Not about gender but wholeness

July 16, 2022

Pentecost 6 – 2022
Luke 10:38-42
Marian Free

In the name of God in whom is perfect freedom. Amen.

The work of a translator is not easy. If, for example, a translator came across the word ‘read’ in an English text, they would have to determine from the context whether it was in the past or the present tense. Someone new to English would find it hard to understand why ‘good, better, best’ were not formed in the same way as other comparative adjectives ‘good, gooder, goodest.’

For obvious reasons, Inuit has something like twenty words for ‘snow’. How is it possible to accurately capture the correct nuance of ‘snow’ when translating it into another language?

In the case of modern languages, the work of translation can be assisted by speakers of that language. For example, an Inuit can tell a translator if they have captured the meaning of ‘snow’. The work of translating ancient languages, languages that have not been spoken for thousands of years, is much more difficult and relies to some extent on guess work. Translating biblical texts is even more complex because it is difficult for the translator to approach the text with unbiased eyes. Previous centuries of use and interpretation of the bible mean that it is almost impossible for a translator not to bring preconceptions to the text.

Today’s short story about the dinner at Martha’s home (in which Jesus apparently chides Martha for being busy in the preparation of food and praises Mary for sitting at his feet) is one such example . For much of its history this tale has been interpreted to imply that there is some sort of hierarchy of ministries – that the ministry of serving does not carry the same weight as that of being attentive to the word and that women’s work does not carry the same weight as that of men (Mary has chosen the better part). It didn’t matter what the work was. Being in the kitchen was (in a patriarchal world view) nowhere near as significant as that of being in the board room. (No matter that until the 1950’s in Australia that women were excluded from these supposedly more important forms of service!)

A number of factors come into play when we try to understand what is happening in this account – among these are the translation of the Greek into English, the cultural context of the story and Luke’s purpose in telling it. To begin with the last. Luke, as you may or may not know, is also the author of Book of Acts in which he is concerned with the origins of the church. Niveen Sarras points to Acts 6 as another instance in which there is a discussion about the various roles of ministry in the church. In Acts the gentiles complain that their widows are being overlooked in the daily distribution of food. The apostles decide that they cannot afford to give up their ministry of teaching and ask the gentiles to choose seven men to wait at tables – to serve food, the very thing that Martha is doing . This will free the apostles to teach. Martha’s ministry of service ideally frees Mary to respond to Jesus’ teaching. There is no hierarchy in ministry – service, teaching, prayer are all of equal value and being committed to one ministry does not prevent someone from exercising another. That Luke is using the story of the two women to illustrate ministry in the church is further supported by the strange positioning of Martha’s story – between the parable of the Samaritan and his selfless service and the disciples’ question about prayer.

Hospitality is both a biblical and a cultural imperative. Sarras, a Palestinian Christian, gives us an insight into what this might mean. She writes that in present day Palestine, hospitality is not only a cultural expectation, it is “an invitation to the stranger to be a part of the family circle”. Now, as in the first century, it is a matter of “breaking barriers and providing protection to guests no matter the personal cost.” In such cultures the expectation is that the women in the family will do all of the cooking and the preparation, and it would be unusual for the women to join the male guests until all the preparation is in hand. “Failing to be a good hostess means disrespecting the guest.”

Martha’s concern to look after her guest/s is then perfectly appropriate.

Lastly a look at the Greek is informative. The words used by Jesus to describe Martha’s worry and distraction are violent and destructive – meaning having by the throat and the dragging apart of something that should be whole. Jesus is not criticizing Martha he is seeing Martha. He can see that behind her resentment and anger is a fractured person – “you are anxious and distracted by many things; one is necessary”. Jesus wants Martha to be whole (one) not torn apart (many). Jesus points to Mary, not because sitting at Jesus’ feet is better than preparing food, but because she is not divided, bitter and unhappy. Mary has chosen the good (not the better) portion.

It is important to understand that this story is not gendered. It is not intended to imply that women’s work, represented by Martha, is of little value, and that ‘men’s work represented by Mary is what matters when it comes to discipleship. Nothing could be further from the truth. By inserting this account of the two women, between the story of the Samaritan and the teaching on prayer, Luke appears to be making it clear that women, as well as men have a ministry in the church and that women, no less than men, can be used to illustrate the ideal. Ministry of any kind is only truly effective when it is offered from a place of wholeness and self-assurance, rather than from a position of brokenness and insecurity.

May that which is broken in us be made whole that we might freely and wholeheartedly serve God and serve our neighbour.

Sit down, Shut up, Listen up

July 9, 2022

Pentecost 5 – 2022
Luke 10:25-27
NAIDOC Week
Marian Free

In the name of God who shows no distinction but values all people. Amen.

At the beginning of the year Professor Josh Mylne, the Chair of the planning committee for the International Congress on Plant Molecular Biology (IPMB) tweeted a poster for the upcoming Conference. The poster featured head shots of all the headline speakers and the chairs for the various sessions – over 90 people in total. Professor Mylne, who had been working on the Conference since 2018 was proud of the line-up, especially the diversity that it displayed. As he told the ABC programme Science Friction: “We had one of the best gender balances I’d seen, career-stage diversity with younger and older scientists, so much different science — more than ever before — chairs from all around the world, including for the first time Africa and India.”

The poster had been shown to hundreds of people before it was tweeted, all of whom responded positively. It was not surprising then that Professor Mylne was taken aback when one of the responses to the tweet was: “International, and no Africans.” Professor Mylne had just cycled home and, instead of stopping to think, he quickly replied: “Look harder”, directing the tweeter to the one African face among the 94.” Of course, potential attendees did look harder, and discovered that not only was there only one person from an African nation. While Asia was well-represented and there was a good gender balance, African and South America speakers were notable by their absence. A closer look also revealed that the website for a conference that was to be held in Australia failed to include an acknowledgement of country.

