Weed or towering cedar? The Kingdom of God.

June 12, 2021

Pentecost 3 – 2021

Mark 4:26-34 (some thoughts)

Marian Free

May I speak in the name of God who created us, Jesus who redeemed us and the Spirit who enlivens us. Amen.

A key theme of the Hebrew Bible is the Kingdom of Israel. From the time Saul is appointed as the first king, the historical books are concerned with the rule of the various kings, their victories (or losses) in battle, the size of their kingdoms, their wealth and, of course, their relationship with God. Never was the kingdom so powerful, grand and wealthy as in the time of Solomon who had “dominion over all the region west of the Euphrates from Tiphsah to Gaza, over all the kings west of the Euphrates; and he had peace on all sides”. Not only was his kingdom extensive, but his wealth was legendary. Just imagine: “Solomon’s provision for one day was thirty cors of choice flour, and sixty cors of meal, ten fat oxen, and twenty pasture-fed cattle, one hundred sheep, besides deer, gazelles, roebucks and fatted fowl. Solomon also had forty thousand stalls of horses for his chariots, and twelve thousand horsemen.” Under his rule Judah and Israel lived in safety – under their vines and fig trees.

Solomon’s wealth and power were displayed in the houses that he built for himself and for his wife which were made of the finest stone and timber and lined with gold and precious stones. Likewise, Solomon’s Temple was extraordinary – filled with vessels of gold and silver and bronze, adorned with carved timber and furnished with the finest of cloth. So rich was Solomon and so secure his kingdom that it was said that: “The king made silver as common in Jerusalem as stones, and he made cedars as numerous as the sycamores of the Shephelah.” He had seven hundred princesses as wives and three hundred concubines!!! (See the first few chapters of 1 Kings for details.) Even allowing for exaggeration, the description of Solomon’s power and wealth gives some idea of the the sort of kingdom that Jesus’ contemporaries might have been expecting God to restore.

To them, the comparison of the kingdom to a mustard seed would have been utterly surprising, shocking and even offensive. Not only that, Jesus is using imagery that would have been confusing. When the Hebrew Bible wanted to use plants to symbolise powerful kingdoms, the writers chose plants that were equally powerful and majestic – the mighty cedar tree or the cosmic tree that represented the Babylonian Empire.  (“it was large and strong, with its top touching the heavens, and it could be seen to the ends of the earth. … Under it the wild beasts found shade, in its branches the birds of the air nested; all men ate of it”; Dan 4:8-9), Or the vision of Ezekiel in which the restoration of the people of Israel after the Babylonian captivity is imaged as a shoot plucked from the crest of a cedar (Babylon) and planted on mountain heights, where it becomes a majestic cedar and “birds of every kind shall dwell beneath it.”( (Dennis Hamm SJ. http://www.liturgyslj, 13/6/2021).

Not only does Jesus chose something as pedestrian as a mustard seed with which to compare the kingdom – he mixes his metaphors. Even though mustard is a short, scrubby plant and small, Jesus still envisages birds making nests in its shade. He inverts and subverts the Old Testament imagery of the mighty cedar. As he describes it, the kingdom of God is not majestic and powerful. It will not come with force and overwhelm all that is before it. Instead, the kingdom will come subtly and quietly – like the seed whose growth cannot be observed until the first shoots push themselves above the ground. What is more the kingdom of God will not tower over or overshadow those beneath it, but will still spread out and provide shelter and shade for those who seek it.

The kingdom of God does not consist of mighty armies or lavish palaces. Its king does not enforce submission, but rather encourages loyalty through love. Its leader does not impose his will, but instead models servant leadership.

We are gravely mistaken if, like Jesus’ contemporaries, we are expecting God to break in to our world with power and might ready to bend the whole world to God’s will or (worse) to establish us as God’s representatives on earth. Jesus’ life and ministry illustrate the sort of kingdom about which he speaks. It will (it has) enter(ed) our world unexpectedly and quietly and has disrupted our preconceptions and our expectations. In fact, it was for the majority of people, completely unrecognisable.

In the Lord’s Prayer we pray for God’s kingdom to come. Let’s be sure that we are not looking for it in the wrong places.

Nothing is perfect, nothing is permanent, nothing is complete

June 5, 2021

Pentecost 2 – 2021
Mark 3:20—35
Marian Free

In the name of God – changeless yet ever new. Amen.

I am sure that many of you have heard about the Japanese practice of Kintsugi or golden joinery. The history of Kintsugi is shrouded in mystery, but legend has it that a Japanese shogun, Ashikaga Yoshimasa sent a cracked tea bowl to China to be mended. When it was returned to him, he was distressed by the crude repair. Ugly metal staples had been used so to hold the broken pieces together. In response, Japanese craftsmen determined to find a more aesthetically pleasing method of repairing broken bowls. The practice of Kintsugi uses lacquer mixed with gold, silver or platinum to join broken pieces of pottery with the result that though the breaks are clearly visible, the repaired bowl is often more beautiful than the original.

