Knocking on heaven’s door – the persistent widow

October 18, 2025

Pentecost 19 – 2025

Luke 18:1-14

Marian Free

In the name of God whose love is dispassionate and constant. Amen.

I have to confess that over the last ten (is it as long as that?) ten years, I have found myself not only wondering about the state of the world, but also about how to effectively pray for the world. No amount of prayer on my part has changed the current erosion of democracy in the United States, my daily prayer has not ended the war in Ukraine or prevented the devastating loss of life and destruction of infrastructure in Gaza, and my consistent prayer has not created the political will for our governments to act in ways that will save the environment. So yes, there are times in which not only do I despair about the direction in which the world is going, but in which I feel utterly powerless to make a difference and I feel acutely conscious of the ineffectiveness of my prayer in particular and prayer in general. 

Today’s parable, taken in isolation from the text around it, does not provide a solution to my problem – in fact, it seems to place the blame at my feet, to suggest that if only I had prayed long enough, hard enough all would be well. Yet I feel as if I have already battered down the doors of heaven to no avail. No matter how many times I go back, no matter how just I feel my cause to be, it seems as though my prayers, my desperate pleas, continue to go unanswered. Greed and selfishness, and the need for power and control seem to go unchecked, the poor are getting poorer, and the rich are getting richer, homelessness is increasing as is the number of people unable to access timely healthcare, or enough food for their families (and I could go on) and despite the fact that more people than I are praying God has not yet intervened in any way that would make a substantial difference. 

Yet the parable encourages persistence, the judge eventually responds to the widow’s request – annoyed by her persistence and fearful that she might resort to violence and cause him to lose face[1].

Before we fall into utter despair at the inadequacy of our prayer, we need to have a closer look at the parable. Firstly, and importantly, we must not make the mistake of interpreting the parable as an allegory. The judge (though he is the person with all the power in the parable) does not represent God – which is the exactly the point that Jesus is making. The judge may have no respect for people, but God will hear the cry of his people and God will grant justice. 

God is not aloof, corrupt and obstructionist, ignoring the poor and indifferent to justice. God, unlike the judge, cannot be bullied or forced to do our will by persistence or violence.  There would be no point in God if God was like the judge.

Why then does Jesus tell a parable about persistence? Here, as is often the case, context is important. Our lectionary has moved from the healing of the lepers to the parable on prayer thus omitting an important conversation with the disciples about the coming of the Son of Man.  Jesus, in line with many apocalyptic prophets, paints a picture of a time of great tribulation which will precede the coming of the Son on Man – times perhaps not unlike those we are living through. He suggests that the time before his return will parallel the time before the great flood, that its coming will be as sudden and unexpected as the destruction of Sodom, that those on the housetop must not come down and those in the field must not turn back, that one will be taken and another left and so on.

The wider socio-cultural context is also important. Jesus’ disciples were, by and large poor peasants oppressed by a foreign power which had stripped them of their land, demanded the payment of taxes on the meagre living which they were able to make, and which brutally suppressed any opposition. It would not be at all surprising to discover that the disciples were anxious to know when everything would be put right, when justice would be restored to the land. How easy it would be to fall into despair when day-by-day their prayers for release seem to come to nothing.

It is into this space that Jesus’ tells this parable about persistence. Jesus is not saying that God will miraculously bring justice on earth through our constant nagging or through our belief that we know what justice is.  Jesus is acknowledging that there will be times when it seems that God is absent, when we will feel that our prayers fall on deaf ears, and when it seems that there will never be an end to injustice, war, oppression, poverty or violence. Into that place of despair, Jesus urges us to persist, to maintain our relationship with God despite, not because of, what is happening in the world around us.

This, perhaps explains the final question of this morning’s passage: “When the Son of Man comes will he find faith on earth?” When Jesus returns, will he find those who have hoped against hope, those who have persisted when persistence seemed futile and those who have continued to believe despite God’s apparent powerlessness in the face of humanity’s propensity for evil.

We are to retain our confidence in God’s loving justice, in the face of humanity’s constant efforts to suppress it, we are to maintain our certainty of God’s love, despite its apparent absence in some places of the world and we are to keep the faith, knowing that God is with and for us, despite evidence to the contrary.

Prayer is not about getting what we want. Prayer is a means of holding open the door to God, listening to God’s word, allowing ourselves to be formed in God’s image and maintaining our relationship with God through all the trials and tribulations of our own lives and through all the things we cannot control in the world around us. Prayer reminds us that, despite all evidence to the contrary, God is with us, God loves us, and, in God’stime, not ours, God will bring justice on the earth.

[1] The Greek of Matthew 18:5 suggests that the judge is worried the widow might slap him in the face, or even to beat black and blue.

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Gratitude or salvation – the thankful leper

October 11, 2025

Pentecost 18 – 2025

Luke 17:11-19

Marian Free

In the name of God who leaves no one out and no one behind. Amen.

Ward 13 is the last remaining structure of the former Dunwich Benevolent Asylum on Stradbroke Island in Morton Bay. Stradbroke Island is 62 Kilometres from the mainland and 2 hours 8 minutes by boat. The Benevolent Asylum housed many different groups of people particularly those who were unable to support themselves for a variety of reasons – age, unemployment, illness or mental or physical disability. Immediately next to the Asylum and beside a swamp was a Lazaret – which housed men who were diagnosed with leprosy – a disease which, rightly or wrongly was deemed an incurable, communicable disease.

A visit to Ward 13 and the associated information centre reveals just how isolating and cruel the treatment of lepers used to be. A person, once diagnosed, was sent to Stradbroke (and later Peel) Island with no hope of ever returning home. A married man would never set eyes on his wife and children again. A child would be separated forever from her siblings and a mother from her children. Though the care of such people seems to have been reasonable, nothing would ever have made up for the stigma, the shame, the self-loathing, the pain, but above all the isolation and the sense of loss.

Leprosy which leads to the damaging of nerve endings and the disfigurement and subsequent loss of digits, hands, feet and even limbs is a dehumanising disease which for millenia created fear and disgust in the wider community. A leper not only had to deal with the disease and its consequences, but also with the reaction of those around them. In order to protect themselves, communities from ancient times have secluded and excluded not only those with the disease that we know to be leprosy, but also those with any form of obvious skin disease[1]. This is why the lepers in our gospel story this morning are keeping their distance from Jesus.

