways, rather God is a very real presence in times of upheaval. God stands with and beside us, ready to pick us up and to walk with us even through the valley of death. Circumstances may force us to radically re-evaluate our lives, which as a consequence of illness or loss are irrevocably change. But, if we are open to the Holy Spirit, we may witness God bringing to birth something completely new and unexpected, that would not have come to fruition without the tragedy that preceded it..

When the angel appeared to Mary, her world was turned upside down. Her initial terror turned to confusion and finally to acceptance. It is her acceptance that life is not going to be the way she planned that opens her to the possibility that the alternative (with God’s help) might be OK, and frees her to get on with the business of living.

Ultimately, we are not in control.  We cannot plan our lives to the last detail.  When things do not go as expect, we have a choice. We can resist change and rail against God and the universe, or we simply bow our heads and, like Mary say “Yes”, put our lives into the hands of the living God, and believie against all evidence to the contrary that our present pain and confusion will bring to birth something new and life-giving. Our “yes” to life’s circumstances, however awful, mirrors Mary’s “yes” to the angel’s awesome news and allows God to bring to birth new possibilities for ourselves and, in some cases, for the world.

Love

            Margaret Wesley (Rector Parish of Ashgrove)

This Christmas, may love be born in you,

As he was in Bethlehem,

To parents unprepared for such a gift

(Since, who could be?)

May love find you unprepared yet willing 

To receive its smiles and tears,

Its painful truths and gentle silences,

Its gifts and sacrifices.

This Christmas, may love be

The awkward guest at your table,

And in the New Year may it take your hand

And lead you into the street to dance with your neighbours.

[1] I am grateful to Dr M.  Craig Barnes for introducing another perspective. https://nationalpres.org/sermons/how-can-this-be/

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“I am not” John the Baptist gives way to Jesus

December 16, 2023

Advent 3 – 2023

John 1:6-8. 19-28

Marian Free

In the name of God who formed us in the womb and who calls us. Amen.

One of the features of today’s gospel is the dominance of negative expressions.  By that I mean that the two short passages consist primarily of negatives. The reading focuses on the mission of John the Baptist and yet it focuses much more on what John is not, rather than on who and what John is. In the first section, (v8) the narrator informs us that: “John himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light.” In the second part of the reading, John’s responses to the priests and Levites sent from Jerusalem, become more and more clipped[1]. In answer to questions about who he is, John replies: “I am not the Christ, I am not (Elijah), and simply “no” (to the question as to whether he is the prophet.) In Greek and English, John replies with 5 words, 3 words and finally one word. Even the use of language makes the point – he, John is not the one they are looking for. (He will decline and Jesus will increase.)

Of course, I hear you say, that is how it is meant to be. John’s role was to be the forerunner. He knew that he was not the Christ.

For the moment though, I am asking you to put away your tidy preconceptions – that John was Jesus’ cousin, destined to be in Jesus’ shadow, that John’s parents were good and pious Jews of priestly families, that John knew from birth what his role was. This is a view that is supported only by the author of Luke whom it suits to have parallel stories of the two men.

Let’s imagine, as the other gospels do, that John suddenly appears on the scene, driven by the Spirt to call people back to God. In response, he adopts the identity of a prophet (or even of a messiah)[2] and proclaims, “a baptism for the forgiveness of sins”. Whatever drove him into the wilderness, John appears to have picked up on the Zeitgeist of the time – dissatisfaction with Temple worship and with the priests who were puppets of Rome and a longing for Israel to turn to God and to be restored. Certainly, his presence and his message touched a chord, for according to Mark, people from the whole Judean countryside and from Jerusalem made the journey into the wilderness to hear him and be baptised by him. Even the Temple leadership and the Pharisees felt compelled to come and see what he was about, to query whether he might be the expected Christ and even to seek baptism.

This is heady stuff. A lesser person might have allowed such success to go to their head. A lesser person might have thought that the reaction of so many people (Including the religious leaders) was a sign that God had sent him to call people to repentance. A lesser person might have been resentful that Jesus was turning up to steal the limelight to take over the movement that he had so successfully begun. Whatever John’s background or sense of call, he could have made the situation all about him, about his call and his ministry – after all (at this point in time) he had followers and disciples, and Jesus did not. It would have been easy for John to continue with the work that he had begun – turning the hearts of the people towards God.  But John does none of these things. Instead, he points the people (even his own disciples) towards Jesus and allows himself to fade from view. 