Instead of dampening the fire, Mylne’s response ignited a blazing fire with the eventual result that one of the sponsors withdrew their support and the Conference itself was postponed.

By taking the tweet personally and by responding hastily, Mylne made the sort of mistake that many of us make. Instead of recognising the hurt (and sense of exclusion) behind the critical tweet, Mylne responded defensively which turned the hurt into outrage. His response was interpreted as “disrespectful” and “tokenistic”. The situation was only made worse when an email was sent to one of the critics suggesting that it was up to people of colour to fix the problem.

It would be good to report that a occurence such as this is unusual, that seeing a situation only from one’s own perspective was a rare occurrence in today’s Australia, but sadly the failure to listen carefully is illustrative of a common reaction towards those who are different from ourselves – migrants, refugees and most egregiously our indigenous community. Our best efforts – when they do not include diverse voices – can be experienced as paternalistic and condescending. Our responses to criticism often demonstrate a failure to hear and an unwillingness to adequately address the concerns of those who outside our field of vision. When our failures are drawn to our attention, we too often become defensive instead of being open, and graciously listening and responding to the grievances of those whom we have (deliberately or inadvertently) excluded, patronised, or offended.

Not being heard or having one’s concerns ignored or carelessly dismissed are experiences that our first Nations people know only too well. There have been amply opportunities (particularly in the past 50 years) for white Australians, policy makers and members of industry to respond to the injustices wrought upon indigenous Australians for generations, and yet our responses have been inadequate at best and detrimental at worst.

To mention just a few – despite the apology, children of indigenous families are still being removed in greater numbers than children of other Australians, despite the Royal Commission into Aboriginal deaths in custody people of indigenous background are still over represented in our prisons, despite laws protecting sacred sites it was still possible to blow up the Juukan caves in Western Australia, despite commitments by the former Federal Government and the Uluru Statement from the Heart, first Nations people are still waiting to be recognised in our constitution and given a voice in government.

Since colonisation, we have not only forced indigenous people from their land, taken away their culture and their language, removed their children from their care, but we have also failed to listen to their wisdom, to appreciate their history and to value their knowledge of this land.

We cannot say that we have not been told – and told – what the problems are and how they can be solved. I was shocked, for example, when I heard Rachel Perkins deliver the Boyer Lecture of 2019 and hear her raising issues that had been raised by Professor Marcia Langton AO when she gave the Boyer Lecture in 2012. Nothing, it seemed had changed in the seven years between those lectures. It was a sad indictment on our failure to truly hear what was said or, if we had heard, our failure to respond in ways that demonstrated that we had heard and understood.

There will be no discernible change in this nation until we truly listen to the members of the indigenous community, to their rage, their indignation, their sense of injustice, their grief and their grievances, their sense of loss and dispossession and until we recognise their willingness to work with us and understand that they know better than we do, what the solutions for their own people might be.

Of all the meanings of today’s parable of the good Samaritan, the one that speaks to us today is that the outsider, the despised and the oppressed have much to teach us about generosity, inclusion and forgiveness, and about seeing and responding to the needs of those who are different from themselves no matter how badly the other has treated them.

The theme for NAIDOC week this year is Get up! Stand up! Show up!

Perhaps for white Australians it should be: “Sit down! Shut up! Listen up!”

Lambs among wolves – do you dare?

July 1, 2022

Pentecost 4 – 2022
Luke 10:1-12, 17-24
Marian Free

In the name of God who asks us to leave everything and follow. Amen.

I wonder, do you travel light, or do you need to be prepared for any eventuality? Do you like to plan your accommodation in advance, try out new places to eat or are you just as happy to take things as they come? Either way I wonder how you respond to Jesus’ instructions to his disciples in this morning’s gospel? “Carry no purse, no bag, no sandals”, “Remain in the house you first enter, eating and drinking what they provide”? Could you set out on a journey with nothing but the clothes that you are wearing? And how do you feel about accepting hospitality from strangers, eating whatever is put in front of you? How comfortable would you feel as a “lamb among wolves”?

In the first century, the most common form of communication was by word of mouth. People were illiterate and letters were an expense that few could afford. A majority of people lived on the breadline – paying for accommodation was not an option. To get a message to someone in the next village or further afield meant that someone had to travel by foot and be dependent on the kindness of strangers. This had its dangers and risks but, by and large, travellers could rely on the culture of hospitality that existed among many of the cultures in the Middle East. Even the poorest of people would share what they had, even if it was just some bread or maybe some fish.

If the gospel was to be shared the disciples had to go out, to travel through the towns and villages of Galilee: “to cure the sick who are there, and say to them, ‘The kingdom of God has come near to you.’” In a world without internet, telephone or even the printing press, there was only one way that people were going to hear the good news of the kingdom and that was if was taken to them.

Today’s world is very different. In the first instance, since Constantine made Christianity the religion of the Empire in the fourth century, it has been possible to assume that, in the West at least, the Christian faith was known (if not always held). Then during the years of expansion and colonisation, the Christian faith was exported to all corners of the world. Either way, until the last hundred years or so, there has been no apparent need to take the gospel to the world. Add to that the fact that in the 22nd century, communication is easy, cheap and, often, immediate. Modern day followers of Jesus can share the message of the gospel simply by sitting at their computer or by tapping out messages on their phone. Blogs, tweets, Facebook posts can all be employed in the service of spreading the gospel. There is not even a necessity for any face-to-face contact – no need to go out, no need to accept hospitality from strangers, no need to take risks, and certainly no danger of being “lambs among wolves”.

Safe behind our texts and our screens we can congratulate ourselves on spreading the word. We may take a certain pride in the number of “followers” that we have, imagine that our creative meme helps to make the gospel “relevant” to a new generation or that our erudite words will convince a sceptic or unbeliever that the gospel does indeed have something to say to today’s world.