For obvious reasons, Jesus’ healing of the lepers is most often interpreted as a story of gratitude – the gratitude of the Samaritan in contrast with the apparent self-absorption of the nine. There are a few problems with this simplistic approach, perhaps the most serious of which is the implication that gratitude is an obligation. The idea that God demands our gratitude turns gratitude from a freely offered reaction to God’s love to a formal, superficial response. Gratitude that is not freely given is not really gratitude but rather the rote observation of a code of conduct. It does not come from the heart but is simply the fulfilment of an expectation. 

Another problem with an emphasis on gratitude is the implied judgement of the nine who did not return and the belief that Jesus’ comment is pejorative and judgemental. Certainly, Jesus expresses astonishment and perhaps disappointment that nine of the ten did not return, but after all they were doing what Jesus told them to do. 

Luke’s first readers will have noticed a number of other surprises that are at least, if not more, significant than gratitude or lack of it. Firstly, the one who did return was a Samaritan, a person who was doubly burdened by the disease and by his race, who was considered doubly unclean because of the leprosy and his exclusion from the religious practices of the Jews.  He was an outsider. He did not, could not belong.

Readers would also have been surprised that it was the Samaritan, a man who not Jewish by heritage, who was the only one of the ten to identify the hand of God in his healing and therefore the only one to recognise that Jesus was God, that is, the only one of the ten to demonstrate that he truly belonged in the family of God[2]. 

A third and perhaps the most important surprise for the first readers of this gospel would have been Jesus’ response to the Samaritan’s declaration. Here, unfortunately, our translation lets us down. The English usually reads: “Get up and go on your way; your faith has made you well.” This leads us to the conclusion that faith and wellness are connected and to the misconception that if only we have enough faith we will be made well. In fact, it is only after the Samaritan notices that he is healed that he understands that the one who made him well is God – his healing has led to faith, not the other way around. 

The Greek text makes more sense of this order of events. Jesus actually says: “your faith has saved you”. By identifying Jesus as God, the Samaritan has been saved from exclusion and has earned the salvation previously associated only with the Hebrews. In other words, the Samaritan’s faith has earned him a place in the people of God. The one who was doubly excluded – from his community and from God’s family has been doubly saved – restored to his family and friends and saved in the sense of becoming a child of God.

In my experience, it is much easier to construct a faith based on rules and expectations. Many of us want to know what to do and how to behave so that we can be sure to get it right.  Such a view can lead to rote performances of gratitude and praise, a desire to please instead of a wiliness to be pleased.

The Samaritan shows us that our sense of belonging depends not on timidly, fearfully doing things that might earn us God’s good favour, but by recognising that God’s abundant love is already poured out on us and responding freely and spontaneously with joyful gratitude and praise that springs from our wonder and delight at all that God does in and for us.

Let us not be tied down by rote observance of rules, but liberated to joyfully and gratefully praise the God who has already saved us.

[1] That “leprosy” included diseases which could be cured or could be temporary, is evidenced by the fact that those who were “healed” could be reinstated into the community if the priest gave them the all-clear.

[2] In fact, the Samaritan has a unique role in this gospel as he is the only one apart from Peter, who identifies Jesus as God, a point that is often overlooked. 

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Forgiving as God forgives – uprooting trees and replanting them

October 4, 2025

Pentecost 17 – 2025

Luke 17:1-10

Marian Free

In the name of God, who seeks out the lost and welcomes the sinner. Amen.

Corrie Ten Boom, a Dutch woman, the daughter of a watchmaker, was transported to a concentration camp during WWII for sheltering a Jew in contravention of the Nazi policy. Her father was sent to a different camp, but Corrie and her sister Betsy were not separated. Throughout their ordeal Corrie and Betsy showed enormous courage, holding fast to and sharing their deep faith and finding the positives in the most awful of circumstances.  During their imprisonment they made a pledge that after the war, they would not be bitter or hold grudges against the perpetrators of their suffering but would establish centres of forgiveness and healing. Sadly, Betsy did not survive, but Connie spent her lifetime fulfilling their goal and travelling the world preaching forgiveness. 

Despite her deeply held belief that forgiveness was the only way to move forward from hurt and trauma, Connie tells two stories against herself that demonstrate that forgiveness requires much more than the conviction that it is the right thing to do. She discovered that while she had forgiven the corporate sin of the Nazis, there were still personal hurts that were more difficult to overcome.  

In one instance, after Connie had spoken to a large audience on the importance of forgiveness, she was approached by a man whom she immediately recognised as one of her former guards, someone who had humiliated her beloved sister Betsy. The man said to her: “I know God has forgiven me, but I would like to know that you have forgiven me.” He held out hand, but Connie, despite having spoken so passionately about forgiveness only moments before, found herself unable to move. It was only after pleading with God for help that Connie was able to take the man’s hand.

On another occasion Connie was deeply hurt by the actions of some friends. When asked by another friend if she had forgiven her offenders Connie insisted that yes she had. Then she pointed to a pile of letters. “It’s all there in black and white,” she said. In reality, by holding on to the letters and to the evidence of the offense, Connie was demonstrating that her forgiveness was only skin deep.

I tell these stories as a reminder that forgiveness is not a light superficial action but something that demands complete selflessness, and a willingness, despite all evidence to the contrary) to see others worthy of our love and compassion.  In other words, true forgiveness insists that we see the perpetrator of our hurt as God sees them – as the lost coin, the lost sheep or the lost coin – and that we ourselves are so confident of God’s love that we do not need affirmation from any other source.  Few of us are so self-assured!

It is no wonder then that when Jesus tells the disciples that they have to forgive an offender over and over again (even on the same day) that the disciples respond as one: “Increase our faith!”

“Increase our faith!”

In my bible, and I suspect in most translations verses 5 and 6 of chapter 17 stand alone, as if faith was unrelated to what precedes and what follows.  But, as I have just made clear, the disciples’ request and Jesus’ response follow directly from Jesus’ instruction on forgiveness, suggesting that in this instance at least, faith has a very specific meaning. That is, when Jesus replies: ““If you had faith the size of a mustard seed, you could say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it would obey you,’” he is not necessarily saying: “If only you truly believed, you could do anything you put your mind to,” but rather, “the smallest amount of confidence in God’s love would allow you to love as God loves and to forgive as God forgives.”

