Jesus kneels at our feet

April 5, 2023

Maundy Thursday – 2023
John 13:1-17, 31b-35
Marian Free

In the name of the God who kneels at our feet. Amen.

Different religious orders have different ways of reading scriptures. A characteristic of Ignatian Spirituality is an invitation to enter into the events of Jesus’ life – to envisage the scene – the sights, the smells, and the people – to notice what Jesus says and does, and, when you are familiar with the setting, to take on the role of one of the characters or of an imagined observer. If for example, you were reading Luke’s account of Jesus’ birth, you might imagine yourself as a maid from the inn who has brought something into the stable. As a bystander, you would notice the acrid smell of the animals, feel the straw scratching your arms and legs, and notice how exhausted Mary and Joseph are. You might even hear Mary’s cries as she gives birth and the first cry of the infant Jesus.

Tonight, I’d like you to enter the scene of Jesus’ last supper. Imagine that you have a place at the table. You are relaxed and comfortable and among people whom you have come to know and trust.

Without warning, Jesus gets up, takes off his robes and wraps a towel around him. You are surprised, shocked even, not to mention a little embarrassed for him. THEN, he kneels at your feet!

This is awkward – your host and teacher on the ground before you.

But it is about to get even worse. As you squirm, Jesus reaches for a bowl of water and begins to wash your feet. This is highly irregular. Only a servant would wash someone’s feet and then when you arrived at a home – not in the middle of a meal.

Never-the-less, Jesus gently takes one foot and then another, gently places them in the water, carefully and tenderly rubbing the dust from the soles of your feet, from between your toes. Then, one at a time, he takes your feet from the bowl and caresses them gently with the towel, before placing them back on the floor and moving to the person sitting beside you.

Can you picture it, Jesus kneeling at your feet, holding your feet in his hands? Can you imagine anything so intimate? His hair falling on your feet – you could bend down and brush his head with your lips. Can you feel the love flowing from him to you – love that doesn’t judge, love that makes no demands but only wants you to know that you are loved?

“Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart from this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end” (Jn 13:1,2).

This scene encapsulates the gospel as much as does the cross. On this night, the night Jesus knows will be his last, Jesus doesn’t remonstrate. Instead, he shows his love in an unequivocal way. Knowing what Judas is about to hand him over, Jesus kneels before him and washes his feet. Knowing that Peter will deny him, Jesus takes Peter’s feet in his hands and washes them. Understanding that his disciples will not have the courage to stand by him, Jesus kneels before them all and washes their feet.

This is how Jesus loves the flawed, the faithless, and the turncoat. It is how Jesus loves us.

Love is at the heart of the gospel.

Jesus kneels at our feet, vulnerable and exposed and we know then, if we did not know before, that we can do nothing to deserve that love and that there is nothing that we need to do. Jesus is already there on his knees before us.

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Innocent act or deliberate provocation? Jesus’ entry to Jerusalem

April 1, 2023

Palm Sunday – 2023
Matthew 26:14-27 (21:1-11)
Marian Free

In the name of God, source of all being, eternal word and Holy Spirit. Amen.

It is no wonder that our scriptures are sometimes referred to as the ‘living word’. There is always more to be discovered within the pages of our biblical text, always much more to be revealed than at first appears. This is in part because when we read a passage, a story or a Psalm there are many factors that come into play – our state of mind, our faith tradition, our prior understanding of the text, our knowledge of first century history and culture and our understanding of literary forms just to mention a few. Perhaps most importantly, because we believe that scriptures are inspired by God, and that the Holy Spirit informs our reading we approach the bible with a sense of expectation and wonder. What will it reveal on this occasion? What new things will I learn? There are times when I completely by surprise. I will be reading a familiar passage, when I notice a word or phrase as if for the very first time and see the passage in a completely new light .

Understanding scripture as the ‘living word’ frees us to read it from a variety of angles, exposes us to new possibilities and liberates us from the hubris of believing that we already know what it says and what it means for us.

In the Parish email this week I suggested that Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem was not an innocent act, but a deliberate strategy. Jesus, a little-known, travelling teacher from Galilee might not have received such a rousing welcome had he simply mingled with the crowds who were surging into Jerusalem for the Passover. By riding a donkey, Jesus was making sure that he stood out from the crowds. Riding a donkey that had a foal implies that Jesus intended the crowds to draw a parallel between himself and the triumphant king – Zechariah. If this was the case, it was this (not Jesus’ fame) that drew attention to himself, and which caused the crowds to react so joyously.

Knowledge of first century history throws more light on Jesus’ action.

