The end is nigh

December 1, 2018

Advent 1 – 2018

Luke 21:25-38

Marian Free

In the name of God whose love for us knows no bounds. Amen.

Many years ago, long before I was ordained, I met Leanne. Leanne was about 20 years older than I, worshipped at the same church and was a member of the Bible Study group. Sadly, Leanne suffered from depression. Despite treatment and medication, she could never shake the feeling that she was worthless and unlovable. One day Leanne told us the following story. On one particular day Leanne’s mother was coming to visit. Leanne was excited, but she knew that her mother had exacting standards. She spent the whole day ensuring that the house was spotless and baking delicious things for her mother to eat. The hour arrived and knowing that everything was ready, Leanne ran out to greet her mother. Imagine how deflated she felt when, instead of reciprocating her excitement and joy, her mother simply said: “What on earth are you doing outside with your apron on?”

No wonder Leanne struggled to believe that she had value. Throughout her life she had been made to feel that she had failed to meet her mother’s expectations. This left her feeling that no matter how hard she tried she was never going to be good enough. When I heard the story, I wanted to hold Leanne for as long as it took for all that negativity to be erased. I imagined the child, the growing girl, the young woman and the now middle-aged person before me, always trying and never succeeding, to be the person whom her mother expected her to be. No wonder she suffered from depression. No wonder Leanne struggled to believe in herself. All her life she had been held in the balance and found wanting.

For some Christians, this is how it is with God. They have been brought up to believe that God is watching and judging everything that they do; that God is somewhere with a set of scales measuring them against an impossibly high ideal. Sadly, a great number of people who claim to be Christians cannot believe that they are lovable, and they certainly cannot believe either that God is love or that God loves them. 

I know that on another occasion I told you the story of a beautiful, gentle man who, in his eighties, could not sleep at night because he was so afraid of dying. He was sure that something he had done in the distant past meant that God had withdrawn God’s approval and love. When he was a child, his well-meaning grandmother had drummed in to him the eternal consequences of bad behaviour. As he drew nearer to his death, he was certain that whatever it was that he had done in the distant past would send him to the fires of hell.   

Can you imagine going through your whole life not knowing how much God loved you? Can you imagine living in terror of God, believing that it was God’s desire and intention to destroy you if you failed to meet God’s expectations? Can you imagine spending a life-time trying to achieve some unrealistic standard of perfection in order to be loved, or to avoid being punished? I can’t. I can’t think why you would bring a child into the world in order to berate and belittle that child. And I can’t conceive of God the creator bringing humankind into being simply to satisfy some egotistical need to dominate or to be feared.

Ideas about an all-powerful, all-demanding God do not emerge from a vacuum. They are developed from imagery of the end-time such as that in today’s gospel, especially verse 34: “Be on guard so that your hearts are not weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of this life, and that day catch you unexpectedly”. And in 1 Thessalonians 3:13: “May you be blameless before our God and Father at the coming of our Lord Jesus with all his saints.”

It is all too easy, for those who are so inclined, to build a picture in which God is relentlessly demanding, unyielding and unforgiving. To do that, one also has to ignore the texts in which God is endlessly compassionate, accommodating and forbearing. One has to close one’s mind to the story of creation in which God declares humankind to be “very good”. Above all, one has to forget that in Jesus God gave Godself completely and unreservedly to and for those who had done nothing to deserve such a gift and who continue to be undeserving.

Not that I would suggest for one moment that we ignore or gloss over the vivid descriptions of Jesus’ return, or of the time of judgement. Those of us who know ourselves to be secure in God’s love must be warned from time to time that we should not take that love for granted. Those of us who have long since stopped expecting Jesus’ return need to be reminded that God will come and at a time when God is least expected. Those of us who have fallen into a cosy, comfortable relationship with God have to be pulled up short so that we do not forget that the Creator of the Universe is all-powerful, almighty and awe-inspiring. 

Today’s readings are not necessarily meant to stun us into shocked terror or to keep us in a state of heightened alertness and anxiety. But they do serve a purpose. They prevent us from falling into error, they stop us from having a narrow view of the God of the universe and they challenge us to respond with gratitude to God’s overwhelming goodness and love.

This Advent let the promise of Jesus’ return pierce the numbness and the complacency born out of centuries of Jesus’ non-appearance. 

Let it increase the anticipation, the confidence that Jesus’ coming willshatter the peace, explode the norms and reveal the world for what it really is.

Let Jesus’ coming shake us out of our comfort zones and remind us that God is so much more than our limited minds will ever be able to imagine.

God, the God who loves us so much more than we can ever desire or deserve, is an awesome, terrifying God in whose presence we will fall to our knees in holy fear. 

God willcome. Let us not be lulled into a false sense of security, but make sure that we are ready for an event that might just disturb the whole cosmos and at the very least will shake us to our core.

Powerlessness is power

November 24, 2018

Christ the King – 2018

sJohn 18:33-37Marian Free

In the name of God who in Jesus demonstrates that true power and authority lie in service and not in domination. Amen. 

It is not difficult to observe that the balance of power in the world is shifting. The United States is increasingly looking inward, relinquishing at least to some extent its role as a mediator, peace-keeper and influencer on the world stage. At the same time China, through its belt-road, its aid programme in the Pacific and through the purchase of property and land beyond its borders is ensuring that its role in the world is being vastly enhanced. Elsewhere, ISIS which is suffering military defeat and the loss of territory has unleashed an ideology whose effects and violence extend far beyond its geographic reach and its direct control. For those who have grown up in a reasonably stable world, the current political situation is unsettling and disturbing. We have grown used to power being wielded by one nation and do not know what the world will look like if power is exercised by another government or nation.