Unfortunately, too often having enough faith has been seen as a prerequisite for healing or for other sorts of miracles. Too many good, faithful Christians have been made to feel lacking, been made to feel that in some way their faith was insufficient because they were unable to control the circumstances of their lives, unable to prevent their cancer from spreading, unable to pray hard enough to end their child’s addiction to drugs or gambling and so on. 

To interpret this verse as meaning that faith enables us to do anything, that faith is a power that can be used to our own benefit or that having sufficient faith enables us to do the impossible suggests that God needs us to prove our faith or to demonstrate our conviction or worth before God will intervene in our lives or in the lives of those whom we love. It assumes that the God who created the universe can be manipulated by our pleas or appeased by our obsequiousness. It assumes that “faith” in some way allows us (not God) to control our destiny. 

To suggest that if we have enough faith we can move mountains or uproot trees and replant them at will, is to forget that Jesus himself resisted the temptation to engage in dramatic, attention-getting stunts – turning stones into bread and jumping off cliffs. Nor did Jesus’ faith prevent him from being tortured and crucified.

No, faith is not a simple matter of trusting in God to put things right.

In this context, I suggest that to have faith is to so completely align oneself with God, that we cannot help but behave as God, that our lives cannot help but reveal the presence of God within us. To have faith, even if it is only the size of a mustard seed, would enable us to see with God’s eyes, to love with God’s heart and therefore to forgive as God forgives. To have the faith that Jesus speaks of here is to see, beyond the words and actions of the person who has hurt us, to the neglect that has formed them and to wounds that have been inflicted on them. To have faith is to see all people as God sees them – as children of God, who given love and acceptance, will find healing and wholeness and who will grow into their full potential. To have the faith that will forgive over and over and over again, is to acknowledge the hurts that our own insecurities and carelessness cause on a daily basis and to remember that, despite our own imperfections God loves us still.

“Increase our faith!” Help us to love as God loves – both ourselves and those who cause us harm.

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Seeing Lazarus

September 27, 2025

Pentecost 16 – 2025

Luke 16:19-31

Marian Free

In the name of God whose preference is for the poor, the widowed and the orphaned. Amen.

During the week I learnt a new expression which was coined to describe Elizabeth Gilbert’s book Eat, Pray, Love[1]. The expression “Priv Lit” or “Privileged Literature” was introduced in 2010 by writers Joshunda Sanders and Diana Barnes-Brown in an article titled Eat, Pray, Spend. I came across the expression in a comment on Gilbert’s latest offering All the Way to the River in which (as I understand it) Gilbert describes the wild ride she and her lover go on when the latter is diagnosed with cancer.  The expression ‘Priv Lit’ refers to: “literature or media whose expressed goal is one of spiritual, existential, or philosophical enlightenment contingent upon women’s hard work, commitment, and patience, but whose actual barriers to entry are primarily financial”.

Authors of these sorts of biographical narratives use their own life experiences as a model for others, assuming that these can be universalised and forgetting that they write from a position of wealth and privilege that few others can aspire to.

While this term was first applied to Gilbert, it could just as well refer to a number of other authors who are so focussed on their own issues (and resulting solutions) that they are blind to the very real problems faced by women (children and men) all over the world – including in their own country of the United States. Self-actualisation, dealing with grief through travel, or restoring a villa in Italy pale into insignificance in comparison with the hour-by-hour struggles of homelessness, starvation, injury and loss experienced right now by millions in Gaza, the Sudan and elsewhere. These (usually expensive) “solutions” to pain and grief are meaningless to the millions struggling to survive in many of first world countries who cannot afford homes or, who if they have homes have to decide between keeping the lights on and feeding their children.

In today’s parable the unnamed rich man could (like the authors above) be described as tone-deaf and blind. Lazarus, the only person named in parable, lies at the gate of the rich man. It is inconceivable that the rich man doesn’t know that he is there, or that Lazarus is hungry, dependent and covered in sores that are licked by dogs. Not only would the rich man have to pass Lazarus every time he left the house, but Lazarus would also have been visible from within the house. The architecture of the time was such that even the homes of the wealthy were built directly on the street, and those going past would have been able to see inside to the courtyard. Lazarus would have been able to at least glimpse the goings-on inside the home and maybe the obvious signs of wealth.  All the daily to-ing and fro-ing, including the delivery of food, would have to have passed by him[2].

There was nothing in the way of social services in the first century Mediterranean. Those without families, those unable to work, the widowed and orphaned were often forced to beg.  Jewish law made up for this lack by building into it an obligation to provide for the poor, the widowed and the orphaned not, as AI helpfully summarises, “as an optional act of charity, but as a fundamental expression of the righteousness and justice of God”. This is perhaps most clearly expressed in Deuteronomy 15:7, 11 – “If there is among you anyone in need, a member of your community in any of your towns within the land that the LORD your God is giving you, do not be hard-hearted or tight-fisted toward your needy neighbour.” “Since there will never cease to be some in need on the earth, I therefore command you, ‘Open your hand to the poor and needy neighbour in your land.’”[3]

The rich man in the parable was a Jew; he knew the law; as we learn when he appeals to Father Abraham after his death. In life though, the rich man appears to have no self-awareness, no understanding that his wealth is a privilege not a right, and no concept of the obligations his position and his faith entails. He is either so self-absorbed, or so self-righteous or perhaps so disgusted by Lazarus’ condition that he looks right past or right through him. 

We live in a time in which the problems facing the world seem insurmountable. Many of us find ourselves frozen in indecision because any contribution we can make to the solution is but a drop in the ocean. On our own we cannot impact the systemic abuses that lead to entrenched poverty, we cannot end the wars in the Ukraine, in Gaza, in the Sudan and elsewhere, and we can’t, as individuals, stop climate change. We can, however, examine our own lives and try to understand how our attitudes, our lifestyles and even our political allegiances impact the poorest of the poor. We can try to understand how systems we unwittingly support further entrench poverty and inequity. We can recognise and be thankful for the advantages that we do have and acknowledge that throughout the world and in our own nation there are those who, through no fault of their own live in situations of dire poverty, unable to properly house and feed themselves or their families let alone manage to fund health. 

If nothing else this parable urges us not turn away, but to keep our eyes firmly focussed on the state of the world around us, to try to comprehend (and change) the systems that trap people in poverty and to do all in our power to ensure that all people have adequate access to food and shelter, health care and education.  


Like the rich man (and his brothers) we already know what to do – it is all there in our scriptures.

