Jesus our mother

August 28, 2021

Pentecost 13 – 2021
John 6:56-69
Marian Free

In the name of God who is always beyond our capacity to fully know. Amen.

On Friday I attended a virtual seminar titled “Speaking of Christ, Christa, Christx”. I imagine that for a great many, if not all of you, the presentations would have been challenging and confronting especially if you were being exposed to these ideas for the first time. Having begun my biblical studies at a time when feminism was beginning to make an impact on the ways in which theology and the bible were studied, I found the day stimulating and refreshing. As the title of the seminar suggests, the papers were based around the idea that just as God is genderless, so too is the Christ. That is, while it is undeniable that Jesus inhabited a male body, the second person of the Trinity represents all humanity, in all its expressions. We affirm this Sunday by Sunday in the words of the Nicene Creed when we say: “Jesus became truly human”.

The idea that Jesus can represent both the masculine and the feminine is not new, but was a view commonly held in the Middle Ages. At that time in history the focus of the church was on the fate of the individual at the point of death and in particular on judgement and hell. In both literature and the visual arts lurid depictions of hell included such things eternally burning fire, demons with pitchforks and screaming human beings.

In reaction to this emphasis on hell and therefore on a demanding, oppressive, and even cruel God a number of things happened.
• The idea of purgatory was developed – a place between heaven and hell in which the (imperfect) soul could be purified and so achieve the state of holiness required to enter heaven.
• Devotion to Mary grew. In Mary the general populace found a softer, feminine force who could intercede with a forbidding God on their behalf.
• It was not only Mary who represented the feminine. The second person of the Trinity came to characterise the feminine aspect of God. Julian of Norwich for example consistently spoke of Jesus as mother. She writes: “our true Mother Jesus, he alone bears us for joy and for endless life. So, he carries us within him in love. The mother can give her child to suck of her milk, but our precious Mother Jesus can feed us with himself.” In a similar vein Anselm of Canterbury wrote: “Jesus, as a mother you gather your people to you; you are gentle with us as a mother with her child.” (For the full version of this poem see p428 of your prayer book).

All these things I know from my study of Medieval History and Friday’s seminar did not revisit these concepts but explored new ideas relevant to our time and place in history. Something that particularly piqued my interest was a paper that claimed that the earliest images of Christ included the feminine. Of course, I have not had time to follow this up with my own research, but I should not have been surprised. The Christ hymn, with which John’s gospel begins speaks of Jesus as Word or wisdom/Sophia. We first come across Sophia in the book of Proverbs in which wisdom/Word/Sophia is unequivocally female. In Proverbs 1 we read: “Wisdom cries out in the street;
in the squares she raises her voice.
21 At the busiest corner she cries out;
at the entrance of the city gates she speaks (Proverbs 1:20,21). Wisdom is co-creator with God and exists from the beginning with God – language later appropriated in the Christ hymn.

What was new to me – and this is where the seminar meets today’s gospel – was the claim that the images that we find in John 6 of eating flesh and drinking blood were, in the earliest post-resurrection days, associated with breast feeding. While I would have to read more to confirm this, it fits with the imagery later used by Julian of Norwich who compares partaking of the sacrament with breast-feeding. Indeed, the imagery of idea of pregnancy and breast feeding is very compelling and much less offensive than that of consuming actual flesh and blood. In the womb the unborn child is sustained by the blood of the mother and after birth, the child feeds from the breast. A child exists because it feeds off the flesh and blood of its mother.

However we understand Jesus’ imagery of eating flesh and drinking blood, it is quite clear that his audience found his language offensive. As I said last week, eating an animal with its blood was absolutely forbidden in Jewish law. Jesus’ language was so confronting that many of his disciples turned back. They could understand the miracle of the manna in the wilderness. That did not require any leap of the imagination. While it was not actual bread, the manna was edible, and it did sustain the Israelites through their long journey in the desert. What the people didn’t seem to understand was that while manna was physical and visible, its effects were temporary. Manna could sustain earthly existence, bodily flesh, what it could not do was feed the spirit or offer life beyond the grave. In his imagery of eating flesh and drinking blood, Jesus challenged his followers to consume those things that are spiritual and that prepare and equip a person for eternity.

I understand that the image of a genderless Christ may not speak to you. The point of my illustration is this, that whether we like them or not, we should never completely close ourselves to new ideas, to new ways of seeing. Many of those who followed Jesus simply could not embrace anything new. Their imaginations were limited to what they could see and feel and as a consequence, they turned away from a relationship with Jesus that we know to be life-giving and sustaining.

The lesson of today’s gospel is this: if we hold on to what we think we know, if confine our understanding to physical realities and if we hold on to earthly ways of thinking, we will be no different from those who turned away from Jesus and from Jesus’ difficult sayings. We will close the door on new possibilities for relationship and for being.

The unknowable God is constantly revealing God’s self to those who are willing expose themselves to new ideas, new ways of knowing God. Faith after all is a journey, not a destination. My prayer for all of us is that we will continue to deepen and to grow our relationship with the living God – Earth-Maker, Pain-Bearer, Life-Giver – however uncomfortable and challenging that may be.

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The offence of the Gospel

August 14, 2021

Pentecost 12 – 2021

John 6:51-58

Marian Free

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

A recent post on Facebook directed me to an article written in September 2019 for Esquire by Shane Claibourne. He wrote: “To all my nonbelieving, sort-of-believing, and used-to-be-believing friends: I feel like I should begin with a confession. I am sorry that so often the biggest obstacle to God has been Christians. Christians who have had so much to say with our mouths and so little to show with our lives. I am sorry that so often we have forgotten the Christ of our Christianity. Forgive us. Forgive us for the embarrassing things we have done in the name of God.” It is quite a confronting statement. He goes on to quote a (then) recent study of the top three perceptions of Christians among young non-Christians in the United States. Their opinion of Christians in that nation was that they were anti-gay, judgement and hypocritical.