In putting himself second, John is not engaging in false modesty or cynical self-abasement. He is not suffering from a lack of confidence or a damaged ego. Rather, by refusing to allow personal ambition and pride to drive him, John is able to be his God-given self and to fulfill the role to which God had appointed him. John could genuinely rejoice in and support the ministry of Jesus, because he was secure in the knowledge of himself – his role, his gifts, and abilities. He did not need to compete with Jesus or to be anything or anyone other than who he knew himself to be. 

More than that, John’s willingness to let go and to allow Jesus to continue, makes John, not only the forerunner of the Christ, but the first to model what it means to die to self in order to live to God. John’s life and ministry shows that it is not only possible, but necessary to submit one’s own desires, ambitions to the will of God, that it is not only possible but necessary, to measure one’s achievements by kingdom values, not earthly values, and that it is not only possible, but necessary, to shed our self-identity, in order that God may be fully formed in us.  

John was able to give way to Christ because he had already surrendered his life to God. 

As we come to the end of this Advent season, may we surrender our earthly desires, so that we may seek only the joy and peace that comes from the presence of God in our lives, may we examine our lives, and empty ourselves of anything that prevents Christ from being born in us and may we let go of our need to be in control so that the Spirit might lead us wherever she wants us to go. 

[1] Frederick Dale Bruner, quoted in the Advent resources provided by the Centre for Excellence in Preaching.

[2] Jesus was far from the only messianic figure in first century Palestine.

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Voices in the wilderness – John the Baptist

December 9, 2023

Advent 2 – 2023

Mark 1:1-8

Marian Free

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

Most of us associate wilderness with the season of Lent and Jesus’ forty days in the wilderness, but here, on the second Sunday of Advent, Mark’s gospel compels us to face the wilderness in this season of preparation for Christmas.  John the Baptist, dressed in camel skin and eating locusts and honey, has chosen the wilderness, as they place to which he will draw people to face their past (confess their sins) and to embrace their future (look for the one more powerful than he). 

John is a bridge between the world of the prophets and the coming of Christ. He represents an era that is coming to an end and points forward to an era that is about to begin. As such John’s voice in the wilderness is a potent reminder that Advent is not only a wilderness time, it is also an in-between time – the time between what was and what will be, between what is and the potential of what might come. Advent wilderness provides time for reflection. It is an in-between time in which we can ask ourselves what got us to where we are? And how can we move on from here? 

In the language of the gospel, we are being provoked to prepare a way for the Lord and to do that by confessing our sins (past faults) and seeking John’s baptism (being made ready for the coming of Jesus).  

As we come to the end of 2023 and stand on the threshold of 2024, we face a world that is so much bleaker than it was twelve months ago. The war in Ukraine continues to drag on with its loss of life and the destruction of families, homes, and lives. Awful as that it is, it is now overshadowed by the conflict in Israel/Palestine – the horrendous acts of October 7 and the ongoing devastation of Gaza and its populations. In another part of the world, we face the possibility of war between Brazil and Venezuela. The daily news reminds us of the social collapse of Haiti, warns of the increasing instability that threatens Myanmar and, in many places in the world, the growing intolerance of and hostility towards, those who are in any way different from a perceived norm (European, white, Christian)[1].

Throughout the world there are millions of displaced or stateless persons who are struggling to survive and thousands who have lost their lives trying to escape situations that have left them totally without hope. In addition, our generation are witness to the ever-widening gap between rich and poor.

Here, at home – in one of the world’s richest nations – the increased cost of living is sending many people to the brink, there are an increasing number of people (including families) who are impacted by the housing crisis, and we seem to be unable to prevent the over representation of indigenous people in our criminal justice system.

