God Incarnate

December 23, 2022

Christmas – 2022
Marian Free

In the name of God who comes among us silently, unobtrusively and unremarkably. Amen.

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In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. . . . All things came to be through him, and without him nothing came to be. —John 1:1, 3

During the week our Bishop posted the above photo in Facebook. It is a light-hearted attempt to compare the accounts of Jesus’ birth in the four gospels. At the same time, it reminds us that when it comes to Christmas, we conflate two versions of the story – our nativity scenes. have the shepherds and the magi even though the shepherds are found only in Luke and the magi only in Matthew. (Mark is missing, because in Mark’s gospel, Jesus bursts on to the scene fully grown.) When the post appeared, discerning viewers noticed at once that Mary was not included in the diagramme. You might like to compare the first few chapters of Luke and Matthew and see if anything else needs to be added. The four gospels begin quite differently and as might be expected, the beginnings reflect the interests of the authors. Matthew is concerned to stress the Jewishness of Jesus and the way in which his early years demonstrate the fulfillment of Old Testament promises. (“This was to fulfill what was spoken by the prophets” occurs 5 times in the birth narrative.) What is more Matthew’s genealogy goes back to Abraham – the founder of the Jewish faith. Luke, on the other hand is more concerned with the universal implications of Jesus’ birth and with the historical context in which the story takes place. Luke includes the census and mentions Herod. His genealogy goes all the way back to Adam – indicating that Jesus is for everyone, not just for a few. Mark, as I said is not concerned with Jesus’ origins and John’s poetic start gives us – not a birth, but a cosmic beginning. From John’s point of view Jesus always was.

Does it matter that we do not have a consistent account to explain Jesus’ presence among us? Do we need to explain the differences? Of course not. Each story tells us something different, helps to satisfy our curiosity about Jesus’ beginnings and enriches our understanding of something that is essentially beyond our understanding. Indeed, Richard Rohr would argue that Jesus’ birth is only one expression of God’s incarnation among us – the account/s of Jesus’ birth are only one expression of God’s presence among us. That is to say, prior to Jesus’ birth, God was not absent in creation, invisible to God’s people or inactive in relation to the world. From the moment God said: “Let there be light” God has been dynamically engaged with creation and constantly in relationship with God’s people.

As Rohr says, we will never know the how, why or when of creation, but most traditions suggest that everything that it is the creation of some “Primal Source, which originally existed only as Spirit.” He goes on to say that “This Infinite Primal Source somehow poured itself into finite, visible forms, creating everything from rocks to water, plants, organisms, animals, and human beings. This self-disclosure of whomever you call God into physical creation was the first Incarnation (the general term for any enfleshment of spirit), long before the personal, second Incarnation that Christians believe happened with Jesus.”

What this means is that from the beginning of creation God has existed/been incarnate within all creation – animate and inanimate. When God ‘became flesh’ in the person of Jesus, God became incarnate in a very particular way – uniting Godself to us. At that point in time, God the creator, with the Logos/Word, fully identified with humankind, proving once and for all, that humanity is created in the image of God and that God is incarnate in and with us – not simply in creation or in some indistinct, immaterial form out of sight and out of reach. God, through God’s incarnation in Jesus that God chooses not only to be incarnate in the beauty of a sunset, the perfection of a flower, the majesty of a mountain, but in the frailty of human flesh, the imperfection of human behaviour, and the weakness of human will. Thanks to God’s coming in flesh – in Jesus – we can see God in one another and in ourselves and, in Jesus, we can see too what it is that we can be.

So, this year, let us not look back with longing to the infant in the stable or forward with anticipation to the coming of the Son of Man, but let us simply look – around and within – so that we might perceive God’s incarnation in its many and myriad forms – in the world and in ourselves. Let us celebrate God, with us throughout all time.

It has nothing to do with being respectable

December 17, 2022

Advent 4
Matthew 1:18-25
Marian Free

In the name of God who moves us to act in ways that are surprising and unconventional. Amen.

Jimmy Barnes, the hard-living, drug-abusing, wild-boy of Australian rock, was born James Dixon Swan. He was the child of an unhappy marriage, the son of an abusive alcoholic. When he was still very young, his mother abandoned her six children to escape the abuse. In his autobiography Working Class Boy Jimmy tells of his life as a motherless child growing up in Elizabeth, South Australia. His father was rarely home, leaving the children to fend for themselves. Over time, the house fell into disrepair and niceties – such as sheets on the beds – became a distant memory. Sometimes Jimmy’s father gave his older sister money. She used to buy a sack of potatoes which was often the only food in the house. Left to his own devices grew up wild and on the streets. He first got really drunk when he was only nine or ten.

In the meantime, Jimmy’s mother was struggling to make a living so that she could reconnect with her children. One day the Child Welfare Agency came to her to say that the children were going to be made wards of the state unless she could provide a stable home for them.

She was at a friend’s house, crying, when Reginald Victor Barnes walked in.

“What’s the trouble love?” he asked.
“I need to find a husband and I need to find a home for me six kids and I need to do it quickly or they’ll put them in a home,” she responded.
“Why did you leave them?”
“I had to run away, my husband was a bad drunk.”
“No worries love, I’ll marry ya.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Someone’s got to save those poor kids.”

So, Reg Barnes married Jimmy’s mother and took on – sight unseen – six troubled, delinquent kids.
He provided them with a home, stayed up all night tending to anxious, frightened and sick children and he didn’t walk away no matter how trying and exhausting their behaviour.

As Jimmy says: “Reginald Victor Barnes was to be an angel in my life.”

Reg, Jimmy believes, had planned to be a priest. In order to rescue children he did not know and to save a woman he had just met, Reg exchanged a peaceful, ordered life for one of heartache and chaos. In gratitude, Jimmy took his name – Jimmy Barnes.

This, I imagine is a rare story, especially for a man of Reg’s generation. No doubt Reg’s friends thought he was mad. Taking on another man’s children was one thing, taking on – and fully supporting – six children, damaged and abused by another, was something else altogether.