Power according to Max Weber is the ability to exercise one’s will over others (Weber, 1922). Sociologists point out that, “power affects far more than personal relationships; it shapes larger dynamics like social groups, professional organizations, and governments. Similarly, a government’s power is not necessarily limited to control of its own citizens. A dominant nation, for instance, will often use its clout to influence or support other government or to seize control of other nation states[1].” Power is sought and secured by individuals, companies or nations who wish to demonstrate their “status”; to gain control over resources – physical, geographic or technological; to exercise control over people and the actions of people; to amass wealth or even to build their own self-esteem.

Power is usually gained by force and therefore must be maintained by force. Those who are disempowered by the actions of another person or another state rarely cede what is theirs willingly or graciously. In order to maintain their power over others the “victor” must use force and/or the threat of punishment to ensure submission and obedience.  

In the first century, the chosen method of suppression was crucifixion. Anyone who threatened or was seen to threaten the supremacy of Rome was publicly crucified in the belief that such an horrific death would deter others from challenging the conquerors.

Today’s gospel is all about power[2]– its exercise, illegitimacy and its ultimate futility. At his trial before Pilate, Jesus demonstrates most fully what he has been trying to impress upon the disciples – that power overothers is ephemeral and temporary and that it is based on a false premise – the assumption that the person exercising power is in some way superior to those enslaved to his or her rule. For Jesus true power, legitimate power, power that is lasting, is the opposite of the worldly view. Real power, Jesus preached – (and now demonstrates in his life) – lies in service. Enduring power comes not from lording it over others but from raising them up. Empowering others, giving them a sense of their own worth, draws from them loyalty and respect that cannot be bought and that certainly cannot be enforced. 

Only a person who is secure in themselves and who does not feel the need to prove anything to anyone, can put themselves last and others first, can face false accusations and not feel a need to defend themselves and can endure cruelty and abuse without losing anything of themselves. Such a person can, from their own position of strength (not power), draw out of others their strengths and their gifts and enable others to develop and grow and to reach their full potential. Those who are thereby affirmed and encouraged know themselves to be blessed and enriched. In turn they acknowledge the gift and the one who so generously bestowed it with a deep sense of gratitude, a desire to please and a loyalty that cannot be bought or enforced. 

Power that derives from service need not be enforced, because it is power that is not desired or sought or enforced but bestowed by those who understand how much they owe.

Pilate does not and cannot understand Jesus because Jesus does not conform to the world with which Pilate is familiar. Jesus does not play the games that Pilate plays – he has no need to compete, no desire to prove himself to others, no longing for recognition. In Pilate’s eyes Jesus is a conundrum. He is accused of claiming to be a king, yet he submits to the indignity of arrest and trial and makes no effort to defend himself. Pilate, who is constantly needing to assert himself and his authority is at a loss. In fact, Pilate is powerless. By refusing to be cowed and by refusing to contest the charges brought against him, Jesus deprives Pilate andhis accusers of their power over him.

Today we affirm that Jesus is king – but Jesus is a king like no other king – a king whose power comes from his empowering others, from putting himself last and others first and whose absolute trust in God ensures that he can remain true to himself in the worst of circumstances. 

Would that we all had such confidence in ourselves and such faith in God that we, like Jesus, would have no need to assert ourselves, that we would seek the well-being of others before our own and that we would have the faith to face the worst that life had to offer without complaint and without a struggle. Then, and only then, would there be balance in the world, accord between all peoples and a peace that endured.


[1]https://courses.lumenlearning.com/sociology/chapter/power-and-authority/

[2]As becomes clear in 19:10-11

“Fake News”

November 17, 2018

Pentecost 26 – 2018

Mark 13:1-11

Marian Free

In the name of God who challenges us to be as innocent as doves and as wise as serpents, both trusting and sceptical and always open and expectant. Amen.

Before the 2016 American Presidential election a group of young Macedonians took to Facebook to release sensational ‘news’ stories with headlines such as “Pope Francis Shocks World, Endorses Donald Trump”. Such extraordinary and unlikely “news” went viral which meant that advertisers wanted to cash in. This, apparently, was the goal of the creators of the “news” – not to disrupt the American election but to attract Facebook advertising dollars. As a result of this and similar activity someone coined the expression “fake news”. After the election legitimate news outlets started using the expression and it was not long before Donald Trump and others began to apply the term to any news (or news reporters) whom they did not like, or which threatened their position, their politics or their world view.

Naming something as “fake news” allowed them not only to dismiss information that they found unpalatable, but also to deceive and confuse the consumers of such “news”. Dictators all over the world have adopted the phrase to throw into question reports of their (or their government’s behaviour) – anything that reflects negatively on them – and to discredit the purveyors of such information. 

The advent of social media platforms such as Twitter and Facebook have given us greater access to events as they occur. We can see for ourselves what has happened and form our own opinions. For example, footage and reports of the recent Burke St attack were posted on Social media as the attack was taking place – well before local news channels had time to get reporters to the scene. Social media has allowed us access to information that oppressive governments might otherwise suppress and has given us an insight into what is really happening around the world. Photos taken by people on the spot do not have to face the hurdles of censorship that journalists might have to face.

Social media can give us direct access to the facts, but these platforms have also made it much easier to spread misinformation. Any one, pushing any agenda, can publish their views – no matter how far from the actual truth and however damaging and divisive such views might be. And, because not many of us go to the trouble of verifying the facts or researching the issues, false information can very quickly become the truth for at least a percentage of the population. 

