Washing our dirty feet – Maundy Thursday

April 17, 2025

Maundy Thursday – 2025

John 13:1-17, 31b-35

Marian Free

In the name of God who breaks into our world, shatters our comfort zones and insists on intimacy with us. Amen.

I like to hold dinner parties. Inviting friends, poring over recipe books, getting out the good china and silver and then of course the meal itself – good company, good food and good wine. I hope that I am a good host and that I have given careful thought to the meal and that I have considered the tastes and the allergies of my guests. I also hope that I can enable them to feel relaxed and comfortable.

What I have never, ever done, or even considered doing, is leaving the table, getting towel and water and washing the feet of my guests. I cannot imagine anything better designed to cause acute discomfort and embarrassment.  In fact, I am confident that many of my friends might decline future invitations for fear of what socially inappropriate and mortifying behaviour I might indulge in next.

Yet, we read tonight’s gospel and don’t even blink.  None of us sit up in horror and wonder what on earth Jesus is doing by embarrassing his friends and humiliating himself in this way. None of us condemn Jesus for his social faux pas, none of us consider how we would feel if, should we be fortunate enough to sit at table, we found Jesus at our feet – touching us, washing us! No, we save all our criticism for the hapless Peter who is simply trying to save Jesus from further embarrassment. Peter, who understands the social cost to Jesus of his actions. Peter who is behaving, dare I say, in the way that most of us would have behaved. 

In this, possibly the most confronting of Jesus’ actions, Jesus ignores social niceties and the disapprobation of his peers. There is no other way that he can demonstrate his love for and his desire for closeness with his disciples. 

John differs from the other gospel writers in that he records the timing of Jesus’ last meal as the night before Passover, meaning that the meal was probably an informal occasion – Jesus and his disciples.  Whether or not it was a formal occasion, certain protocol would still have been observed – where people sat, who was served first and so on. In some households (or so we believe) servants or slaves would have washed the dirty feet of the guests as they came in. We do not know where this dinner was held but it was certainly not in the home of one of the twelve. They, like Jesus, came from Galilee and this night they are in Jerusalem as they have presumably been for most of the previous week. 

What the customs were in settings other than a home is not clear. In any case, feet have not been washed when the group of friends gathered, and Jesus has waited till mid-meal to wash the feet of his disciples – making it even more shocking, and making it clear that this a symbolic not a cultural act as Jesus goes on to explain. Jesus tells the disciples that he is setting the example for how they are to live together – not as servants and masters but as servants of one another. 

Jesus’ action is also symbolic of intimacy, the intimacy that he desires with his disciples, the intimacy that he seeks with us.  

Jesus’ washing of his disciples’ feet also serves as a metaphor for the incarnation. God, in Jesus, breaks into our world, invades our personal space, claims intimacy with us, ignores our discomfort and insists on our attention. 

Despite that, it is often the case that we try to keep God at arm’s length, either because we see God as aloof and ourselves unworthy of God’s notice OR because we seek to keep God one step removed from the messiness of our lives. We kid ourselves that if we keep a certain amount of distance between ourselves and God that maybe God won’t see our dirty laundry – our dirty feet. BUT of course, God does see, and despite our sense of unworthiness and all our efforts to build barriers, God does want to be intimately involved with our dirty, messy lives, and God, in Jesus kneels at our feet to wash the dirt away.

Tomorrow we come face-to-face with Jesus’ humanity, Jesus’ willingness to be engaged with every part of human existence – including the ugly, and the messy. In facing the cross, Jesus let down all his defences – between his divinity and his humanity, between himself and us. He was vulnerable, weak and human.

Tonight, as we contemplate Jesus’ great love for us, Jesus’ willingness to show that love by becoming one of us and by enduring the cross for us, can we also contemplate letting down our defences and let Jesus into our lives as one who seeks such an intimacy with us that he would place himself at our feet, our dirty feet, take them in his hands and wash them?