A number of Japanese philosophical ideas are associated with this practice. Foremost among these is the principle of wabi-sabi which acknowledges that everything is imperfect, everything is impermanent, and everything is incomplete. In Kintsugi, the repairs allow the imperfections to be visible, thus illustrating the impermanence of the original bowl and pointing to the incomplete nature of all things. An associated philosophy is that of mushin (no mind) which emphasises non-attachment and the acceptance of change. Instead of trying to hold onto or to recreate an unblemished past, the repaired vessel bears its scars boldly, proudly carrying them into the future.

Kintsugi illustrates the fact that change is not to be feared or resisted but is an integral part of existence. What is more, it demonstrates that change has the potential to forge something new and beautiful.

One of the problems with institutions is that they tend towards stasis. Once established, organisations develop practices, traditions and customs that can become very difficult to change. “We’ve always done it that way.” “It’s worked in the past,” workers or members say. A person who has a vision to improve a company’s bottom line by changing the way it does things is liable to be ridiculed, treated with suspicion and even ostracised. People who see flaws in the way our society operates are likely to be called troublemakers, radicals or revolutionaries. This is as true of the church as it is of any enterprise. People become comfortable with the way things are done and, in the worst-case scenarios, actively resist any attempt to innovate preferring a slow death to a revitalised, but different way of being.

The problem with Jesus was that he represented change. He refused to conform to the societal norms of his time, and he actively defied attempts to make him fit in. Instead of supporting the religious institutions of his time, he seemed to be undermining everything that they stood for. This I suspect is part of the tension that is recorded in today’s gospel. Jesus’ actions are making people uncomfortable. He is behaving in ways that are unconventional. He seems to have some sort of hold over the crowds. He is putting the whole fabric of society and of the church at risk. Who knows what might happen if he is allowed to continue unchecked?

Jesus’ behaviour is causing anxiety at every level – from his family to the state (as represented by the Temple). Jesus’ notoriety has grown to the point where he cannot find time or space even to eat. His family, who have heard that people are saying: “He is out of his mind,” have come to constrain him. In a world in which the honour of a family depends on all its members conforming to the cultural customs of their society, Jesus’ behaviour was a source of embarrassment. His family needed to stop him, to bring him back into line so that their reputation could remain intact.

While the people attribute Jesus’ behaviour to madness, the scribes take it even further and accuse him of being possessed by Beelzebul. After all, how else could he have such a sway over the crowds unless he was possessed by some supernatural power? Jesus’ influence over the people threatened the authority of the scribes (the Pharisees, the Sadducees and the High Priests). Worse, Jesus’ popularity threatened the whole religious establishment. If Jesus could heal and teach and cast out demons, what role was there for the Temple, its representatives and its sacrifices? If Jesus was able to point out the flaws in the religious practices of his time, how could the church continue to exist? The stakes were high. No wonder the scribes accused Jesus of being in league with the devil. They needed to bring him to heel, to discredit him, to make him conform.

Centuries of religious practice could come tumbling down if the people discovered that healing and forgiveness could be found beyond the walls of the Temple. The institution of the church would break apart if the people refused to be bound by age old traditions and customs. It was impossible for the scribes and other religious leaders to see that the change Jesus heralding would lead not to the destruction of all that they knew, but to a renewed and revitalised relationship with the living God. They were so sure that they were doing all that God wanted that they had lost sight of the fact that God was dynamic, vital and creative not static, lifeless and unchanging. They had become so comfortable in their own ways that they could not see that God in Jesus was trying to break open their narrow vision and their stagnant practices. They were blind to the fact that Jesus was attempting to re-energise their relationship with a life-giving and innovative God. They could not see that if only they could allow their rigidity and their conformity to be cracked and broken that they would be put back together, stronger, more resilient and even more beautiful than they had been before.

The scribes wanted things to stay the same, so they chose stasis over growth, stagnation over change and their current practice over the possibility of new life in Jesus.

Our present situation is a stark reminder that nothing stays the same. Let us pray that we might always be open to the living God, expectantly waiting to see what it is that God will do next and ready and willing to join God in whatever it is that God has planned.

God the Trinity

May 29, 2021

Trinity Sunday – 2021

John 3:1-17

Marian Free

In the name of God, who creates, redeems and sanctifies. Amen.

At the beginning of the week Quinn, knowing that it was Trinity Sunday today, helpfully sent me an article to read. I was very grateful to receive anything that might give me a different perspective on one of the most difficult theological principles of our faith, but I have to confess that I didn’t find the article at all useful for my purposes. The author, as I recall, warned against trying to preach on the doctrine of the Trinity and suggested instead that the preacher focus on relationship – our relationship with God the Trinity. I have to say that theology (at least academic theology) is not my strong point, so over the past 27 years I have made very few attempts to try to explain the doctrine of the Trinity. So, at least I was safe on that point! Unfortunately, the author of the article really didn’t provide me with any useful way to speak about relationships or at least none that would have helped me to preach on the topic. In fact, nothing that I have read in the past week has given me any ideas that I felt could be used to expand our understanding of and relationship with the Trinity.