The internet hasmade it much easier and quicker to spread misinformation but “fake news” did not originate with social media. Over the course of history various leaders and individuals, and in recent times traditional news outlets have not been above presenting information in such a way as to ensure support, increase sales or to influence an election result. The church too is not and has not been exempt from this sort of behaviour. At various points in history, it has promoted one or other interpretation of scripture to ensure compliance, to promote causes or to raise income.  

In chapter 13 of Mark’s gospel, of which today’s gospel is a part, Jesus warns believers not to trust in “fake news”. He is responding to a question from the disciples who are keen to know the timing of future events. Jesus does not give them an answer. In fact, he seems to be cautioning them against the desire to know. Even he, Jesus, does not know when the end will come, only that it will come. In the meantime, he is concerned that the disciples should exercise caution and not be deceived by those who falsely claim to be him or by those who insinuate that they know what lies ahead. 

Jesus’ warning is at least as valid now as it was 2000 years ago. So much time has passed that it is easy for us to be complacent. The apocalyptic language in which Jesus’ warning is cast appears over dramatic and unbelievable in our day and age and, if Jesus hasn’t come in the thousands of generations since he walked the earth, it seems very unlikely that he will come in ours. 

As we approach the end of the church year our gospel readings warn us once again that Jesus will come and that his coming will not be at a time of our choosing. Jesus’ warning is as much for us as it was for his disciples. We, like they, are vulnerable to changing circumstances and to those who make exaggerated claims and who promise us the world.

In the in-between time, in the absence of Jesus, we are challenged to protect ourselves against false information and false teaching. We have to exercise caution so that we will not be misled and so that we will not be swayed by those who falsely claim to be Jesus or to know exactly what he would do or say in any given situation. 

Jesus is warning us, as he does his disciples, not to settle for anything less than the real thing – not to be so blinded by our preconceptions or by the images to which we have grown accustomed to that we are unable to tell the difference between Jesus and those who pretend to be him. He is cautioning us not to become so comfortable with our faith and with our lives that we allow ourselves to believe that we have done and are doing all that we can to be faithful followers.

Whether Jesus is returning tomorrow or in hundreds of years’ time, we are all at risk of being misled, of following false trails or of closing our eyes to the truth. If we are to avoid being deceived – by the times, or by those who would claim to have a monopoly on the truth, we must constantly look beyond the surface, open ourselves to the presence of God and take the risk of truly knowing and being known by the Risen Christ.

100th Anniversary – Armistice Day

November 10, 2018

Armistice Day – 2018

Mark 12:38-44

Marian Free

In the name of God who sustains us in our darkest hours. Amen.

On the 24thof April 2015, Tony Abbot told the following story that was reported by The Herald Sun.

“It was on a still spring night a century ago that the ships carrying the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps stole in towards the high coastline of the Gallipoli peninsula.

The first boat landed at a small cove surrounded by steep slopes of thick scrub shortly after four in the morning. Two of the ANZACs who came ashore on April 25, 1915, were Privates Lance and Daryl Blannin-Ferguson. Hailing from Mt Martha, they were two of the first to enlist after the war broke out. They were assigned to the 7th Infantry Battalion, and left Melbourne on the transport ship Hororata on October 19, 1914. Lance was one of more than 750 Australians who were killed on the day of the landing. He was just 21 years old.

His younger brother, Daryl, was killed on May 8, 1915, during the Second Battle of Krithia, aged only 19.

By the time of the evacuation — the only successful part of the campaign — in December 1915, Lance and Daryl were just two of more than 8700 Australians who had died. Their older brother, Lieutenant Acland Blannin-Ferguson, also served on Gallipoli. He survived the campaign and transferred to the British Army in January 1916 before returning to Australia after the war. The Blannin-Ferguson family, like so many families across Australia during the Great War, paid a great price.”

I belong to a generation that has had a rather charmed existence. Both my grandfathers were too young to enlist in the first World War, my father too young for the second and my brother too young for Vietnam. During my lifetime our shores have not been threatened and civilians have not had to endure rationing or the other ordeals associated with a nation at war. I have not had to flee my home with only what I could carry because the enemy were advancing or the bombs raining down.

I have no idea what it is like to farewell a beloved father, brother or husband knowing that I might never see them again. I cannot imagine what it is like to open the door to the person delivering the feared telegram and to know that you will not see your husband, father or brother and that you will not even know where their bodies lie have no grave at which to grieve.

That said, the First World War did cast a shadow over our family life. Lance and Daryl were the older brothers of my paternal grandmother – great uncles whom I never knew, and whose stories were cut short.

The First World War, the Great War, the War to end all Wars was the costliest conflict the world has known. In total, the losses on both sides amounted to nearly 10 million soldiers and 7.7 million civilians  – a total of over 17 million dead (some estimates make the number 19 million). Over 21 million soldiers on both sides were wounded. It was a huge price to pay for a conflict that was driven by nationalism rather than ideals, by greed rather than a deeply held cause. It is much easier to defend our engagement in the second World War than our participation in the first. Yet it is possible to argue that “out of the war came a lesson which transcended the horror and tragedy and the inexcusable folly. It was a lesson about ordinary people – and the lesson was that they were not ordinary. On all sides they were the heroes of that war; not the generals and the politicians but the soldiers and sailors and nurses – those who taught us to endure hardship, to show courage, to be bold as well as resilient, to believe in ourselves, to stick together”[1]. It was, as many have claimed, the time when we identified the characteristics that made/make us uniquely Australian – mateship, youthful confidence, a certain “devil may care” attitude to life (especially in the face of danger or difficulty).