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Humble and riding on a donkey – Palm Sunday

April 14, 2025

Palm Sunday – 2025

Luke 22:14 – 23:56, Phil 2:5-11

Marian Free

In the name of God who calls us and empowers us and who shows us our true worth. Amen.

Paul writes: Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus, 

                  who, though he was in the form of God,

                                    did not regard equality with God

                                    as something to be exploited, 

                  but emptied himself,

                                    taking the form of a slave,

                                    being born in human likeness.

                  And being found in human form, 

                                    he humbled himself

                                    and became obedient to the point of death—

                                    even death on a cross.

To conclude from this that Jesus had no agency, or that he allowed himself to be put upon would be a mistake.

Humility can one of the most difficult virtues to grasp and to practice. It requires a great deal of balance. Humility is often mistaken for weakness[1], submission or meekness whereas it is in humility that true strength lies. One of the problems in coming to grips with humility is that it can appear to be contradictory in nature, and it is often easier to define in terms of what it is not rather than what it is. So, for example while humility involves not thinking more highly of oneself than is warranted, it also means not thinking less of oneself than one deserves. Misunderstanding humility leads to false modesty and to self-deprecation, both of which suggest a focus on oneself which leads of pride, the opposite of humility. Worse, false modesty is a denial of the unique gifts and talents bestowed on us by God. 

To be humble is to have a realistic view of oneself – one’s weaknesses and one’s strengths. Humility means having a willingness to learn, from others and from one’s mistakes but it does not mean underestimating or denying our gifts, hiding our light under bushel, being silent in the face of injustice, or allowing ourselves to be treated as a door mat.

The readings for this morning highlight the contradictory nature of humility – or the balance between what appears to be pride and the total trust in and reliance on God. In Isaiah, the speaker boasts of his strengths at the same time as acknowledging that these come from the Lord. The Christ hymn of Philippians celebrates Jesus’ humble self-emptying, and his giving up his divinity to fully inhabit his humanity. Yet Jesus’ behaviour as he enters Jerusalem – his willingness to accept the adulation and praise of the people and their acknowledgement of his kingship, his overturning of the tables in the temple and his confident responses to the challenges of the leaders and teachers of the church suggest a Jesus who is anything but humble in the usual sense of the word. 

In the account of the Passion, Jesus’ insistence that God has given him a kingdom, his allowing his disciples to be armed, his composure when faced with Judas’ betrayal and the secrecy which surrounded his arrest and his refusal to be drawn into a defence of his messiahship indicate his clear understanding of who he is – not a weak submission to fate. Jesus’ insistence that the Son of Man will be seated at the right hand of God, his insistence that the women not feel sorry for him, his offering of forgiveness from the cross and his assurance to the contrite criminal that he would enter Paradise all demonstrate a healthy ego, a quiet strength, and a confidence in his role which could be mistaken for pride.

It is these apparent contradictions that give us a sense of what it truly means to be humble. Jesus’ determination, self-belief and self-awareness are anything but the weakness and mildness that are often associated with humility. Jesus accepted his God-given role, which was to submit to God’s will for his life, but he absolutely refused to deny the gifts that came with the role. He didn’t exploit his divinity, but neither did he deny the strengths associated with it. He allowed the soldiers to demean and torture him, but he maintained a steely resolve to see his task through to the end[2].

Jesus’ humility was born out of a confidence in himself, his clear understanding of his role and his place before God, and a determination to follow the path set before him wherever it led. Jesus’ certainty with regard to his role and his assurance that he was following God’s will, gave him the courage to stay true to himself rather than be tempted to use his godliness to avoid what lay ahead.

As we enter into Holy Week and walk with Jesus to the cross may we have a true sense of our own worth, recognise our strengths and our limitations and know our place in God’s plan for the world and have the courage to be true to our God-given selves.

[1] One of the on-line dictionary definitions suggested that submissiveness, meekness and lowliness are synonyms which surely is misleading. and leads to an understanding of humility as self-abnegation, rather than a true sense of one’s worth.