Preaching on the Trinity today was not helped by the readings. Apart from the threefold ‘holy’ in Isaiah’s vision, there is little to suggest that God can be experienced as three and yet as one. I’m not sure how to explain this because I would have thought that there were a number of texts throughout our biblical texts that at least hint at the threefold nature of God. In other words, the Trinitarian nature of God is not just a theological principle, nor did the idea arise in isolation at the Incarnation or at Pentecost. It certainly, did not develop in a vacuum in the third or fourth centuries of the current era when the Athanasian Creed was penned. That is to say, that while our forebears in faith believed firmly that there was only one God, the Old Testament does provide clues that the oneness of God is complex and that the one God who we profess can be experienced in more than one way. From Genesis on, there are references to the Spirit (Moses was filled with the divine spirit and the prophets were empowered by the spirit of the Lord. In the Book of Proverbs (3:9), the figure of Wisdom is described as co-creator of God (much in the same way that John’s gospel speaks of the ‘Word’ – ‘In the beginning was the Word and the word was with God’ and so on.

Christians can argue that God’s nature did not fundamentally change with the birth of Jesus and the coming of the spirit (of course that would be ridiculous). However, in the light of the Jesus’ event our understanding of, and the language we use for God changed. 

This is evident in the earliest Christian writings – the letters of Paul. Completely unselfconsciously Paul uses the expressions God, Lord and Spirit interchangeably (notably in Romans 8). Most famously perhaps is the greeting with which he concludes 2 Corinthians “The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit, be with you all.” I don’t imagine for one minute, that Paul, being a Jew was abandoning the one true God of his ancestors, but that he now felt God encompassed Jesus and the Spirit. Later, Matthew’s gospel would conclude with Jesus’ instruction to the disciples that they: “make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, The Son and of the Holy Spirit.”  

The language we use for God has ancient roots, it was only in the face of division and that the church felt it necessary to come up with an agreed position or doctrine as to how God could be both one and three. It is this, the doctrine of the Trinity, that I find it so difficult to explain or teach, but that does not mean that I am not absolutely convinced of the importance of worshipping God as one and God as three and I am equally convinced that our relationship with God should be with God the Trinity – Creator, Redeemer and Sanctifier.

Perhaps the book that has had the most impact on me is The Divine Dance by the Franciscan brother Richard Rohr. Unfortunately, it is impossible to share with you the contents of the book as Richard does not write in a linear fashion but circles around on himself so that while it is possible to get the sense of what he is saying it is not so easy to explain it. It is the images, not the words that I have found particularly helpful, and I share them in case they help you to make sense of the extraordinary nature of God. 

I now think of the Trinity primarily in terms of relationship – the relationships within the Trinity and our relationship with the Trinity as part of the Trinity. In my mind’s eye the Trinity is something like electrons held within a sphere. In this image the electrons are pure energy – spinning within the space – bound not by a nucleus, but by each other, relating to and dependent on each other participating in a never-ending dance – moving in and out and around, touching and separating, empowering and being empowered, drawing energy from one another yet never being depleted. The power of this image for me, is that there is room for all of us to join in the dance. The sphere which I can hold in my imagination, is in fact boundless. It can hold within it all creation and all creation is invited to be caught up in, to be part of and to be held by the whirling, spinning energy that is the Trinity. Our relationship with God is one of participation in, not separation from and, if our energy flags, it is of no consequence – the energy of the three holds us, heals us and restores us until we are ready to re-join the dance.

As the members of the Trinity relate to and energise each other, so we, taking our place in the relationship that pre-exists us draw our power and our renewal from the very source.

In the end though it is all about the heart and our relationship with the one God whom we know as Creator, Redeemer and Sanctifier.

No words needed

May 22, 2021

Pentecost – 2021

John 15.26-27; 16.4b-15 (Acts 2:1-21)

Marian Free

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

On Wednesday I listened to an interview with the Rev’d Bill Crews (whom you might know in connection to the Wayside Chapel in Kings Cross). Bill has just released a memoir entitled: ‘Twelve ways to a better life”. As you might expect the interview covered a vast array of topics, but what captured me was the transformational experience that he described at the very beginning of the interview. Bill was in Calais where he was seeing first-hand the crowded camp full of refugees who had been hoping to reach England. One day he saw an advertisement for an NA meeting (which I took to be what we would know as an AA meeting). On a freezing cold night, he made his way to a square of carpet that was covered in plastic and other rubbish. Needless to say, he was the only English speaker there and the only Christian. Everyone else was of the Muslim faith and had come from a variety of countries – there was no common language. As is the case for AA meetings, each person told their story in their own language which was then translated into French. Bill understood nothing of what was said, but as person after person told their stories he realised that all he needed to know was written in the suffering on their faces.

When his turn came, Bill spoke in English and the translator turned it into French. For him it was if a dam had been unstopped, the account of his whole life came flooding out. When he had finished, tears streaming down his face, everyone in the group came and held him in their embrace. No words were needed – he was in pain as they were in pain, and they understood.