When we think of the story of the Incarnation, our first thought is of Mary and the risks that she took and the sacrifices she made when she said her courageous: “yes” to God. We are less likely to focus on Joseph – who throughout Jesus’ life is relegated to the background – a shadowy, but necessary figure who gives the earthly Jesus some legitimacy. Joseph is presented as the strong, silent type. He says nothing, but simply acts on messages that come to him in dreams. Joseph’s role in the story is to save Mary from shame and to ensure that Jesus can claim to be of the tribe of David (from whom the anointed one was to descend).

As was the case with Mary, though, Joseph’s obedience came at a cost. If he married Mary, he would bear for the rest of his life the reputation of someone who has been cuckolded. The scandal of Mary’s pregnancy would follow him wherever he went, and he would almost certainly be ridiculed or pitied for taking on another man’s child and having as his heir a child whom he did not father.

We are told tantalizing little about Joseph. He is a righteous man – a man anxious to do what is right before God. A righteous man would know that Mary’s out-of-wedlock pregnancy was contrary to the law and that as such he had no obligation to assist her. He would know too that any association with her would reflect on him, impact on his standing in the community and call into question his knowledge of and adherence to the law. He would have further cause for concern regarding Mary’s insistence that the child she was carrying came from God – an impossible and blasphemous claim which would have been an affront to his faith, and another reason for his family and neighbours to deride and revile him. For Joseph to marry Mary would have lasting effects. Her shame would become his shame. For the rest of his life, he would be subject to rumours and inuendo.

So, being a righteous man, knows that he must dissolve the engagement, but he proposes to do this quietly so as to shield Mary from public scrutiny. (He is presumably confident that her family will protect her and keep her forever from the public eye.)

God has other ideas.

It is perhaps an indication of Joseph’s righteousness (his closeness to God) that he understands that his dream is not a fantasy, but a message from God and that a message from God is not to be ignored, but to be acted on. He accepts, contrary to everything that he knows and believes that marrying Mary was part of God’s plan. Joseph was a law-abiding, righteous man but he was not so hide-bound, not so fixated on doing what was right that he put adherence to the law before the will of God.

Ultimately faith cannot be neatly bundled up as a set of rules and regulations. Faith, as Joseph demonstrates, is a relationship with the living God, who cannot and will not be confined by the limits of human imagination.

What we learn from Joseph is faith has nothing to do with rigid certainties, and everything to do with risk-taking. Righteousness has nothing to with having a good reputation and everything to do with a willingness to be a “fool for God. Pleasing God has nothing to do with observing certain codes of behaviour and everything to do with an openness to where God is leading us and a willingness to take our part in God’s plan.

Being in a relationship with the living God, means being willing to have all our certainties thrown into question, our values turned upside-down. and our lives turned inside out.

God in the small things

December 17, 2022

Advent 3 – 2022
Matthew 11:2-11 (some belated thoughts)
Marian Free

What no eye has seen nor ear heard, the Lord has prepared for those who love him. Amen.

Even though none of us can predict the future, we all have certain expectations. Some expectations are realistic – the sun will rise tomorrow, we will get older rather than younger, we will continue to love our children. Much, however, is beyond our control. We cannot know with any certainty what tomorrow will bring – whether we will still have a job, whether our health will hold, what the weather will do. Even so, because it is difficult to live with uncertainty we make plans, we assume that things will stay the same and that we will be able to determine our futures. For many of us, things work out – if not exactly as expected. We finish our education, get a job, form a relationship, and are generally satisfied with our lot. Others, for reasons that are not always within their control, reach a certain age and find themselves wondering what went wrong, why their life hasn’t worked out as they thought it would. In the worst-case scenarios, some wonder if they have wasted their lives, or if fate has been against them.

This seems to be the situation in which John the Baptist. now finds himself. Having started out confident that he knew what the future held, he now finds himself languishing in prison, wondering if he was right when, certain that God’s promised one would come, he had announced that Jesus was the one. Now he is not so sure. His expectations (whatever they were), have not been met. The Roman oppressors have not been overthrown, the Temple practices are still corrupt and the difference between rich and poor remains the same. Has his life been wasted? Should he have taken a different turn? Did he mistake his role, his place in God’s plan?

Whatever was going on in John’s mind, it is clear that he needed some reassurance, some certainty that he had been on the right track. He sends his disciples to Jesus. to ask whether he really is the one who is to come, or should they be looking for another?

Jesus’ response is interesting. Instead of answering John’s disciples directly, he tells them to look around themselves and to notice that the blind have received their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised and the poor have good news brought to them. In other words, Jesus points out to John that there are signs that God is active in the world in ways that God had not been active before. The signs are subtle to be sure, but they are obvious to anyone who looks carefully. God (through Jesus) is not upending the world, overthrowing the oppressors, demanding complete and total obedience from God’s followers. God is making the sorts of changes in peoples’ lives that allow them to live well under any external circumstances. Jesus is making people whole. He is not filling them with rage and encouraging them to use violence to overthrow the Romans – that would be only a temporary solution. The blind would still be blind, the lepers unclean. People would still be unsatisfied with their lot.

Jesus brings wholeness – not revolution. John’s fiery proclamation was to turn people’s hearts towards God, to enable them to be receptive to the one whom God sent, to be willing to submit themselves to God’s will, rather than to long for God to radically change the world.

We are not told John’s reaction to Jesus’ response, but there is of course a lesson for us in this gospel.

In a world beset by war and terror, the effects of climate change, corruption and inequity, it can be difficult to see the evidence that God is active in the world. We, like John, can be filled with despair and wonder if we have it right. At such times we, like John need to be reminded that God is not to be found in the dramatic, that God does not take sides (which might make things worse rather than better), and that humankind has not, as a whole, turned to God. Jesus wants us to see that none of that means that God is absent from the world or from our lives. God can be found in everyday miracles – new shoots after a fire, a child’s smile, the goodness of strangers, the sacrificial acts of aid workers and more especially in the birth of a child – who contrary to all expectations will change the world.