[2] In the desert Jesus had already demonstrated an ability to withstand temptation to grasp power, or to use the power that he did have to gain followers, wealth and governance of the world.  At any point could have, as he could in the wilderness, laid claim to his godliness – called down angels to fight for him, spoken in his defence (not that that would have worked), shown anger or given in to despair.

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Wild, extravagant love – Mary anoints Jesus

April 7, 2025

Lent 5 – 2025

John 12:1-8

Marian Free

In the name of God who draws us into relationship and who does not pull back when we demonstrate affection wildly, extravagantly and passionately. Amen.

In the 1960’s Harry Harlow carried out a number of experiments in to determine if the mother-child relationship was solely a consequence of the role a mother played in providing food and protection or whether affection and touch played a role.  Of these the most well-known (if unethical) experiment involved removing young monkeys from their mothers just a few hours after birth. The young monkeys were placed in cages with two “mothers” one of which was made of wire and dispensed milk through a baby bottle. The other was made of soft cloth but provided no food. What Harlow discovered was that the monkeys spent a majority of their time clinging to the relative comfort of the cloth mother and went to the wire “mother’ only for food.  In other words, the babies drew more comfort from physical contact than nourishment.  

Thank goodness experiments such as this could not be carried out today but this, and other research demonstrates how important touch is to human development and well-being.  

We don’t need experiments with monkeys to prove this. In recent decades we have come face-to-face with the long-term trauma experienced by those who were removed from their families and placed into orphanages, group homes or foster care in which many experienced abuse and neglect. Many victims of such actions will tell of their continuing inability to feel secure, to form relationships and to trust anyone. 

We live in a society in which touch is carefully regulated – by law, but also by social norms. Touch can be used to demonstrate care, support and intimacy, but it can also be used to abuse, to control and to isolate. Touch is important but it can be misused and misunderstood. The appropriate use of touch differs from country to country and changes over time.  It is only recently (in my lifetime) that it has become widely acceptable for women to shake hands. And it is important to note that while many people welcome a comforting hand on the arm, but there are some who will recoil from physical contact.

While it has proven necessary to legally regulate the use of touch, this in itself has problems. Children and the elderly can often be starved of physical signs of affection. Children who experience neglect at home, can no longer hope for a quick hug from a teacher or sports coach. Older persons in aged care facilities likewise miss out on daily, or even occasional hugs.

Social norms around touch is one of the things that makes today’s reading so extraordinary. In the culture of Jesus’ time and place, the behaviour of women and men was tightly regulated. Women were the property of their father and then their husband. In public a woman would have been forbidden from speaking to a male who was not a member of her family. A woman who physically touched a man to whom she was not related would not only have been seriously castigated, but her behaviour would have sent shock waves through her community. In any other circumstance she would have been labelled as a harlot, as a woman with no morals and no self-respect.

Yet here, as if it were something completely ordinary, we have a scene in which Mary does a number of things which are socially inappropriate – she lets down her hair, she places herself at Jesus’ feet, and using extravagantly costly ointment, proceeds to wipe Jesus’ feet with her hair. It is a wonder that it is only Judas who expresses horror at the events unfolding before him.  In a room which is presumably filled with men, in which Mary’s role would have been to join Martha in serving the meal, Mary breaks not one but several social conventions and Jesus instead of condemning her, commends her!

This scene tells us a great deal about Mary’s relationship with Jesus. She obviously felt a very deep affection for him, but it is perhaps more significant to note that she had complete trust in him. She did not feel that she had to stint in her outpouring of love or to keep a distance (physical or emotional) between them. She had no fear that Jesus would reject her expression of the depth of her care and affection. She was confident not only that he would not recoil from her or from her outpouring of love, but that he would protect her from the censure and negativity that her actions would almost certainly engender.

It is too easy to focus on the extravagance of Mary’s gesture (and the meanness of Judas’ response) and to avoid focussing on an action that might make us feel deeply uncomfortable. But Mary’s action is clearly a description of intimacy, service and abundant and extravagant love, the love of a woman for one whom her sister only days before had identified as the Christ. It is an account of intimacy between a believer and God.