That was Wednesday. On Friday, I saw a short video of a young Spanish woman hugging a Senegalese refugee who had made it from Morocco to Ceuta. “She hadn’t caught the man’s name but had seen he was battling exhaustion and had given him water. “He was crying, I held out my hand and he hugged me,” she said. “He clung to me. That embrace was his lifeline.” The video is very moving, the woman held the man as he released emotions of fatigue, relief and fear. 

What struck me in both stories was that language is so much more than words, that sometimes we don’t even need words and that so often our non-verbal communication is more important than what we actually say. Suffering and loss, love and compassion are universal languages. Bill did not need to know what the refugees were saying about their experiences, because their anguish was clearly written on their faces. They didn’t need to understand what he was saying because his tears told a story that they could identify with.  The young Red Cross worker in Ceuta did not need language to understand that the refugee was thirsty, exhausted and overwhelmed and the Senegalese man did not need to understand Spanish to feel the empathy and concern of the young woman.

Both stories spoke to me of the experience of the first Christian Pentecost when the Holy Spirit enabled the disciples to speak in other languages such that they were understood by “devout Jews from every nation under heaven living in Jerusalem.” It occurs to me that whatever language was spoken by the first disciples, their wonder and excitement about the coming of the Holy Spirit would have been obvious to all. 

In saying this, I am not trying to minimise, to explain away or to rationalise the miracle of Pentecost but rather to see it from another point of view – one that need not be bound by time or place and one that doesn’t lead us all to expect that when we are filled with the Holy Spirit people of other nations will literally be able to understand the words that we say. 

The rushing wind and tongues of fire are important because they liberated a frightened group of people to leave their hiding place and to share the gospel with the world, but so too are the non-verbals of conviction, passion and joy. When we reflect on spreading the gospel in our time, it is important to realise that our non-verbal language is as important if not more so than what we actually say. People know when we are forcing a smile or giving and insincere compliment. They are sensitive to body language that belies the words that are coming out of our mouths. They will be suspicious if they think we don’t truly believe what we say. On a personal level people can be hurt and confused by an apparent lack of sincerity. On an institutional level, the church as a whole is hurt when its members non-verbally express disapproval, judgmentalism, racism, or any other “ism” that implies that another human being is somehow of less value than ourselves. Hypocrisy on the part of any of us, reflects on all of us.

On the other hand, if we, empowered by the Holy Spirit, consistently demonstrate love and compassion for our fellow human beings the world might find Christ in us. If we were energised and enthused by what we believe, if our faces showed the joy and peace that we find in Christ, if we allowed the Holy Spirit to work in and through us what power might be released? If our passion for the gospel and our love for all humankind was written on our faces and demonstrated in our lives, the world would want to know what it was that set us apart and they would want it too. The church, instead of dwindling, might be filled to overflowing and the world, instead of being torn apart by suspicion and hatred, might be as one.

We might never experience the rushing wind or the tongues of fire, but each of us by virtue of our baptism have been given the Holy Spirit. I wonder what would happen if we really had the courage to release it?

Demonising others

May 15, 2021

Easter 6 – 2021

John 15:9-17 (1 John 5:1-12)

Marian Free

May I speak in the name of God who created us, Jesus who redeemed us and the Spirit who enlivens us. Amen.

There are a number of fault lines in the Anglican Church today – some theological and some ethical or practical. Under the heading of “theological differences” we could include the theology of substitutionary atonement and the headship of men (over women). In the ethical or practical arena are issues such as the ordination of women as priests and the acceptance all people are beloved by God regardless of their sexuality. With regard to substitutionary atonement, at issue is whether we believe that Jesus died instead of us (which suggests that God demands a bloody sacrificial death in order for us to be restored to a relationship with God) or whether Jesus’ death is a consequence of Jesus’ integrity and of his obedience to God.[1] Support (or not) for gay marriage has driven a deeper wedge between the two positions. Some on the more conservative side of the debate have effectively split from the more liberal side, as is evidenced by their refusal to attend the Lambeth Conference and their establishment of a rival gathering – GAFCON.

Such significant differences between members of the Christian community are far from new but go back to the very origins of the Christian church. As early as the letters of Paul there were differences of opinion in regard to whether or not non-Jewish converts would have to be circumcised and whether those who believed in Jesus could eat meat sacrificed to idols. Paul’s letters to the Galatians, the Corinthians and the Romans are all an attempt to work through the differences and to keep the various communities together. 

The situation referred to in the letters attributed to John[2] is polemical. It is clear that there has been a major split in the community, and some have “gone out”. This situation explains the strong language used against those with different views – they are ‘deceivers’ antichrists, false prophets, who speak by the Spirit of error.’  Their desertion makes it clear – at least according to the author – that they did not belong to the community, for if they did they would have remained (2:19). “They went out from us, but they did not belong to us; for if they had belonged to us, they would have remained with us. But by going out they made it plain that none of them belongs to us.” Members who remained as part of the community were urged to have nothing to do with them.