He has told you, O mortal, what is good;

                                    and what does the LORD require of you

                  but to do justice, and to love kindness,

                                    and to walk humbly with your God? (Micah 6:8)

Today is the day to open our eyes and ears to the cries of the poor, the oppressed and the overlooked.

This poem could be our daily prayer:

If it should be, loving Father of all,

that, all unknown to us,

our eating causes others to starve, 

our plenty springs from other’s poverty,

or our choice feeds off other’s denial,

then, Lord,

forgive us,

enlighten us,

and strengthen us to work for fairer trade

and just reward. Amen. (Donald Hilton, Blessed be the Table)[4]

[1] Gilbert’s journey of self discovery was actually subsidized by her publisher.

[2] Many scholars assert that Luke was written for an audience that was well-off and urban dwelling. The inclusion of this parable, not found elsewhere, seems to support this view.

[3] Or this from Amos 6:4f  Alas for those who lie on beds of ivory,

                                    and lounge on their couches,

                  and eat lambs from the flock,

                                    and calves from the stall; 

                  who sing idle songs to the sound of the harp,

                                    and like David improvise on instruments of music; 

                  who drink wine from bowls,

                                    and anoint themselves with the finest oils,

                                    but are not grieved over the ruin of Joseph! 

[4] Quoted by Chelsea Harmon, Working Preacher, September 25, 2022.

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Dishonesty or forward planning?

September 21, 2025

Pentecost 15 – 2022

Luke 16:1-13

Marian Free

In the name of God who asks us to attend to the future with as much care as we attend to the present. Amen.

Then Jesus said to the disciples, “There was a rich man who had a manager, and charges were brought to him that this man was squandering his property.  2 So he summoned him and said to him, ‘What is this that I hear about you? Give me an accounting of your management, because you cannot be my manager any longer.’  3 Then the manager said to himself, ‘What will I do, now that my master is taking the position away from me? I am not strong enough to dig, and I am ashamed to beg.  4 I have decided what to do so that, when I am dismissed as manager, people may welcome me into their homes.’  5 So, summoning his master’s debtors one by one, he asked the first, ‘How much do you owe my master?’  6 He answered, ‘A hundred jugs of olive oil.’ He said to him, ‘Take your bill, sit down quickly, and make it fifty.’  7Then he asked another, ‘And how much do you owe?’ He replied, ‘A hundred containers of wheat.’ He said to him, ‘Take your bill and make it eighty.’  8 And his master commended the dishonest manager because he had acted shrewdly; for the children of this age are more shrewd in dealing with their own generation than are the children of light.  9 And I tell you, make friends for yourselves by means of dishonest wealth so that when it is gone, they may welcome you into the eternal homes. (NRSV)

“Make friends for yourselves by means of dishonest wealth.” Surely Jesus is not saying that the entrance into eternity is through making others indebted to us by the dishonest use of funds. This is one of, if not the most, difficult parables to understand. In order to begin to unpack it we have to understand both the context in which it was told and the editorial process that has brought it to us. 

We are so familiar with the gospels and their use in our current context that we tend to forget that Jesus was speaking to a culture far removed in time and place from our own. Those who lived in first century Palestine were seriously impacted by the fact that they had existed under foreign occupation for generations. The rural economy in which land had passed from father to son for generations had been disrupted by the Emperors’ practice of giving grants of land to returning soldiers or to others whom they wanted to reward. The new landowners rarely took up residence on their land, choosing instead to live somewhere more attractive and to appoint managers or stewards to administer their estates. Such managers (many of whom were slaves) were empowered to act on the owner’s behalf. A manager would make decisions about the day-to-day running of the property and was able to make decisions about the expenditure of money, the offering loans and the incurring and forgiveness of debts. Much as is the case in large landholdings in Australia today – the manager had the same authority as the owner.

As I mentioned a couple of weeks ago, the principles of honour and shame were a central feature of the ordering of society and a guide to interpersonal relationships in the first century Mediterranean world. A person’s honour determined their place in society, was easily lost and was more valuable than money, land or possessions. Also, in a world where life was precarious, there was not the luxury of planning for distant events. People in Jesus’ time were more likely to act out of current desires than in pursuit of a long-term goal.

So, we need to grasp that most of the land was in the hands of managers on behalf of absentee owners, everyone knew their place in a culture governed by principles of honour and shame and the focus was on the present reality rather than an unimaginable, perhaps unrealisable future.

If we are to fully grasp the meaning of the parable we also have to have a basic understanding of biblical criticism. The gospels were not compiled until some 40-50 years after Jesus’ death, meaning they were not written by eyewitnesses. Until that time Jesus’ teachings had circulated as oral tradition. They were retold from memory and told in ways appropriate to the situation of those who are listening. Finally, when the gospels were written, the authors took the material available to them and shaped it in ways which suited their particular emphasis. In order for the sayings and parable to make sense, the editors would add linking sentences and even their own commentary. 

It is also helpful to note that the divisions into chapters did not occur until the 13th century and the addition of verses in the 17th century. Our task is try to discern how the authors compiled the material and not to rely on arbitrary divisions.

All this brings us to the parable of the Unjust Steward (a parable recorded only by Luke). 

Scholars agree that the parable proper consists of verses 1-8a and that v8b introduces a sermonising commentary – not the language of master to servant. This means that the parable proper ends with the master commending the steward for acting shrewdly.  Shrewdness not dishonesty is the point.

The parable concerns a rich man and his steward. We are told nothing about the steward’s character or his previous behaviour, only that a report has been brought to the landowner alleging that he is squandering his master’s property. A first century audience would immediately know that whether or not the steward was innocent the reputation (honour) of the landowner had already been compromised and his reputation damaged. They would also know that the steward would have had no means of self-defence – no external party to appeal to – his fate is sealed.

Interestingly, though the landowner asks the steward for an accounting of his management, he tells him he is fired without any reference to the financial record. Also important is that though he fires the steward, he doesn’t ask the steward to repay any debt, nor does he threaten to punish him by beating or imprisonment. (This tells us something about the generosity of the landowner which will make more sense of the conclusion). 