It is common to speak of the sacrifice these young people made for us, but we must be careful not to use the word sacrifice too liberally. The idea of sacrifice is idealised and it allows us to dignify what became a shocking, even wasteful loss of life. The young men (and some young women) who boarded our troop ships had no idea what lay ahead, many were signing up for the adventure of a lifetime. Few, I imagine, enlisted with the goal or ideal of dying for king and country.

Sacrifice can be a dangerous notion as today’s gospel suggests. Too often it involves asking those who are the most vulnerable to give the most – the widow to give her last coins to the Temple treasury, the youth of this land to face a hail of bullets, mustard gas and muddy trenches for what, at times, were futile gains.

There were 61,000 Australian soldiers who never returned home, 152,000 who were wounded and another 119,000 who served overseas. Whether the cause was noble or not, whether they were asked to do the realistic or the impossible, whether the leadership was wise and strategic or unwise and haphazard, all those who served, served willingly and did what was required of them. They faced the horrors and the losses with fortitude, resilience and courage, not to mention a dose of good humour and a determination to stand by one’s mates.

It is true that this day 100 years ago did not provide the world with lasting peace. WWI was not the war to end all wars, but it does remain the most devastating and wide-reaching war with the worst loss of life. We remember today those who did not come home, those who came home maimed and scarred, and those at home whose lives were changed forever by loss or by the changes in those they loved. We do not remember war to glorify it. We remember to remind ourselves how great is the cost of conflict. We remind ourselves of the cost, so that we will think carefully before we enter any future engagements and so that we will do all that is humanly possible to promote reconciliation and to work for peace.

We remember all those who bear the cost on our behalf – soldiers, medics and nurses.

We will remember them.

[1]Paul Keating http://www.awm.gov.au/commemoration/speeches/keating-remembrance-day-1993Ar

With all the saints and angels

November 3, 2018

All Saints – 2018

Marian Free

 In the name of God who surrounded by all the saints of heaven. Amen.

I’d like to begin this morning with two stories. The first was told to me by a priest who, early in his career was a priest in the Diocese of Canberra – a place renowned for bitterly cold winters. As is the case in many Anglican Parishes, there was an early morning mid-week Eucharist. In the middle of winter only one older woman attended. On one particularly bleak morning the priest picked up the courage to ask whether, as she was the sole member of the congregation, the woman might consider that the time had come to abandon the service. “But I’m not alone,” the woman replied. “I am surrounded by the communion of saints.” Week after week, month after month, year after year, this woman faithfully joined her prayers with all those who had gone before her, confident that her worship was never an individual but always a collective effort.

The second story was told to me by another priest reflecting on her childhood experience of being a member of the Anglican communion. This woman grew up in an outer suburb of Sydney – or rather a suburb that was developing on what was then the outskirts of Sydney. The church, which was small in number, met in a cottage on land that would later support a hall and a church building. Though the worshippers were few, the priest of the time would remind them that rather than being an insignificant community they were in fact part of a much larger whole – the worldwide Anglican communion andthe communion of saints. My friend reports that, as a result she has always been conscious that the church community is always far greater than those who gather Sunday by Sunday but consists of Anglican Christians throughout the whole world and all who in every time and place call upon the name of the Lord – the communion of saints past and present.

At our baptism we, or our godparents, affirm that we believe in “one holy, catholic church, the communion of saints, the resurrection of the body and the life everlasting.” And whether we are conscious of it or not, every Sunday those who gather for the Eucharist affirm that their worship joins with the company of heaven. Using language from Isaiah and Revelation we are reminded each week that our prayer and praise is not offered in isolation but is united with that of the heavenly host. The introduction to the Sanctus (“Holy, holy, holy Lord”) reminds us that we praise God and sing with the angels and archangels and with all the company of heaven. The words themselves come directly from Isaiah’s vision of God in the temple. He writes, “Seraphs were in attendance above him; each had six wings, with two they covered their faces, and with two they covered their feet and with two they flew. And one called to another and said: “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts; the whole earth is full of his glory” (Is 6:2,3). These words are repeated in the Book of Revelation in which the author sees winged creatures around the throne singing ceaselessly (6:11f). The same vision sees a vast multitude   of nations before the throne who sing: “Blessing and glory and wisdom and power and might be to our God forever and ever. Amen” words that are echoed in the final acclamation of the Eucharistic Prayer (Rev 7:12). In the Prayer of Thanksgiving we join our voices with all the heavenly host  – angels and archangels, prophets and martyrs and with all who those have been raised from death to life.  We become a part of the ceaseless praise of heaven.

Our worship is not only heavenly, it is corporate.

As we worship, not only do we participate in the continual worship of heaven, we also become part of the endless cycle of praise and prayer that continues day in, day out throughout the world. As the old hymn affirms: “hour by hour fresh lips are making your wondrous doings heard on high[1].” Before we began our worship this morning communities to the east of us had begun their own and before our worship concludes today communities to our west will begin to offer theirs. As the earth makes it way around the sun and as others rise to greet a new day, so prayer and praise will be continuously offered to God this day in almost every nation of the world. Whether we are many or few is irrelevant as we lift our worship in so great a company.

Our worship is not private but communal, not local but global, not earthly but heavenly. Our worship is not an expression of personal piety. It is not a comfortable, cosy gathering with familiar faces. Worship is an action that takes us out of ourselves and beyond ourselves, that transports us beyond our own limitations and unites us to something far, far greater – the world-wide church and the company of heaven.

The Prayer of Confession today will be introduced with the words from Hebrews 12:1: “We are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses.” As we celebrate the feast of All Saints, let us commit to living this reality and to allowing ourselves to be gathered up with all those who have gone before us as we join with them in songs of never-ending praise.