At the end of 2023, the voices of those in the wilderness threaten to deafen us –

  • The children caught up in events not of their own making, traumatized by war, separated from their families, 
  • the parents who cannot keep their children safe, who cannot feed or house them, or offer them a future,
  • the civilians caught in a conflict not of their making, who have lost homes, livelihoods, loved ones,
  • the refugees and the stateless who have nowhere to call home,
  • the migrants, the LGBTQIA+ community and all who are vilified and marginalised because they are different,
  • and the many others whose voices are drowned out by the volume of need, or whose voices are silenced by our indifference.

In today’s gospel, John the Baptist represents all these voices in the wilderness, voices calling us to pay attention and to recognise the injustice and trauma in the world and hear the cries of the suffering and the dispossessed, voices that demand that we confess our failure to act and commit to turning our lives around. Above all, John’s voice in the wilderness challenges us to soften our hearts so that we might be ready to see in the infant Jesus the one who has come to bring good news to the poor, to proclaim release to the captives, recovery of sight to the blind, and to let the oppressed go free, and, having seen,  be ready and be willing to join him in the task of transforming the world. The voices in the wilderness demand that we prepare a way, that we make room in our hearts for the Christ-child to take up residence. The voices in the wilderness insist that we see the face of Christ in the traumatized, the marginalised, the lost, the homeless and the imprisoned.

The Psalmist says: “Righteousness will go before him and make a path for his steps” (Ps 85:1).  John makes it clear that we are responsible for that path, for the righteousness that goes before the Lord.

This Advent, may voices in the wilderness find in us a willing listener, an open heart, and a desire to make a difference (if only in our small corner of the world).

[1] In Europe that is.

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Jesus’ coming – joyful anticipation or fearful expectation?

December 2, 2023

Advent 1 – 2023

Mark 13:24-37

(Is 64:1-9, Ps 80:1-7, 17-19, 1 Cor 1:1-9)

In the name of God, whose coming we celebrate with joy and whose return we anticipate with trepidation. Amen.

Though it is hard to avoid the fact that the rest of the world is already celebrating Christmas, I continue to love the season of Advent. For me it represents a time of quiet anticipation – a time to focus on the real meaning of Christmas – the gentle in-breaking into our world of God’s chosen one, the vulnerability of God in the infant Jesus, and the courage of Mary and Joseph. It is, for me, a time of wonder and joy, as I ponder the gradual unfolding of the story.

So it is that I am often taken aback by the violence and threat that lie in the gospel set for today, the first Sunday of Advent. We find no quiet waiting in Mark 13. There is no sense of hopeful expectancy. Instead, we are presented with a picture of God’s sudden and terrible explosion into the world.  An eruption that is accompanied by the destruction not only of the earth, but of the cosmos. The sun will be darkened, and the stars will fall from heaven. Without any warning all of the powers of heaven will be shaken. Keep awake, we are warned – for you do not know when the time will come: “in the evening, or at midnight, or at cockcrow or at dawn.” There is no room here for peaceful contemplation on the birth of Christ. Instead, we are placed on edge, forced in a state of constant alertness in which we worry about what it means to keep awake. We are left wondering if we have to live in a state of constant vigilance (never truly living in the present) – always looking over our shoulder for God to surprise us, always straining ahead, always worrying about our every action just in case God should burst in and find us wanting?  

Of course, it would be utterly exhausting live in a state of constant anxiety, to be always on the lookout for something negative to happen, always terrified that we would be caught out. So – what to do? What are we to make of the warnings in Mark’s gospel and how do they inform our observation of the season of Advent?

The answer lies, I believe exactly in the tension – the tension between the unobtrusiveness of Jesus’ first coming and the unmistakable disruption of his coming again; the tension between Christ’s coming as an infant and Christ’s coming again as judge of all; the tension between the powerlessness of the baby and the ultimate power of the Creator of the Universe. Advent –  with its focus on beginnings and endings – highlights the tension between the God who loved us enough to become one of us and the God who will one day ask us to give an account for our lives, the tension between trusting in God’s mercy and not taking it for granted, the tension between knowing God’s love and not taking advantage of that love and the tension between knowing that though our salvation has been won, we still have a responsibility for our salvation..