Therein, I suspect lies a serious problem. In our offices and our homes, we have no idea what the world needs to know, even worse, we do not know what the world needs us to hear. Safe in our own little worlds, we do not need to engage with the pain and suffering experienced by millions – in distant places, but also on our doorsteps. We do not have to get our hands dirty with the grit and toil of what for many is daily life. If we do not take ourselves into the streets of our cities and towns, we will not have to contend with the anger that many people feel towards the church or face their disappointment with a church that has failed them. Confined in our churches, we do not have to personally take responsibility for the ways in which Jesus’ teachings have been distorted and used for purposes for which they were never intended.

How can we possibly follow Jesus’ instruction to “heal the sick”, unless we allow ourselves to come face-to-face with those whose lives are limited by poverty, injustice or trauma? How will we learn the stories or those beyond our walls, unless we allow ourselves to become vulnerable (unprotected by our equivalents of purse, bag, and sandals)? How will we begin to have any understanding of their lives and their struggles unless we graciously accept their hospitality and not only listen to, but share their stories? How can we tell others that the “kingdom of God has come near” when for so many it is palpably absent and when we demonstrate by remaining in our comfort zones that we are loath to place our trust and hope completely in Jesus?

At first glance, the gospel appears to be bound in time and place, but like most of our gospel stories, Jesus’ sending out of the seventy can and does speak to us. Jesus warns that if we take seriously the commission to share the gospel, there will be times when we are overwhelmed by the impossibility of saving the world, when we feel defeated by the cynicism and scepticism of those who have rejected the church’s teaching and occasions when we are struck with anguish when we hear of the pain inflicted directly and indirectly by the church in which we have found a home. If we truly allow ourselves to be defenceless against the onslaughts of those whom we seek to serve, we may indeed feel as though we are “lambs among wolves”.

The good news is that the seventy did go out and when they returned, they exclaimed: “Lord, in your name even the demons submit to us!” “Even the demons submit to us!”

In a different time and place, we would not use the language of demons, but it is fair to say that there are many evils in the world today. The evil of greed which leads to the impoverishment of millions. The evil of a desire for power and control that leads to war and terror. The evil of climate injustice, which leads to the most vulnerable paying the cost for the careless of others. The evil of domestic violence and child-abuse. The evil of dispossessing people of their land, removing their children and incarcerating them at disproportionate rates. (I am sure that you could add more.)

Our blogs, tweets, Facebook posts, our Live-streaming and Zoom meetings will not do. We must find the courage to go out – even if we do not know what to say and even if we are afraid of our welcome – because only then can we confront the evils of the world and only then will Jesus be able to empower us to overcome them.

Believer or follower?

June 25, 2022

Pentecost 3 – 2020
Luke 9:51-62
Marian Free

In the name of God who calls us to a future that is as yet unknown. sci

It is said that earning a Phd is more about persistence than it is about intelligence. I can testify to the truth of that. The most exciting year of the project is the very first year during which one develops a proposal for the research topic which involves coming up with an original argument and discerning whether or not there is enough evidence to support it. This is a challenging and stimulating time – a year of discovery and of new insights. If, as I was, you are studying part-time, the next eight years are spent developing and defending the proposal. Towards the end, it becomes simply mind-numbing. The initial enthusiasm wanes and the energy fades. Now it is just hard slog – ensuring that the thesis is well-argued, that the expression is good and, most importantly, that the referencing conforms to the required system. At this point, one is no longer making new discoveries or engaging in further research. The research question has been satisfactorily answered and now it is just the matter of putting the insights gained into some coherent sort of order. Not surprisingly, some students find this stage simply too tedious to continue. Many half-finished PhDs litter the halls of academia.

I know only too well the feeling – having answered the question to my satisfaction, I wondered why I needed to someone else to approve the result. After all, I knew by then that I was right! Thankfully I pressed on and gained a qualification that allows me to pursue a passion for teaching.

It is not always easy to see something through to its conclusion. I suspect that many of us over the course of a lifetime have begun projects with enthusiasm, only to leave them to languish when they became too difficult or when something more interesting cropped up. This is the point of today’s gospel which begins a new section in Luke’s telling of the story.

“Jesus set his face to go to Jerusalem.” The strength of the verb (set his face) tells us that this is no easy decision on his part. Going to Jerusalem (where he will surely die) takes all of Jesus’ resolve. This is something that he must do, not something that he wants to do.

This week and next our gospel readings focus on discipleship – what it means and what it demands. As Jesus sets out on the journey that will lead to his crucifixion, he needs to make it clear to would-be disciples that following him is not for the faint-hearted. Jesus knows what lies ahead for him – a sham trial, humiliation, and a brutal death. Those who choose to follow him must be prepared for discomfort, rejection and death. So, when these three representative disciples make enquires about following him, Jesus is keen to ensure that they can step up to the challenge and if, having stepped up, they can go the distance. For this reason, instead of enthusiastically welcoming them, he throws down the gauntlet. Can you accept having nowhere to lay your head? Will you risk the social and familial censure of not fulfilling your cultural obligations? If confronted with persecution will you hold fast or fall away? Are you prepared to live with uncertainty, abandon your families and not look back?

By testing the commitment of these would-be disciples Jesus is trying to discern whether they simply want to be part of the excitement that surrounds him, or whether they have truly grasped what it means to be a disciple.

We do not hear if Jesus adds to his followers that day or not, but in the following verses (as we will hear next week) we get a fuller idea of what it means to be a disciple of Jesus and why Jesus might want to test the enthusiasm of those seeking to join him. His disciples are sent on their first mission: “like lambs in the midst of wolves”, with no purse and no bag and nowhere to stay. It takes real commitment (and courage) to rise to this and the other challenges that lie ahead of the disciples.