As we know, Passover was a time of heightened tension in Jerusalem. At this time the population of Jerusalem swelled from 50,000 to 200,000, the visitors were filled with excitement and there were the usual problems associated with crowds. To maintain control at this. time, the Roman governor made it his business to be present in the city and with him, his troops. Pilate would have entered from the west in a blatant display of imperial power: “cavalry on horses, foot soldiers, leather armour, helmets, weapons, banners, golden eagles mounted on poles, sun glinting on metal and gold.”

In the light of Pilate’s procession, Jesus’ entry on the same day can be understood as a parody, an exposè of the foolishness of temporal power and a reminder that true power belongs to God. In contrast to the power and might of the Empire, Jesus’ reveals a power that does not rely on force and that will not assert its will by suppression.

Jesus knew that the people of Israel, oppressed and humiliated were looking for a leader who might drive the Romans from their land. Jesus, by mocking Pilate’s procession is enacting a different scenario, demonstrating that there is a different way to bring in God’s kingdom – a way of vulnerability, service and humility.

The contradictions of this day are echoed by contradictions of Holy Week –

Excitement becomes anxiety;
Joy becomes terror;
“Triumph” turns into defeat;
The cries of “hosanna” become the cries of “crucify him”;
The “king” who parodies the might of Rome, is in turn ridiculed by Roman soldiers;
The welcome of the crowds become their utter rejection of Jesus.

As we enter this most Holy Week, let us enter the story afresh, allow ourselves to notice the tensions and free the text to speak to us anew.

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A matter of time – the raising of Lazarus

March 25, 2023

Lent 5 – 2023
John 11:1-45
Marian Free

In the name of God who brought from nothing all that is, and who raises the dead to newness of life. Amen.

Time is an extraordinary concept. Even though years, months, days, and hours are determined by the sun and the moon, time is still an arbitrary and human-conceived construct. Though it appears to us that time is relatively fixed – an hour is always sixty minutes each of which is always sixty seconds – our experience of time varies according to the situation in which we find ourselves. A variety of factors mean that sometimes time seems to fly, whereas on other occasions we might feel that time passes ever so slowly. When we are really enjoying ourselves there does not seem to be enough time, yet when we are lying awake at night, time seems to stretch out unbearably .

Time is a key to this morning’s gospel. When Jesus receives the message that Lazarus (the one whom he loves) is ill he declares that the situation is not urgent and, instead of rushing to his friend’s side, he remains where he is for two more days. Sometime later, when Jesus and his entourage finally arrive at Bethany Lazarus has already been dead for four days. Again, time is the focus of the story. Martha and Mary both berate Jesus for not having come sooner: “If you had been here, my brother would not have died” they say. They believe that if only Jesus had arrived sooner, the outcome for Lazarus would have been quite different – a position held by some of the crowd, and almost certainly by ourselves the readers.

Jesus’ disciples, his friends and the crowd are focussed on earthly realities – Lazarus’ illness, Jesus’ delay, (his apparent lack of concern), the dangers of the journey, and Jesus’ failure to meet their expectations.

On the other hand, as John recounts the events, Jesus’ attitude to the situation is quite different. Unlike the other characters in the story Jesus is as much concerned with theological ideas as he is with practical issues . He is as much preoccupied with the meaning of events as he is with the events themselves. In other words, Jesus is less concerned with specifics because he can see the broader picture. Time is irrelevant to him because Jesus is able to view the situation through the eyes of God. This is why John’s account is interspersed with theological commentary.

Jesus wants the disciples (the readers) to see as he sees. So, when he hears that Lazarus is ill, Jesus delays. He explains to the disciples that there is no need to hurry because Lazarus’ illness will lead to the glorification of the Son of Man. Then, when the disciples caution him about going to Jerusalem, Jesus responds enigmatically. The dangers that they might face are irrelevant because God’s time is different from earthly time and those who “walk in the daylight will not stumble.” Finally, Martha’s distress at Jesus’ delay provides an opportunity for Jesus to teach about the resurrection (and indirectly is an occasion for Martha to declare Jesus’ true identity.)

For Martha and Mary (as it is for us) time is of the essence. They know what Jesus can do and are disappointed that Jesus did not respond to their need in the way that they had expected. Crudely put, in their grief, they are obsessed with their own concerns, their own agenda. They wish that they could have bent Jesus to their will, that he had come when they wanted, that he would have behaved as they would have had him behave.

Even when Jesus does come, they are unwilling to cede control of the situation. They believe that Jesus could have prevented Lazarus from dying but are not convinced that he can do anything now that Lazarus is dead.