By weeks end, Jesus will have been touched by strange and cruel hands. He will have been arrested, roughly handled, whipped and crucified. During these moments of humiliation and torment, will he have remembered the gentle hands of Mary, the caress of her hair and the smoothness of the ointment? Will her wild and extravagant outpouring of love be one of the things that sustains him?

Mary’s actions throw into sharp relief our own elationship with God. How many of us respond to God’s love for us with such wild, extravagant abandon? How many of us truly believe that all God seeks from us is not – as we would believe – mindless obedience, but a selfless, humbling outpouring of our love for God, a love that reveals our understanding of how much God loves us, a love that is utterly confident that God will accept our expression of love, no matter how wild, extravagant and unconventional it may be? God’s love for us is boundless, and unconditional, yet many of us find it hard to trust that God loves us that much, and equally as hard to love God in kind. Many of us portion out our love, tentatively offering God some but not all of us, anxious perhaps that God may not welcome our gift. 

Mary has no such hesitation but throws herself (literally) at God’s (Jesus’) feet, lavishly and liberally covering them with an ointment worth a year’s wages and wiping up the excess with her own hair.

What proof do we need of God’s love for us? What will it take for us to love God in return?

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A son who brings shame and dishonour and a father who couldn’t care less

March 29, 2025

Lent 4 – 2025

Luke 15:11-32

Marian Free

In the name of God who, on our part endures humiliation and shame in order to show love to and to welcome home the worst of us. Amen.

(You might like to watch the Anglican Archbishop of Brisbane’s one minute reflection on today’s gospel.)

There are two parables (only found in Luke) that have become part of common parlance.  These are known as the parable of the Good Samaritan and the parable of the Prodigal Son. Unfortunately, our over familiarisation with these parables (and with parables in general) is that they have lost their capacity to shock, to pull us up short. In the first instance, Jesus’ parable about the Samaritan is not a call to do good works, but a critique of those – good Christians all– who think that in some way superior to those whom they consider as somehow lesser than themselves. In the second instance, Jesus is challenging the view of those who thought that Jesus should only eat with/associate with those who kept the law and those who observed the niceties of social expectations (Luke 15:1).

In the case of the Prodigal son, as the name suggests, the focus tends to be on the son. When we read the parable, we put ourselves in the place of the son and feel immense gratitude that God overlooks our faults when and if we repent. What we fail to see, is what the parable tells us about the Father – by implication what it tells us about God and Jesus. In fact, scholars today call the parable the forgiving father, because that more accurately represents Jesus’ meaning.

The focus in this parable is not the repentance (if it was repentance) of the son, but on the father, who, ignoring ridicule and having no regard to his position in society, not only indulges the son, but who watches day and night for the son’s return and who runs to greet him on the road. In this parable, Jesus turns the honour/shame culture of the Middle East on its head. 

At that time (and in some places today) the concept of honour/shame was central to all relationships in the Middle East. There were complex protocols governing all human behaviour because honour was a finite resource and if you wanted to increase your own honour you could only do it at the expense of someone else’s honour. In an interaction between people of differing status, there were quite specific codes to follow so that each person, whether of higher or lower status, was not in danger of threatening the honour of the other.  

A loss of honour was equally the loss of respect and status in the community. This is the reason why Herod felt that he had to honour the request of his step daughter to behead John the Baptist. To have failed to do so would have meant that he would have lost face (respect, status) before his guests.  If a person lost their honour, it was lost for good. Had Herod not fulfilled his promise, he might have been able to maintain his power by force, but not through his status in the community. (He would have become an object of ridicule, someone who could not be expected to keep his word.)

In a collective (not individualistic) society, honour was collective. A man’s honour was dependent on the behaviour of his family – so much so that homes were often open to the street to demonstrate that the head of the household had nothing to fear. In this case the actions of the son reflect badly on and diminish the father’s honour.

This is what makes Jesus’ parable of the forgiving father all the more surprising, even shocking to his audience. From beginning to end the story is about a father whose honour is challenged and diminished and about a father who doesn’t care less about honour, his dignity or the regard in which he is held by his neighbours.  He cares only for the well-being of the son.