Advent provides us with a time to look back and to look forward, a time to remember all that God has done for us and a time to ask ourselves what our response to God’s love has been and whether or not we would be pleased to see God now. 

The warning to ‘keep awake’ is not so much to keep us in a state of hypervigilance, but rather a timely reminder that we should not get too comfortable, not to fall into complacency. It is a warning against the assumption that a happy ending awaits us all, just because God has entered into history. 

. 

Learning to live in this in between time, coping with the tension between God’s breaking into the world, and God’s breaking the world apart, teaches us to live with uncertainty, with the “not-knowing” – not knowing the mind of God, not knowing when Christ will return, not knowing exactly how we measure up. Living with the tension between the times keeps us open to what God has to say to us in the present and what God might be doing in our lives right now. In this in-between time, expecting God to appear at any moment, keeps us alert and expectant, enabling us to see the ways in which God is always breaking into the present. Keeping awake ensures that we do not miss any opportunity and ensures that we are prepared for anything that God might reveal or that God might do.

In two thousand years, the sky hasn’t fallen in, the cosmos hasn’t been dramatically. It is difficult to believe in the second coming, to maintain the sense of urgency that pervades this morning’s gospel and yet, we need the message of Mark 13 even more than the church for whom it was written. 

At this time of year, it is easy to get caught up in the sentimentality of Christmas – the stars and angels, the shepherds and wise ones, the hope, joy, comfort and promise of the visible signs of God’s love. The evangelist knew only too well how easy it is to get comfortable, to see the return of Christ as a distant, even unlikely possibility. He knew too, that his own generation had been caught by surprise, had failed to see in the infant in a manger and in itinerant preacher, the one sent by God to save the world. So, with words of dire warning, Mark urges his readers not to get too comfortable, not to assume that because Jesus had not returned that they could start to relax, but to so order their lives that Christ could come at any time and we would be ready.

In this season as we prepare for both our Christian and our secular Christmas, let us be filled with joyful anticipation as we await the birth of Christ and some trepidation, as we expect his coming again.

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Sheep or goat?

November 25, 2023

Pentecost 26 – 2023

Matthew 25:31-46

Marian Free

 

In the name of God to whom we must one day give an account. Amen.

I am of English heritage and, having grown up in Australia, when I think of  I envisage white (off white) balls of wool with short legs, so I was surprised when on a visit to Israel I saw a Bedouin shepherd leading what I thought was a flock of goats – brown, long ‘hair’, long legs. It turns out that they were in fact sheep – hence shepherd! I have since learnt that there are a number of breeds of sheep that the ignorant (me) mistake for goats. Knowing this adds a whole different layer of meaning to the parable of the sheep and the goats. Most of us approach parable with a visual image of sheep and goats that are easily distinguishable, but this is Palestine where, as I have observed, the sheep look very much like goats (and vice versa). In other words, the externals do not give a clear clue to the nature of the creature.

 

In this parable, all the nations are gathered before the Son of Man who, with a discerning eye, separates them into two groups as a shepherd would separate the sheep from the goats. It is clear from the responses to the judge that, until the shepherd makes the distinction, those gathered do not know into which group they will be placed. The ‘sheep’ do not believe that they have done anything out of the ordinary and the ‘goats’ do not believe that they have omitted to do anything that they could/should have done.

 

It is easy to read this parable with a certain amount of complacency, to be confident that our faith, our behaviour, our ‘goodness’ is a guarantee that we will find ourselves among the sheep. After all, we profess a belief in Jesus, we have done good works throughout our lives, and we have not broken the Ten Commandments. We believe ourselves to be ‘good’ in the sense that we are not bad. We obey the law of the land, we care for our families, we support our church and other community groups and try not to cause harm to others. The problem is (as the parable makes clear) we are no different from the majority of the communities in which we find ourselves – our faith alone does not distinguish us, on the surface we are like any other ‘good’ person, just as likely to be surprised to find ourselves among the goats as those in the parable.

 

If it is not our outward behaviour, what is it that would distinguish us as sheep? If faith in Jesus is not a ‘get out of jail free card’ what is?