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Proclaiming Welcome

December 2, 2022

Advent 2 – 2022
Matthew 3:1-12
Marian Free

In the name of God whose children we all are. Amen.

I am currently in the UK. One of the advantages of being in another country is that you can see how the other half lives – at least to some extent. It is difficult to really get a sense of how people are coping with the increased cost of living but easy to observe that on the whole people here have decided to live with COVID. What is most obvious to me is the differences in the Anglican Church. On the one hand the church in this nation is struggling to live with difference (particularly in relation to the ordination of women). On the other hand, the churches which I have attended and visited openly proclaim a greater degree of inclusivity than I am used to.

In a prominent place near the entrance of many churches is a statement something like this (taken from the website of the church in Whythenshawe):

We believe in inclusive Church – church which does not discriminate, on any level, on grounds of economic power, gender, mental health, physical ability, race or sexuality. We believe in Church which welcomes and serves all people in the name of Jesus Christ; which is scripturally faithful; which seeks to proclaim the Gospel afresh for each generation; and which, in the power of the Holy Spirit, allows all people to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Jesus Christ.

It is not that I have not worshipped and served in churches that hold and live out such values, but there are few churches in my experience that are as explicit and open – declaring as this does, that there is no cause whatsoever to exclude anyone from the compass of God’s love.

The notion that God’s love was limited to a specific race and within that race to those who observed particular codes of behaviour, extends into the Old Testament. It is based on the idea that God chose Abraham and Abraham’s descendants to be God’s people. This notion was reinforced when the people called out of Egypt were named as God’s children, given their own unique law and forbidden to intermarry with those of a different nationality and god. The Temple, when it was built made it clear that there were some who were ‘in’ and others who were ‘out. There was a separate court for the Gentiles who were excluded from the inner court. A desire to further demonstrate difference and to maintain purity and proper observance of the law lies behind the apparent rigidity of the Pharisees.

Indeed it is easy to read the history of Israel as a story of maintaining racial and religious purity and of the Israelites setting themselves apart from the world as God’s chosen people. That would, however be to miss all the clues the point to an inclusive God. Naaman the Syrian is healed (if indirectly) by the prophet Elisha, Ruth (a Gentile) becomes the forbear of Jesus, God spares the Gentile city of Nineveh, Cyrus (the King of Persia) is called God’s anointed or Messiah and the prophets proclaim a time when the Gentiles will stream into Jerusalem to worship in the Temple. In other words, the exclusivity that is often associated with the people of Israel is not truly representative of the Old Testament accounts.

The New Testament further brings into the foreground the inclusivity of God’s love. We observe this in Jesus’ determination to eat with sinners and prostitutes, his inclusion of women among his followers and supporters, his refusal to deny healing to Gentiles, his encounters with the people of Samaria and his use of the Samaritan as an example of love of neighbour. While it was not without its difficulties, the early church quickly recognised that Gentiles, as well as Jews, were coming to faith in Jesus and that any community that formed in Jesus’ name would need to find a way to accommodate both groups.

Interestingly the message of inclusivity is proclaimed from the very start. As John proclaims the coming of one who is more powerful than he is, so he indirectly declares the inclusive nature of the God who has sent him and who will send the ‘more powerful one.” A message that could be seen to be directed exclusively to the people of Israel is actually a declaration of inclusivity and an omen of what is to come. To those who would hold themselves apart from others, who would claim that they have the characteristics (birth and behaviour) that qualifies them to be children of God – the Sadducees and the Pharisees – John says: “Do not presume to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our ancestor’; for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham.”

“God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham.” Here, even before the ministry of Jesus has begun, his forerunner is warning those who by ritual or law have set themselves apart
from those who are different that the God whom they claim to worship is not a God who sets boundaries, but a God whose love is capable of embracing all and that it is God, not they who decides who belongs and who does not. John is making it clear that depending on race or on adherence to codes of behaviour or liturgical observances is not a guarantee of belonging. Belonging is a matter of ‘repenting’ of turning towards God – and that this is something that anyone, of any background, race, class, gender or sexuality can do.

For a great many of us, it is self-evident that God’s love does not exclude anyone whose seeks to be loved, but perhaps that needs to be made more explicit on our doors, on our websites and in our welcome. As we announce the advent of Jesus, let us commit ourselves to making it abundantly clear that God’s love embraces all and that all are welcome.

Advent 2 – 2022

Matthew 3:1-12

Marian Free

 

In the name of God whose children we all are. Amen.

I am currently in the UK. One of the advantages of being in another country is that you can see how the other half lives – at least to some extent. It is difficult to really get a sense of how people are coping with the increased cost of living but easy to observe that on the whole people here have decided to live with COVID. What is most obvious to me is the differences in the Anglican Church. On the one hand the church in this nation is struggling to live with difference (particularly in relation to the ordination of women). On the other hand, the churches which I have attended and visited openly proclaim a greater degree of inclusivity than I am used to.

 

In a prominent place near the entrance of many churches is a statement something like this (taken from the website of the church in Whythenshawe):

 

We believe in inclusive Church – church which does not discriminate, on any level, on grounds of economic power, gender, mental health, physical ability, race or sexuality. We believe in Church which welcomes and serves all people in the name of Jesus Christ; which is scripturally faithful; which seeks to proclaim the Gospel afresh for each generation; and which, in the power of the Holy Spirit, allows all people to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Jesus Christ.

 

It is not that I have not worshipped and served in churches that hold and live out such values, but there are few churches in my experience that are as explicit and open – declaring as this does, that there is no cause whatsoever to exclude anyone from the compass of  God’s love.