Jesus however refuses to be limited and defined by their narrow (even selfish) expectations. It is not that he is without compassion, that he doesn’t care what happens to Lazarus. (We are told that he was greatly disturbed and deeply moved and even that he wept.) His agenda is different, as is his sense of urgency. He knows or at least senses what awaits him in Jerusalem, he knows what must occur before then, he knows that ultimately he is responsible to God (not his friends) and that his life will be determined by God’s timetable (not his own). So, even though Jesus loved Lazarus, Lazarus’ illness was not sufficient to sway him from his course. His actions will not be dictated to by human concerns, but only by the will of God.

While the miracle of the raising of Lazarus is significant, it is perhaps Jesus’ commentary on time that is more important for our own age. Like the characters in the story, we place expectations on God. We want things to happen according to our schedule. We are focussed on our own needs and we are disappointed when God doesn’t respond as we had hoped God would.

John’s account of the raising of Lazarus, is a reminder that (apparent) inaction is not an indication that God doesn’t care – after all Jesus’ wept – rather it is a reminder that God’s ways are not our ways (Is 55:8,9) and that: “with the Lord one day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like one day” (2 Peter 3:8, Ps. 90:4). Ultimately, we like Jesus must place ourselves entirely in God’s hands, because we cannot (and should not) try to bend God to our will or to make God conform to our expectations.

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Opening the eyes of the blind

March 18, 2023

Lent 4 – 2023
John 9:1-41
Marian Free


In the name of God, whose presence can only be seen by those whose hearts and eyes are open. Amen.

If the COVID pandemic taught us nothing else, it revealed that sometimes no amount of scientific evidence was sufficient to convince some people that vaccination and the wearing of masks were for their own protection and safety and were not a sign that the state was taking over their lives. Some people were so unwilling to give up their position that families were, and remain, divided. Not even stories of agonising and lonely deaths, or reports of exhausted health care workers were enough to shake their position. They were (are) so committed to one version of truth that they were unable to see (or to allow for) any other. It is clear that I belong to the group who were grateful to a government that had the well-being of its citizens at heart, and to the researchers who so quickly developed a vaccine that, if it didn’t keep me well, would at least prevent the virus from killing me. As the various protests indicated, there were a significant number of people who resisted change because they could not see or believe the danger that it presented to themselves, and to others.

Our gospel for today presents a similar situation – though perhaps in reverse. In the case of the gospel, it was good news, not bad, that was both opposed and rejected. In the gospel, it was the leaders who resisted change and novelty, and who saw it as a threat to their position and to their authority. The Pharisees and the Judeans were so stuck in their legalistic view of faith and so convinced that God demanded conformity to particular behaviours, that even the miracle of sight could not budge them from their position that breaking the law was dangerous and perverse. They (or their predecessors) had constructed a world view that enabled them to feel safe and secure in their relationship with God, but which prevented them from seeing God in any other way. For them to feel safe, their life, and their practice of their faith had to remain stable and unchanged – hard and unforgiving as the ground in the poem by Israeli poet, Yehuda Amichai which seems to speak to the heart of today’s gospel.

‘The Place Where We Are Right”
From the place where we are right
Flowers will never grow
In the spring.


The place where we are right
Is hard and trampled
Like a yard.


But doubts and loves
Dig up the world
Like a mole, a plow.
And a whisper will be heard in the place
Where the ruined
House once stood.

In their desire to have a roadmap for salvation, to have clear precepts and laws that gave them reassurance that they were doing what it was that God wanted, Jesus’ opponents have solidified the commandments into hard and fast rules. Breaking those rules was seen to have serious consequences – not least of which was the law-breakers’ being excluded from the community of faith. The “law breaker” was deemed to have threatened the security of the community as a whole and therefore needed to be removed. The problem with holding this hard and fast position, was the conviction that God (fixed and unchanging) could be known and that God – arbiter of all behaviour – would judge as unworthy those who did not conform. There was no room for growth or development in that view of faith, no sense of wonder, no allowance for the possibility that God might act in new ways, or that, as God has done in the past, so in the present God might break through and reveal Godself in startling and fresh ways. The ground of ‘faith’ had been trampled and made so hard that new life could not possibly break through.

For those who had found security and certainty in a particular set of beliefs (truths), the thought of examining or questioning those beliefs was terrifying. What if they were proved to be wrong? If they let go of one “truth” would the whole structure on which they have built their faith be shattered? On the other hand, if they were right and yet were tempted to rejoice in Jesus’ bringing of sight, would God’s wrath be poured out upon them because they had dared to question what had always been? It was safer to hold on to what they had always believed (and to force others to do likewise), than to risk the possibility that they might have been wrong. In their desire to maintain the status quo, they needed to reject and discredit anything that threatened their way of seeing the world and God.