 

In the parable what distinguishes the sheep from the goats is they way in which they have treated the hungry, the thirsty, the stronger, the naked, the sick and those in prison. In first century, where a culture of hospitality ruled and in which communities were sufficiently small that one might know one’s neighbour and the conditions under which they lived, it was relatively easy to identify the hungry, thirsty and sick. In a world in which there was no social welfare and in which prisons were hell holes and prisoners were totally reliant on family and friends it was evident who did and who did not need help.

 

In a more complex in a world in which our cities house more people than we could know in several lifetimes, in which prisons provide for at least the basic needs, in which social welfare supports the most vulnerable and in which there is a public health system, the ways

in which we can feed the hungry, heal the sick and visit the prisoner are less obvious. We can pay our taxes so that the state can support the poor and we can give to charities that assist those who fall through the cracks, but face-to-face help is increasingly difficult to give.

 

In this country and in this day and age, I suggest that it is attitude that differentiates the sheep from the goats. The sheep are those who don’t ask how someone got to be poor, an addict or a prisoner, but who see the person (the Christ) in the face of the poor, the hungry, the imprisoned. The sheep are those who give to the deserving and the undeserving alike and who make an effort to understand the forces – external or self-inflicted – that have led to their current situation. The sheep are those who live according to the example that Jesus set and the sheep are those who see the face of Jesus in the face of every person in need.

 

It’s not just what we do, but what we think. It is not just what we don’t do (keeping the law), but what we do do – standing for justice, caring for the more vulnerable – that matters. The Son of Man will judge us according to the state of our heart, the depth of our compassion and the level of our understanding of how people end up where they are, and what drives them to do what they do.

 

Over the past two weeks, I have challenged traditional interpretations of two of Matthew’s parables that are associated with the return of Jesus. In particular I have wondered whether Jesus is to be associated with the bridegroom who locks people out of the wedding, and whether the third slave – labelled lazy and wicked because he buries his talent – is actually the one who most models Jesus’ behaviour. If that has led you to think that we can relax and that there will no judgement, then I am about to disappoint you.

 

I may not think that the door will be locked against the foolish or that the cautious will be cast into outer darkness, but I do believe that there will come a time when we will have to stand before God and answer for our lives – for what we have done and what we have not done for others and, just importantly for what we have thought and how we have justified our lack of action.

 

We may not be thrown into outer darkness, but when we stand before the throne, we will see ourselves as God sees us and that may be punishment enough!

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Talents an investment, or exploitation – is the third slave the one most like Jesus?

November 18, 2023

Pentecost 25 – 2023

Matthew 25:14-30

Marian Free

In the name of God to whom we must one day give an account of our lives. Amen.

When you think of God what images come to mind?  Are you drawn to images of a vengeful, harsh, and unforgiving God, or are the first images that come to you of a baby in a manger or a broken body on a cross? Do you subscribe to a God who condemns the foolish and the timid to an eternity of hellfire or to a God, who on the cross forgives someone who will never be able to make redress for his crimes?

These are important questions when it comes to reading the parables of Matthew 25 – the ten virgins and the landowner who entrusted slaves with his (not insignificant) property. Also, at issue in the interpretation of these two passages is how we try to make sense of parables. If we fall into the trap of making them into allegories, we are faced with the task of trying to work out who the various characters in the stories stand for. That is, who do the foolish virgins represent? Who is the slave who buries money? And perhaps most significantly who is the extremely wealthy man who chooses to entrust over 14 million dollars to three of his slaves –   and why would he do that? And why would the landowner distinguish between the slaves, giving one 5 talents, another two and third only one?

There are other questions. Does the parable of the virgins really condone the selfish behaviour of the wise virgins? If the bridegroom represents Jesus, does the one who forgave a criminal from the cross really lock people out forever? And most disturbingly of all is the temptation to associate the landowner with God. If Jesus means us to understand the landowner as God that would mean that Jesus is comparing God: “to a harsh man, who reaps where he does not sow, and gathers where he does not scatter seed” (which is the accusation that the third slave makes and which the master affirms in his reply.) 

Is God then an exploitative businessman, determined to make a profit at whatever the cost to others?