 

The notion that God’s love was limited to a specific race and within that race to those who observed particular codes of behaviour, extends into the Old Testament. It is based on the idea that God chose Abraham and Abraham’s descendants to be God’s people. This notion was reinforced when the people called out of Egypt were named as God’s children, given their own unique law and forbidden to intermarry with those of a different nationality and god. The Temple, when it was built made it clear that there were some who were ‘in’ and others who were ‘out. There was a separate court for the Gentiles who were excluded from the inner court. A desire to further demonstrate difference and to maintain purity and proper observance of the law lies behind the apparent rigidity of the Pharisees.

 

Indeed it is easy to read the history of Israel as a story of maintaining racial and religious purity and of the Israelites setting themselves apart from the world as God’s chosen people. That would, however be to miss all the clues the point to an inclusive God. Naaman the Syrian is healed (if indirectly)  by the prophet Elisha, Ruth (a Gentile) becomes the forbear of Jesus, God spares the Gentile city of Nineveh,  Cyrus (the King of Persia) is called God’s anointed or Messiah and the  prophets proclaim a time when the Gentiles will stream into Jerusalem to worship in the Temple. In other words, the exclusivity that is often associated with the people of Israel is not truly representative of the Old Testament accounts.

 

The New Testament further brings into the foreground the inclusivity of God’s love. We observe this in Jesus’ determination to eat with sinners and prostitutes, his inclusion of women among his followers and supporters, his refusal to deny healing to Gentiles, his encounters with the people of Samaria and his use of the Samaritan as an example of love of neighbour. While it was not without its difficulties, the early church quickly recognised that Gentiles, as well as Jews, were coming to faith in Jesus and that any community that formed in Jesus’ name would need to find a way to accommodate both groups.

 

Interestingly the message of inclusivity is proclaimed from the very start. As John proclaims the coming of one who is more powerful than he is, so he indirectly declares the inclusive nature of the God who has sent him and who will send the ‘more powerful one.” A message that could be seen to be directed exclusively to the people of Israel is actually a declaration of inclusivity and an omen of what is to come. To those who would hold themselves apart from others, who would claim that they have the characteristics (birth and behaviour) that qualifies them to be children of God – the Sadducees and the Pharisees – John says: “Do not presume to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our ancestor’; for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham.

“God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham.” Here, even before the ministry of Jesus has begun, his forerunner is warning those who by ritual or law have set themselves apart from those who are different that the God whom they claim to worship is not a God who sets boundaries, but a God whose love is capable of embracing all and that it is God, not they who decides who belongs and who does not. John is making it clear that depending on race or on adherence to codes of behaviour or liturgical observances is not a guarantee of belonging. Belonging is a matter of ‘repenting’ of turning towards God – and that this is something that anyone, of any background, race, class, gender or sexuality can do.

 

For a great many of us, it is self-evident that God’s love does not exclude anyone whose seeks to be loved, but perhaps that needs to be made more explicit on our doors, on our websites and in our welcome. As we announce the advent of Jesus, let us commit ourselves to making it abundantly clear that God’s love embraces all and that all are welcome.

For a great many of us, it is self-evident that God’s love does not exclude anyone whose seeks to be loved, but perhaps that needs to be made more explicit on our doors, on our websites and in our welcome. As we announce the advent of Jesus, let us commit ourselves to making it abundantly clear that God’s love embraces all and that all are welcome.

November 25, 2022

Advent 1 – 2022

Matthew 24:36-44

Marian Free

In the name of God who is always near, and always coming. Amen

Unless the danger is real, it is impossible to live constantly on the edge, or in a heightened state of awareness. After the September 11 attacks for example, we were urged to be constantly alert to any unusual or unattended package or luggage and, for a while, we were “alert, but not alarmed”. Thankfully, there have been no bombs and in Australia, terror attacks were largely averted or limited in their impact. Over time, the messaging stopped and the fear of a terrorist attack no longer felt real.[1] People began to let down their guard, to stop living as if an attack were imminent. More recently of course, we have lived with a constant fear of COVID. Even though that was threat was very real and impacted on every person, few have remained are as cautious as they once were. Even though, in Australia, a fourth wave has hit, the number of people wearing masks is considerably lower than it was six months ago. The danger is real, but the energy to deal with it is missing because, by and large, the community is exhausted by the stress of the last few years. It is  simply impossible to constantly live on a knife’s edge. When the immediate danger has passed, most of us breathe a sigh of relief and go back to the way we were before.

 

This, I imagine, was the situation for which Matthew (indeed all the Synoptics were written). Jesus had suggested that he would return and gather believers to himself and, if further evidence were needed, he had not established any formal structures that would have implied that he expected a community to form, to establish ways of being together and to develop leadership structures. Fifty years after Jesus’ ascension into heaven it was no longer possible to live with the same sense of urgency that might have been expected immediately after

 

No doubt the first generation of believers had lived with an air of anticipation, aware that Jesus might appear at any time and that they must be ready for his return. At the time Matthew was writing, the faith community consisted of third generation believers. Those who knew the earthly Jesus had died and those who now believed had apparently become complacent (as is attested by Matthew’s parables of the bridesmaids and the sheep and the goats.) No one can constantly live on tenterhooks and maintaining a sense of trepidation is increasingly difficult especially in a time when the threat of Jesus’ coming appears  increasingly unreal.

 

One of the tasks of the gospel writers was to find ways to revive the sense of expectation, to confront the apparent complacency of believers and to recall them to their call. This is not, I suspect an attempt to force believers to live in fear, but to encourage them to  live ‘as if’ – as if Jesus were to return, as if Jesus might catch them unawares. It is not so much that the gospel writers desire that believers should live in terror – always wondering if they could meet the standard expected – but more that they are encouraging those who follow Christ to strive to live in such a ways that they would not be ashamed were Jesus to appear in the next minute, the next hour, the next day.

 

The gospel for this morning provides both reminders and incentive.  “Keep awake! For you do not know on what day your Lord is coming.” Life may appear to be going on as it always has – eating and drinking, working in the field, grinding grain, but the simple and mundane things of everyday life should not be allowed to make us complacent. It is not so much that daily life does not continue – of course it does. Nor is it a matter of being always on the edge – worried that Jesus will come and find us wanting. It is a reminder that no matter when Jesus might come it is important that we are not caught sleeping.