I understand and share Claibourne’s angst. It grieves me to observe that collectively, the church – at least in the western world – causes offense in all the wrong ways. Instead of being generally respected, the church today is often a source of scepticism, ridicule and even of anger. To take the most recent example, the churches are currently under attack for (possibly) making a profit out of Jobkeeper. We have lost our standing in the wider community and have become a target for criticism rather than for congratulation. Much of the great work that is undertaken by the church throuhg our welfare agencies goes unnoticed and our misdemeanours are writ large in the public eye.

There are a multitude of factors that have contributed to our fall in grace. These include the fact that we have promoted obedience to a set of rules rather than submission to a God of love and we have focussed on the afterlife (be it heaven or hell) rather than emphasising what faith has to offer in the present. Instead of being seen as promoting social justice, radical inclusion, and unconditional love the church as a whole is more likely to be identified with upholding conservative values, preaching exclusion, or preserving the status quo. In recent times we could have been accused of protecting our own self-interests (the Freedom of Religion Bill being one such example) and of making out that we are being persecuted. We might have been better to acknowledge to ourselves that our place in the public eye has changed considerably during our own lifetimes.

During this period our hypocrisy and lack of openness have been laid bare as the scandal of child sex abuse has been revealed and as high-profile church leaders have been exposed as having extra-marital affairs or having embezzled church funds. We can no longer hide behind a veil of respectability and nor can we afford to take the moral high ground.

Of course, I’m using a very broad brush here. The criticisms I’ve listed cannot be levelled at all churches, but the general public do not necessarily distinguish between the traditional churches and the more recent, more conservative non-denominational churches. In the minds of many we are all grouped together – the sins (or neglect) of one are attributed to us all. Publicly, the voice that receives the greatest attention tends to be the Australian Christian Lobby which, at best, tells us something about how quiet our voices now are or, at worst, how disinterested the public has become in what we, the mainline churches have to say.

These days, as I have said, the church seems to cause offense for all the wrong reasons. Yet there have been times in recent memory when the church caused offence for all the right reasons. For example, in the late 1980’s our voices were raised in support of legislation related to gun control and Anglicans across Australia signed petitions in favour of tougher gun ownership laws. When Bob Hawke’s promise that “no child would live in poverty by 1990” began to falter, mainline churches lobbied successive governments to try make that promise a reality. Nationally today Anglicare continues to argue for a living wage for all people, but that receives little media attention.

Today’s gospel centres around offense. Jesus makes the challenging statement that: “unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you”.  To his Jewish audience for whom the eating of blood was absolutely forbidden, this saying, taken at face-value, was utterly offensive. Despite this, and despite the fact that Jesus, and possibly the author of this gospel, were Jews, Jesus repeats this point at least six times – “eat my flesh, drink my blood, eat my flesh, drink my blood” over and over.

I hazard a guess that if we were hearing this for the first time we would be discomforted if not appalled.

No matter what he did, Jesus managed to cause offense in one quarter or another. Whether he was healing on the Sabbath, dining with sinners and tax collectors, confronting the authorities, breaking the law, or questioning long held traditions Jesus seemed to manage to put someone or some group offside. Jesus was always on the side of the oppressed, the disadvantaged and the demonised. This, needless to say, put him into conflict with the ruling authorities. Yet even though Jesus knew that he was causing offense and even though people rejected him and rejected his teaching, he could not stop. He knew who he was and what he was called to do, and nothing (not even the threat of death) would stand in his way.

If we are truly followers of Jesus, we too should be among those who cause offense by challenging unjust structures, lobbying on behalf of the marginalised and the dispossessed, and questioning laws that oppress rather than liberate.

For many of us it would go against the grain but perhaps, just perhaps, in the name of Christ we should cause offense. Instead of trying to fit in we should try to stand out, instead of being silent we should raise our voices for the needy, the destitute and the burdened and instead of trying to present ourselves as perfect, we should humble admit our shortcomings. Maybe then, those who are longing for God’s kingdom to come, will see in us a community determined to see it come about.

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Seeing in a mirror dimly – exploring John

August 7, 2021

Pentecost 11 – 2021
John 6:35, 41-51
Marian Free

In the name of God whom we see only in a mirror, dimly. Amen.

I have just finished reading Klara and the Sun by Kazuo Ishiguro the author of Remains of the Day and Never let me go. Ishiguro has an interesting writing style. Instead of setting the scene at the beginning, he dives straight into the story leaving the reader to gradually piece together what is happening. For example, in Klara and the Sun, we realise immediately that Klara is a type of artificial intelligence in the form of a teenage girl, but we don’t know her purpose. Nor do we know what lies behind the illness that afflicts the girl for whom she is a companion. It is only as the story unfolds that we begin to understand that in this future world, society is deeply stratified on the basis of intellectual ability. We are much further into the story when Ishiguro reveals that some families go as far as genetically altering their children in order for the children to succeed. Reading Ishiguro’s novels can be frustrating. Even though the story is engaging, a reader is impatient for the gaps to be filled so that they can fully grasp what is going on.