According to the parable the younger son asks for his share of the inheritance. Not only is this son greedy, selfish and impatient he is, by asking for his inheritance, implying that wished his father dead. Jesus’ audience would have understood that the son’s request was in clear violation of the fourth commandment to honour your father and mother. Further, anyone dependent on making a living from the land would be well aware of the financial burden that paying out the son would put on the father (and the remaining brother). The son has brought shame on the family, possibly impoverished the family and has thought only of himself and his short-term pleasure.

You might say, “yes, but he did come to his senses’. But did he? Was he really repentant or was he still putting his own needs first. Peter Hawkins (among others) observes that there is something quite calculating in the son’s thought process[1]. His speech is even rehearsed: “I will say to him.” There is no mention in the account that he is sorry, only that returning home would be a solution to his state of starvation. 

If anyone has/had any doubt that God was not a God of judgement and condemnation, but a God of compassion and second chances, this parable (and the two that precede it) puts paid to any questions on that score.

The father (probably representing God) has asked nothing of the son but has freely given him what he wanted, released him from all responsibility and let him go. Then, day after day, it appears, he has kept a lookout for this lost boy – forgoing pride and any sense of social respectability (the son has made it clear that he doesn’t want to be part of the family and has brought dishonour on his family name). 

Finally, the father sees the son and, without thought for his personal dignity and paying no regard to the diminished esteem in which he will be held by his neighbours, he runs (runs not walks) to take his son in his arms before son has any opportunity to give his well-thought out and well-rehearsed speech. If that were not enough to indicate to his neighbours his lack of self-respect, he then calls for the best robe, a ring for the finger, sandals for his feet AND a feast with the fatted calf, any one of which would be shocking and incomprehensible to his community.  A member of the family who had brought them into such disrepute and brought such shame upon them, should at the very least be shunned if not severely punished.

By turning upside down the social conventions of the time, Jesus wants his audience to let go of an idea that God only welcomes those self-righteous people who keep the law and set themselves apart from the sinner and tax-collector. Just the opposite, God’s primary concern is for the sheep who has wandered from the fold, the coin that has found its way into a hidden corner, and the son or daughter who has cut themselves off from God’s love. 

God of the lost, giver of second chances – is not a God who wants to condemn and exclude, but a God whose open embrace welcomes all who would turn to him – without question, without recrimination and certainly without judgement.

[1] Christian Century. Sunday’s Coming. 25/3/25

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The word of the Lord? Luke 13:1-9

March 24, 2025

Lent 3 -2025

Luke 13:1-9

Marian Free

In the name of God who alone is perfect and who overlooks our imperfections. Amen.

If you are like me, there will be times during a service, whether it be the Daily Office or the Eucharist, when a reader concludes the lesson with the words: “Hear the Word of the Lord” and you think to yourself, “No!  not really!” Many of our biblical stories, particularly those in the Old Testament are unedifying, and yet, following the rubric, we dutifully affirm them as the word of the Lord. On occasions it might be more truthful to assert: “Here we see an example of human frailty” or even for the reader to say: “This is the word of the Lord???” Have you ever hesitated to respond: “Thanks be to God”?  Are you, for example, anxious that you are affirming the rape of Bathsheba when you thank God for that story? 

While the Old Testament has many stories that seem to tell us more about the nature of humanity than of God, the New Testament has its share of apparently shocking and unedifying passages. Take this morning’s gospel for example. It is difficult to understand why Luke would feel a need to refer to such a violent and gruesome event as the killing of Galileans and mixing their blood with sacrifices. It is even more difficult to understand this account when not even Josephus can point to a specific event to which this might be referring.

Even more confusing is Luke’s change of tone. As Luke has recorded the story Jesus, has until now, been focused on healing and wholeness, but in this passage Jesus’ attitude appears to change from encouraging to threatening, from healing to judging. At first glance Jesus seems to be justifying the bloody death of the Galileans and those crushed by a tower. as a warning to his listeners. “Unless you repent, you will all perish as they did.” Are we all to suffer an unexpected and gruesome fate “unless we repent”?