Trying to come up with a literal interpretation of a parable rarely works, because the intention of a parable is not so much to make sense, as to raise questions and to force us to think differently. 

A traditional interpretation of the parable (which relies on a conflation of both Matthew’s and Luke’s retelling) is that the landowner is God, and that we are the slaves who have been given talents (abilities) to use until Jesus’ return. The expectation is that we will put our talents to good use – so that they increase in value or make a contribution to society or to the church.  If we don’t use them, we can expect to be “justly” punished by a demanding and unforgiving God.

There are a number of problems with this version. One is the assumption that the landowner is God, the second is that “talents” refers to gifts and abilities, when in fact it refers to cold, hard cash (and lots of it) and a third is that the last slave deserved his condemnation because he didn’t make the best use of his money. Finally, this interpretation contradicts what Jesus says and how Jesus behaves. Jesus consistently eats with tax- collectors and prostitutes and he informs the self-righteous that sinners will enter the kingdom of heaven before them. Jesus condemns the rich who do not share their riches and applauds the widow who gives her last penny. Throughout his ministry, Jesus lives out the unconditional love of God and on the cross, demonstrates the extent of that love, even for the undeserving. Never, in the course of his ministry does Jesus take advantage of others or use them for his personal gain.

So, I want to put it to you that there is another way to view the parable, a way that gives back to the parable its intention to confront, to shock and to challenge. 

In the first century, a vast number of the population lived on or below the poverty line and that included people with a trade like Paul. The wealthy 1% of the population had made or increased their wealth at the expense of others. Our landowner (and remember he is fictitious). would almost certainly have been given land – land that belonged to others – in recognition of his military service. Instead of using the land to grow staples like wheat that would have fed the local citizens, he would have planted grapes or another crop that he could sell and make a profit. This would leave the population not only impoverished, but also hungry.  This landowner has done sufficiently well that he has something like $14m lying around to invest. 

He entrusts the money to three of his slaves, who in their turn, are free to take some of the profits for themselves – possibly by lending it to the less fortunate and charging exorbitant interest.

What if, in this scenario, the third slave was not in fact lazy or wicked, but rather the only one of the three who had the courage to resist the corruption and greed that had allowed the landowner to amass such a vast amount of wealth? What if, the third slave was making a stand by refusing to be a party to the landowner’s exploitative, oppressive, grasping desire to enrich himself? What if the third slave, the one who risks his own life so that others might live, is the one whose behaviour we are to model, the one whose behaviour is most like that of Jesus? –  who, need I remind you, was himself cast into the outer darkness because he dared to confront the self-seeking, corrupt officials of his own time.

Now, that really does overturn our past ways of thinking. 

What if, in the time between now and Jesus’ return, we were to challenge the unjust systems that benefit the rich at the expense of the poor and which allow 46 million people to live below the poverty line? What if, in the time between now and Jesus’ return, we were to confront the forces that lead to war, persecution, and human rights violations that have led to 108.4 million people being displaced. What if, in the time between now and Jesus’ return, we were to tackle the issue of homelessness and the housing crisis in our own backyard?

What if we, like the third slave, were to resist the temptation to conform, and instead stood against injustice and oppression?

If, just if,  we, and all God’s people, would indeed see what the kingdom of heaven will be like. (Mt. 25:1) 

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The foolish virgins – is it really about oil?

November 11, 2023

Pentecost 24 – 2023

Matthew 25:1-13

Marian Free

In the name of God to whom we must one day answer. Amen.

It is important to remember that the intention of parables to tease, to disturb, to unsettle, to make us see things differently or to give us new insights. They are not, as I have said many times, meant to be dissected, turned into allegories, or forced to make absolute sense. If we worry too much about detail – won’t it be just as difficult to separate the wheat from the weeds when they are full grown – we are bound to miss the central point – in this case that good and bad exist together, in the world and in each of us.

Today’s parable is no exception. The parable of the locked-out virgins is both disturbing and confusing. It is only natural for us to try to make sense of it – especially as we are given only the bare outline. There is no context and some elements that might help us to make sense of the story are missing. (Because it is not a story.) We are not helped by the fact that the translators translate “parthenos” as “bridesmaids” which immediately gives us a mental picture of a modern day bridesmaid and means that we impose something of our twenty first century idea of weddings on to the scenario.