It occurs to me that John’s gospel is somewhat similar. It is extraordinarily readable, and for many people it is their favourite gospel. At the same time, it is frustratingly opaque, full of mysterious statements and images that don’t at first sight make sense. The author repeats the same themes over and over, circles round on himself and even at times contradicts himself. Added to this confusion is the fact that story is multi-layered. Details are added piece by piece until the picture becomes a little bit clearer (or at least until the listener gives up and goes away). Reading this gospel in sections, as we do in the context of our worship, means that we miss the subtleties in John’s writing and the connections between the various sections and themes. We get the best out of this gospel if we read it from start to finish – preferably in one sitting – and allow John’s message to seep deep into us.

Today’s gospel is a case in point. Jesus’ discussion about the bread of heaven belongs to the account of the feeding of the 5,000. The literal bread of that miracle has now become a metaphor for the person of Jesus. When the crowd followed him, he challenged them to seek not bread but that which would last for eternity, not those things which satisfy temporarily, but those which will have a lasting effect.

There are similarities between this encounter and Jesus’ meeting with the woman at the well. In both cases Jesus offers something (living water, living bread) that will satisfy for ever. In both instances, Jesus’ offer is misunderstood. It is extremely difficult for people (many of whom will know what it is to be hungry) to imagine that there is something intangible that can truly satisfy them. The woman wants the living water so that she will not have to come to the well and those whom Jesus has fed want something to always keep hunger at bay.

In John’s gospel this theme of reliance on Jesus is not limited to food and water. For example, immediately prior to the feeding of the 5,000, Jesus has challenged the crowd’s dependence on material things rather than on the spiritual. He has criticised their reliance on scripture rather on himself and the fact that instead of seeing Jesus/God as the source of life, they have focussed on the written word.

Within chapter six itself, we see a microcosm of John’s writing technique. The feeding of the 5,000 and the interaction that follows circle around a number of related themes – hunger, bread, the manna in the wilderness, doing the work of God and the relationship between the Father and Jesus. Another theme that is picked up here is the scepticism of the Jewish leaders and especially their failure to see beyond the superficial. In the chapter, each section builds on what came before it so that bread becomes looking for meaning, belief in Jesus and life eternal and scepticism becomes rejection and antagonism.

That the chapter should be read as a whole is clearly demonstrated by the cliffhanger with which today’s gospel ends. If Jesus’ listeners were confused about “living bread coming down from heaven” or about the fact that those who come to Jesus “will never be hungry and those who believe in him will never be thirsty”, or that those who eat the bread that Jesus gives will never die, imagine their reaction when he says: “the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh!” Unfortunately, unless you read the whole of chapter six during the week, you will have to make sure that you tune in for the next two weeks in order to get to the end of the story.

Unlike the Synoptic gospel writers, John does not simply tell the story of Jesus’ life. He tries to draw us in to a deeper and more meaningful relationship with God and he does this by reiterating the same themes in multiple different ways so that if we don’t understand one image, there is another that might make what he is saying clearer. In this way John gradually draws us in and slowly builds up a picture of Jesus’ nature and purpose and of Jesus’ relationship to the Father. To use his own words John gradually leads those who are willing, from darkness into light.

Taken as a whole, John’s gospel could be seen as a metaphor for the Christian journey, in particular our relationship with the Trinity. As we grow in faith and understanding, things that were not clear become clearer. As our experience of God grows, so too does our appreciation of the way God works in the world. Faith is not something that comes to us fully formed. It is only as we expose ourselves to the presence of God through prayer, scripture and worship, that our hearts, our minds and our souls are truly opened to the nature of God and to God’s presence with us.

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It is what God does, not what we do

July 31, 2021

Pentecost 10 – 2021
John 6:24-35 (a reflection)
Marian Free

In the name of God, in whom we live and breathe and have our being. Amen.

There are a number of hymns that formed my faith at a time when I was too young and therefore too ill-informed to put words to my thoughts and feelings. The most powerful lyric for my young self was the line from “Hallelujah! Sing to Jesus” which we would have sung today had we not been in lockdown. The second verse begins: “Hallelujah! not as orphans, are we left in sorrow now.” For reasons that I do not understand, I found these words incredibly comforting. I have hummed them to myself over and over and they have sustained me throughout my Christian journey. Another line that struck a chord in my young self comes from the hymn “Immortal, invisible” – “from Christ in the story, to Christ in the heart.” Even in my primary school years, those words made it clear to me that having a relationship with God was so much more than intellectual assent.

The hymn “Dear Lord and Father of mankind” (or its new form “Dear Father, Lord of humankind”) is another that has continued to inform my spiritual life. The entire hymn speaks of allowing ourselves to rest in Jesus, but the words that I find myself humming from time to time – especially when I am stressed or anxious are:

“Drop thy still dews of quietness,
till all our strivings cease,
take from our souls the strain and stress
and let our ordered lives confess
the beauty of thy peace,
the beauty of thy peace.”

When I first began practicing meditation, I took myself very seriously and did all that I could to achieve a state of detachment or at least some sort of mental state that was free from all distractions. In other words I was “striving” to reach some imagined ideal! I now realise that this was an unrealistic goal, and that meditation – like all spiritual practices – is meant to be more a “relaxing into” than a “striving for”. In fact, striving to achieve any sort of goal is counter to the goal of meditation which is more about letting go and letting God.

I think that this may be the point of this morning’s gospel.

If you did not already know, the entirety of chapter six in John is a discourse on bread. (As we read the entire chapter over the course of six weeks, it can be a real challenge for the preacher and for anyone unlucky enough to be choosing hymns!) To recap – Jesus has just fed a crowd of 5,000 with five barley loaves and two small fish. Needless to say, the crowd are impressed by Jesus’ actions, and they begin to murmur among themselves: “This is indeed the prophet who is to come into the world.” Jesus, aware of this and that the crowd intend to make him king, withdraws by himself.