The reality is just the opposite. Using these examples of unexpected and violent death, Jesus is making it clear that the external circumstances of a person’s life (success or failure, wealth or poverty) and the circumstances of their deaths (violent or peaceful) are not evidence of their sinfulness or not. Indeed, making comparisons is futile, because not only does it pit people against each other, but comparisons of this kind allow one to feel superior, self-righteous and proud which are themselves sin.

In the end, sin, is sin is sin. There is no scale against which sin is measured – a little bit of sin, or a vast quantity of sin. A person has either sinned or they have not, and few, if any could claim to never have sinned. Everyone of us needs to turn our lives toward God and godliness over and over again. It is the honest acknowledgement of who we are that establishes a right relationship with God, not a belief that because we are better than Sarah Jane or Billy Joe, we will get off more lightly or that we will scale an imaginary ladder of righteousness OR that our good deeds are in some way balanced against our bad deeds.

Pilate’s violent suppression of opposition was well-known, and the Galileans had a reputation for being rebellious. We only have a snippet of what was certainly a much longer conversation, but Jesus has clearly discerned that what lies behind the report is a desire on the part of ‘those present’ to be reassured that the suffering of the Galileans was not meaningless but was in some way a consequence of their behaviour – that God allowed it, or worse orchestrated their death because their sin warranted it.

Jesus is challenging a widely held contemporary view that a person’s situation in life was a sign of their righteousness (or lack of it). He is pointing to the reality that life is unpredictable, and that suffering is random – good people are just as prone to die in road accidents as are sinners, good people are just as likely to lose homes and livelihoods in natural disasters as are bad, good and evil people alike may be struck down with life-threatening diseases.  Life’s circumstances are not external signs of God’s approval.

What is more as Jesus goes on to suggest, there is no one who is perfect. Everyone has to repent; everyone is called to turn their hearts and lives over to God. We may smugly think that we do not break the 10 commandments, but that very smugness is a demonstration of a pride that indicates dependence on our self, not on God. We may pat ourselves on the back because we have never told a lie, but that very fact may hide a failure to have been truly honest about how we really feel and think. Sin is usually much more subtle than we give it credit for and whether we own it or not, we are all sinners, in that our lives do not fully reflect the divinity that lies within.

BUT – do not despair. Jesus, having brought his listeners back to reality, tells a parable reminding them of God’s forbearance and of second chances. A non-productive fig tree is taking up space in the garden that could be used for a fruit-bearing tree. It serves no other purpose. It should be cut down and replaced. But no, it is given another chance. The gardener will do all that is possible to ensure that it bears fruit.  Only if, after the tree has been given every opportunity to bear fruit, it remains barren, will it be chopped down.

So it is with us, God is endlessly patient, forever giving us a second chance, always believing in the goodness in us and overlooking the rottenness and God will keep on giving us a second chance unless we absolutely refuse to take advantage of it.

The Season of Lent provides an opportunity for us to acknowledge the frailty of our human nature (which we share with all humanity), to submit ourselves to the gardener’s care and to allow ourselves to be transformed.

********************************

This quote doesn’t quite speak to the point, but it does serve as a reminder that sin can be more dangerous when it is subtle than when it if blatant.

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Of foxes and hens – Luke 13:31-35

March 15, 2025

Lent 2 -2025

Luke 13:31-35

Marian Free

In the name of God who has “yet more light and truth to break forth from God’s word[1].” Amen.