Our only evidence for the situation in the community is the letters. From them, it appears that the nature of Jesus is at the heart of the dispute. Those to whom the letter is written (the remainers) believe that Jesus was fully human. Those who have left the community do not[3]. The break-away group deny that Jesus is the Christ or that he was sent by God. The letter-writer accuses them of failing to love their brothers and sisters and suggests that this is evidence that they do not love God. He also alleges that they love the world and its attractions. 

The author of the letter is drawing a clear line between those who believe that Jesus came in the flesh and those who do not. He uses strong language for those who have left the community because he is anxious to protect what he believes to be the truth[4].

Such strong language – ‘deceivers’, ‘antichrists’ – stands in strong contrast with the language of the gospel and Jesus’ command to love. It is a clue that the gospel and the letters do not share an author and that the letters are written at a later date when the Christian community was beginning to feel the strain of differences of opinion regarding the nature of Jesus. 

Both the gospel and the letters have found their way into our scriptures and as a consequence we are challenged to consider how we deal with the tensions between them. Do we use the example of the first letter of John to disparage and demonise those whose understanding of the gospel differs from that of our own or do we stress the gospel message of love for all who claim to be disciples of Jesus? Do we arrogantly insist that our interpretation of scripture is the only valid one, or do we try to understand and accommodate difference?

It is a difficult issue, especially when those on either side of a debate believe that their interpretation of scripture is true and leads to salvation and that any other way of understanding leads to the path of destruction at worst and at best leads good people into error. Yet, Jesus commands us to love, even to the point of laying down our lives for our friends (members of the community). In the final analysis, we are all human. No one of us can claim to speak with the voice of God. Instead of slandering and abusing those who are different, may we learn to listen, struggle to understand, value difference and, above all endeavour to love all our sisters and brothers in Christ.


[1] Cf Philippians 2:1-11

[2] We attribute authorship to John because of the similarity between the letters, the Gospel named John and the Book of Revelation. (Of these, the only one that names the author is the Book of Revelation which begins “John to the seven churches in Asia” Rev 1:4). 

[3] It is possible that what we are seeing here is the emergence of what was later called a heresy. Docetism held that Jesus only appeared to have come in the flesh.

[4] (We do not how the ‘secessionists’ spoke about those who chose to stay. Nor do we know how the dispute ended. What we do know is that in 395CE at Nicea, a Council of Bishops declared that Jesus was both fully human and fully God, putting to rest any notion that Jesus had not come in the flesh.)

Scripture should never imprison, love should never hurt.

May 15, 2021

Easter 7 – 2021

John 17:6-19

Marian Free

In the name of God who calls us to love selflessly and unconditionally. Amen.

In the past two years, we have been rightly shocked and appalled by the horrific deaths of Hannah Clark and her children and more recently that of Kelly Wilkinson. Both women died at the hands of the men who had promised to “love and protect them”, both had endured years of abuse prior to making the decision that enough was enough and both were failed by a system that was unable to keep them safe. In recent times, a crisis that used to be hidden (or ignored) because it occurred behind closed doors has become front and centre. The very public acts of violence like the murders of Luke Batty and of Hannah Clark and her children have exposed the extent of the problem and the weakness of the response. 

In Australia one woman every week is murdered by an intimate partner. Many more are locked in abusive or coercive relationships that they find impossible to escape. It is estimated that one in 6 Australian women and 1 in 16 men have been subjected, since the age of 15, to physical and/or sexual violence by a current or previous cohabiting partner (ABS 2017b). Despite the statistics, despite public awareness and despite the attempts to strengthen the law and to police it, we seem unable to keep vulnerable women safe and unable to change the behaviour of men who abuse them. 

Historically, and to our shame, the church has often been complicit in the situation. A misunderstanding of the nature of forgiveness, a misinterpretation of scripture and a misplaced conviction regarding the sanctity of marriage has meant that the church has often turned a blind eye to domestic violence and worse, sent women back to their violent partners rather than confronting the partner’s abusive behaviour.

As we have seen with the issue of child sex abuse, too often a church that has focussed on outward appearance has fostered a culture of silence. Our embarrassment and confusion regarding the misbehaviour of our some of our members and our failure to confront what amounts to a misunderstanding of sacraments and the misuse of scripture has meant that not only have we not adequately addressed the issue of domestic violence, but we have created an environment in which women feel too ashamed to admit what is going on behind closed doors.  

For one reason or another in the past and continuing into the present the Bible has been used to coerce and control others. Individual verses have been used to ensure that women know and keep their place within an intimate relationship and to justify the use of controlling and abusive behaviour by men towards their partners. 

Three passages in particular are used to justify the control of or domination over a woman by a man.

The first of these is the creation story. It has been argued that because Eve was created from Adam, she was somehow inferior, and that it was her role to serve Adam rather than to be his partner. What is more, it was believed that because Eve persuaded Adam to eat the apple, women were by their nature both vulnerable andseductive -(as if that wasn’t a contradiction) – and therefore dangerous and in need of control by the more superior man. 