Meantime the disciples have returned by sea to Capernaum where Jesus joins them (having walked on the water to do so). It is here that our gospel today begins. The crowd, seeing that a boat is missing, realise that Jesus and the disciples have crossed the lake. They too make their way over the lake in search of Jesus. When they find him, they ask: “Rabbi, when did you come here?” Jesus is suspicious about their motives in seeking him out and the ensuing conversation proves him to be correct. While the crowd have intuited something about Jesus, their understanding is still very basic, and this is the crunch – they ask: “What must we do to perform the works of God?” The crowd don’t get it, they think that they need to do something for God and they don’t yet understand that the important thing is simply to accept what God does for them. They want to be active, not passive, they want to strive, not to rest.

This is often our problem. We too want to do something. We want to have something to show for our efforts, to have something that will affirm our sense of self, something that will demonstrate that we are worthy of God’s attention or something that might just be a basis for a pat on the back. We live in a world in which nothing is for nothing. We are used to an economy of exchange – you do something for me, and I will do something for you. If you want something you will have to pay for it. It is hard to imagine that our relationship with God should be any different.

This is the tension of the spiritual life. It is natural for us to want to strive, to attain a level of perfection, or to have a standard against which to measure ourselves, when all that Jesus wants is for us to trust. The work of God, Jesus says is: “to believe (trust) in him whom God has sent” (6:29). Instead of focussing on what they can do Jesus suggests, the crowd should focus on what God has done for them. They should trust in God’s love for them that has been demonstrated in God’s sending Jesus (God’s only Son) into the world. God’s hope is that through trusting Jesus, the people will come to trust God (John 3:16). The crux of the matter then, is whether or not we trust in God, whether we believe that our salvation depends on what we do or on what God has done.

If we truly believe that God sent Jesus into the world to save the world, we can stop striving, because the hard work has already been done (and not by us).

All that is left for us to do is to trust in God and in God’s unwavering love for us.

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Loving and letting go – Mary Magdalene

July 24, 2021

Mary Magdalene – 2021
John 20:1-18
Marian Free

In the name of God who frees us from the grief and pain of the past and who sends us to proclaim hope to the world. Amen.

I was so lucky! Imagine being able to spend seven weeks overseas with not a care in the world. You will remember that in 2018 I was fortunate enough to spend seven weeks in Europe for my long service leave. As part of that holiday, I had two weeks in Florence. Before travelling I met with David Henderson who has lived in Italy. He told me what would be his top five places to go, things to do. I was so grateful, it meant that instead of trying to fit everything in, I could focus on just a few special experiences and do the remainder if I had time. One of his suggestions was that if I did nothing else that I should see Donatello’s Mary Magdalene in the Museo dell’Opera del Duomo.

I am so grateful. The Penitent Mary Magdalene has a room to herself and is so extraordinary and so moving, that, had there been a chair, I could have spent half a day contemplating the figure. As it was I was so moved that finally I had to tear myself away. I have included a photograph in the Pew Sheet, but it is hard to do her justice. Donatello has carved a figure that is utterly bereft, completely desolate. His image is of a woman who is so stricken with grief, that she has lost all sense of pride. She looks haggard, her hair has grown to her ankles, teeth are missing, and she looks as though she has been wandering around the countryside, living in the open .

The idea of a penitent Mary stems from end of the 6th century when Pope Gregory 1 made the association between Magdalene and the sinful woman from the street who anointed Jesus’ feet (in Luke 8). There are many reasons why these cannot be the same woman. It is true that we are told that Mary Magdalene was the one from whom 7 demons were cast out but that suggests that she was suffering from a physical ailment or a mental illness, not that she was making her living from prostitution. Mary was among the women who supported Jesus from their own incomes, she was at the foot of the cross when all the disciples had fled and, as every gospel records, she was at the tomb early in the morning of the third day. That Mary’s role in the ministry of Jesus was remembered (at a time when women were being written out of the story) is indicative of the role that Mary went on to play in the early church. This is further supported by the fact that Mary is mentioned in the Gospel of Philip in which Jesus is said to have shared secrets with her and to have kissed her on the lips.

The Biblical Mary is someone who has been empowered by Jesus, not someone who was overwhelmed by guilt. Indeed, Mary is often called the “apostle among apostles” as it was Magdalene who was commissioned by Jesus to tell the disciples that he had risen from the dead . For this reason, it is impossible for me to marry the Mary that I know, with the Penitent Mary popular with artists in the 15th and 16th centuries.

When I saw Donatello’s sculpture, I knew only that it was his Mary Magdalene, and it is only in preparing for today that I discovered the ascription “Penitent” given to the sculpture by the artist . It was because I knew the Mary of the New Testament that Donatello’s Mary spoke to me of grief and not of penitence, of despair and not of guilt. In fact, for me Donatello’s Mary comes straight from this morning’s gospel. Mary has come to the tomb alone. Having discovered that Jesus was not there she has run and told Peter and the disciple whom Jesus loved. They ran to see for themselves and, having seen, returned to their homes.

Mary stayed, weeping – utterly alone, utterly disconsolate. It is this desperate grief that I see in Donatellos’ sculpture – a woman who has lost, apparently forever – someone who had loved her and affirmed her and whom she had loved in return. This Mary knew that nothing would ever fill the void that filled her heart at that moment. Her life, which for a time had had meaning and purpose at this moment stretched out, empty, before her. Now, even his body had gone. Now there was no grave, no place where she could go to mourn him.

Lost in her thoughts and overwhelmed by sorrow, Mary could not recognise the risen Jesus until he called her name. Then, apparently fearing that she would lose him for a second time, Mary – physically or metaphorically – clung to him. But the future that she imagined cannot be. Jesus tells her to let go. He must leave and she, Mary must take on a new role – that of apostle, one sent by Jesus to spread the gospel.