As part of my Lenten discipline, I am reading Healing Wounds: the 2025 Lent Book by Norwegian Bishop and author Erik Varden. Varden is a Trappist monk, so I should not have been surprised that his approach to the study is that of a Roman Catholic.  While I understand his imagery, I find some of it jarring. That said, the book is providing much food for thought. Varden takes as his starting point an ancient poem authored by one Arnulf of Leuven (1200-48), a Cistercian and an author. The poem is a meditation on the cross, specifically on Christ’s body on the cross – his feet, his knees, his hands. Varden suggests that the poem asks the question: “How do I appropriate the passion narrative with due proportion and without presumption?” or “How do I experience Christ’s wounds as the living source of a remedy by which sin is cured and humanity’s wounds, my wounds are healed?”[2]

It is not only Varden’s theology that is somewhat different from my own, but his use of scripture. In particular, given this week’s gospel, I have found my self pondering his reference to Luke 13:34b. “How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!” Varden is commenting on the poet’s reflection on Jesus’ hands – “your sacred hands extended”.  The poet continues: “You show yourself broad, ready to receive both good and bad; attracting the indolent, calling the devout, holding them in your embrace, freely open to all.” Influenced by the language of the poet Varden writes: “He (Jesus) desired to gather Jerusalem’s children ‘together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings.’”

I will leave you to ponder what to make of the image. It may be that you, like Arnulf and Varden, see Christ’s outstretched arms on the cross as a welcoming embrace, and that for you too Jesus’ arms nailed to the cross recall to mind Jesus’ words as he contemplates Jerusalem in today’s gospel.

Varden has, it seems to me, used scripture quite creatively, and this is just one example. That said, it is only in the last few hundred years that we have expected scripture to make literal sense. Until quite recently scholars and preachers alike understood that scripture was to be understood allegorically and that it did not have to be entirely logical or linear.

This historical understanding of scripture comes in handy when we examine today’s gospel which, read as a piece, does not seem to be particularly coherent. (In fact, as I am discovering during Morning Prayer, much of Luke’s gospel reads as a list of unrelated sayings or comments.)

In the five verses that comprise this morning’s gospel there appear to be at least four unconnected themes – warnings, determination, concern and prediction – each of which warrant more than the one or two lines allotted.  There are foxes and hens, Pharisees who warn rather than attack Jesus, a city that kills prophets, a Saviour who is also a mother hen, and a saying that could refer to Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem or to his post-resurrection return. 

In these verses we see Jesus at his most discerning, his most assertive and his most maternal.

Trying to construct a sermon on any one of those themes means neglecting the others. There is a temptation, into which I may have fallen, to speak of foxes and hens, even though there is no direct connection between them in the text. 

Sometimes, I believe, it is important not to try to make literal sense of the text but allow it to speak to us in whatever way is appropriate for the time – ours or the world’s. It is important not to force the text into some form of coherence – to make the Pharisees’ warning relate to Jesus’ passionate outburst of love, to conflate Jesus’ discussion with the Pharisees with his reflection on Jerusalem.  Likewise, as familiar and heart-warming as they are, we should not take Jesus’ words about gathering the chicks out of context.

It is important to try to make sense of our scriptures, to place them in their context, and to understand the author’s literary skills and intention.  There are times though when sitting with the complexities and contradictions that we find in scripture, accepting that no amount of research, no amount of manipulation of the text will translate into something that makes absolute sense is just what is needed. 

Sometimes, as I have certainly said before, there seems to be some wisdom, if not intention here – the very incoherence of a text serves a purpose. Texts that seem to make little sense serve as a warning that we are not to rely on an earthly capacity for understanding, or to believe that earthly values are a reflection of heavenly values. Complex, contradictory scriptures force us to accept that we can never truly know the mind of God and that we must let go of our desire for certainty, simply sit with the text, and retain an openness to the movement of the Spirit – in the text, in ourselves and in others.

In the words of the hymn:

We limit not the truth of God

to our poor reach of mind,

by notion of our day and sect,

crude, partial and confined:

no let a new and better hope

within our hearts be stirred:

                  the Lord has yet more truth and life

to break forth from his word

O Father, Son, and Spirit, send

us increase from above;

enlarge expand all living souls

to comprehend your love;

and make us all go on to know

 with nobler power conferred:

                  that you have yet more light and truth

to break forth from your word.[3]

Sometimes all we can do is to let the words wash over us and make such sense as they will.

[1] George Rawson, hymn writer,1807-89.