 

That does not  mean that we have live in fear, constantly worried about being caught out. Fear is a poor motivation. It sees only judgement and punishment; not welcome and joy. Fear does not lead to growth, it leads us to play it safe, to behave in ways that we believe will please, to become rule bound and rigid – believing that there are ways to be and ways not to be. Fear tempts us to hide our flaws instead of accepting and facing them honestly. Worse, living in fear does not provide the basis for a healthy, and real relationship with God. Fear leaves us anxious and self-conscious, unable to trust in ourselves and in God’s abundant love and forgiveness, and failing to engage with the deep and difficult work of allowing Jesus  to transform our lives, so that we are being formed in the image of Christ.

 

In practical terms then, ‘being ready’ living in a state of expectation means that at all times we are to strive to live our best life, to detach ourselves from the passions and desires of this world,  and to draw ever closer to the God who gave everything for us that in turn we might give our all for God.

 

This Advent, and every Advent is an opportunity to re-examine our lives and to ask ourselves: “Were Christ to come tomorrow, would we want to cling to the things of this world or would we be ready to let go and excited to experience something new? Would we be happy to go out in joy to greet him, or would we want to hide ourselves in shame? Would we have learnt to be comfortable in God’s love or would we still feel we needed to put on a front?”

 

Are you ready and if not, what would it take?

 


[1] I have been surprised therefore, to be hearing the message again now that I am in the UK.

A sovereign like not other

November 16, 2022

The Reign of Christ
Luke 23:33-43
Marian Free

In the name of Christ, whose reign is like nothing we might have imagined. Amen.

Two sovereigns, two very different deaths.

We have witnessed in recent times all the pomp and ceremony that is attached to royalty – at least as it is known in the United Kingdom and the Commonwealth. The passage of the Queen Elizabeth II’s body from Scotland to Westminster, the lying-in state, the respectful crowds, the funeral attended by dignitaries from all over the world and the procession that preceded and followed the funeral were the most amazing spectacle in the best sense of the word. It is difficult to begin to imagine the amount of organisation required for the whole affair to run seamlessly and impossible to imagine how much it all cost.

How different from the death of Jesus – a sham trial, a brutal whipping, mocking guards and jeering crowds, a humiliating procession to the cross and a disgraceful, drawn-out death. As it was the Passover, Jesus’ body was not even afforded the dignity of anointing. The only solemnity afforded this king was the removal of his body from the cross and its burial in a new tomb. A shocking scenario, that seems as far from a royal death as possible. Yet it is here, during Jesus’ trial and subsequent execution, that Jesus is identified as king, and if only in order that charges might be brought against him and the presumed threat that he poses to the church and empire might be eliminated.

The Israelites had hoped for a time in which God would send a king who would restore the splendour and might of David. Such a king would indeed be a threat to the Empire. A king of David’s stature and power would not hesitate (empowered by God) to take on the might of Caesar. Jesus, however, is not that king, which is why the religious leaders do not recognise him for who he is but see him simply as a nuisance. Jesus was born in humble circumstances to very ordinary parents, he lived the life of an itinerant preacher. His choice of followers and his behaviour were not what might be expected of someone who would lead the people of God and who would break the yoke of the oppressor. Jesus is so unlike the expected king, that few recognise that he is indeed the anointed one, the one promised by God.

To most of his contemporaries, and. especially. to the leadership of the church – the Sadducees and Pharisees, Jesus is at best an irritation and at worst a threat. Jesus directly challenges their authority, questions their interpretation of scripture, and refuses to observe purity laws and to disassociate himself from sinners. It is the fact that he bests them in argument and undermines their position that most gets under the skin of the religious leaders. Almost from the beginning of the gospel account, they have been looking for a means to discredit him and to diminish his influence on the crowds. Worse, almost from the start they (the religious leaders) have been looking for an excuse to kill him.

The religious leaders certainly do not believe Jesus to be a king , but when they bring Jesus to Pilate it suits their purpose to accuse Jesus of insurrection – of claiming to be a king when he is not. They know that Pilate will have to take their complaint seriously if they suggest. that Jesus is a threat to Rome. “We found this man perverting our nation, forbidding us to pay taxes to the emperor, and saying that he himself is the anointed one, a king.” Pilate resists condemning Jesus, and finds no evidence against him, yet he succumbs sufficiently to the pressure from the crowds that, according to the inscription above Jesus’ cross, Pilate has Jesus crucified on the basis that he is “King of the Jews.” (Presumably, the religious leaders and the crowds who have bayed for Jesus’ death don’t see the not-so-subtle slur implied by that inscription. Pilate has taken their words and turned them against the crowd. Indeed, Pilate has given the Jews a king – a king who is degraded, powerless, beaten, and naked.)

The irony is that it is here, on the cross, that we learn what sort of king Jesus is – a king who so identified with our condition that he became one of us and one with us. A king who did not seek power and glory but who allowed himself to be crucified rather than raise an army to defeat the Empire. A king who offered forgiveness to those who so barbarously nailed him to the cross and whose compassion compelled him to promise Paradise to the thief who was crucified with him. A king, who above all placed his trust in God and not in himself.

As we enter Advent and begin to focus on the Christ who comes in glory to judge, it is important to remember that the Christ who will come in glory is the Jesus on the cross, and that one who now reigns from heaven is the Christ who still bears the scars of the nails and the mark of the spear.

A crucified king is a contradiction, one that constantly reminds us that Jesus chose our existence and that, however exalted, continues to be intimately aware of our joys and sorrows, our triumphs and failures, our hopes and our fears. A crucified king reminds us that following Jesus does not shield us from heartache, persecution and isolation. A crucified king is a paradox topples our certainties, prevents us from confining Jesus to either to the exalted one or to the humble one and keeps us open to the endless possibilities of who Jesus is.