In verses 2 and 3 we hear the steward’s internal dialogue as he considers what to do[1]. Once again honour (as well as age) is a contributing factor in his decision. Finally, the manager announces that he has made a decision. He will place other people in his debt by reducing the value of their debts (v4, which he does in verses 5-7)! This means that though the master (who is already rich) might lose some income, the master’s honour – the far more important commodity – will not only have been restored it will have been enhanced! The landowner commends the steward for his shrewdness because the steward’s actions have increased the landowner’s status in the eyes of the community thus ensuring that his honour has not been compromised and the steward has secured his own future. (Again we are surprised by the generosity of the landowner, who commends rather than condemns.)

Jeffrey Durkin whose article has informed my research, summarises the situation in this way: “a master has a steward who has wasted his possessions and dishonoured him. The master dismisses the steward, creating a crisis for the steward, but he does not punish him. The steward hatches a risky plan to take advantage of his master’s forgiving nature and to secure his own future. By reducing the amounts of the debts owed to his master, he creates goodwill in the community for both himself and his master. The master praises the steward for his purposeful action in the securing of his own future.” [2]

The parable then is not about management, honesty or dishonestly, rather it is about futureproofing, it is about living in the present while focussing firmly on the future – on eternity.

It begs the question – where does our focus lie. Are we shrewd enough to recognise that eternal life is not simply a matter of chance but might take some forward planning? If so how are we going about it?

[1] This is a characteristic of Luke’s writing – see Luke 12:13-21.

[2] “A Cultural Reading of Luke 16:1-9.” Journal of Theta Alpha Kappa. January 1, 2007, 7-18.

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Who is lost? Do we really want them to come home?

September 13, 2025

Pentecost 14 – 2025

Luke 15:1-10

Marian Free

In the name of God who seeks the lost and is not content until they are safely home. Amen.

In her book Dead Man Walking, Sister Helen Prejean tells the story of her relationship with Elmo Patrick Sonnier, a man who is on death row in Louisiana State Penitentiary. Sonnier has been sentenced to death for his part in the kidnapping and murder of two young people and the rape of the young woman. Sonnier is not a particularly attractive individual. He is sullen and defensive, and he refuses to take any responsibility for his actions. Prejean in no way condones the young man’s behaviour, but she does see behind the tough exterior a vulnerable human being who loves his mother and his younger brother.

Prejean’s visits to Sonnier and her increasingly vocal opposition to the death penalty do not make her popular and are a source of pain and confusion for the parents of the murdered youths. They simply cannot understand how a good Christian woman can give Sonnier the time of day, let alone show him some kindness. They want her to join them in calling down God’s judgement on him. They want him to pay for what he has done, and they firmly believe that God’s fury should be poured out on him. It is beyond them to comprehend that anyone could have sympathy for a person who has committed such evil acts. 

Prejean persists in her friendship, consistently urging Sonnier to admit to and take responsibility for the crime. It is only when Sonnier is within hours of facing the executioner that he finally acknowledges that he took part in the murder and that he raped the girl. He was still executed – not as someone who was still lost, but as someone who, through the love of God regained his humanity and was redeemed.

Who is the most loathsome person you can think of? Hitler or Idi Amin might come to mind, or perhaps those who attacked Camp Sovereignty in recent weeks[1]. Top of your list might be those members of Hamas whose murderous rampage on October 7, 2023 began the current war in Gaza.  It could be that the perpetrators of domestic violence or chid sex offenders might cause you the greatest sense of revulsion. To be honest, having put my mind to it, I can see that there are many categories of people whose actions put them beyond the pale and who, because of those actions seem to be out of the reach of forgiveness or redemption. Even to think about the perpetrators of such horrendous crimes causes such disquiet that their removal from society seems to be the only way to create a safer more harmonious world.

Can you even begin to imagine that God might love Sonnier, or Rowan Baxter who incinerated his wife and three children in their car? Can you envisage God’s loving the murderers, the sex offenders, the terrorists, the oppressive dictators so much that God’s heart is breaking for them until God can bring them back to Godself.  It is a shocking, horrifying thought – that God should love the reprehensible, the destructive, and the violent. Doesn’t God constantly call us to obey the law – love our neighbours as ourselves and so on? Are we not right in expecting God to rain down judgement on all those who go against God’s laws? Aren’t we justifiably affronted when an evil person apparently gets away with the evil they have committed?

Is it not an insult to ourselves, but more particularly to the victims and their families that one day a murderer will be set free when they themselves will have to live with grief and absence for a lifetime or even that a murderer will live when one whom they have loved will not?

In the light of such thoughts, can you imagine then how confrontational the parable of the lost sheep would have been to Jesus’ listeners?  What on earth is the shepherd doing going off after the foolish sheep that has got itself separated from the folk – the one that has wandered off, the one that was unable to conform to the standards expected? What self-respecting shepherd would abandon a flock (or 99% of a flock) – to wolves, to thieves – for the sake of one percent – the rapists, the extremists, the violent offenders, those who defraud? 

We have lost the offense of this parable by associating ourselves with the one lost sheep instead of understanding that the lost sheep is the rank outsider, the one who has made choices that put its life and the lives of the others at risk. Jesus tells the parable in response to the Pharisees and scribes who are disgruntled because Jesus welcomes and eats with sinners. Jesus tells the parable to make explicit God’s love for and desire to save all people – especially the sinners. Those who are already saved – the law-abiding, the church-going – have no need to be sought out and brought home. They are already at home.

It is the self-righteous indignation of the 99 (the scribes and the Pharisees, the “saved”) that is expressed by the elder brother in the third parable of the lost – the forgiving father. The 99, the good, the well-behaved, those who already have everything that salvation has to offer have not need to be sought out by God. 

Today’s parables tell us of the lengths God will go to ensure that absolutely everyone – the good, the bad and even the ugly – know the warmth of God’s love. If that offends us we have not grasped the nature of God’s all-inclusive, unconditional love for all God’s creation and nor have we grasped just how blessed we are that we are recipients of that love.

If we are truly secure in God’s love, rather than in our own sense of self-righteousness, we too will want the whole world to know the warmth of God’s embrace.

[1] The site of an Indigenous ceremonial place and burial ground on which a number of indigenous people camp and which was attacked following a “March for Australia” leaving four people injured, two with severe head wounds.

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The price of following Jesus

September 6, 2025

Pentecost 13 – 2025

Luke 14:25-35

Marian Free

In the name of God, who stands with the poor, the vulnerable and the oppressed and who asks that we do the same. Amen.

Decades ago, I read Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s Letters and Papers from Prison. At the time I was struck by his courage and by his clarity of vision. He has remained for me a hero of faith and an example of Christian witness in difficult times.