 

 

 

[1]The day thou gavest Lord has ended. John Ellerton, 1826-93.

Staying in the dark or stepping into the light

October 27, 2018

Pentecost 23 – 2018

Mark 10:46-52

Marian Free

In the name of God who refuses to be limited by the confines of the human imagination. Amen.

I have been extraordinarily fortunate in that I have been able to travel. Some time ago I was on a bus tour in northern Italy. As we drew near to the city state of San Marino the tour guide told us enthusiastically that our destination had fantastic views of the ocean. The reality for our group was very different. After we had checked in, my husband and I went for a walk to get a sense of our surroundings. The city streets zigzagged up the hill until we came to the city walls. As we were walking the cloud that had covered the sky during the day decided to settle in. As we returned to the hotel, the mist was so dense and the visibility was so low that it was difficult to discern shapes that were more than a metre in front of us. Just ahead of me my husband looked like a blurry shadow.

At the beginning of Jesus’ journey to Jerusalem he healed a blind man (8:22-26). The account is one of the more interesting of the healing narratives in that Jesus fails – at least at the first attempt. After Jesus put saliva on the man’s eyes and laid hands on him, he asked: “Can you see anything?” The man replied: “I can see people, but they look like trees walking.” Jesus had to lay his hands on the man a second time in order for his sight to be completely restored. Another interesting aspect of this account, (though it is consistent with Mark’s story telling), is that Jesus sends the man home but insists that he doesn’t go into Bethsaida. This is presumably so that he doesn’t spread the word of his healing.

The account of Bartimaeus that we have read today is quite different. Bartimaeus is named whereas the first man was not named and it is Bartimaeus, not his friends, who seeks out Jesus. Of further interest is that Bartimaeus knows who Jesus is. He recognises that Jesus is not just any healer – he is the Son of David, the one expected by the Jews. On this occasion, Jesus heals the man immediately.

Of course, the two accounts are interesting in and of themselves. We know Jesus was able to bring about healing, and these stories provide further evidence of this ability. It is intriguing then to ask why Mark would tell a story that indicated that Jesus was not perfect, that not every healing worked – at least not at the first attempt.

The answer to the puzzle lies in part in Mark’s story telling technique. The two accounts of Jesus’ healing a blind man are a literary device (intercalation or sandwiching) intended not just to report on Jesus’ activity but to reveal a deeper meaning or to emphasise the point that he is making.

Jesus’ journey to Jerusalem is framed by these two stories – that of a man who gradually receives his sight and that of a man who sees at once. In between the two accounts Mark includes the Transfiguration and the three predictions of Jesus’ suffering and death. On the way to Jerusalem, Jesus reveals himself and his future to the disciples and yet they remain confused as to who he is and what his purpose might be. Despite everything that Jesus does and teaches the disciples still do not understand that Jesus is very different from the Christ whom they had expected.

On each of the occasions that Jesus predicts his death, the reaction of the disciples demonstrates their complete lack of understanding. They argue about who is the greatest and they ask for seats at Jesus’ right and Jesus’ left. Peter draws from Jesus his strongest language: “Get behind me Satan”, Jesus says when Peter refuses to accept that Jesus will suffer. During the journey, we also see that the disciples are ineffectual. Jesus has given them the power to heal and yet they are unable to heal the boy with epilepsy,

For reasons unknown to us, the author of Mark reveals Jesus’ identity only gradually. The disciples are painted as foolish and capable of completely misconstruing Jesus’ character and purpose. One explanation for Mark’s secrecy is that the author of the gospel knows that the concept of a suffering Christ is so difficult, so outside anyone’s expectation, that he slowly introduces the idea. The three passion predictions and the disciples’ failure to understand provide the readers with the opportunity to learn from the disciples’ mistakes. By the time that, in Mark, the centurion declares of the crucified Jesus: “Truly this man was the Son of God” the readers have come to a place in which they can make that same affirmation. The suffering, dying Jesus is indeed the Christ sent by God.

Blindness comes in many forms. Those of us who have full use of our sight, may have blind spots in our understanding. Like the disciples we may be so formed by our past, by our family experience, by our education that we are unable to identity our prejudices, our narrow mindset or our limited horizons. We may be blind to the ways in which our views of God and of faith have been moulded. We may hold on to “truths” or to “doctrines” that have long since lost their meaning.

The blind men are healed, but the disciples – at this point in the journey – remain in darkness. What is the darkness that binds us? What are the hopes and expectations that hold us in their thrall? What are the images of God –Earth Maker, Pain Bearer, Life Giver – that we cannot let go?

Jesus longs to open our eyes to new and different possibilities, to new ways of seeing God and new ways of relating to the world.

We can allow ourselves to remain in darkness or we can trust that Jesus will take us where we need to go. We can hold on to outmoded ideas, or we can ask Jesus to open our eyes to new and different experiences. We can hold fast to what we have always believed or we can take a risk that God might be so much more than we could ever think or imagine.

We can remain in the dark or allow ourselves to be drawn into the light.

If only …

October 20, 2018

Pentecost 22 – 2018

Mark 10:35-45

Marian Free

In the name of God, who values us for who we are – not for who we might wish to be. Amen.

Few of us are so secure in ourselves that we do not need affirmation. Not being sufficiently confident in our own abilities, we look to others to confirm that we have value, that our talents are recognised or that we have some sort of authority in and of ourselves. People seek this recognition in both indirect and direct ways. A common expression of the subtle approach can be observed when an obviously talented person demurs when complimented. “Oh, it’s not really that good,” they might say, in response to being told that what they have done is remarkable. Such false humility is often a way of fishing for more recognition. The person in question may well be hoping to be reassured. “Please insist that my work is great,” might be the sub-text of their outward modesty.