Nothing is permanent

November 12, 2022

Pentecost 23 – 2022
Luke 21:5-19
Marian Free

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

The past few years have been very unsettling to say the least. We have witnessed extreme and destructive weather events and a shifting international landscape as the influence of the US declines and that of China rise. COVID further exacerbated the uneasiness with closed borders, shortages of food and manufacturing products and the enormous stresses experienced by business trying to keep going during lockdowns. The war in Ukraine has further created havoc on the world stage. Unprecedented fuel and food shortages are impacting first world economies and interruptions to shipping are threatening starvation in third world nations dependent on wheat from Ukraine. A real or impending economic recession is further adding to a sense of gloom and doom. Add to this Putin’s threats to unleash nuclear warheads and it is not too difficult to imagine that we are approaching a cataclysmic end of the world such as that described in today’s gospel.

At the time that the gospels were written, the Jewish uprising had been completely squashed, the Temple destroyed, and Jerusalem razed to the ground. For those who believed that Jesus was the Christ and for those who did not, this was a foundational event. The Temple, which had been magnificently restored by Herod the Great was a visible sign of God’s presence among the people, a symbol of national identity and the only place in which sacrifices could be offered and rituals performed. Without Jerusalem and without the Temple, both Jews and those who would become Christians, had to rethink their identity and their relationship with God. If there was no Temple, there was nowhere in which to celebrate the major Jewish festivals, nowhere for those who lived in Jerusalem to worship on a daily basis and there was certainly no place or role for the priests who served in the Temple.

The Jewish uprising also caused an irreparable split between those who believed Jesus to be the Christ and those who did not. Until this time, Christ-followers (who became known as Christians) were tolerated as a Jewish sect. They worshipped in the Temple and were permitted to attend synagogues. After the destruction of Jerusalem however, Christians were excluded from the synagogues because they had refused to fight in the war. Thereafter they had to forge their own identity – separate from the faith which gave them birth. At the same time, they lost the protection afforded to Jews by the Roman Empire which in turn made them vulnerable to exclusion and persecution. As a “new” religion, Christians were viewed with suspicion and their beliefs regarded as superstition.

Jews had to redefine the way they related to God now that the Temple no longer existed. Forced out of Jerusalem, they turned to the law and Rabbinic Judaism was born.

The readers of Luke’s gospel must have found the times at least as uncertain and threatening as we find our own. While as yet they were not experiencing officially sanctioned persecution, their decision to follow Jesus isolated them from their family and friends, made it difficult to earn and income and, because they refused to worship the Emperor and the local gods they risked being harassed by citizens who believed that they were placing their cities in danger.

How reassuring, in such circumstances, to know that Jesus had understood that this would be a likely consequence of following him – that they might be arrested and persecuted, handed over to synagogues. and prisons and brought before kings and governors.

Whether or not Jesus was a soothsayer, he understood too the nature of the physical world. There would always be natural disasters – earthquakes, floods and famines – events that would be outside anyone’s ability to control. Further, Jesus knew and understood the nature of human beings – their propensity to greed, to lust for power, their desire to control others and in Israel’s case, their desire to overthrow the oppressor. There would, he knew, always be wars and insurrections and that his followers would not be exempt from fallout. He knew too, that in times of disaster and calamity people would seek comfort and hope wherever they could that that sometimes they would find it through the false promises offered by charlatans and false prophets. So, using the example of the Temple which appears to be solid and permanent, Jesus in effect warns the disciples that nothing stays the same.

In speaking to the disciples, Jesus not only has an eye on the immediate future and the dangers and perils it contains, but he also has an eye on the distant future – the future that will be a reality for his disciples in every time and place. His words to the disciples are as relevant to our age as they were to theirs. There will be wars and insurrections, earthquakes and famines and those who resist evil will risk arrest and. imprisonment

Having faith in him, will not protect or shield his followers from harm or from the difficulties that are attendant on living in an uncertain world. Disciples need to expect but should not be surprised if suffering comes their way, but in the face of uncertainty those who follow Jesus can be certain of a number of things – they will never be abandoned, they will always have the words to say, that not a hair of their head will perish and that through their endurance they will gain their souls.

If the Temple – that magnificent symbol of power, protection wealth – could be destroyed, then nothing is certain and nothing is permanent. To place our trust in earthly things is to be disappointed. To place our hope in Jesus is to be given strength to endure.

In whom or what do you trust?

Blessed are YOU

November 5, 2022

All Saints – 2022
Luke 6:20-25
Marian Free

In the name of God, Creator of the Universe, Sharer of our earthly existence, and Giver of life and love. Amen.

Some decades ago, in experiments that would now be considered to be unethical, infant rhesus monkeys were removed from their mothers at birth and put in cages. with so-called “surrogate mothers”. These “surrogates” were very basic inanimate structures. One consisted of wire and wood and the second was covered in foam over which was a soft cloth. There were two experimental conditions. In one the wire structure had a milk bottle and the cloth one did not and in the other the situation was reversed. In both cases, the infants spent more time with the cloth mother. In both cases the infants were, needless to say, traumatised by the experience.

Touch is an essential component of human well-being, the sense we missed most during COVID. It not only indicates love and compassion, but it is essential to a child’s development – the growth of physical activities, of language and cognitive skills and of social-emotional competency. In adults, touch signifies safety and trust, reduces stress, and allows the immune system to function effectively. Without touch a person can become stressed, depressed, or anxious.

Indeed, the power of touch is such that it is seen to have the ability to heal or to transfer energy from one person to another. Physical touch gives a sense of connection, as if by association, the essence or charism of the other passes to the recipient and they share, for a moment at least, something of the other. (We see this when crowds reach out to touch, albeit briefly – a member of royalty, a rock-star, or say the Dalai Lama. Their desperation to touch suggests that they believe that the contact will mean that something of the status of the other will brush off on them and that their lives will be changed as a result.)