Bonhoeffer was in his twenties when Hitler was installed as Chancellor of Germany, yet despite his relative youth he perceived the danger of the cult of the Fuhrer and publicly warned that the leader might become the ‘misleader’. He was among many church people who resisted the incorporation of Nazi ideology into the church’s theology (a compromise many churches were willing to make in order to keep peace). Bonhoeffer consistently critiqued both the government and the church and was part of a break-away movement which formed the Confessing Church – a coalition of those who refused to accept the Nazi influence in matters of faith.

Bonhoeffer’s willingness to criticize the government led to his being forbidden to speak in public and having to report regularly to the Nazis but, ironically perhaps, through the influence of his brother-in-law he became a member of the Abwehr (the German military-intelligence agency). It was through his connections there that he became part of a group who plotted to kill Hitler. He said of this decision: “If I sit next to a madman as he drives a car into a group of innocent bystanders, I can’t, as a Christian, simply wait for the catastrophe, then comfort the wounded and bury the dead. I must try to wrestle the steering wheel out of the hands of the driver.” 

His involvement in this plot led to his arrest and imprisonment.  He was sent to Tegel Prison for 11/2 years. Then, as the Allies advanced and defeat became inevitable, the Germans moved Bonhoeffer and others east to Buchenwald and then to Flossenberg concentration camp. He was executed there on April 9, 1945. He was only 39 years old. It is reported that as he was led away to the place of execution he declared: “This is the end—but for me it is the beginning of Life!”[41]

Many of Bonhoeffer’s overseas colleagues understood the dangers he was facing by remaining Germany and offered him sanctuary in both Britain and the USA, but he refused both offers believing that he: “should live through this difficult time with the German people.” To fail to do so, he believed, would prevent his having any part in the rebuilding of that nation.

Bonhoeffer, along with Oscar Romero, Martin Luther King and the many martyrs of our age understood clearly that following Jesus and living by gospel values sometimes comes at a cost. Speaking truth to power, resisting Empire, standing with the poor and the vulnerable, seeking justice for the oppressed, confronting corruption and exploitation is not always welcomed by those who do not wish to rock the boat, or by those who want to maintain their power, protect or build their wealth, or to shield themselves from suffering.

Today’s gospel is a stark reminder that following Jesus is not just about accepting God’s love, but means living by gospel principles and, if necessary, dying for them. At this point in the gospel story Jesus is being followed by large crowds who may be caught up in the excitement of the Jesus’ movement, who may be hoping to witness a miracle or to be cured of an infirmity or disease. Jesus needs to let them know that discipleship is much more than comradeship and miracles. Discipleship demands that followers are true to the principles of justice, integrity and compassion – no matter how uncomfortable that may make the society around them. 

Jesus wants to know who among the crowd has the sort of commitment that will see them to the end.  “Whoever comes to me and does not hate life itself cannot be my disciple.”   Or what king, going out to wage war against another king, will not sit down first and consider whether he is able with ten thousand to oppose the one who comes against him with twenty thousand?” In other words: “How many of you have truly considered the price of following me and asked yourselves whether or not you have the capacity to meet the cost?”

Ever since Constantine made Christianity the faith of the Empire, the church has been entwined with the state and the establishment. As a consequence, except for brief occasions it has often been difficult to distinguish Christian values from cultural values. Times are changing, the community in which we live is becoming increasingly fractured and the disparity between rich and poor continues to grow. Homelessness is on the rise and those who can afford homes cannot find homes to buy, food insecurity is a very real issue for too many families, and too many young people are finding themselves on the wrong side of the law. 

It is time to reclaim our role as a voice for the voiceless, a supporter of the weak and protector of the vulnerable. It may be that we will be called to critique the power that would exploit the vulnerable, take advantage of the weak and enrich itself at the expense of the poor. 

It is time to remember Bonhoeffer’s words of caution:  “Christianity stands or falls with its revolutionary protest against violence, arbitrariness and pride of power and with its plea for the weak. Christians are doing too little to make these points clear rather than too much. Christendom adjusts itself far too easily to the worship of power. Christians should give more offence, shock the world far more, than they are doing now. Christians should take a stronger stand in favour of the weak rather than considering first the possible right of the strong.” 

We must remember and teach those who come after us that following Jesus is not a crutch but a cross, not only a comfort in times of difficulty, but a challenge to act when to act is costly and it is not a defence against harm but is sometimes a call to put oneself in the path of danger.

“Whoever comes to me and does not hate life itself cannot be my disciple.” 

Do we, with all our privileges and advantages really understand the cost of discipleship and, if we do, are we willing, if called upon, to pay the price?

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Holding a dinner party – who to invite, where to seat them

August 30, 2025

Pentecost 12 – 2025

Luke 14:1, 7-14

Marian Free

Loving God, give us a true sense of our worth, that we may never need to build ourselves up at the expense of another. Amen.

If you were invited to a formal wedding breakfast, you would expect to find a diagramme of the table arrangement indicating at which table you were to sit. When you found that table you would look for a place card with your name and you would take your seat – regardless of whether or not you were sitting with someone you knew and liked, and no matter how far from the bridal table you were placed. Most of us absorb the social norms of our own subculture. So, we will understand that the host has gone to an enormous amount of trouble deciding who should sit where – depending on a person’s place in the family and the degree of association the person has with the family. The bride and groom, with their attendants sit at the head table. Parents, grandparents and siblings sit close to the bride and groom (indicating their close relationship) and friends – especially single friends are usually to be found furthest away. A distant cousin would not expect a seat at the front.

At formal events place cards save us the trouble of trying to work out where we fit in the social heirarchy and, even were we to accidently sit in the wrong place, our faux pas would not cause lasting damage to our reputation or to our place in society. 

The situation was vastly different in the first century in which status and rank were closely guarded assets and in which principles of honour and shame governed almost every interaction. Honour was a commodity that could be ascribed (by birth) or acquired through effort. It was acquired by excelling over other people in speech or in battle or by diminishing or putting down another. Honour was a claim to worth and the social acknowledgement of that worth. However, honour was a limited commodity, once lost it was hard to regain, except at someone else’s expense. 

In such a culture it was vital that those of equal position did not compromise their honour, or that of the person with whom they were interacting. It was also essential not to insult a person – whether of higher or lower status – by behaving in a way that did not acknowledge that person’s position in society.  Equally it was important not to become indebted to another or to place them in your debt which would diminish your or their status. In order to maintain one’s place, it was essential not to expose any weakness or vulnerability which would allow another to take advantage of you.