This explains why, in today’s gospel, no one – not even the blind man’s parents – was able to rejoice in the fact that his sight had been restored. They were terrified that their whole world would come tumbling down and with it their sense of security and (in the case of the Pharisees) their claim to authority. They were determined to hold on to what they had held to be true – that one should not work on the Sabbath – even if the alternative was life-giving and restorative. They were blind to the possibility that the giving of sight was a gift from God, and that the giver, Jesus was not a sinner but a bearer of God’s likeness.


Truth is a key concept in John’s gospel. We are told that: “The Word became flesh, full of grace and truth” (1:14). And: “You will know the truth and the truth will set you free” (8:32). We have seen that Jesus challenged Nicodemus to be open to rebirth. He questioned the version of truth held by the Samaritan woman and here he opens the eyes of the blind man so that he might accept a new version of reality.


Let us pray that we may not be so locked into our own understanding of what is true, that we, like the Pharisees are blinded to God’s presence among us – even when that presence is totally different from what we had expected. May we create a yard in which flowers may grow in the spring.

From the place where we are right
Flowers will never grow
In the spring.


The place where we are right
Is hard and trampled
Like a yard.


But doubts and loves
Dig up the world
Like a mole, a plow.
And a whisper will be heard in the place
Where the ruined
House once stood.

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Breaking boundaries- Jesus at the well

March 11, 2023

 

Lent 3 -2023

Luke 4:5-42

Marian Free

 

In the name of God for whom there are no boundaries, who sees and loves us just as we are. Amen.

 

Last week was International Pride Week – a whole week dedicated to celebrating the lives of all who do not fit the heteronormative profile.  It was an opportunity for members of the LGBTQI+ community to celebrate who they are and for the rest of us to celebrate the diversity of humanity. Community reaction was, by and large positive. Two things stood out for me. I had heard that the Uniting Church in Pitt St Sydney had painted their steps in the colours of the rainbow and had made it clear that theirs was a welcoming and inclusive church. Sadly some, unable to accept or tolerate difference, defaced the steps with grey paint[1]. In complete contrast, the Coles Supermarket chain used their free magazine to celebrate Pride week (with rainbow themed recipes) and to shine a light on the diversity and inclusiveness of their workforce.

 

While the wider population have come to a point where they can recognize the value of all people regardless of their gender identity, there are many (represented by our paint throwers) who want to judge, to draw boundaries and to exclude those who don’t fit their idea of who and what is acceptable.

 

Today’s gospel speaks to the issue of boundaries and in particular to the way in which Jesus ignored or defied boundaries which to him were arbitrary, unnecessary and even irrelevant when it came to the bigger picture of worshipping God. Jesus constantly caused offense by acknowledging, befriending and uplifting those whom his own community would exclude – lepers, sinners, prostitutes, tax-collectors, and even those with whom is own community is in serious conflict – the Samaritans.

 

Following on from Jesus’ discussion with Nicodemus, John continues his story of Jesus with another encounter (the Samaritan woman), another opportunity to demonstrate the way in which Jesus introduces a puzzle (never thirst again) which provokes his conversation partner to question what he has said (are you greater than our father Jacob?). This in turn provides an opportunity for Jesus to elaborate, to develop the idea of living water and to build on the faith which he and the woman share. Through the process of discussion and discourse Jesus’ dialogue partner (the woman) comes to a deeper understanding and, in this instance, to faith and to proclamation.  

 

According to the gospel account, Jesus, having been in Jerusalem for Passover, is returning to Galilee. The quickest way to do this is to travel through Samaria – something which most Jews would avoid.  Tensions between the two groups of people were high and Jesus could not be certain of safe passage. The Samaritans were perhaps the worst kind of enemies – those who with whom the Jews had most in common, but with whom they disagreed on what to us are trivial matters – the date of Passover and the mountain on which Yahweh. That they had the same law and observed many of the same customs only made the differences between them more obvious and the tensions more extreme. They were competing for what they believed to be the truth[2] – the stakes could not be higher.

 

When Jesus asked the woman (a complete stranger) for a drink, he was overlooking centuries of enmity and more astounding, he was revealing his vulnerability – he needed help, the woman was in a position to give it. Immediately, he breaks down any reservations the woman might have. Though he is a Jew, he is vulnerable. He is not a threat.