For most of us here, the experience of following Jesus is quite different from that described in today’s gospel. We are, by and large, followers by birth rather than by choice. When we were in our infancy our parents and godparents enrolled us in the faith through our baptism. The questions they were asked were very different from the challenges that Jesus threw out to his potential disciples.

“Do you renounce the devil and all his works, the vain pomp and glory of the world, with all covetous desires of the same, and the sinful desires of the flesh, so that thou wilt not follow, nor be led by them?

Do you believe all the Articles of the Christian Faith, as contained in the Apostles’ Creed?

Will you then obediently keep God’s holy will and commandments, and walk in the same all the days of thy life?”

These are questions about faith rather than discipleship. In Baptism we are made members of the church rather than enrolled as followers of a radical, itinerant teacher. This is an important distinction, and one that we should take seriously. It is easy enough to believe – in God and in Jesus whom God sent. Being follower, a disciple, is potentially demanding and life-threatening. In twenty first century Australia it is unlikely that we (believers or followers) will be put to the test. We will not be asked to abandon home and family or to give our lives for our faith. But that does not let us off the hook. If we want to be followers of Jesus and not just believers, our commitment must be wholehearted, enthusiastic, and able to withstand any test.

Today, on his behalf, Braxton’s parents will promise to share with him their faith in God and in Jesus whom God sent. We pray that through them he may come to know the power of God’s love, have faith in Jesus Christ as his Saviour and have the courage to follow wherever that faith may lead.

Terrified of Jesus?

June 18, 2022

Pentecost 2 – 2022
Luke 8: (22-25) 26-29
Marian Free

In the name of God who is both comforting and challenging, benign and threatening. Amen.

According to a report by ABC news, at least 10, 000 cattle were washed away during the recent floods in Northern NSW. A vast majority of these will have drowned. One resident – trapped in her home and waiting for help – described a cow that was floating past her in the water. The animal looked at her, its eyes pleading for help, but of course, there was nothing she could do. It is a haunting image and one that came to mind as I wondered about the unsuspecting pigs in today’s gospel. Like the cattle they will have been caught completely of guard. Unlike the cattle the pigs will not have had the warning signs of heavy rain and rising water, and, rather than being propelled by an external force, they will have been driven by an internal urge. Either way cattle and pigs are caught up in the water and drowned.

I can’t help but think about the pigs in today’s gospel – the surprise and then the terror as they found themselves involuntarily propelled towards the water. I see them struggling to keep afloat before taking their last (fatal) breath and drowning. Why the pigs? What had they done to deserve such a fate?

The pigs are not the only conundrum in this story. There are so many unanswered questions. Why does Jesus bother to cross the lake into Gentile territory only to cause havoc come straight back again? Why did the demons have a choice as to where they were sent? How were the owners of the pigs to recoup their losses? Would the swineherders be out of work as a consequence of there being no pigs to herd?

It is impossible to come up with satisfactory answers to all those questions and it is conceivable that, in order to make a point, the narrator allowed himself the luxury of a little exaggeration. As it is, this is one of the more memorable and colourful gospel stories.

One component of this story, (and the one that precedes it) is that of fear. It is not just the pigs who are afraid. When Jesus rebukes the wind and the raging waves, the disciples are afraid. In today’s gospel the demons are afraid, the people who came out to see what had happened are afraid and the people of the surrounding countryside are greatly afraid. The demons are afraid, because Jesus sees them for who they are. The people are afraid – not because Jesus has been the reason that they have lost all their livestock – but because he healed the demoniac! The disciples and the people of Gerasene are afraid of Jesus – of his power over the natural elements and of his power over demons.

Why, you might ask, would anyone be afraid of Jesus? Why in particular would they be afraid of Jesus when he has saved the lives of the disciples and restored the demoniac to life thus freeing them from the burden of restraining him? Surely, those who witnessed Jesus’ power in these events would be amazed and grateful, but afraid? It doesn’t make sense – or does it? You and I are so familiar with the stories of Jesus that they have lost their power to confront, let alone terrify. When we are faced with the destructive powers of the natural world, we long for Jesus to intervene – to stop the fires, halt the floods, suppress the earthquake. When we watch someone suffer unbearably from mental illness or a deteriorative disease we yearn for Jesus to step in and bring about healing. What could be terrifying about either of those things we wonder?

I suspect that what is terrifying is Jesus’ display of power – the way in which he upsets the natural order – of creation, of society. When the disciples called out in terror as the waves threatened to sink the boat, I suspect that they wanted Jesus to share their fear, to help with the boat. They did not imagine that this wonder worker could or would exert the power of the creator. In their day there were many healers and exorcists – but no one who had control over the natural elements. Jesus’ demonstration of such extraordinary power would have been overwhelming. If the wind and sea obeyed Jesus, what other powers might he unleash? Was anything/anyone safe in his presence?

The source of the Gerasenes’ fear is similar. Here too, Jesus has upset the natural order of things. For, while he was possessed, the demoniac had a place (albeit it distressing) within the society. People knew how to respond to him, and his demonic state told them something about their place in the world. While he was under the influence of demons, those around him were able to define themselves in relation to him, to reassure themselves that they were not possessed, to feel superior to him, to feel a certain amount of self-righteousness concerning their acceptance of him and his condition and to have the role of carers – even if that care was limited to chaining him when he got too wild and providing him with the occasional scrap of food. In other words, when the demoniac was possessed, they knew where he fit and where they fit in relation to him.

When the demonic was possessed they knew what to do with him, but now that he is healed they find themselves in a completely new situation – one which they did not ask for and one over which they have no control. The delicate balance of their community has been disturbed. They are afraid because they do not know what to do now and they are afraid because they do not know what Jesus will do next.

These two stories reveal that both the disciples and those who met Jesus for the first time; that both those of a Jewish background and those from Gentile lands experienced fear in his presence. They recognised Jesus awesome presence and power and were terrified.