The other two texts come from Colossians and Ephesians. “Wives, be subject to your husbands, as is fitting in the Lord” (Col 3:18-19) and “Wives, submit to your own husbands, as to the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife as Christ is the head of the church, his body, and is himself its Saviour” (Eph 5:22-33). Both these texts have been used to coerce a woman into compliance and to take responsibility for the violent behaviour of her partner. (After all, she must have behaved in such a way as to provoke such a response.) These verses are probably the source of the language of Holy Matrimony in the Book of Common Prayer in which the words “obey and serve” are added to the words of consent said by the woman alone.

All these texts are misrepresented by those who use them to justify violence against women. Yet what sort of God would not only condone, but actually incite violence against women I wonder? 

All our scripture readings have to be seen in context including these. For example, the creation of Eve occurs in the second of the two accounts of creation. In the first God creates humankind in God’s image, male andfemale (Gen 1:26-27). There is no hierarchy here. In the second account of creation woman is created to be Adam’s partner and equal because none of the animals could fulfill that role. (We note that Eve may have taken the apple, but as the story goes, Adam was weak enough to eat it. If blame is to be apportioned, both are culpable.)

The verses in Colossians and Ephesians are conveniently taken out of context – both historical and literal. If we were to read on, the next verse in Colossians says: “Husbands, love your wives and never treat them harshly” and Ephesians emphasises mutual subjection: “Be subject to one another out of reverence for Christ.” Misused these minute pieces of scripture have done considerable damage – not only to the lives of those impacted by domestic violence and but also to the gospel itself that has at its heart a message of love, respect and empowerment, regardless of gender, class or race.

As individuals and as church it is incumbent on us to break the code of silence and to free women (and men) to speak of their experiences without shame or fear of judgement. In order to truly show the love of Christ, we must equip ourselves to respond to occurrences of domestic violence, not only by understanding the issues surrounding it, but also by being able to offer alternative interpretations of the biblical texts that have had such a damaging impact on the lives of many.

After all, our scriptures should never imprison and love should never hurt.

Jesus is a vine, not a vineyard

May 1, 2021

Easter 5 – 2021

John 15:1-8

Marian Free

In the name of Jesus our Saviour, source of our life, our nourishment and our well-being. Amen.

I am the fertile soil. I am the warm sun. I am the source of comfort. 

If I, or anyone else were to make such claims you would think that we were mad. Yet Jesus makes several such assertions: “I am the bread of life, I am living water, I am the true vine, I am the good shepherd, I am the light of the world, I am the resurrection and the life, and I am the way the truth and the life”.  At least seven times Jesus claims “I AM”. At face value these statements hold a great deal of meaning. Jesus is telling his disciples that if they place their trust in him he will protect them from harm, he will be their light in the darkest of times, he will be their source of goodness and strength and he will satisfy their deepest needs. 

As you know, the Gospel of John is rich with symbolism, so we should not be surprised that there is much more to this imagery than first meets the eye. In fact there are at least three different usages of the expression, “I AM”. It occurs without a predicate, simply as “I AM”. “Unless you believe that I AM” (7:28). “When it does happen, you will believe that “I AM” (12:19). Occasionally the phrase is used simply in the sense of “I am he”. For instance, when Jesus comes to the disciples across the water he says: “I AM do not be afraid.” Lastly, “I AM” is used with a predicate as in today’s gospel: “I AM the true vine.” 

“I AM” is the language used by God as God’s self-designation. When God appears to Moses in the burning bush and commissions him to bring the Israelites out of Egypt Moses says: “Whom shall I say sent me?” God replies: “Thus you shall say to the Israelites, ‘I AM has sent me to you’” (Ex 3:14). In using this terminology then, Jesus is identifying himself as God.

It appears from the context of the gospel that not only is John making it clear that Jesus and God are one and the same, he is also helping the community for whom he writes find an identity that does not depend on the synagogue or the Temple. A number of references suggest that the gospel was written at a time – after the destruction of the Temple – when Jews who believed in Jesus had been expelled from the synagogue (John 9:22, 12:42, 16:2). One of the goals of this gospel is to answer the question: ‘What does it mean to belong to a community that believes in Jesus and how could the community’s worship be ordered now that they could not attend the synagogue or participate in the Jewish Festivals?’ 

It is impossible to go into detail here, but one of the ways that the author of John addresses the problem is by indicating that a believer’s relationship with Jesus is sufficient because in one way or another Jesus has replaced important Jewish symbols, Festivals, and perhaps even the Temple. For example, when Jesus says: “I AM living water” and “I AM the light of the world”, he is using symbols that relate to the Festival of the Booths during which water is brought into the Temple and huge candles are lit. Several of the images in Jesus’ ‘I AM’ statements – bread, light, water, shepherding and vine – are commonly used in the Old Testament to describe the relationship between God and Israel. Jesus’ adoption of these images for himself, indicates that the relationship between God and Israel has been extended to those who believe in Jesus. The relationship between God and the people of God is no longer dependent on externals but is focussed on the person of Jesus. 

It is important to note here, that God’s relationship is with Israel as a whole and not with individual members of the people of Israel. When we remember this, the imagery takes on a whole new meaning. This is particularly the case with today’s gospel.