Our story is very different from that of Mary, but over the last twenty months we have said good-bye to many of our hopes and dreams, we have endured separations from those whom we loved, some of us have experienced financial hardships and all of us find ourselves facing a future that is very different from that which we had expected. Our lives will never be the same but, like Mary, we cannot cling to the past, we cannot put our lives on hold, hoping that they will return to what they were. We must move forward, impelled by our faith and confident that Jesus, our risen Saviour goes before us, having faced his own demons, experienced the worst that life can throw at him and come out triumphant on the other side.

Grief is a natural response to loss, but we cannot allow it to hold us forever in its grip for none of us know what the future may hold.

Penitent Mary Magdalene, Donatello, Museo dell’Opera del Duomo

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Separation Anxiety

July 17, 2021

Pentecost 8 – 2021
Mark 6:30-34, 53-56
Marian Free

In the name of God who understands our every need. Amen.

Anyone who has ever had to care for a toddler will know that there is no such thing as privacy. Toddlers have not yet found their place in the world. Their sense of security is still tied up with the adults with whom they are most familiar, and they want to be wherever those adults are.

Specialists tell us that separation anxiety is perfectly normal in children between 8 and 14 months. This is when they are starting to move around independently but concurrently they are losing the closeness and security that was associated with being carried from place to place and of having an adult with them when they entered new surroundings. At this stage of their development, children have not yet learned that separations from parents are not permanent and as babies have no concept of time, it is easy for them to imagine that a parent who moves out of sight is gone for ever .

For a child who is just learning to crawl or walk, the world has suddenly expanded, and it will take time for her (or him) to feel confident and secure in this new setting. This means that they will want to keep their primary caregiver within sight so that they can be reassured that they are safe. No wonder it is impossible for a parent or baby-sitter to have a shower or even to close the toilet door when the child is awake! The child just needs to know that you are still there. All the same having a child on your tail all day can be trying and a simple pleasure like taking a shower can become pure luxury.

The account of the beheading of John the Baptist has interrupted Mark’s narrative regarding the sending out of the disciples. At the beginning of chapter six Jesus sent out the twelve and gave them authority over the unclean spirits. The twelve went out and “cast out many demons and anointed with oil many who were sick and cured them.”

Our gospel today picks up the story. The apostles have returned after their successful mission. No doubt they are both are excited and overwhelmed by all that God has worked through them. They are almost certainly exhausted by their efforts and are bursting to share with Jesus and each other about all their experiences.

Not surprisingly, the crowds are excited too. Impressed by what they have witnessed, or wanting to bask in the disciples’ reflected glory, they are terrified that if they let Jesus out of their sight he and his friends might just disappear and leave them in a vacuum. Plus, there is so much that they simply do not understand. In their anxiety they press in on Jesus and the disciples such that ‘there was no leisure’ for Jesus and the disciples ‘even to eat’, let alone time for them to rest.

Whatever Jesus own needs are, he perceives that the twelve need time and space to process all that has happened to them and all that has been accomplished. He suggests that they find somewhere quiet– a place in the wilderness away from distractions and from the press of the crowds. Escape proves impossible. Jesus’ plan is thwarted. The crowds, like toddlers, cannot bear to be separated from Jesus. Their sense of the world and of who they are, has been challenged by Jesus’ teaching and actions. They are no longer the people they were – dependent on the priest and Pharisees, but they are a long way off being independent. They have not yet fully grasped what it means to be a follower of Jesus and what faith they have is tentative and uncertain. Jesus has opened the door to a new way of being and a new way of seeing but their understanding is limited and not fully formed. They are worried that without Jesus and/or the disciples there will be no one to help them to make sense of or to help them to navigate the new world that is opening before them.

So, when the people see Jesus get into the boat with the disciples, they anticipate where he is going and race ahead on foot.

Instead of finding the peace and quiet he longs for, Jesus arrives on the shore to see a great crowd but, like a patient parent, he does not get back into the boat and go somewhere else. He does not sigh in frustration or explode in anger nor does not send the crowd away or demand to be left alone. Jesus can see these people for who they are – lost, immature in faith and longing for someone to lead them. They are like toddlers, insecure, anxious, dependent, not sure that they are safe, not confident that they can find their way on their own. To use Jesus’ language, they are like ‘sheep without a shepherd’. Peace (like a shower) will have to wait. Jesus understands that however much he needs time and space to reflect, he will need to attend to the needs of these people before he can begin to meet the needs of himself and his disciples.

And what do they need? They need to learn and to grow. It is not miracles that will enable them to stand on their own two feet. Casting out demons will not help them to discern what Jesus is offering or to grasp the new horizons that are opening out before them. So, Jesus doesn’t heal but teaches them many things. He tries to give them the tools that they need to grow in faith and understanding, to equip them to develop their own relationship with God.

Sometimes we come across people who make demands on our time or who seem to want to claim our attention even when we are busy or focussed on something else. Such people can seem immature, selfish, and demanding. If we take a leaf out of Jesus’ book perhaps we can try to see what drives their behaviour and, while not allowing ourselves to be taken advantage of, we can demonstrate patience, compassion and understanding instead of sending them away empty handed.

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Let the past inform the present and future

July 12, 2021

NAIDOC WEEK – 2021 (Pentecost 7)
Mark 6:14-29
Marian Free
In the name of God who created humankind in God’s own image and who cherishes each one of us as children of God. Amen.