When Jesus unleashes the power of God creation itself obeys and our lives are changed forever. Perhaps the question we need to ask ourselves is not: “Why were they afraid?” but “Why are we not afraid.”

What language can we use?

June 9, 2022

Trinity Sunday – 2022
John 16:12-15
Marian Free

May I speak in the name of God – Earth-maker, Pain-bearer and Life-giver. Amen.

Several years ago, as I was preparing to preach on Trinity Sunday I read an article that discussed the language with which we address God. The writer argued quite forcefully that the words Father, Son and Holy Spirit had to be retained as it was the only language that, in their mind, captured the relationship between the three persons of the Trinity. From memory, the author was offended by the use of non-anthropomorphic imagery for God on the basis that such terminology was unable to reflect the idea of relationship.

A recent google search led me to an article which argues in a similar way. The author contended that: “These words, “Father”, “Son”, and “Holy Spirit” mean something. They are not abstract concepts, ideas or words conjured up to impose, as claimed by some, a patriarchal regime.”“These names designate the relationship proper to each Person of the Trinity, that is, they proclaim how each Person is distinctly related to the other Persons in the Trinity: “the real distinction of the persons from one another resides solely in the relationships which relate them to one another.”

That is, “the Father is related to the Son, the Son to the Father and the Holy Spirit to both.”
If we believe that the words of Scripture are the inspired word of God, the very Word of God, and He has given us this very specific language to speak about the Trinity, then our authority to intend to change this – by mere avoidance of being politically incorrect – has no bearing.”

Father Richard along with the author of the earlier article seem to be driven as much by a reaction against “political correctness” as they are by solid theological study. In their endeavour to hold on to their conservative (patriarchal) viewpoint, they have considerably limited the roles and functions of the members of the Trinity and denied their listeners/readers access to the wealth of expressions that can be used to begin to put language to the ineffable nature of God. Unfortunately, “Father” and “Son” ground us in language that is human and not divine and describe one particular relationship (one not shared by father and daughter, mother and daughter, mother and son). Furthermore, the relationship between Father and Son (language which is found primarily in John’s gospel) can, in human relationships be fractured, abusive or non-existent.

LaCugna is another who wants to retain the language of Father, Son and Holy Spirit. She states that: “the language Father, Son and Spirit is relational in that it refers to the roles that each person of the Trinity plays in respect to each other. According to LaCugna: “Creator-Redeemer-Sustainer language does not adequately reflect the language and view of Scripture that God creates through the Son and by the Spirit or that God redeems us through Christ.” I am no theologian, but it seems to me that LaCugna’s language suggests an hierarchy within God rather than mutuality; distinction rather than oneness.

Many of the contemporary arguments around the familial language that we use for the Trinity base their defence on Jesus’ instruction to the disciples before the ascension: “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.” What proponents of this view do not say is that this is the only place in the New Testament which this language is used. The Trinity, as a theological concept does not exist in the New Testament and is a human invention that did not exist for centuries.

The assumption that only the language of Father and Son can be relational is not only anthropomorphic (human) but androcentric (male centred). It ignores the fact that relationships abound in the non-human universe, relationships revealed by biologists and physicists just for starters. In limiting us to the language of Father and Son, people like Father Richard reduce the relationships between the persons of the Trinity to those experienced and expressed by human beings. A God who is beyond understanding surely cannot be contained by the language of a human household, or by language that emphasises human relationships. God transcends all our attempts to define God which is as good a reason as any for us to experiment and play with language – knowing as we do that no language is adequate for God, let alone for the relationships between the persons of the Trinity.

The use of a wider selection of epithets for the members of the Trinity allows for the expression of a wide range of human experience – in relationship with one another and with God. It also frees us from seeing God – and the relationships between the three person of the Trinity – in human terms. Language such as that found in the New Zealand Prayer Book: “Earth-maker, Pain-bearer and Life-giver” adequately captures the roles of the three persons of the Trinity and liberates us from imagining God in terms of the parental, paternal language of Father and Son. The use of non-familial, non-anthropomorphic language expands, rather than diminishes our understanding of God. Abstract expressions force us to consider the nature of the relationship rather than allowing us to rely on familiar and comfortable images. There is enormous power in the imagery ofexpressions such as: “World-Weaver, Hand-Holder, Breath-Bringer,” “Mother, Lover, Friend,”“Mighty Creator, Eternal Word, Abiding Spirit” and there is nothing about such imagery to suggest that the individual expressions cannot be in relationship with each other.

It is not a bad thing for our presumptions to be questioned, our illusions shattered, and our use of language challenged. God who cannot be contained, Jesus whom the tomb could not hold and the Spirit who blows where she wills will never and should never be captured by the limitations of human language. What is essential is that no matter what language we use that we do nothing to detract from “the eternal oneness, inseparability, and mutual indwelling of each of the divine “persons”” of the God who is three AND one.

Come, Holy Spirit, Come

June 4, 2022

Pentecost Sunday – 2022
John 14:8-17
Marian Free

Spirit of wind and fire, inflame our hearts with love for you. Amen.

Tom Tilly is a reporter for the television programme The Project. Recently, Tom released his memoir Speaking in Tongues – an account of growing up in (and leaving) a Pentecostal church . For many of us, Pentecostal churches bring up images of Hillsong (one of the biggest and most successful) or the mega-churches that started to spring up during the late 1970’s at the peak of the charismatic movement. There is however as great a variety among Pentecostal churches as there is among mainstream churches. The one to which Tom’s family belonged goes under the name Revival Centres. It is a relatively small church established in Melbourne in the 1950’s which, at its peak in the 1990’s boasted a modest 5,000 members.

Apart from the hand-waving and fervent singing, a feature of Pentecostal churches is speaking in tongues which occurs when members of the congregation – sometimes whipped into an emotional frenzy – begin to make unintelligible sounds which are believed to be inspired by the Holy Spirit.