Jesus’ claim to be the true vine, is a reminder of our collective nature and it challenges our modern concepts of individuality. If Jesus is the vine and we are part of the vine then, as people of faith, we do not exist as individuals but as a community. One of the reasons for divisions in the church – whether at a Parish level or at international level – is that we don’t fully understand that we do not belong to the vine as individuals, but as a group. It would be a nonsense to suggest that every branch or every twig on a vine somehow existed separately. The life of the vine flows through to the whole plant in equal measure. My life in the vine is not different or separate from your life in the vine. Individual branches do not draw their sustenance from different sources but from one and the same vine. 

Being attached to the vine challenges our individualism in another way. It is only by being connected to the vine that we can bear fruit. Only if we, the branches, are receiving the life-giving sap from the vine are we able to be productive. Or put the other way around, if we bear fruit, if our life and actions show forth the presence of God in the world, it is only because we are integrally connected to each other and to Jesus the true vine who is the source of our life. Just as our life in the vine is one and the same, so it is with the fruit we produce. In this image, fruit does not mean the fruit that you produce or the fruit that I produce, it refers to the fruit that we produce together.

Jesus is the true vine, not the true vineyard. There is one vine, and we are all connected to that one vine. Let us pray that our connection to the true vine will nourish and sustain us, so that through our lives as part of the community of faith we may collectively bear fruit that reflects the source from which it comes. 

So that others might live

April 24, 2021

Easter 4 – 2021

John 10:11-18

Marian Free

In the name of God who holds nothing back, but who will give God’s life that we might have life in abundance. Amen.

“I think about them every day.” Most of you will have heard the Federal member for Braddon, Gavin Pearce speaking on the topic of veteran suicides and of the recently announced Royal Commission. What stood out for me as I listened was his feeling of responsibility for those who had taken their lives and his own sense of failure that he had been unable to prevent those deaths. In an interview with Fran Kelly on Radio National he was asked whether the Royal Commission would bring up difficult emotions and memories for himself. The member for Braddon said that he felt that he had dealt with his own experiences of service. He then went on to say: “It is very difficult to articulate the amount of responsibility that we had. I was a warrant officer and those diggers under my watch, under my command – they were like my kids. I knew them and I remember one particular time you know a young bloke took his life under my watch and I went to the funeral parlour with the funeral director, and I was dressing this kid in his polyester uniform, and I remember – I’ll never forget it Fran – getting there and telling that kid I was sorry. As he laid in his coffin, I was sorry that I didn’t see it and there is a lot of leaders out there – mates in the chain of command – that responsibility that we have for our soldiers I can’t articulate how strongly I think – I think about them every day and I genuinely want what is best for our veteran community.”

Today’s gospel for the fourth Sunday of Easter – Good Shepherd Sunday – speaks to the responsibility that a leader has for those whom he or she leads – the responsibility to keep them safe from predators and the willingness to give one’s life in order to ensure their well-being. In chapter ten of John’s gospel Jesus claims to be both the gate for the sheepfold and the good shepherd. Our reading today focusses on the latter – the good Shepherd or good leader. The description of the Shepherd has two sections and each is headed by the same declaration: “I am the good shepherd” and each section insists that whether protecting or gathering the sheep, the role of the good shepherd is the same – if required – to lay down their life for the sheep. In other words, the chief responsibility of shepherds or of those who are called to lead is to value the life of those whom they are called to serve more than they do their own lives. Leadership, shepherding is all about the welfare of those whom one is called to lead (or perhaps more aptly to serve.)

In a world in which personal achievement is glorified and in which competition is the norm, self-sacrifice or putting others before oneself is often seen as weakness or at least as the lack of ambition. In every aspect of life, we are rewarded for doing better than others. If we excel above our contemporaries we are paid more, given better opportunities and accorded more respect. From the time we enter school we are measured against our peers and encouraged to work for grades that will put us ahead of the crowd. More recently social media has become a battle ground for one-upmanship. It is easy to fall into the trap of measuring our success by the number of likes our posts have received compared to those of others and even now people from all walks of life are identified by the number of followers they have on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram or other platform.

And yet despite the pressure to be the best, to lord it over others there are still countless people in all walks of life who value service to others, those who make sacrifices of their time and income to build a more equitable world and those give themselves and even their lives for the well-being and safety of others.

The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.  In his life and in his teaching, Jesus modeled servant leadership. He did not take advantage of his position of authority but valued and affirmed his followers and  ultimately gave himself for them. As the gospel points out and as Gavin Pearce articulated so well, with authority and leadership come the responsibility to nurture and protect those for whom we have a duty of care, to try to put them first and ourselves last.

In the end, as Pearce suggests, it is impossible to protect those within our care from all harm, but we can do and must do what we can to minimise the risk. We can look out for our mates, we can place their welfare before our own and we can learn from our mistakes. We can try to emulate Jesus and be good shepherds.

During Eastertide as we celebrate the resurrection, so we affirm our confidence that God who raised Jesus from the dead, can bring life from death and victory from defeat, none of which would have been possible had not Jesus willingly gone to the cross for us, given his life for us.