 

In engaging the woman Jesus saw beyond her gender, ethnicity, religion and marital status to that which they had in common – faith in God and a longing for the kingdom to be restored. In the face of their shared faith, all other barriers dissolved. Instead of seeing difference Jesus saw what they shared, perhaps more importantly he recognised the woman’s spiritual thirst – a thirst he could slake. He saw too, that the woman needed help to move beyond the superficial observance of faith to a deeper, more personal relationship with God. In order to do this, Jesus began the conversation with a conundrum, piquing her interest and drawing her into discussion. The woman responded with what she knew, the visible and practical -whose well and which is the correct mountain on which to worship.  Jesus moved her beyond these trivial and earthly details (details which separate and divide), to what really mattered – the spiritual worship of the God in whom they both believe.

 

Instead of accentuating difference, or asking the woman (and her community) to conform to the Jewish practice of the faith, Jesus looked beyond the detail to the bigger picture – the faith that they shared – faith in the one true God. Instead of criticizing and condemning the Samaritan practice of faith, Jesus affirmed their faithfulness and shared with them the message that he had for all people. As a result, he broke the walls of enmity and with the help of the woman drew all her neighbours into a new, renewed relationship with God

 

Jesus’ conversation with the Samaritan woman (the longest recorded conversation that he has with anyone) shines a light on our own pettiness, our concern with details (rather than the big picture), our tendency to see difference rather than commonality and our willingness to judge and exclude those who hold a view other than our own.

 

Jesus was not concerned to know whether the Samaritan woman was rich or poor, promiscuous or chaste, Samaritan or Jew. He didn’t want to change or “fix” her. He saw beyond the outward appearance of social isolation and shame, to their shared faith and their shared longing and it was to her, a woman of Samaria, that he first revealed himself to be the Messiah.

 

It is usually trivial matters that keep us apart. Jesus’ encounter with the woman at the well challenges us to ask:

 

What “truths” do we hold on to that limit, separate and divide?

In what ways do we deny other full expression of their humanity?

Are we guilty of excluding from full participation to the community of faith or to the sacraments – baptism, Eucharist, marriage – those who do not fit our prescriptive norms?

 

Can we, like Jesus, to see beyond the external, to the superficial specifics, to the broader, deeper, more significant, shared faith in the one true God?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

.

 

[1] The rainbow was repainted.

[2] Similar differences – the date of Easter, and how to shave one’s head – were among the reasons that the church originally divided – into East and west.

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Breaking boundaries- Jesus at the well

March 11, 2023

It is usually trivial matters that keep us apart. Jesus’ encounter with the woman at the well challenges us to ask:

What “truths” do we hold on to that limit, separate and divide?

In what ways do we deny other full expression of their humanity?

Are we guilty of excluding from full participation to the community of faith or to the sacraments – baptism, Eucharist, marriage – those who do not fit our prescriptive norms?

 

Can we, like Jesus, to see beyond the external, to the superficial specifics, to the broader, deeper, more significant, shared faith in the one true God?

 

 

Lent 3 -2023

Luke 4:5-42

Marian Free

 

In the name of God for whom there are no boundaries, who sees and loves us just as we are. Amen.

 

Last week was International Pride Week – a whole week dedicated to celebrating the lives of all who do not fit the heteronormative profile.  It was an opportunity for members of the LGBTQI+ community to celebrate who they are and for the rest of us to celebrate the diversity of humanity. Community reaction was, by and large positive. Two things stood out for me. I had heard that the Uniting Church in Pitt St Sydney had painted their steps in the colours of the rainbow and had made it clear that theirs was a welcoming and inclusive church. Sadly some, unable to accept or tolerate difference, defaced the steps with grey paint[1]. In complete contrast, the Coles Supermarket chain used their free magazine to celebrate Pride week (with rainbow themed recipes) and to shine a light on the diversity and inclusiveness of their workforce.

 

While the wider population have come to a point where they can recognize the value of all people regardless of their gender identity, there are many (represented by our paint throwers) who want to judge, to draw boundaries and to exclude those who don’t fit their idea of who and what is acceptable.

 

Today’s gospel speaks to the issue of boundaries and in particular to the way in which Jesus ignored or defied boundaries which to him were arbitrary, unnecessary and even irrelevant when it came to the bigger picture of worshipping God. Jesus constantly caused offense by acknowledging, befriending and uplifting those whom his own community would exclude – lepers, sinners, prostitutes, tax-collectors, and even those with whom is own community is in serious conflict – the Samaritans.

 

Following on from Jesus’ discussion with Nicodemus, John continues his story of Jesus with another encounter (the Samaritan woman), another opportunity to demonstrate the way in which Jesus introduces a puzzle (never thirst again) which provokes his conversation partner to question what he has said (are you greater than our father Jacob?). This in turn provides an opportunity for Jesus to elaborate, to develop the idea of living water and to build on the faith which he and the woman share. Through the process of discussion and discourse Jesus’ dialogue partner (the woman) comes to a deeper understanding and, in this instance, to faith and to proclamation.  