A more direct way to attract attention and acclaim is to boast about one’s recent (or past) achievements – “Here’s my latest book, my most recent embroidery, my promotion and so on.” (“Please tell me how clever, how talented I am.” This group of people, while appearing to be more confident in themselves and their abilities than the former, are still hopeful that by sharing their successes they will receive praise for what they have done. Even though their achievements are on display, and they themselves are obviously proud of what they have done, their self-belief is sufficiently shaky that their achievement is as nothing if it is not noticed by others.

Another way in which people seek to bolster their own sense of worth is to exercise power over those who are more vulnerable or less able than themselves. By imposing their will on others – whether through bullying or simply through the force of their personality, they have a (albeit false) sense of superiority. (The exercise of power over others allows them to feel that there are some people who have less value than themselves. In turn their own sense of worth is increased.)

Human beings are complex creatures which means that any or all of us might engage in any one of these behaviours to a greater or lesser extent over the course of our life-times.

Of course, all our posturing – whether it is false modestly, misplaced pride or lording it over others – is a waste of time and energy. Other people can usually see through our outward behaviour to the insecurity that drives it. This means that the hoped for effect of our modesty, our boasting or our “authority” is the opposite from that for which it is designed. Instead of gaining respect, we are diminished in the eyes of others who see what lies behind our outward behaviour.

In today’s gospel, James and John are seeking recognition from Jesus. We only have the bald text, so we don’t really know the reasons behind their request. It is possible that they want reassurance from Jesus that they are special, that they want Jesus to affirm that have something to offer him that the other disciples do not. Perhaps they are feeling insecure – in relation to the future, in respect to their place in Jesus’ opinion or their position in Jesus’ community.

It is no wonder the other disciples are enraged. They too are insecure.( Immediately prior to today’s encounter Peter has effectively asked: “What about us? What is in it for us?” (10:28)) Their confidence in themselves and their position also needs bolstering.

It is clear that neither James and John, nor the other ten, have been paying attention to Jesus. Twice in recent times Jesus has presented a child as the model for discipleship. According to Jesus discipleship is not about power and authority. It has nothing to do with competing with one another for recognition or affirmation and everything to do with childlike trust in God. The kingdom is not something to be claimed, but something to be received. A place in the kingdom is not to be earned. It is something we are given.

On the threshold of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem, the disciples make it blatantly clear that they still fail to understand Jesus’ mission, Jesus’ proclamation and Jesus’ fate. Nothing that Jesus has said has penetrated their thick skulls. This close to Jesus’ suffering and death, they demonstrate by their actions and words that they still think in human terms. They cannot let go of the very human need for affirmation, they cannot believe that Jesus’ choice of them is already an affirmation of their worth and they cannot exhibit that childlike confidence that who and what they are is sufficient in itself.

Over and over again, Jesus has overturns human constructs and asks us to see the world through his eyes – through the eyes of God. Throughout his life, Jesus modelled a complete self-assurance and a self-belief that comes through self-acceptance and the conviction that placing himself completely in the hands of God was the best and healthiest approach to whatever situation he found himself in. Through his submission to death on a cross, Jesus demonstrated that even the most debased and humiliating experience could be turned into a victory.

If only we could accept our own value in God’s eyes. If only we could be secure and assured in ourselves. If only we were so confident of our own worth that we could let go of competitiveness, give up striving for greatness, and be content without recognition – we would be more at peace with the world, and the world itself would be at peace.

If only …….

 

 

God gives – we receive. It’s that simple

October 13, 2018

Pentecost 21 – 2018

Mark 10:17-31

Marian Free

In the name of God who gives us everything and demands nothing in return. Amen.

The importance of life-long learning is that not only does it broaden our minds and our understanding, but that it also it assists in putting misconceptions and falsehoods to bed. Many of us will have been brought up with the “fact” that there was a gate in the wall in Jerusalem through which travellers could pass once the gates had been closed for the evening. This gate, we were told, was substantially smaller than the main city gates and, while sufficient for a person, could only be passed through by a camel if its load had been removed and if the camel itself stooped to its knees. When one really thinks about it, the story has to be apocryphal – can anyone really imagine a camel crawling on its knees, or a weary traveller taking the load off his camel only to replace it once the camel is through the gate? A smart trader would have timed the journey to arrive when the gate was opened in the morning and close to the time that the market was scheduled to open.

There never was such a gate in Jerusalem but the mythology has prevailed. At the same time much ink has been spent in trying to explain Jesus’ statement about the “eye of a needle” – for example, is the word translated as “camel” really meant to be translated as “rope”[1]?

The story of the gate (and the apparent need for it to be explained) goes some way to illustrate the difficulties that many have in coming to terms with the story of the encounter between Jesus and the young man. So little information is provided by the text that we find ourselves adding details that are not there. For example, though we are not told as much, we speculate that the young man was unhappy with his life or that his possessions controlled him. To let ourselves off the hook we make out that Jesus’ direction to “sell what you own” applied only to the situation of the young man. When we focus on the aspect of the young man’s possessions, we miss other details that are significant. Why, when only about 3% of the population live above the poverty line, would the disciples be “perplexed” and ask: “Then who can be saved?” It is an odd response. Surely, they do not think that everyonein the first century Mediterranean is too wealthy to be saved[2]? Is it possible that they (the disciples) think that they won’t be saved?

A further point of interest is Jesus’ reaction to the young man. It is the only occasion in Mark’s gospel that we are told that Jesus loved someone (and that the one so loved turns his back on that love).