On this 106th ANZAC Day we give thanks to all those who were willing to lay down their lives so that we might live in peace and freedom, we remember those who survived battle only to be overcome by their return to civilian life and we pray that we might learn from their deaths so that ultimately we might wring good from evil and life from death and their deaths will not have been in vain.

Christ is risen. Alleluia! He is risen indeed. Alleluia!

Our story is part of THE story

April 17, 2021

Easter 3 – 2021

Luke 24:36b-48

Marian Free

The danger of certainty

April 10, 2021

Easter 3 – 2021

John 20:19-31

Marian Free

In the name of God “whose ways are not our ways and whose thoughts are not our thoughts.” Amen.

Hymn 453 in Together in Song begins:

We limit not the truth of God
  to our poor reach of mind,
by notions of our day and sect,
  crude, partial and confined.
No, let a new and better hope
  within our hearts be stirred:
the Lord hath yet more light and truth
  to break forth from His Word.

“The Lord hath yet more light and truth to break forth from His Word”. As the hymn suggests, if we believe that we know all that there is to know about God or think that God’s self-revelation ended with Jesus we are limiting the truth of God to our imperfect capacity to see and to understand. If we approach our scriptures in a glib and superficial way, we are almost certain to draw the wrong conclusions. And if we see scripture only as a collection of proof texts, we will be guilty of using the bible to reinforce our own preconceptions and we will miss the depth and complexity that lies within scripture as a whole. 

An example of the latter can be found in a common interpretation of today’s gospel. There are 13 verses in our reading which are themselves part of a wider context – including Jesus’ resurrection appearances, the entire gospel of John and scripture as a whole. Despite this the focus has almost invariably been on two short phrases: “Do not doubt but believe,” and “blessed are those that not having seen me believe.” Read together, and separated from their context, these two quotes imply that doubt is incompatible with faith and that Jesus is indirectly censuring Thomas for doubting that he had risen.

Isolating these phrases from their setting leads us to ignore the fact that Jesus does not condemn Thomas but makes an appearance especially for him. It overlooks the fact that having seen Jesus, it is only Thomas among the disciples who proclaims Jesus as: “my Lord and my God.” Detaching these phrases from the gospel as a whole means that we forget that Thomas alone promises to follow Jesus even unto death. It also means that we pay no heed to the faithlessness of all the disciples who abandoned Jesus at the first hint of trouble and who now, two weeks after the resurrection are still hiding in terror. Without the benefit of the other gospels, we fail to realise that Thomas is not the only disciple who finds it hard to believe that Jesus is risen. 

Doubt is not limited to Thomas but is a consistent theme throughout the bible. Many of the people whom we consider to be heroes of the faith had moments (even years) when their faith in God wavered or failed. Abraham and Sarah are remembered for their courageous faith, but together they doubted that God would keep God’s promise to give them a son. Moses did not have confidence that God would enable him to lead God’s people out of Egypt. Jeremiah wondered at times if God had abandoned him and the Israelites as a whole constantly doubted that God had their best interests at heart. Job doubted God’s fairness and the Psalmist doubted when God appeared to be silent. Doubt it seems is a constant companion of faith. 

It is certainty, not doubt, that is the opposite of faith. Certainty has all the appearance of faith and yet it leaves no room for God. Instead, it assumes that it is possible to know everything that there is to know about God. Rather than being evidence of a strong faith, certainty is an indication of arrogance and independence. It is a sign of belief in what one knows rather than a conviction in what one does not know. A sense of certainty creates a feeling of security which blinds a person to the unexpected actions and revelations of God. Those who choose certainty over uncertainty have overlooked the fact that God is full of surprises. 

God simply does not behave the way we want (or hope) that God will act. No one expected that God would enter human history. No one believed that God’s anointed would be born in humble circumstances rather than in a palace. No one thought that the salvation of Israel would be brought about by the crucifixion of an itinerant preacher from Nazareth. God is simply not predictable, because we do not have the mind of God. 

Certainty may be comforting and reassuring, but it can also be deceptive, sending us down blind alleys and providing us with a false sense of security. It can also be a deterrent for those who are coming to faith but who have questions of their own. Certainty implies that we have all the answers when, unless we are God we do not. I don’t know about you, but I don’t have an answer as to why an infant is still born, or why the good die young and the evil sometimes prosper. I don’t know why we live on a planet that is so unstable that hundreds of thousands can die in a tsunami or why humans are so volatile that hundreds of thousands more are forced to abandon their homes for refugee camps.  But I do believe that my uncertainty in the face of unanswerable questions frees others to ask questions of their own.

So, you see, I believe that doubt or uncertainty is an integral part of faith. Uncertainty provides a space in which we can learn and grow, forever deepening our relationship with a God who is ultimately unknowable. Doubt opens us to the possibility that God might reveal Godself in a new and unexpected ways. Without a certain amount of incredulity there is no faith, only a self-centred assurance of one’s own truth. I prefer to live with ambiguity, filled with a sense of wonder and awe in a God whom I can never fully know and who will continue to surprise and delight me.