 

According to the gospel account, Jesus, having been in Jerusalem for Passover, is returning to Galilee. The quickest way to do this is to travel through Samaria – something which most Jews would avoid.  Tensions between the two groups of people were high and Jesus could not be certain of safe passage. The Samaritans were perhaps the worst kind of enemies – those who with whom the Jews had most in common, but with whom they disagreed on what to us are trivial matters – the date of Passover and the mountain on which Yahweh. That they had the same law and observed many of the same customs only made the differences between them more obvious and the tensions more extreme. They were competing for what they believed to be the truth[2] – the stakes could not be higher.

 

When Jesus asked the woman (a complete stranger) for a drink, he was overlooking centuries of enmity and more astounding, he was revealing his vulnerability – he needed help, the woman was in a position to give it. Immediately, he breaks down any reservations the woman might have. Though he is a Jew, he is vulnerable. He is not a threat.

 

In engaging the woman Jesus saw beyond her gender, ethnicity, religion and marital status to that which they had in common – faith in God and a longing for the kingdom to be restored. In the face of their shared faith, all other barriers dissolved. Instead of seeing difference Jesus saw what they shared, perhaps more importantly he recognised the woman’s spiritual thirst – a thirst he could slake. He saw too, that the woman needed help to move beyond the superficial observance of faith to a deeper, more personal relationship with God. In order to do this, Jesus began the conversation with a conundrum, piquing her interest and drawing her into discussion. The woman responded with what she knew, the visible and practical -whose well and which is the correct mountain on which to worship.  Jesus moved her beyond these trivial and earthly details (details which separate and divide), to what really mattered – the spiritual worship of the God in whom they both believe.

 

Instead of accentuating difference, or asking the woman (and her community) to conform to the Jewish practice of the faith, Jesus looked beyond the detail to the bigger picture – the faith that they shared – faith in the one true God. Instead of criticizing and condemning the Samaritan practice of faith, Jesus affirmed their faithfulness and shared with them the message that he had for all people. As a result, he broke the walls of enmity and with the help of the woman drew all her neighbours into a new, renewed relationship with God

 

Jesus’ conversation with the Samaritan woman (the longest recorded conversation that he has with anyone) shines a light on our own pettiness, our concern with details (rather than the big picture), our tendency to see difference rather than commonality and our willingness to judge and exclude those who hold a view other than our own.

 

Jesus was not concerned to know whether the Samaritan woman was rich or poor, promiscuous or chaste, Samaritan or Jew. He didn’t want to change or “fix” her. He saw beyond the outward appearance of social isolation and shame, to their shared faith and their shared longing and it was to her, a woman of Samaria, that he first revealed himself to be the Messiah.

 

It is usually trivial matters that keep us apart. Jesus’ encounter with the woman at the well challenges us to ask:

 

What “truths” do we hold on to that limit, separate and divide?

In what ways do we deny other full expression of their humanity?

Are we guilty of excluding from full participation to the community of faith or to the sacraments – baptism, Eucharist, marriage – those who do not fit our prescriptive norms?

 

Can we, like Jesus, to see beyond the external, to the superficial specifics, to the broader, deeper, more significant, shared faith in the one true God?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

.

 

[1] The rainbow was repainted.

[2] Similar differences – the date of Easter, and how to shave one’s head – were among the reasons that the church originally divided – into East and west.

Lent 3 -2023
Luke 4:5-42
Marian Free

In the name of God for whom there are no boundaries, who sees and loves us just as we are. Amen.

Last week was International Pride Week – a whole week dedicated to celebrating the lives of all who do not fit the heteronormative profile. It was an opportunity for members of the LGBTQI+ community to celebrate who they are and for the rest of us to celebrate the diversity of humanity. Community reaction was, by and large positive. Two things stood out for me. I had heard that the Uniting Church in Pitt St Sydney had painted their steps in the colours of the rainbow and had made it clear that theirs was a welcoming and inclusive church. Sadly some, unable to accept or tolerate difference, defaced the steps with grey paint . In complete contrast, the Coles Supermarket chain used their free magazine to celebrate Pride week (with rainbow themed recipes) and to shine a light on the diversity and inclusiveness of their workforce.

While the wider population have come to a point where they can recognize the value of all people regardless of their gender identity, there are many (represented by our paint throwers) who want to judge, to draw boundaries and to exclude those who don’t fit their idea of who and what is acceptable.