The history of St Augustine’s church Restless Hearts which is in the process of being published, begins: “Sometimes it is so hard to believe how close we are, even today, to penal stations and missionary priests, Aboriginal skirmishes and interminable journeys on horseback through unchartered eucalypt forest.” It was as recently as 1823 that Thomas Pamphlett, along with three other ticket-of-leave men set out to cut cedar in Illawarra. They were caught in a storm which blew them north where they were wrecked on Moreton Island. As the book continues: “After various hardships, mitigated by help from Aboriginals, the emancipists crossed to the mainland, and, believing themselves to be south of Sydney they sought a northward route homewards. Aboriginals again helped them with food and directions, and they soon chanced upon a large river (the Brisbane). Too wide to cross, they followed its banks upwards almost to the present site of Goodna, and finding a canoe, they crossed the stream and returned along the opposite bank, again living with Aboriginals for some weeks”.

Soon after, a settlement began at Eagle Farm and in 1829 and a Patrick Logan established a farm with maize, potatoes and some cattle (on what is now the Royal Queensland Golf Club). Eagle Farm was also the site of a Women’s Prison which, as it was built on swamp land and therefore and ideal breeding spot for malaria bearing mosquitoes’. Despite this the site remained until the penal colony was closed in 1842.

Charles Fraser, the Colonial Botanist from 1821 to 1831, visited the Moreton Bay settlement in 1828. He ‘found a native cemetery represented by hollow logs filled with the bones of blacks (sic) of all sizes at the mouth of Breakfast Creek.’ Initially the new settlers and the indigenous Australians, lived together – if somewhat uncomfortably. A penal surgeon noted in 1836 that: “in the first years of the penal settlement there was a substantial population of local Aborigines in the area, their numbers depending on the season.” He also wrote of the long road between Brisbane and Eagle Farm passing through ‘the fishing ground of a tribe of aboriginal natives; at seasons of the year they are very dangerous and troublesome.’

It was when the Women’s Prison closed and the land was opened up to white settlers who used it for mixed farming – citrus fruit, dairying, cattle-grazing and small crops – that it became harder for the original inhabitants to live side-by-side with the newcomers. Tensions arose over the use of land. The destruction of crops was followed by attacks on the local indigenous by the colonists. Yet, as late as 1848, a Charles Phillips arrived in Hamilton as a small boy. He recalls that he was friendly with the Aborigines, ‘especially the Bribie Island tribe which frequented the Hamilton and Eagle Farm areas and had their camps there.’

Despite Phillip’s positive memories, tensions continued as Hendricksen notes: “between 1856 and 1867, there was continual harassment and counter-harassment, raids and robberies by Aboriginal groups, and punitive attacks by settlers including the burning of camping grounds. Such was the sense of injustice felt by the original inhabitants that Dalinkua – an Aboriginal leader and delegate – published his ‘indictments’, in the Moreton Bay Courier in 1858/9. He wrote:
“That indictment, which we are forced to bring against our white brothers … we charge them with having disregarded the command of the Great Father, and being unfaithful to the trust reposed in them; insomuch as they leave us and our people, whom they find stripped of land where our fathers hunted on, and driven off naked and wounded, diseased and destitute, to pine away and perish; while their government, like the priest in the parable, passes us by on one side, and their church, Levite-like, passes us on the other, neither of them taking any notice of our utter helplessness! Leaving us, perhaps, until some good Samaritan, of another creed and another nation, pass this way, and supply us with what is needful, both for this life and that which is to come …. But, surely, our white brothers, in their wisdom, could devise means whereby our wants could be met …. …. Christians, you are here in this land by the inscrutable Providence of God! Have you brought your religion with you? Is not its precept ‘Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself?’ If so, ‘Love worketh no ill to his neighbour, therefore love is the fulfilling of the law.’ Governed by this law you can no longer disregard the well-being of your fellow creatures. Your brotherhood must develop itself more, if ye belong to Him who does not wish that any of His ‘little ones’ perish.’”

Evidently, the church was present in the colony almost from its inception. As early as 1838 Anglican services were held in the area by The Rev’d Handt (a Lutheran!) and in May 1896 the first St Augustine’s Church in Hamilton was dedicated – only 73 years after Pamphlett found himself here and only 38 years after Dalinkua published his indictments. Though to us, it might feel like the distance past, in historical terms, colonisation of this area is recent history. The change in the landscape, its population and its use has been extraordinary in that time. Our indigenous brothers and sisters carry inter-generational trauma of all that has happened in the past two hundred years of white settlement of Moreton Bay – dispossession, massacres, stolen wages and decimation as a result of smallpox and other diseases introduced by white settlers; not to mention alcoholism, child removal.

As the note in the Pew Bulletin says, NAIDOC week invites us to embrace First Nations’ cultural knowledge and understanding of Country as part of Australia’s national heritage and equally respect the culture and values of Aboriginal peoples and Torres Strait Islanders as they do the cultures and values of all Australians. We can begin by trying to learn the rich history of the first peoples of the land on which we stand and endeavouring to reconnect with our brothers and sisters whose forbears walked this country for countless generations before us. May the indictments of Dalinkua not be applied to us.

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Outward appearances

July 3, 2021

Pentecost 6 – 2021
Mark 6:1-13
Marian Free

In the name of God who, in Jesus, confronts and shatters our certainties and our prejudices. Amen.

During the week, a memory came back to me that was as vivid as if it occurred yesterday. I was 12 years old and was in the school grounds with a friend. I’m not sure what led to the revelation, but I can clearly remember June leaning into me and whispering: “We’re not supposed to tell anyone, but mum and dad are divorced.” Young as I was, I was shocked – not that her parents were divorced – but that my friend and her family obviously felt that divorce was so socially unacceptable and shameful that it had to be kept a secret. They obviously expected censure at the least and exclusion at the worst if their situation became widely known. I was shocked because I was being raised by parents who were tolerant and worldly and who understood that not everyone was perfect, and that people made mistakes.