When Jesus begins his “Sermon on the Plain”, he is surrounded by a “great crowd of his disciples and a great multitude of people from all Judea, Jerusalem, and the coast of Tyre and Sidon. They had come to hear him and to be healed of their diseases; and those who were troubled with unclean spirits were cured. All in the crowd were trying to touch him, for power came out from him and healed all of them.”

“Power came out of him and healed all of them.” Everyone wants something from Jesus – they want to touch him, or to be touched by him. They want to be healed by him or they want to feel distinguished from the crowd by virtue of association with him. In other words, they want what Jesus has to give them – whether it is wholeness or a sense of importance.

When we read the Beatitudes in this context, we can see that they are not so much a comforting set of sayings but much more a form of rebuff, a corrective to the crowds’ way of thinking. Jesus is not commending the poor etc as much as he is challenging the crowds to consider what he really means to be one of his disciples and whether they are truly prepared to follow where discipleship will lead.

Luke tells us that the crowds have come to Jesus to hear his teaching and to be healed. They are drawn to him for what they can get out of the relationship. Jesus needs them to know that it is not so simple –something of him may rub off on them – but it will not be what they expect.

Perhaps this is why, when Jesus begins to speak, he focuses his attention his attention on his disciples – those in the crowd who identify themselves as his followers. What he has to say relates directly to them. When Jesus says: “Blessed are you who are poor”, he is not referring to the poor and hungry in general, but to those who are in right front of him – “you”.

His words then are a stark description of what it means to be a disciple, to be one of his followers. Jesus is saying that if some of his charism has flowed from him to them, it is a charism that leads not to glory, but to the cross, not to wealth and distinction, but to deprivation and obscurity. Being a disciple of Jesus will not spare them poverty, hunger, grief, or persecution. It will require resilience, fortitude, being willing to follow Jesus wherever that takes them, and understanding that the fate of the master will be the fate of the follower. But – and this is important – it is this dependence on God, this trusting in God to see one through, that will lead to the blessedness of being able to take life as it comes, to being content with one’s current situation and being able to cope with grief and loss.

In contrast, Jesus warns, those would-be disciples who are seeking notoriety, wealth, or entertainment will not, in the end, be satisfied. They will always be striving for what they do not have, and such striving will, in fact, take them away from the satisfaction, joy, and security that they are seeking. They will be cursed by dissatisfaction, discontent, and disappointment.

Jesus is telling his would-be disciples, and by inference us, that if we want to touch and be touched by him and if we want to share his charism and to be made whole, then we must understand that blessings will be found in suffering as well as joy, in emptiness as well as in satiation, in deprivation as well as in richness and that seeking to escape poverty, sorrow and obscurity will only lead to the very things that we seek to avoid.

Blessed are you if you seek Jesus above all else, for then you will know that you already have all that you need.

Being seen

October 29, 2022

Pentecost 21 -2022
Luke 19:1-10
Marian Free
In the name of God, Earthmaker, Painbearer, Lifegiver. Amen

When we read the Bible in small portions, as we do on a Sunday morning, we often miss the crucial connections and the patterns that are carefully constructed by the authors. For example, each gospel is a beautifully crafted piece of literature in which the life and teaching of Jesus is presented according to the message that the author wants the listener to hear. So, you might notice that Matthew gathers the sayings of Jesus into the Sermon on the mount. In Luke’s gospel the same material is divided. Half can be found in the Sermon on the Plain. The remaining sayings are reserved for Jesus’ journey to Jerusalem and for Jesus privately teaching his disciples. Matthew and Luke use the same material in different ways because they have different purposes in writing.

When, for reasons of convenience or time, we separate the gospels into smaller parts, we often miss the context of what we are reading and therefore the author’s intention in placing the saying, story or parable where he does. Breaking the gospels into easily digestible pieces often begins in our Sunday Schools in which stories that are deemed suitable for children are over-simplified and stripped of the wealth of meaning that they contain. Whether for consumption during our Sunday liturgies, or for the children in our midst, many of the best-known stories from our gospels are often reduced to catch phrases – the prodigal son, the rich young man, the good Samaritan – which are not only easy to remember but which become short-hand for what is believed to be the essence of Jesus’ teaching in these accounts/parables.

We become so used to these short-hand ways of referring to biblical stories that it can be difficult to undo their long-held truisms. Such was the case when I came to the story of Zacchaeus this week. Is there anything new to be said, I wondered. I was caught by surprise then, when the commentary by Chelsea Harmon, provided a new perspective and helped me to see that the story of Zacchaeus was intricately connected to the stories in last week’s gospel and that the conclusion that I reached in last week’s blog was as relevant for this Sunday as it was for last Sunday. Indeed Luke 18:9-26 seems to form a unit with Luke 19:10. In the former, Jesus tells the parable about the two who go to the Temple to pray – one a self-righteous Pharisee who congratulates himself on his good behaviour and shows contempt for those who are not like him; the other a tax collector who beats his breast and asks for mercy. Jesus then warns his listeners that: “whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it” (18:17). Finally, Luke records Jesus’ encounter with the rich ruler who wants Jesus to reassure him that he is doing all that is required to inherit eternal life.

At first glance this parable, teaching and encounter seem to have nothing in common, but, when combined with Jesus’ encounter with Zacchaeus, a common thread becomes obvious. Salvation, inheriting eternal life has nothing to do with what we do (or who we are), and everything to do with what God does (or who God is). Salvation/inheriting eternal life is not dependent on how good we are (and certainly has nothing to do with how good we think we are) but on our willingness to rely – not on ourselves but on God. The Pharisee smugly thought that he had achieved what it took to inherit eternal life because he was not a thief, a rogue or an adulterer. The rich ruler thought that obeying the commandments was all that he needed to do to gain eternal life. Neither realized or accepted their need for God.

In comparison, the tax-collector, aware of his short-comings threw himself on the mercy of God and children who do not over-think things take it for granted that they are loved and that they belong. The tax-collector consciously places his trust in God (not himself). Sub-consciously, children do the same.