In the case of the Revival Centres speaking in tongues was not simply an exuberant expression of being caught up in the act of worship. It was a pre-requisite for membership and indication that one was saved. Not being able to speak in tongues was considered such a serious deficit that it would lead to expulsion from the church and, subsequently, to external damnation. For converts this did not present a major challenge because conversion usually coincided with a spiritual experience that included speaking in tongues. For those who had been born into church it was however a different matter. These children, members of the church by virtue of the faith of their parents, already believed and so were unlikely to have the equivalent of a conversion experience. How were they to receive the gift of tongues? And if they did not exhibit the gift, how was the church to know that their faith was sincere, that they had the gift of the Holy Spirit and that they were truly saved by God?

If they were to be saved then, these children needed help. This help came in the form of teaching them techniques that would, it was hoped, facilitate their speaking in tongues. These included getting down on their knees and repeating an expression such as “Hallelujah”, while at the same time asking God to give them the gift of tongues . The constant repetition would, it was hoped, loosen their tongues and disrupt their thoughts sufficiently to allow other, uncontrolled sounds to emerge.

It is impossible to imagine the pressure that these children felt and their sense of inadequacy when they could not make it happen.

The Revival Centres are not the only church to believe that speaking in tongues is a prerequisite for salvation or that it is possible to employ techniques that will induce the same. I have known members of mainstream Anglican churches to feel themselves under considerable pressure to speak in tongues and whose faith has been questioned when they could not. Their sense of inadequacy and alienation was profound.

There are a number of problems with this narrow approach to salvation not least of which is a very poor and limited understanding of the Holy Spirit, and of the way in which the Holy Spirit empowers believers to speak. Glossolalia (or unintelligible inspired speech) is only one of the ways that the Spirit is said to speak in and through us. Scripture mentions several other ways of “speaking in tongues”. At Pentecost for example, the Holy Spirit burst in on a group of frightened and dispirited disciples and enabled them to speak in a variety of languages such that pilgrims from all over the Empire were able to understand what was being said. Romans 8 mentions yet another way of “speaking in tongues”. Paul tells us that: “When we cry, “Abba! Father!” it is that very Spirit bearing witness with our spirit that we are children of God.” Further in that same chapter Paul writes: “the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words.”

Jesus also refers to “speaking in tongues” when he warns the disciples of the persecution that will result from following him. He assures them that they will not have to worry about what to say because it will not be they who speak, but the Holy Spirit who speaks through them (Mk 13:11 etc).

The Holy Spirit works in a myriad of different ways according to our situations, our needs and our personalities and “speaking in tongues” is only one of the many ways in which we might experience the Holy Spirit in our lives.

We do ourselves and the Holy Spirit a great disservice if we reduce the actions of the Spirit to one means of expression or another. It is the greatest form of arrogance or of self-absorption if we believe that the Spirit can be manipulated or induced at will. By her very nature, the Spirit is unable to be contained or controlled but must as Jesus says: “blow where it chooses” (John 3).

We who have received the Holy Spirit by virtue of our baptism, should not be surprised if the Holy Spirit inspires us to speak in tongues – in worship, in prayer, in moments of necessity – but neither should we feel unspiritual or deficient if the Holy Spirit choses to work in and with us in different ways – ways which, as often as not, will be mundane and ordinary rather than spiritual and extraordinary.

We cannot control the Spirit, but we can allow the Spirit to control us by being open to the Spirit’s gifts, attentive to the movement of the Spirit within us and willing to be led wherever it is that the Spirit might lead us.

May we allow the Holy Spirit to inspire us, empower us and guide us and may the Holy Spirit be visible in our lives – in all that we do and say. Amen.

Come Holy Spirit, Come.

Is being right what is important?

May 28, 2022

Easter 7 – 2022
John 17:20-26
Marian Free

In the name of God who dwells in us and promises to be with us always. Amen.

During the week I saw a cartoon drawn by someone who goes under the name The Naked Pastor. You may know the writer. This particular cartoon features a number of people holding placards that read: “I believe I am right.” They are marching forwards as if they are part of a protest march and, as they march, they trample over Jesus whose own placard: “I believe in love” lies on the ground beside him.

In the light of the recent General Synod meeting and of the deep divisions within the Anglican Church of Australia, this cartoon captures something of the current zeitgeist and gives us pause for thought. In particular it challenges us to ask – are we marching holding the placards that state our particular view of the Christian faith or are we trying to hold back the tide with placards that read: “I believe in love”?

Who and what is being trampled as we busy ourselves arguing about interpretations of scripture or heatedly defending one or other particular viewpoint? Are our views on same sex marriage, our position on the doctrine of atonement at the centre of the Anglican version of the Christian faith, or is our relationship with God and with one another sets us apart?

As I have said before, today’s reading from John’s gospel can (and has) been used as a tool of abuse. That is there are those who use it to argue that unity is paramount and that therefore anyone who holds differing views from themselves should abandon their positions and capitulate to the opposing position.

“That you may be one as the Father and I are one” is indeed a call for unity, but what sort of unity is Jesus urging?

Our scriptures, written by men who were culturally bound and who were writing for a particular time and place are not consistent and nor are they always helpful when it comes to finding common ground with regard to what we believe or how we interpret the word of God.