The Greek word “parthenos” is much better translated “virgins”. Whatever their role, these are young women who are not old enough to be married, and who, in the first century were under the protection of their father. So, the first odd thing to notice is that these young (and presumably vulnerable) girls, were being left alone at night and that apparently so little thought was given to their safety that the bridegroom could delay his return. The parable begins “ten virgins went out to meet the bridegroom.” This implies that he was already on his way. Why did the virgins go out if he wasn’t in fact coming? What delayed him? We are not told. 

Why are the five “foolish” girls told to go the dealers? We know it is midnight and, as other parables affirm, all decent people will have gone to bed, they certainly won’t be touting their wares in the market. If the bridegroom has arrived there is reason why the girls who did bring oil could not share it. Between them they only need enough oil to light the way in – there will be light enough inside. 

We are not even told that the role of the girls was to light the bridegroom’s way. Whatever it was that caused him to be delayed, he and his party would have known it was dark and would have made provision for light.

As I have said, it is not the intention of a parable to make perfect sense. There are no easy answers to the questions that I have raised. Even trying to understand the cultural context doesn’t help. We know very little about first century marriage practices and would only be guessing as to what might happen in rural Palestine.

So, what is the point that the parable is making? What is the lesson that we are meant to take away? What is it that we are to learn from the “foolish” girls’ behaviour – for surely it is in their exclusion from the party – the shut door, the lack of recognition – that the message lies. 

A clue to the parable’s meaning is found in its context within the gospel. At the beginning of the previous chapter the disciples ask Jesus: “What will be the sign of your coming and the end of the age?” The remainder of chapter 24 and most of chapter 25 deal with the question of Jesus’ return – and how the community are to behave in the in-between time. There is an emphasis in these chapters on the fact that no one (not even Jesus) knows exactly when the coming of the Son of Man will be and that, for this reason, it is incumbent on believers to maintain a state of wakefulness so that they are not unprepared. 

In this parable all the girls fell asleep. What did the five foolish girls do, or not do, that led to their exclusion from the party? 

I’d like to hazard a guess. It seems that the “foolish” girls, thought that having light was more important than being around to greet the groom (which, we are told at the start was their one role in this wedding celebration). Further, they apparently had little confidence in the bridegroom’s affection for them (after all they are his guests, if not his family). They seem to have believed that their presence at the party was dependent on their having enough oil. Instead of relying on their relationship with the groom (and presumably with all the other guests), they were determined to be self-sufficient – disappearing into the night, just as he was arriving. 

It is tempting to focus on the closed door and the harsh words of the groom, but the focus should be on the five girls who weren’t there to greet him, who were paying more attention to themselves and their lack of oil rather than on his joy, the girls who wanted to prove that they were self-sufficient rather than rely on the groom’s generosity, the girls who thought that only if they got everything right would they be accepted.  The door may be shut, but perhaps they locked themselves out.

The gospels constantly remind us that we are loved unconditionally and that the tax collectors and prostitutes will enter the kingdom first. Being ready (awake) is not about how much oil we do or do not have, but upon our accepting that we are loved just as we are – with all our imperfections. 

In 2023, it is almost impossible to feel any sense of urgency about Jesus’ return, but from the five foolish girls we can learn that, with or without oil we are loved, that the door is open if we have courage to go in  (however unprepared we feel) and that allowing ourselves to trust in God’s goodness is the best preparation we  can make for Jesus’ coming again. 

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Ghosties and ghouls – All Hallows

November 5, 2023

All Saint’s/All Soul’s – 2023
(Halloween)
Marian Free

In the name of God our Saviour and Deliverer. Amen.

If you can’t beat ‘‘em join ’em. That seems to have been the philosophy of Pope Gregory – well at least something like that. Pope Gregory the Great had been entranced by the fair blond children whom he saw at the slave market in Rome. When he asked who they were, he misheard “Angles “as “Angels”. The children had been brought from the land that we now call England to be sold to the highest bidder. Gregory determined to send missionaries to that land to convert its people to Christianity. For that purpose, he chose Augustine to lead a group of monks. Augustine’s task was not particularly onerous – Christianity had reached those Isles centuries before though it had only taken hold in places. Augustine had the further good fortune to land in Kent where the Queen, Bertha was already a Christian. Her husband, Ethelbert, gave the monks some land where they built a monastery and eventually Canterbury Cathedral.