Today’s gospel speaks to the issue of boundaries and in particular to the way in which Jesus ignored or defied boundaries which to him were arbitrary, unnecessary and even irrelevant when it came to the bigger picture of worshipping God. Jesus constantly caused offense by acknowledging, befriending and uplifting those whom his own community would exclude – lepers, sinners, prostitutes, tax-collectors, and even those with whom is own community is in serious conflict – the Samaritans.

Following on from Jesus’ discussion with Nicodemus, John continues his story of Jesus with another encounter (the Samaritan woman), another opportunity to demonstrate the way in which Jesus introduces a puzzle (never thirst again) which provokes his conversation partner to question what he has said (are you greater than our father Jacob?). This in turn provides an opportunity for Jesus to elaborate, to develop the idea of living water and to build on the faith which he and the woman share. Through the process of discussion and discourse Jesus’ dialogue partner (the woman) comes to a deeper understanding and, in this instance, to faith and to proclamation.

According to the gospel account, Jesus, having been in Jerusalem for Passover, is returning to Galilee. The quickest way to do this is to travel through Samaria – something which most Jews would avoid. Tensions between the two groups of people were high and Jesus could not be certain of safe passage. The Samaritans were perhaps the worst kind of enemies – those who with whom the Jews had most in common, but with whom they disagreed on what to us are trivial matters – the date of Passover and the mountain on which Yahweh. That they had the same law and observed many of the same customs only made the differences between them more obvious and the tensions more extreme. They were competing for what they believed to be the truth – the stakes could not be higher.

When Jesus asked the woman (a complete stranger) for a drink, he was overlooking centuries of enmity and more astounding, he was revealing his vulnerability – he needed help, the woman was in a position to give it. Immediately, he breaks down any reservations the woman might have. Though he is a Jew, he is vulnerable. He is not a threat.

In engaging the woman Jesus saw beyond her gender, ethnicity, religion and marital status to that which they had in common – faith in God and a longing for the kingdom to be restored. In the face of their shared faith, all other barriers dissolved. Instead of seeing difference Jesus saw what they shared, perhaps more importantly he recognised the woman’s spiritual thirst – a thirst he could slake. He saw too, that the woman needed help to move beyond the superficial observance of faith to a deeper, more personal relationship with God. In order to do this, Jesus began the conversation with a conundrum, piquing her interest and drawing her into discussion. The woman responded with what she knew, the visible and practical -whose well and which is the correct mountain on which to worship. Jesus moved her beyond these trivial and earthly details (details which separate and divide), to what really mattered – the spiritual worship of the God in whom they both believe.

Instead of accentuating difference, or asking the woman (and her community) to conform to the Jewish practice of the faith, Jesus looked beyond the detail to the bigger picture – the faith that they shared – faith in the one true God. Instead of criticizing and condemning the Samaritan practice of faith, Jesus affirmed their faithfulness and shared with them the message that he had for all people. As a result, he broke the walls of enmity and with the help of the woman drew all her neighbours into a new, renewed relationship with God

Jesus’ conversation with the Samaritan woman (the longest recorded conversation that he has with anyone) shines a light on our own pettiness, our concern with details (rather than the big picture), our tendency to see difference rather than commonality and our willingness to judge and exclude those who hold a view other than our own.

Jesus was not concerned to know whether the Samaritan woman was rich or poor, promiscuous or chaste, Samaritan or Jew. He didn’t want to change or “fix” her. He saw beyond the outward appearance of social isolation and shame, to their shared faith and their shared longing and it was to her, a woman of Samaria, that he first revealed himself to be the Messiah.

It is usually trivial matters that keep us apart. Jesus’ encounter with the woman at the well challenges us to ask:

What “truths” do we hold on to that limit, separate and divide?
In what ways do we deny other full expression of their humanity?
Are we guilty of excluding from full participation to the community of faith or to the sacraments – baptism, Eucharist, marriage – those who do not fit our prescriptive norms?

Can we, like Jesus, to see beyond the external, to the superficial specifics, to the broader, deeper, more significant, shared faith in the one true God?

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Not seeing the wood for the trees – John 3

March 4, 2023

Lent 2 – 2023
John 3:1-17
Marian Free

In the name of God who cannot be confined or contained by our limited imaginations. Amen.

During the last week, Bishop Jeremy posted the following on Facebook: “How would the Church deal with the phrase ‘the cat sat on the mat’ if it appeared in the Bible?
The liberal theologians would point out that such a passage did not of course mean that the cat literally sat on the mat. Also, cat and mat had different meanings in those days from today, and anyway, the text should be interpreted according to the customs and practices of the period.
This would lead to an immediate backlash from the more fundamental wing. They would make an essential condition of faith that a real physical, living cat, being a domestic pet of the Felix Domesticus species, and having a whiskered head and furry body, four legs and a tail, did physically place its whole body on a floor covering, designed for that purpose, and which is on the floor but not of the floor. The expression “on the floor but not off the floor” would be explained in a leaflet.” (Methodically Reordered) It continued with suggestions for the Catholic Church, the Orthodox Church and for the C of E.