As if to make it clear that salvation is dependent on God and not on ourselves, Luke adds to this collection the account of Jesus’ meeting with Zacchaeus. Zacchaeus the tax-collector. Zacchaeus who has thrown in his lot with the Roman oppressors. Zacchaeus who may well have enriched himself at the expense of his fellow countrymen and women. Zacchaeus with whom Jesus must stay that very day!

We are told that Zacchaeus has heard that Jesus is passing through Jericho and, for reasons that are not clear, is determined to see him. This is not as easy as it seems. Zacchaeus is short, there is a crowd, and he is a person not deserving of respect. The crowd is unlikely to make space for him. His solution is undignified, but he is too eager to care. He runs ahead and climbs a tree. He does not expect to be seen. (Indeed, he may wish to remain unseen given the unseemly nature of his being in a tree). Zacchaeus simply wants to see Jesus. Yet, Jesus does see him. Jesus sees, stops, and demands that Zacchaeus come down. Jesus insists that he must stay with Zacchaeus. Indeed, as the Greek says, it is necessary that Jesus stay at Zacchaeus’ house that day.

Zacchaeus did not need to be “perfect, or sinless, or holy or righteous first.” There was no standard or ideal that Zacchaeus had to reach in order for Jesus to invite himself in. (Zacchaeus’ generosity was in response to Jesus’ acceptance, it did not earn him Jesus’ respect.) Zacchaeus was anything but perfect, but he was seen.

God sees us. God sees us all. God sees us for who we are, with all our failings and imperfections, with all our insecurities and fears. God sees us and God invites Godself in. God sees us, it is necessary for God to stay with us today. All we have to do is to make space and to welcome God into our lives.

We don’t have to be perfect. There is no gold standard that is the requirement for eternal life. We don’t have to do anything except come down from our trees of self-sufficiency, self-interest, and self-doubt. God has done and will do all the rest.

Insecurity

October 22, 2022

Pentecost 20 – 2022
Luke 18:15-30
Marian Free

In the name of God who loves each one of us unreservedly. Amen.

In my university days I once volunteered to help out at a YMCA camp. The children were of primary school age and my task was to improve the adult/child ratio. It was an exhausting week but mostly it was fun as I enjoy being with and encouraging young people. One thing did disturb me though. When the children arrived, one young boy was pointed out to me: “Keep an eye on him. He’s an attention seeker,” I was told. Over the course of the camp, I was able to spend time with this boy – I’ll call him James – because he was often left on his own by the other children. On more than one occasion, James and I sat next to each other on the bus, and we had some great conversations. I never saw James acting out. Indeed, it seemed to me that James was a polite, well-behaved young person who had a degree of maturity for his age.

James was the son of busy parents and I think he was glad to have an adult take notice of him. I came to understand that if he was, as the other leaders said, “an attention seeker” then it was because he desperately needed attention. My observation was that his so-called “attention-seeking” was a reasonable response to not having had enough attention paid to him. He needed, or so it seemed to me, to be reassured that he was of value, that he was worth something to others. Any sort of attention – positive or negative – told him that he was seen, reassured him that he was not invisible. The fact that I took notice of him meant that he didn’t feel that he had to do anything to be of value to me. He could relax and be the well-behaved, pleasant child that he really was.

I have always been child-focussed, but meeting James was a great eye-opener for me. James was not, as I had been led to believe, a disruptive child. He was a good child who had been deprived of attention and therefore would do anything to ensure that he was noticed even if that being noticed was to be punished. In his mind, any attention was good attention.

It must be awful to be so unsure of one’s place in the world that one feels a constant need to be affirmed. This sort of insecurity can be observed not only in children, but in adults who try to fill the void inside themselves by making others focus on themselves or on their achievements. The overachievers, the playboys, those who affect shyness – I’m sure you can add to the list – are all driven by a need to feel that they are of value, that they have a place in the world.

In today’s gospel a certain ruler approaches Jesus with a question. “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” As I pondered this encounter I began to wonder why the ruler needed Jesus to reassure, to affirm him. As the gospel tells us, the ruler already knew what he must do: ‘not commit adultery; not murder; not steal; not bear false witness; and honour his father and mother.’ It is simple enough – or so we would think. Most of us would feel that we had ticked all these boxes. The ruler certainly has. Why then does he need reassurance from Jesus? What deep well of emptiness does he need to fill by having Jesus affirm his worth? Who has taught him that God will not welcome him unless he meets some exacting standard? What insecurities is his wealth papering over?

Of course, we will never know why the ruler felt so insecure or why he felt that, even though he fulfilled as the requirements, he was not confident of his place before God. What the story tells us though is that his wealth played a significant role in his life. Indeed, his possessions were so important for his sense of well-being that he could not let them go. It seems that he needed the comfort that they gave him in the present as much as he needed assurance about the future.

It is one thing to be unsure of our place in the world, but how much worse must it be to be unsure of our place before God?

Yet the church, or parts of the church, have created an image of God who only welcomes those who behave in a particular way, who meet certain standards and who never stray from the straight and narrow. There are people – good, churchgoing, faithful people – – who are uncertain of God’s love for them. There are people – good, churchgoing, faithful people – who are convinced that they don’t meet the conditions that God expects. There are people – good, churchgoing, faithful people – whose self-esteem is so low that they cannot believe that God could love them. And there are people – good, churchgoing, faithful people – who have not heard, or who have never been assured of God’s unconditional, boundless love.

I hope that you are not one of those people. I hope that you do not feel that there are certain criteria that you have to meet in order for you to inherit eternal life. I hope that this story (or any other) hasn’t been used to make you feel guilty about what you own , what you do or what you don’t do.

God who in Jesus came to an undeserving people as a vulnerable child, God who in Jesus’ demonstrated unconditional love to sinners and to the marginalised, and God, who in Jesus willingly went to the cross, is a God who will do absolutely anything to prove how much God loves us. All God wants in return is that we allow ourselves to be loved, that we believe in God’s love for us and believing in that love that we become whole.