Our focus on the needle and the gate demonstrates a certain discomfort around the question of riches and possessions – how rich is too rich? How many possessions are too many? From positions of relative comfort in the Western world we seek to work out how Jesus’ conversation with the young man applies to us and this is important. The gospel has some very clear messages about wealth and our use of our resources.

Without wanting to minimise that aspect of the gospel, I believe that it is important to examine the story of the young man (Mark does not call him ‘rich’) in its context.

We not that immediately before the young man approaches Jesus, Jesus blesses the children and claims that; “whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it”. As Hamm points out, one does not earn an inheritance, one receivesit. It may be then that the young man’s question is misplaced. He asks: “What must I do?” Unlike the children who simply accept and receive what is offered, the young man believes that he must earneternal life.

Perhaps the problem lies here. The issue at the heart of this encounter is one of trust. The young man does not trust in the promises of God, he believes that though he is doing what is required by the law that there is yet more that he must do. This explains why he fails to see (or accept) that Jesus loves him. He does not accept that he is worthy of God’s love. We assume that he turns away because his possessions have a hold on him but it is possible that he simply has no confidence that Jesus loves him and will continue to love him – no matter what he does or does not do.

Our concern with the wealth of the young man allows us to pass over the disciples’ almost inexplicable confusion and Jesus’ response; “With mortals it is impossible, but not for God, with God all things are possible.” Mortals, mere humans can never do enough, be good enough to earn God’s favour – perfection, godliness is impossible. No matter – God dispenses God’s favour and love lavishly and indiscriminately. Our task is to trust in that love and to see where that trust might lead us. Along the way we just may discover that there are all kinds of things (possessions, resentments, insecurities) that we might just be able to dispense with.

God’s love is a given. Just as Jesus loved the young man – as he was – so God loves us, just as we are.

God gives – we receive. It may just be that simple.

 

 

[1]In this instance, Jesus is not being original. We can find similar sayings in other ancient texts (Jewish and otherwise). It simply means that something is unlikely if not impossible.

[2]They are right to be confused. In their culture wealth was associated with honour and status and, most importantly in relation to their question, with divine favour. Wealth was a blessing, a sign of being in a right relationship with God.

God’s trust in us

October 6, 2018

Pentecost 20 – 2018.

Mark 10:2-16

Marian Free

In the name of God who trusts us to make wise and compassionate decisions in a changing world. Amen.

I am applying for a new passport. The last time I applied the choice of gender was simply between male and female. Now there is an opportunity to tick a box “Indeterminate/Intersex/Unspecified”. A lot has changed in ten years. When discussing the School’s report at Synod yesterday one of the comments/questions related to the way in which one of our schools handled the sensitive issue of a child who was ‘transitioning’ from one gender to another (you may have seen reference to this on the news). The person who brought the issue to our attention praised the response of the school and asked whether there was a uniform approach to similar situations across Anglican schools. I have to admit that I was surprised, but pleased, to hear that in January the Heads of Schools will be addressed by an expert in that field.

I had a fairly enlightened upbringing. In an era in which divorce was spoken of in hushed whispers, my parents spoke openly of the few members of the church and among their acquaintances whose marriages came to an end. In the past fifty years or so there have been many changes to our social and cultural landscape that could not have been envisaged 50 years ago or even 15 years ago. We laughed at Mr Humphries in Are you Being Served, but did not imagine that gay marriage would become part of the social fabric, or that gay couples would become natural or adoptive parents. During my childhood the notion that there were people, even children, who felt that they had been born into the wrong body would have been completely novel to a majority of the population.

If the difference between the world of my childhood and the world today is huge, the differences between first century Palestine and 21st century Australia are vast as is the gap between the composition of the Torah and the time of Jesus. It would have been absolutely impossible for the writer of Genesis and Deuteronomy to envisage, let alone write for a time and culture so different from its own. It would have been equally difficult for Jesus to make pronouncements in the first century that would be as relevant now as they were then.

There is great wisdom in having only Ten Commandments – universal principles that govern our life together – as opposed to writing detailed, prescriptive laws that would prevent us from responding to changes and developments in the world around us.

The problem is that the lack of detail forces us to look for overarching principles as we seek to govern our lives together.

Todays’ gospel is more complex than a superficial reading would suggest. It includes two apparently distinct periscopes – one the question of divorce and the second Jesus’ welcome of children despite the disapproval of his disciples, Jesus’ response to the Pharisees and what Jesus says to his disciples. A closer look suggests that the stories were put together in order to emphasise the point that Jesus seems to be making – a view that is reinforced by a consideration of both the immediate and wider context. Earlier, in chapter nine, Jesus has placed a child in the midst of the disciples and said: “whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me.” In first century Palestine children had no legal status and little to no value. Not only is Jesus identifying with those who are vulnerable and powerless, he is elevating them to his position! In today’s gospel Jesus welcomes and blesses the children whom the disciples consider to be beneath his notice. It seems clear that the writer is making a point about Jesus’ concern for those who have no status, no agency and no voice. He is overturning accepted behaviour and claiming another way of seeing the world or of responding to those of no account. This is reinforced by his earlier tirade against disciples who would cause harm to any of these “little ones” saying that; “If any of you put a stumbling block before one of these little ones who believe in me, it would be better for you if a great millstone were hung around your neck and you were thrown into the sea.” Such strong language is indicative of Jesus’ passion for the inclusion and protection of those who have no voice.