The world was a different place in my childhood. I grew up in a culture in which single mothers – whether the victims of rape or not – were considered by society to be morally bankrupt. (That another person was required for a pregnancy to take place seems to have been overlooked.) No fault divorce was a thing of the future, and the shame of divorce was often borne by the wife, who lost social standing, income and even her friends. I belonged to a world that was and is very good at creating unrealistic expectations and condemning those who are unable to meet them.

Sadly, very often the church finds itself embedded in the zeitgeist of the age. In the 1960’s and 70’s women who were divorced were excluded from Mother’s Union (as were single mothers) and divorcees were prevented from re-marrying in the church. It is difficult in these more enlightened times to believe that we, as a society and as church, imagined that a person’s character could be judged by their success (or not) in marriage.

The reality is that we have sometimes been a church that has placed undue attention on outward appearances. Collectively, we have worried what others might think of us, if we welcome those who are clearly less than perfect into our midst.

Outward appearances seem to be at the heart of today’s account of Jesus in his home village. That this is the case is made clearer in the Greek in which the word that is translated “astounded” is better understood as “perplexed” or “perturbed”. Jesus’ neighbours knew his background. He was a worker in stone or wood which not a respectable vocation. To us an artisan is a skilled worker, but in the first century a tradesperson would have to travel to find work. This would mean leaving wife and family at home with no one to defend them or to protect the family’s honour. What his listeners initially took to be wisdom and power were, in their minds simply incompatible with what they knew to be his profession.

If that wasn’t bad enough, there was also the issue of his parentage. Jesus is referred to as the ‘son of Mary’ not as the ‘son of Joseph’ which would have been the norm – think Simon bar Jonah, or the sons of Zebedee. The implication is that Jesus’ father is unknown. His unusual birth, questionable parentage and his dubious profession create doubts around his teaching and his actions . Rather than being impressed by him, Jesus’ fellow villagers are scandalised. Such a disreputable person cannot be trusted, let alone be a prophet or a miracle worker. What would it say about Jesus’ listeners if they allowed themselves to be taken in by someone who did not fit the mould of respectability? How would it look to outsiders if they took pride in him as one of their own?

No wonder Jesus finds it difficult to perform any miracles for them – they have judged him and found him wanting. They have closed their hearts and minds to him and to what he can do for them. Even if it is true that he can heal – who would dare to allow such a disreputable person to heal them? How would they hold their heads up among their friends if they gave any indication that they thought that Jesus had transcended his position or his birth? How could Jesus heal those who reacted with scepticism and who had rejected him?

I wonder how often we close ourselves off from people who have something to teach or to share with us? How often do we judge a person on outward appearances rather than on what they say and do? Do we close our hearts and minds to those who do not fit our image of teacher, healer, or prophet? Are we more likely to reject the life lessons of those whose experiences and/or backgrounds are vastly different from our own? Do we base our reaction to people or ideas based on what those around us might think?

The thing is, as Jesus’ experience in Nazareth reminds us, our rejection of a person’s talents and ideas may say more about ourselves than it does about them. It may reveal our pettiness, our conformity, our small mindedness, or the narrowness of our thinking. We should exercise caution before making judgements, lest, in rejecting someone simply because they don’t conform to our idea of respectability or because we consider their background to be somewhat dubious, we may, to our regret, discover that we have rejected Jesus himself.

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Taking a risk of faith

June 26, 2021

Pentecost 5 -2021
Mark 5:21-43
Marian Free

In the name of God who calls us to step out in faith into a future that is yet unknown. Amen.

Richard Scott William Hutchinson was not expected to survive. He was born five months prematurely, weighing less than 500 grams. This week he celebrated his first birthday. No one can deny that medical science has made enormous advances during our lifetimes and that not only has life-expectancy been increased but also the quality of life for a great many people has been significantly enhanced. At the beginning of last century, a broken hip would have been a death sentence. Now hip replacements are readily available and those with new hips, new knees or other new parts can continue to live full lives – often for decades. Who would have thought in the 1950s that it would have been possible to give a chronically ill person a new heart and that the recipients would go on to lead long and productive lives or that someone would invent dialysis which would substantially extend the life of someone with kidney failure?

That said, medical intervention – whether in the form of drugs, surgery, radiation treatment or some other – carries with it a degree of risk. Medication is usually packaged with a brochure outlining the possible side-effects so that the recipient can assess whether the benefits outweigh the potential costs. Before a doctor performs surgery, he or she will ensure that the patient understands the potential risks (however small) that are associated with the operation so that they can make an educated choice to go ahead (or not). Anybody undergoing treatment for cancer will be given an estimate as to how successful the treatment will be and sometimes, how long the treatment will add to their life to enable them to decide if the treatment is worth it.

Sadly though, the ability to extend a person’s life is not always associated with an improvement in their quality of life. Life-saving drugs may leave a person constantly feeling nauseous and occasionally surgical intervention leaves a person worse off in terms of mobility or the experience of pain. Mostly though the risk is worth it as it brings the hope of a better future.

Today’s gospel tells the tale of the raising of Jairus’ daughter and the healing of the woman with a hemorrhage. Mark combines the two stories using a technique called intercalation or sandwiching. In this way he allows the two accounts of healing to speak to and to interpret each other. As Mark recounts the events, we notice a number of interesting things. Perhaps what stands out most is that Jairus has asked Jesus to come to his daughter as a matter of urgency and yet Jesus takes the time to stop and engage the older woman in conversation. Then there are the parallels between the stories. The child is twelve years old, and the woman has suffered for all that time. The girl is on the verge of her child-bearing years and the woman by virtue of her bleeding is unable to have children. The girl is surrounded by a loving family who are comfortably well off and who have status in the community. The woman appears to be alone, has used all her resources and, due to the bleeding, is considered unclean and thus is excluded from society. The child is at the point of death and the woman, as a result of her condition, might as well be dead.