Most Christians would recoil at the God-authorised acts of genocide recorded in the books of Numbers and Deuteronomy and very few today would practice polygamy or use the bible to justify slavery. In the New Testament, not only do we have a variety of accounts of the early church (Paul’s letters and the Book of Acts), but we have four gospels each of which present Jesus’ life and teachings in different ways. To give just two examples. There are numerous differences in the retelling of the parable of the talents/pounds in Matthew and Luke (Mt 25:14-30, Lk 19:11-27). The most startling of these is the degree of violence in Luke’s version of the parable in which the king says: “as for these enemies of mine who did not want me to be king over them—bring them here and slaughter them in my presence.” In another parable – that of the wedding banquet, the situation is reversed (Mt 22:1-10, Lk 14:15-24) and it is in Matthew’s gospel that: “the king was enraged and sent his troops, destroyed those murderers, and burned their city.” Fortunately, there do not appear to be Anglicans (of any persuasion) who take seriously the suggestion that those who displease, offend or hurt us should be utterly destroyed or indeed that God is condoning such violence.

We can agree then that wholesale slaughter is not an appropriate Christian response to provocation (unless of course it is in defence of the defenceless). Where we cannot seem to agree relates to the matter of love – in particular whom God loves and from whom God’s love is withheld. Nor can we agree on the limits of love – does love mean loving a person as they as, or loving them only if they conform to those boundaries that have been set around God’s love?

In today’s gospel Jesus prays: “That they may be one as you and I are one.” In order to grasp the meaning of Jesus’ prayer, we have to remember when and to whom Jesus was speaking – or perhaps more importantly – to whom Jesus was not speaking. Jesus was not speaking to the institutional church of his day, nor was he speaking to any one of the sub-groups that existed that within the Judaism of his day. He was speaking to his inner circle of friends with whom he had shared his fears and his hopes and on whom – in just a short while – he would breathe his spirit. Likewise, Jesus is not speaking to the institution of the church today – a church with set formularies and codes of behaviour. At the time at which Jesus was speaking, and even at the time the gospel when was being written, there was no such thing as church – just a smallish group of people who had hoisted their petard to Jesus’ teaching.

Jesus’ prayer does not envisage a structure with rules and restrictions but rather a group of people who, having been touched by his teaching, would seek to replicate the union between himself and the Father, who would open their lives to the indwelling of God and Jesus, and who will endeavour to form relationships with each other that mirror that indwelling.

If we see/hear Jesus’ prayer in that light, we will come to see that seeking unity with God takes precedence over all other aspects of our faith lives and we will come to understand that details such as whom we do or do not marry are trivial in the overall scheme of things. In an ideal world, prioritising union with God would ensure that everything else would fall into its proper place. If we learnt to put love first, we might learn to be less worried about everything else. If we, and all our fellow Christians were less concerned with what we believed and more concerned with loving our brothers and sisters in Christ, the union that we seek with God would be the unity that we would have with one another.

We will not be one, until we, like Jesus are one with the Father. What are we prepared to do to make that happen?

Only when we are at peace will there be peace in the world

May 21, 2022

Easter 6 – 2022
John 14:23-29
Marian Free

In the name of God in whom we find true peace. Amen.

Maya Angelou was a multi-talented, black, American civil-rights activist who was raised by her grandmother Annie in the American South. In the first of her seven autobiographies, “I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings,” Maya tells the following story. Her grandmother, who owned a successful general store, was sitting on a rocking chair in front of the store when a group of young white girls began jeering her and making offensive, racist comments. One of the girls actually stood on her hands so that her skirt fell down and exposed her bare buttocks. While this was going on Annie simply sat there, apparently unperturbed. The young Maya was furious and couldn’t understand why her grandmother wasn’t reacting to the girls’ insulting behaviour. It was only when she moved closer to her grandmother that Maya heard her singing quietly: “Bread of heaven, bread of heaven, feed me till I want no more.” Annie continued singing to herself as she got up and returned to the store .

Secure of her place in God’s love and of God’s presence in her life, Annie refused to allow her peace and sense of self and worth to be disturbed by something that was beyond her control. Nothing those girls said or did could ruffle or upset her.

It is hard for many of us to imagine being so caught up in the presence of God and so sure that Jesus has made a home with us, that the daily irritations of life are unable penetrate the deep sense of peace that comes from having faith in Jesus! Yet this is the peace that Jesus offers his disciples – not peace in a worldly sense (for that would be impossible) – a peace that is not dependent on what is going on in the world around us, but a peace that derives from a relationship with God – a peace that is nothing less than “a profound and holistic sense of well-being” .

Such peace is not just for the monastics as Annie’s story demonstrates. It is a peace that is promised to anyone that calls themselves a disciple of Jesus.

“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.”

“Do not let your hearts be troubled.” This is the second time that Jesus has uttered these words in this chapter. How can he say such a thing and at such a time? Jesus must have known, as he was preparing the disciples for his departure, what lay ahead – what he would have to face and what the disciples would have to experience. In the next few hours, days and weeks, the disciples would be exposed to situations that would pull the ground from under them and would fill them with trauma and terror. Jesus’ arrest, trial and crucifixion would leave them confused and shocked, fearful for their own lives. On that very night their hopes and dreams would be crushed, and they would feel lost and abandoned by the one whom they had thought would change the world. Yet, instead of giving the disciples advice about how to cope when their world falls apart, Jesus is telling them not to worry! It is rather like telling passengers on an airplane not to panic when they look out of the plane window and see that an engine is on fire!

Don’t panic! As if that we even possible!

Don’t panic when the storms of life rage about you. Don’t panic when your children leave home. Don’t panic when the doctor gives you bad news. Don’t panic when things are not going as you planned. Don’t panic when the bombs are falling. Don’t panic because Jesus has promised to come and live with you. Don’t panic because you are utterly loved and never alone.

The night before he died, Jesus knew the horrors in front of him – the betrayal, the ignominy, the excruciating agony. Despite this, he managed to keep his composure. He found the grace to put his own concerns behind him and to minister to his confused companions. Jesus was able do this not because he had some mistaken notion that God would ensure that he wouldn’t suffer but because, having placed his confidence in God, he refused to let the unfolding events determine how he felt and, more particularly, how he reacted. Throughout his passion Jesus, he calmly, silently accepted the events as they unfolded – no matter how cruel, how unjust or how soul-destroying they were.