The honour/shame culture explains many of the gospel exchanges and parables. Perhaps the most obvious example is that of Herod’s beheading of John the Baptist. Herod had promised to give his dancing stepdaughter whatever she asked, not for one minute expecting that she would ask for John’s head. However, despite the fact that he “was grieved” he ordered his guards to carry her wishes:, “out of regard for his oaths and for his guests”. Had Herod behaved in any other way, had he gone back on his word he would have been perceived as weak and vacillating. He would have lost face in front of his guests and his ability to command the respect of his peers, and his ability to control the rebellious Galileans would have been seriously compromised.

In an honour/shame culture a dinner invitation and the resulting dinner had serious implications. Invitations were only extended to those who could enhance one’s honour – those of at least equal rank, or those whom one might place in one’s debt.  A person would not accept an invitation immediately but would wait to see who else was invited – and then only accept if the guest list included people of the same or higher status. One’s honour depended on not associating with anyone who could bring them down. (This explains the parable of the wedding banquet and the poor excuses people make for not attending. They haven’t replied, because they wanted first to learn who else was going.)

In our gospel today Jesus is at a dinner party. Obviously, his hosts see him as a person of some consequence, or he would not have received an invitation. But Jesus is an uncomfortable guest. Instead of quietly summing up the room and choosing an appropriate place at the table – one that reflected his status vis a vis the other guests, Jesus chooses to offer a critique of the status-seeking behaviour of the other guests. Interestingly, he didn’t suggest that the guests are of equal status, only that it is not up to them to determine their worth and where they should sit. 

Jesus continues by addressing the host and reflecting on the guest list. He completely overthrowing the cultural norms by suggesting that the host invite people who have nothing to offer – no status and certainly no return invitation. Jesus’ suggestion would have two consequences. It would weaken the host’s place in the world, and it would also put those guests under an obligation which would be a degrading and unacceptable thing to do.  

Jesus is doing here what he does throughout the gospels – he is overturning the social mores of his time and culture and establishing the norms and expectations of the kingdom, a kingdom in which a person is valued according to their love of God and of God’s children, in which humility takes precedence over pride, service over leadership, selflessness over greed. 

Today’s gospel is a reminder that we are called not to measure ourselves according to the standards of the world in which we find ourselves, weighing up our good deeds, our achievements, our possessions and comparing ourselves with others. We are called not to only associate with those who can benefit ourselves but also with those whose friendship will be costly – to our reputation or to our pocket. We are called to see all people through the lens of God’s love, to treat all people as worthy of dignity, and of the basic requirements of life and to understand that nothing that we have, nothing that we value, nothing that we have earned makes God value us more highly than God values us now and certainly does not ensure that God values us any more than other person. 

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Law or Compassion – healing on the Sabbath

August 23, 2025

Pentecost 11 – 2025

Luke 13:10-17

Marian Free

Loving God, grant us a clarity of vision, that enables us to determine right from wrong and gives us courage to act when others believe that we should not. Amen.

There are some choices which simply shouldn’t have to be made – neither choice has a good outcome. That we are often faced with difficult choices is evidenced in the popular sayings: “Choosing the lesser of two evils” or “it’s a lose/lose situation”. 

Recently in Queensland, we passed laws to enable Voluntary Assisted Dying. This was in response to a question: do we stand by and allow a dying person to live with unbearable pain, or do we give them some agency, the freedom to choose when to bring that life to an end? For Christians this is a choice fraught with danger not least because of our belief in the sanctity of life and the thought of hastening death by artificial means (or by suicide) raises the question as to whether or not VAD contradicts that belief. Over and against that is the fact that by not freeing someone to end their life, we know that we may be condemning them to a long, drawn-out, undignified, and agonising death.  Which is the lesser evil – showing love and compassion to the dying or allowing nature to take its course?  Which better demonstrates the love of God?

That the church can, and has, made choices between law and compassion is evidenced in our changed attitude to divorce and to the re-marriage of divorcees – the former of which was almost impossible until a century or so ago and the latter impossible until the 1970’s. In allowing divorce, the church eventually came to the conclusion that the pain and suffering inflicted on those in unhappy, violent marriages surely did not match up with the love, compassion and understanding that Jesus showed to people in a variety of situations and Jesus’ insistence that we have life in abundance.

In more recent memory, the church has also faced the reality that: “Till death us do part” does not mean that a spouse must stay in a marriage which is stultifying, dangerous and psychologically damaging for the person and for any children in the relationship. Jesus’ teaching against divorce and re-marrriage has been set aside in favour of what we believe Jesus’ response would be in the current era – that he would want an abused spouse to be set free to live.  

There are times when, as a church, we have to choose the lesser of two evils – disobeying Jesus’ teaching as it appears in the bible and interpreting Jesus’ actions and teachings for a different time and place. More than once, we have had to try to balance Christian ideals and values against regulations which have become untenable, unreasonable and harmful.

In so doing, we have Jesus as our model and guide.  Jesus was faced with difficult choices on many occasions – mostly in relation to whether or not it was right to break the Sabbath rule. He had to consider whether the health and well-being of a person was more important than the prohibition against working on the Sabbath and he always chose the needs of the person. Over and again, Jesus was faced with making a choice – between cultural norms and God’s love of all people, between religious norms and the social/psychological needs of the person in front of him, and between the norms surrounding family and the possibility that his teaching might split families. Overwhelmingly, Jesus’ chose to ignore law and convention in favour of God’s unconditional love. 

Jesus allowed a woman off the street and a woman with a haemorrhage to touch him, he ate with tax collectors and sinners, and he extended his healing power to Gentiles. Jesus’ insistence on putting people first, of showing God’s love rather than rigidly applying the law, meant that he was misunderstood, condemned and ultimately put to. death. Jesus risked social condemnation, religious persecution and the rejection of his message because he made choices which was contrary to what was expected of him. Always he chose compassion and love over a strict adherence to the law.

Jesus’ actions have, over time lost their power to offend and to shock. We take for granted that healing should be allowed on the Sabbath and forget that Jesus was deliberately making a choice to ignore or to break the law. It makes sense to us that Jesus’ should allow himself to be anointed by a strange woman – what a wonderful loving act we think. However, we don’t take into account the strict separation of men and women in the first century and the deep offense that her actions caused to those who witnessed it. We think, ‘of course Jesus would heal the leper’, forgetting the deep fear around the transmission of leprosy and the strict cleanliness laws that were instituted to stop the spread of the disease. 