That would be funny if it wasn’t so tragic. Whenever there is debate within or between churches, there is a tendency to fall into the trap of focussing on a single detail, rather than exploring the broader picture.

This is particularly true when it comes to our reading of John’s gospel and chapter three, which we have just heard, is a good example of the temptation to focus on a single point instead of trying to discover how this chapter, (how Nicodemus) fits into the gospel as a whole. Like much of John’s gospel, chapter three is dense and includes many different points of interest – being born again, snakes on poles, our most loved scriptural quote and commentary on the contrast between those who choose the light and those who choose the dark. It is easy for a preacher (or reader) to focus on one small sub-theme, rather than to look at the chapter in its entirety, let alone to examine its relationship to the gospel as a whole. (Many of us are very familiar with the imagery of being born again, but know less about the rest of the chapter.)

John is unique among the gospels. Not only is the content very different from the Synoptic gospels but so too is the way in which the gospel is written. The author of the fourth gospel is very explicit as to his purpose: “these [things] are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the anointed, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name” (Jn 20 31). In order to achieve this goal, the author of John’s gospel employs a number of literary techniques that are intended to draw the readers into a deeper relationship with Jesus.

Among the strategies that John uses are the following. Symbolism. Many of the words and phrases in the gospel have more than one meaning – bread of life, light of the world and so on. Dualism or contrasts. The author of the gospel presents two different forms of existence between which listeners must choose – light/dark, life/death, spirit/flesh, above/below. Dialogue and discourse. In the Synoptic gospels, Jesus’ teaching is presented as sayings or parables. In the fourth gospel, teaching occurs through discussion or through a speech. That is, Jesus draws another person into conversation – which causes bewilderment, but which through the course of the conversation may lead to deeper understanding on the part of the conversation partner. (Think for example of his. conversation with the Samaritan woman at the well – chapter 4.) At other times, a question might lead to a longer discourse such as we see after the feeding of the five thousand when Jesus launches into a dissertation on the meaning of bread (chapter 6).

Repetition of issues, themes and even characters. This has the effect of keeping certain ideas in front of the reader or enabling the elaboration of a theme over the course of the gospel. (When a character reappears, his or her role in the overall story is what is important, not who they are as a person.) In the case of the Beloved Disciple his repeated appearances reveal his similarity to Jesus, and mean that we are not at all surprised when he is asked to take Jesus’ place as Mary’s son.

Coming to faith. Whether it is through discussion with or exposure to Jesus, whether it is immediate or gradual, the various characters in the gospel move from bewilderment to understanding, from inquisitiveness to faith OR from scepticism to unbelief.

Jesus’ encounter with Nicodemus provides an illustration of these techniques. This is why it is important to see the chapter as a whole and not to be distracted by detail (to be worried about what sort of cat is sitting on what sort of mat).

In this chapter, we see that Nicodemus coming to Jesus at night – the darkness symbolising ignorance and revealing Nicodemus’ fear of discovery. Nicodemus’ confusion begins a dialogue with Jesus and also provides a teaching opportunity for Jesus – primarily about the distinctions between flesh and spirit, light and dark and above and below. Nicodemus aopears twice more. In chapter 7 his role is to illustrate the division between the Jews (and to let us think that he is on Jesus’ side – he has moved towards belief. His third and last appearance is at the tomb where he provides 100 pounds of ointments to prepare Jesus’ body for burial and at the same time fulfills a legal need for there to be two witnesses to the fact that Jesus was buried. Overall then, Nicodemus provides an illustration of a person who moves from indifference and confusion, through neutrality, to commitment and understanding.

In this and every gospel, the detail is important, but so too is the overarching theme, the broad sweep of the story, a story that is intended to bring the readers to faith in Jesus and through faith to life in Jesus’ name. In the end, we don’t want to be guilty of not seeing the wood for the trees, of allowing the detail to obscure the complete picture.

Instead of nit-picking about the details (arguing about the cat on the mat, about gay marriage, about candles and robes, about prayer books. and hymnals), we as Christians, as church, should try to focus on the big picture – God’s love for us and God’s saving action through Jesus. When we grasp this, everything else will fall into place.

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What is temptation?

February 25, 2023

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

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

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

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What is temptation?

February 25, 2023

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

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

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

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Sustaining faith in the mundane

February 17, 2023

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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