Augustine wrote several letters to the Pope asking for advice. In one, he enquired what he should do about the sites that the Celts held to be sacred. Gregory replied: “what I have, upon mature deliberation of the affair of the English, determined upon, viz., that the temples of the idols in those nations ought not to be destroyed; but let the idols that are in them be destroyed; let holy water be made and sprinkled in the said temples, let altars be erected, and relics placed. For if those temples are well built, it is requisite that they be converted from the worship of devils to the service of the true God; that the nation, seeing that their temples are not destroyed …may the more familiarly resort to the places to which they are accustomed.” In other words, the Pope, understanding the meaning that such places held for the people of the land, encouraged Augustine to continue to use them, but to infuse them with Christian meaning – to rename the deity whom they worshipped in a place that they already held to be sacred. The Pope’s response – use them. Take advantage of the fact that they are already sacred and infuse them with Christian meaning. (In other words: if you can’t beat them join them.)

I recalled this story as I was reflecting on Halloween which falls on October. 31. Over the past week I have heard a number of reactions to the practice- most loudly ‘it’s American, it’s commercial”, ie we shouldn’t do it, it’s not part of our culture, it’s just a way for business to make money. Some are uncomfortable that the practice of Halloween – ghosts and witches, trick or treating – contradicts Christian beliefs and practices.

It is good to reflect on what it is about our faith that makes us distinct and what sets us apart from the world around us. It is also important to remember that almost from its inception, Christianity began to incorporate practices and traditions from other cultures into its own. Until the mid-fourth century, Jesus’ resurrection was celebrated every Sunday (as it still is). Around the time of the Council of Nicea (325), and the Christianization of the Roman Empire, it was determined that there should be a dedicated celebration and the Sunday after first full moon of the spring equinox (a time associated with rebirth and renewal) was deemed appropriate. The name “Easter” comes from Eostre, the goddess of spring and fertility. Christmas too is the appropriation of a pagan festival. The Romans originally celebrated the birthday of Mithra, the god of the unconquerable sun, on December 25.

The Pope’s advice to Augustine was wise, and it built on many precedents – it did not take much to associate resurrection with a festival new life or for the birth of Jesus to replace the birth of an unconquerable sun.

So where does that leave Halloween. Before there was a Christian festival – All Hallow’s Eve – there was the Celtic feast of Samhaim which marked the turn the seasons, between the lighter warmer half of the year and the darker, colder half. On this night, the Celts believed that the veil between this world and the next was so thin that the spirits of the dead (good and evil) could pass through. On this night, people burnt fires, wore disguises, and made sweet treats to deter, trick and appease the evil spirits so that they would cause no harm .

Over time, the Christians in the British Isles began to celebrate all the Saints on November the first – “All Hallow’s Day”. In the 9th Century Pope Gregory IV incorporated All Saints Day, followed by “All Soul’s Day” into the Christian Calendar. That the old traditions lingered long after the Christians took over the Celtic festival is clear in this prayer from an old Scottish litany: “From ghoulies and ghosties and long leggedie beasties, and things that go bump in the night. Good Lord deliver us.”

Instead of sitting in pious judgement on those who indulge in creating ghostly gardens, who dress up their children in ghoulish costumes to wander the streets and demand treats, we need to see Halloween for what it has become – a time to let down our hair, to indulge in some ridiculous fun and to build a sense of community in a world in which we are increasingly isolated.

We are no longer afraid that the dead will break through the veil to cause havoc in our world. Instead, over three days – All Hallow’s Eve, All Saints Day and All Souls Day, we are gifted with an opportunity to reflect and to give thanks for those whom we have loved and lost, to allow ourselves to be inspired by saints of great courage, and saints of humble prayer, to grieve, to rejoice and to commit ourselves once more to live lives of faithful service.

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