Jesus was out of step with his time and culture, he was a troublemaker, a lawbreaker, a radical. He was arrogant enough to believe that the religious law did not apply to him.  He ignored social and religious convention and tried to behave as he believed God would behave – always prioritising the health and well-being of a person over strict adherence to laws that had reached their use-by date. 

Throughout history the church has made, often uncomfortable, decisions between law and compassion. The church has tried to make decisions based on what Jesus might do in the present moment, rather than on what he said or did in a vastly different time and place. We must pray that we have Jesus’ clarity of vision so that we can recognise when laws that were intended to set us free have become laws that bind, when regulations designed for our protection have become instead our prison, and when laws that force people to endure unbearable suffering have lost their power to heal. May we see as Jesus saw and have the courage to break the law, when breaking the law more powerfully demonstrates the love and the will of God.

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I have come to bring fire. Does Jesus divide families?

August 16, 2025

Pentecost 10 – 2025

Luke 12:49-59

Marian Free

In the name of God Earth-Maker, Pain-Bearer, Life-Giver. Amen.

On Thursday, (August 14) the church marked the Feast of the Twentieth Century martyrs. One of these was Manche Masemola from South Africa who at the beginning of  the century converted to Christianity against the wishes of her parents. When the medicine of a Sangoma (a traditional African faith healer) failed to undo the ‘spell” which her parents felt had her in its grasp, her parents murdered Manche. She was only 14 or 15 when she was killed.  Apparently, before she died, she had said that she “would be baptised in her own blood.” Manche was recognised as a martyr by the church in. South Africa within ten years of her death and she is one of the martyrs commemorated above the Great West Door of Westminster Abbey.

There were more martyrs in the 20th century than in any century prior and Manche’s story is far from unique. Pakistan for example, has strict blasphemy laws the punishment for which is death[1]. Christians can be accused of blasphemy by those who have a grudge against. Them and while the death sentence is rarely carried out by. the judiciary people often take the matter into their own hands, beating and sometimes killing those whom they believe have offended Allah. 

“I have a baptism with which to baptised!” Jesus declares this morning before he goes on to say: “Do you think I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division.”

Many people today find these words of Jesus deeply disturbing and out of sync with their understanding of a Jesus who heals and forgives faith which provides comfort and assurance.  The problem is that we read this passage from the perspective of a faith which, in the West at least, has been the predominant faith for close to seventeen centuries and which, since its adoption by Constantine as the religion of the state has come to be almost indistinguishable from many of the communities in which it finds itself. (Sometimes it is difficult to determine which societal values have been influenced by the Christian faith and which Christian values have taken on attributes of the society in which it finds itself.)

In the ancient world it was very different. No one was born a Christian – they had to convert.  Conversion often came at a great cost – loss of family and friends, loss of income and the attendant loss of social status. Members of the Christian community were frequently ostracised by friends and family and harassed by neighbours and fellow citizens.[2] To those in the Greco-Roman Empire, worshipping the local gods built community – everyone participated in the local festivals, ate at the local temples and so on. A Christian could no longer join in the festivities or eat food sacrificed to idols and thus could be seen as a source of social division. Further, local gods were understood to protect the community, so refusal (by the newly converted) to worship the gods put the whole community at risk. Likewise, a refusal to worship the Emperor would place the whole community in jeopardy. A Christian who refused to worship the local gods, and who was opposed to Emperor worship was seen as endangering the whole community. Christians were not a seen as a benign presence but as a very real threat to the safety and stability of the community in which they found themselves. They would have found themselves resented at best and reviled and “persecuted” at worst. 

A further cause of isolation and deprivation for a convert was the inability to work. Tradespeople had to belong to a guild, and guilds were associated with a particular god and temple. Christians, being unable to participate in temple worship, were excluded from the guild and often found themselves unable to work. On top of the social isolation and harassment, converts experienced unemployment and therefore no income.

For the same reasons, families were divided when a family member converted to Christianity. Believers were no longer able to participate in family events (usually associated with religious festivals) and they were deemed to be troublemakers because of their refusal to conform to local norms and to behave in ways that protected the city.

The situation was only slightly better for those who converted from Judaism, but they too found themselves cut off from family and friends who did not agree that Jesus was the Christ. 

“From now on five in one household will be divided, three against two and two against three; they will be divided:

                  father against son

                                    and son against father,

                  mother against daughter

                                    and daughter against mother,

                  mother-in-law against her daughter-in-law

                                    and daughter-in-law against mother-in-law.”  (Luke 12:53)

Words that are shocking and confrontational to us, were simply expressing the reality of the time, and for many in the world today, expressing the reality of our our own time. According to a study carried out by the House of Commons last year, one in seven Christians in the world is persecuted. [3] In many places, making an active decision to follow Jesus still comes at a great cost. Conversion divides families (even communities), leads to social isolation and in the worst case scenarios can result in death.

When Jesus says that he has come to bring fire to the earth, he is simply stating what he knows to be true – that the message he brings is dangerous and will be divisive and that those who accept the gospel will be considered as dangerous troublemakers by many and will suffer the consequences.

In our cosy “Christian” world it can be difficult to understand that faith in Jesus is dangerous and costly, hard to grasp that something that (to us) as socially acceptable as holding the Christian faith could cause our friends and neighbours to see us as a threat. It is impossible for us to associate baptism with Jesus’ wish to bring fire to the. earth [4], but this is a reality for many and should challenge us to not only think of those who suffer for their faith, but to ask ourselves whether or not we have in fact become too comfortable.

[1] To discover which countries have made conversion illegal, and in which countries Christians are persecuted check this link https://worldpopulationreview.com/country-rankings/countries-where-christianity-is-illegal..

[2] Paul speaks about being persecuted, but. there was no state censured persecution till much he is probably referring to isolation and harassment.

[3] https://commonslibrary.parliament.uk/research-briefings/cdp-2024-0017/#:~:text=1%20in%207%20Christians%20are,fragile%20states%20to%20support%20FoRB

[4] Jesus here, is probably looking forward (not in a positive sense) to his crucifixion and wishing that ti could be over and done with. It would not be unrealistic for those undergoing persecution to apply these. Words to thm

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