Jesus modelled both in his teaching and his actions a concern for those who were marginalised, disempowered and disenfranchised. He showed little respect for the social norms and cultural mores of his time. He demonstrated that compassion, tolerance and understanding overrode convention and tradition and he continued to welcome, include and call those who were reviled and excluded by his fellow countrymen and women. He implied that no law could ever adequately reflect the will of God and that laws, no matter how well intentioned, were a concession to human frailty and could not be held valid for all time and in all places.

We do not have a crystal ball to tell us what the future might throw at us. We cannot guess what we have still to learn about the human condition. What we do know is that God who created us loves us in all our wonderful diversity and complexity, that God in Jesus has demonstrated God’s concern for the vulnerable and dispossessed and that God has faith in us to make decisions that will lead to the inclusion and valuing and healing of all our brothers and sisters.

Doing more harm than good

September 29, 2018

Pentecost 19 – 2018

Mark 9:38-50

Marian Free

In the name of God who desires that we do not behave in ways that would cause others to lose or to question their faith. Amen.

When my children were small the Parish organised a trip to the musical “Godspell”. I was looking forward to sharing with them this laid-back, light-hearted look at the life of Jesus. Imagine my horror when the players began to talk about cutting off hands and feet and tearing out eyes! I hadn’t remembered that being in the movie version. Thankfully the words appear to have gone over my children’s heads, but I was deeply disturbed that they had been exposed to language that associated the Christian faith with such violence. What sort of Saviour demands behaviour such as this? My initial reaction (as someone who was at the beginning of my biblical studies degree) was to believe that these words were an invention of the writer of Luke’s gospel who, for some reason, wanted to terrify members of his community into good behaviour. This hope was quickly shattered when I discovered that the sayings were repeated in all three of the Synoptic gospels suggesting that they originated with Jesus.

Scholars vary greatly in their interpretation of this passage. Yarbo-Collins points to evidence that in the first century the language (hands/feet) was code for the penis and that Jesus was speaking specifically of sins of a sexual nature. Pilch on the other hand believes that a reading of the Bible tells us that humans were believed to consist of three interlocking zones. Hands and feet, he argues, symbolised “purposeful activity”; whereas eyes were integrally related to the heart, the source of information that the heart used to make decisions. Still others suggest that Jesus was using exaggeration to make it clear how important this theme was to him.

We are at somewhat of a disadvantage both because we are not privy to what was going on in Jesus’ head and because we cannot time travel back to the first century. We are also hampered by the way in which the lectionary divides the gospel of Mark to provide us with bite-sized Sunday readings[1].

If we consider the text in its context in Mark, we are reminded that, before John distracted Jesus with the issue of the exorcist, Jesus had placed a child in the midst of the disciples and said: “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me.” In response to Jesus’ announcement that he will suffer, the disciples have begun a conversation about who is the greatest. Jesus reminds them that in the kingdom the least is the greatest and stresses the importance of a child, or child-like faith, within the community. Amazingly, the disciples do not get it. They move from arguing among themselves to being incensed that someone else is moving into their patch (exorcising a demon which, to their simple understanding, should be a task reserved for them)!

Jesus reacts with not a little exasperation – just as the disciples are not called to compete with one another in regard to their position in the community, so they are not to compete with outsiders in regard to doing things in Jesus’ name. Being a part of the community of faith is not about “big noting” oneself at the expense of others, nor is it about preventing others from doing good or about deciding through whom God can work. It is possible that their parochialism and exclusivism may actually do more damage than good.

John’s question serves to allow Jesus to amplify the point that he was making beforethe interruption – about the importance of the “little ones” in the community – those who are more vulnerable, more at risk of harm and less able to understand complex issues. Self-aggrandisement and finger-pointing both have the effect of preventing self-awareness. Worrying about greatness, or being precious about who does what, allows the disciples to ignore or over-look their own shortcomings – short-comings that have the potential to injure or to destroy the faith of members of the community.

In a very strongly-worded repetitive tirade, Jesus demands that the disciples look first to themselves and to their own behaviour. Instead of worrying about someone exorcising a demon (which has the potential for good) they should excise the arrogance and protectionism in their own lives (which has the potential for harm) and which blinds them to their own faults and to the damage they are unknowingly inflicting on others.

Whether or not we accept that Jesus is using code or exaggeration or symbolism in this passage, the sheer violence of the language forces us to accept that for Jesus this is a very serious matter. He will not, cannot, accept behaviour that leads to the loss of faith or to the harming of a member of the community.

The institutional church would do well to take these verses very seriously. In the west the very foundations of many churches have been shaken by the revelation of child sex abuse behind which lay, among other things, a desire to protect the reputation of the institution rather than a care for the ‘little ones”. In Australia, the Royal Commission into Child Sexual Abuse has discovered that, as far as the Anglican Church is concerned, only one third of the victims are prepared to trust the church with their story. In the cases of two thirds of the victims then, the harm inflicted on them means that their faith or their potential to come to faith or to trust in the church has been utterly and permanently destroyed. Our own protectionism and sense of self-importance have led to irreparable harm.

As we seek to offer redress to those who have been harmed by our actions and by our lack of action it is vital that we examine the underlying systemic issues that allowed such violence to be perpetrated and worse that to its being covered up or ignored. Instead of believing that the Royal Commission is the beginning of the end of this story it is essential that we examine our structures and to identify what it is about the culture of our institutions that allowed such harm to not only occur, but to be perpetuated and to change our organisations such that any behaviour, any action or inaction that allows another member to be hurt by what we do is quickly and readily identified and corrected so that the ’little ones’ are not harmed by what we do and do not do, and that in the future our behaviour does not lead to another inquiry into why we behaved so badly and were blind to the damage we inflicted.

[1]The headings in our bibles are also liable to send us off in the wrong direction.