It seems to me that risk-taking is at the heart of these healing stories. Neither Jairus nor the woman know whether or not they will be better off as a result of their approach to Jesus. Jairus’ daughter may live, but her quality of life may have already been seriously compromised. The woman’s flow of blood may stop but the underlying cause may remain. As the leader of the synagogue, Jairus risks ridicule and shame by approaching this strange travelling teacher. He is a man of status. If Jesus cannot heal his child, he may well lose the respect of his community. (Indeed, the laughter of the crowd indicates that his honour is already being questioned.) As a woman with a flow of blood, the woman is unclean. Her presence among the crowd will taint everyone there. No one will be able to visit the Temple for seven days if they have come into contact with her. She risks censure, even anger – how dare she break social and religious convention, how dare she threaten the people’s state of religious purity!

None-the-less, both Jairus and the woman feel that the risk is worth it and, as we see, their courage is rewarded. The woman is healed and the child (who has died) is raised to newness of life. Both are restored – one to her family, the other to her place in the community. Better still, as the Greek suggests, their healing not just a short-term fix or a prolongation of life at any cost. They are made well now and will have life (not mere existence) going forward.

Of course, Jairus and the woman were already transformed by their act of faith. Even before they had approached Jesus, they had made a decision that it was worth gambling their reputation and their life or that of their daughter. They had had the courage to believe that Jesus could work change in their lives and that any potential cost was well worth risk.

I don’t claim to know how healing works and why it works for some and not for others, but I do know that if, like Jairus and the woman, we have the courage to step out in faith, to take a risk with God and to place our lives in Jesus’ hands, then, whatever our life situation we can be confident that God will give us what we need and will enable us to live life to its fullest.

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Is your God asleep on a cushion?

June 19, 2021

Pentecost 4 – 2021
Mark 4:35-41 (notes)
Marian Free

In the name of God who is with us even through the storms of life. Amen.

There is just so much contained in these seven verses that it is impossible to know where to start. What for example, are the disciples – not to mention the flotilla of boats – doing on the lake at all? Mark has already introduced us to four of the disciples. Peter and Andrew, James and John are fishermen and as such they would have been well-schooled in reading the weather and the lake. If a storm was brewing, why were they setting sail in the first place? Because Jesus told them to?

Then there is Jesus, asleep on a cushion in the boat – a lovely domestic detail. Jesus is not at all perturbed. Or perhaps after the last few days he is simply so exhausted that he could sleep through almost anything.

There is delicious irony here too. Earlier in the gospel, Jesus has explained the parable of the sower and claimed: “To you has been given the secret of the kingdom of God, but for those outside, everything comes in parables” (3:11). This suggests that understanding belongs only to his inner circle. Yet, here are the disciples, disciples to whom Jesus has revealed himself, disciples who have witnessed Jesus casting out demons and healing the sick who quite clearly do not understand who Jesus is. Worse, having witnessed his compassion towards the sick and the possessed the disciples dare to express their anxiety in language that makes it quite clear that they don’t get it. “Do you not care?” they shout above the waves. Their ignorance is exemplified by their last question: “who is this that even the wind and sea obey him?” All this time they have been with Jesus and still they need to ask.

No wonder Jesus accuses them of having no faith!

It would be easy to see this short account as a demonstration of Jesus’ power over the natural elements (and an expose of the disciples’ lack of understanding) but it is so much more. The language that Jesus uses to calm the storm is the same as that which he uses to cast out demons (1:25 for eg). Jesus “rebukes” the wind and demands that the sea “be silent” (translated as ‘peace’ in many versions). More is at stake here than a dramatic miracle. This is apocalyptic a realignment of a world that is perishing. It is evidence of the breaking-in of God’s kingdom (the subject of the preceding parables). The kingdom is bursting though as a seed breaks the ground. Jesus is setting the world to rights. When Jesus rebukes the wind and silences the sea, he is demonstrating that his mission has little to do with miracles and more to do with a cosmic battle. More, Jesus is making it clear that he has the power to prevent the world (the cosmos) from perishing. (Perhaps a play on words: “Do you not care that we are perishing?”)

No wonder that the disciples are terrified – filled with a great fear . This is a side of Jesus they have not seen before. Compared to the terror of the wind and waves the revelation (apocalypse) that Jesus is much more than a teacher (the word they use when they waken him) is utterly unexpected and overwhelming. Here is a man who possesses power that is far beyond their ability to comprehend. Here is man who exercises power that is associated with God not with human beings. To whom have they attached themselves? They were looking for a safe harbor, not a dynamic, world altering experience. (It is like thinking that you have laid for a ride on the merry-go-round only to discover that you are on the octopus.)

As the Old Testament attests, being in the presence of God is more often terrifying than comforting, more challenging than reassuring. The awesome presence of God can make a person feel exposed, sinful, or insignificant. Being in the presence of God can make a person want to sink into the ground or hide behind a post – after all the living God can see us through and through.

Seen in this light, the story of the calming of the seas challenges us to ask ourselves whether we have domesticated and tethered God. Is “our” God gently asleep on a cushion waiting to be woken to get us out of trouble or is God a force beyond our imagining whose concern is less with the petty and every day and more with the cosmic battle between good and evil?

Who or what is God to you?

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