Jesus didn’t panic when he was falsely accused and arrested. He didn’t panic when all his friends abandoned him. He didn’t panic when he faced a kangaroo court or when people bayed for his blood. He didn’t panic when he was handed the death sentence. Jesus’ absolute trust in God and in God’s purpose for him gave him the strength to remain calm and to hold his peace.

Today, more than at any time since the Second World War, peace on a world scale appears to be an elusive, even an impossible goal. So long as individuals and nations are driven by greed, anger, fear, insecurity, competitiveness, or a sense of incompleteness, there can be no peace. And until we – you and I and all who claim to believe in Jesus – can truly grasp and integrate into our lives Jesus’ promise of peace, there can be no peace in the world.

If only we could all be like Annie, like our Saviour. If only we could learn to so trust in God that we could be calm and self-contained when the storms of life rage around us, when others deride and revile us or when we see that others have more than us.

There will be no peace in the world, until we are at peace with ourselves, until we – who claim to believe – take up Jesus’ promise of peace.

We see God through the cross or not at all

May 13, 2022

Easter 5 – 2022
John 13:31-35
Marian Free

In the name of God who confronts and overturns the values and expectations of the world and opens our eyes to new possibilities, new ways of being. Amen.

A couple of weeks ago I shared the reflections of Scott Hoetze that there are really very few accounts of the resurrection – hardly enough to account for the forty days between Easter Day and Ascension Day. That may be why our Lectionary only spends three of the seven Sundays of Easter focussed on the gospel accounts of the resurrection – there are simply not very many! Last week, Easter 4, used the gospel reading from John chapter 10 which took us back to the middle of Jesus’ earthly ministry. The next two weeks will begin to focus on the Holy Spirit which leads us to Pentecost. This morning we are looking at a small section of chapter 13 which, in turn, is a very small part of Jesus’ discourse during the Last Supper.

I’m not entirely sure if it is still the case but when I began to study the gospel of John scholars were in general agreement that Jesus’ farewell speech – the five chapters from John 13-17 represented Jesus’ post-resurrection teaching. That is, these chapters refer to what Jesus revealed to the disciples after he was raised from the dead which would mean that today’s gospel, and that of the next two weeks do fit neatly into the post-Easter resurrection experiences. Certainly, this view would appear to make sense of Jesus’ use of the past tense in today’s gospel in which he declares: “Now the Son of Man has been glorified, and God has been glorified in him”. A post-resurrection Jesus would indeed have been glorified.

However, seen in context, Jesus makes that statement after Judas has “gone out” to betray him. Associating Jesus’ glorification with Judas’ betrayal does not immediately make sense unless we understand John’s use of the word “glory” and the way in which it subverts both the honour/shame culture of the 1st century Mediterranean and the power structures of the Roman Empire. Like Paul in the first letter to the Corinthians, John makes it clear that the cross is central to redemption – not so much as sacrifice, but as a deliberate act – challenging conventional wisdom and forcing believers to re-evaluate their ideas about God. According to Paul, the cross undermines smugness and self-satisfaction. It is a reminder of the unfathomable nature of God and of our limited ability to understand God. Both John and Paul face head on the apparent absurdity of worshipping a crucified man, demonstrating how something – apparently shameful and senseless – is in fact God’s way of redeeming the world.

John doesn’t focus on the contradiction of the cross as does Paul. Instead, he shows how the cross is the pivotal event in the story, the moment at which Jesus is glorified and at which his purpose is accomplished (19:30). The significance of the cross in this gospel is evident almost from the beginning when, in conversation with Nicodemus, Jesus makes the claim that: “the Son of Man must be lifted up” (code in John for the crucifixion), “(so) that whoever believes in him may have eternal life” (3:14). (This is in contrast to Moses’ lifting up the snake in the desert which gave life to those who looked at it, but which did not give eternal life.) Jesus further asserts that the Jews will “realise that I am he” when they have lifted up the Son of Man (8:28) and that when he (Jesus) is lifted up he will “draw all people to himself” (12:32). Finally, when Jesus is praying in the garden before his arrest, he prays that the Father may glorify him that he in turn may glorify God (17:1-5). Glory and cross are inextricably linked in this gospel.

From the outset, the author of John makes it clear that Jesus’ glorification – the point at which people will recognise him for who he is, and the point at which all people will be drawn to him – occurs on the cross and not at the resurrection. The act of self-sacrifice and shame is given more weight here than is the triumphalism of the resurrection. It is the unexpected that is important. God does not behave in the way that we expect God to behave. God’s anointed (Jesus) did not enter the world to the sound of trumpets and his early life was so insignificant that it was not considered worth recording. Jesus did not impose his will on others or lord it over them, but acted as a servant to them, he didn’t lead nations or armies but unobtrusively shared the message of God’s love.

In John’s gospel, Jesus’ glorification occurs on the cross not in the resurrection because it is here that Jesus shows most clearly what God’s love for the world looks like and it is through the cross that the blinkers will be removed from our eyes so that we may be freed to see God – unfettered by our preconceptions.

Over the centuries we have sanitised the scandal of the cross – to the point where it has almost lost its meaning. We have become so used to it as a symbol that adorns our churches and hangs around our necks that we can overlook the horror and shame, the ugliness and the brutality, and the violence and bloodiness that it represents. In so doing we deny its power to undermine our preconceived notions of who and what God is and how it is that God acts in the world. We refuse to allow the cross to defy our cosy and comfortable relationship with God and we reject its purpose which is to confound and startle us.

Jesus can announce his glorification in connection with Judas’ betrayal precisely because he is clear sighted about his role, about his relationship with God and about God’s action in the world.

Jesus, through John, wants us to know that we see God through the cross or not at all.