[2] Varden,  p20. The book is available on Kindle as well as in hard copy.

[3] George Rawson, Togetther in Song, 453.

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Lent 1 – Not what we can do for God but what God can do for us.

March 8, 2025

Lent 1 – 2025

Luke 4:1-13

Marian Free

In the name of God, who asks only that we seek and serve God alone. Amen.

Over the past week the following meme has been posted several times on Facebook.

“This Lent keep the chocolate and give up bigotry, judgement, legalism and hatred in all forms.”

I find it helpful as it serves as a reminder that Lent is less about willpower and more about facing our humanity in all its ugliness. If, for example, we spend the entirety of Lent battling to go without chocolate, wine or some other pleasure, and emerge triumphant at Easter because we have resisted the temptation to indulge in the forbidden treat, but if in the process we have in essence remained unchanged, then we have missed the point. Worse, in giving up something superficial like chocolate, we have only made Lent self-focussed, rather than God focussed. In fact, rather than learning how much we need to depend on God, we have, by our dependence on willpower, demonstrated that we don’t need God – we can overcome temptation all on our own! Instead of learning to trust in God, all we have done is proven how little we trust in God!

It is useful to look at Jesus’ time in the wilderness which mirrors that of the Israelites who, having been delivered by God from their Egyptian oppressors spent 40 years in the wilderness. Both the Israelites and Jesus are named as God’s Son before they are thrust into the wilderness, but whereas the desert experience only revealed the Israelites complete lack of faith in God, Jesus time in the wilderness demonstrated his complete and utter trust – this despite facing many of the same obstacles as faced by the Israelites – testing in the form of hunger, thirst, and the apparent absence of God. Whereas the Israelites complained, put God to the test and worshipped other gods, Jesus steadfastly refuses to do anything that would compromise his integrity, demonstrate self-reliance or evidence a lack of trust in God. 

Each of the tests that Jesus faces mirrors one that the Israelites faced (and failed). 

For generations the Israelites had suffered increasing privations under the Egyptians. They had been enslaved, made to work increasingly hard and the latest Pharoah had demanded that their male children be killed at birth. Finally, God intervened to set them free. God not only delivered them from the hands of Pharoah, God also ensured that they did not leave Egypt empty-handed. (They were able to take with them all their flocks (Exodus 12:38) and they left enriched having demanded and received from their neighbours silver and gold jewellery and clothes (Exodus 12:35,36). Yet despite all the evidence that their escape from Egypt was God’s doing (plagues, crossing of the Red Sea), the people had barely left their oppressors behind when they began to complain.  First it was the lack water, then, within two months of leaving Egypt they were complaining again: “If only we had died by the hand of the LORD in the land of Egypt, when we sat by the fleshpots and ate our fill of bread; for you have brought us out into this wilderness to kill this whole assembly with hunger.” (Exodus 16:3)

In response, God provided the manna and the quail. Deuteronomy interprets this 

as a lesson that will help them to understand “that one does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of the Lord” (8;3).

Later when water is short, the Israelites again complain: “Why did you bring us out of Egypt, to kill us and our children and livestock with thirst?” and Moses accuses them of putting God to the test (Exodus 17:2,3). This event is referred to in Deuteronomy which teaches: “Do not put the LORD your God to the test, as you tested him at Massah” (6:16).

Worst of all, when Moses was communing with God on Mount Sinai, the Israelites felt abandoned – by him, but most of all by God.  They gathered all their gold, fashioned a golden calf – a god that was no god – and worshipped it – breaking the first and most significant commandment. When the Israelites prepare to enter the promised land Moses warns them: “you shall not bow down to their gods, or worship them. You shall worship the LORD your God, and I will bless your bread and your water; and I will take sickness away from among you (6:24, 13).

Both the Israelites and Jesus face other tests (Luke 4:13), but these are the those that the evangelists see fit to record. Jesus responds: One shall not live by bread alone, worship the Lord your God and serve only him, and do not put the Lord your God to the test. By his reactions to the tests he faced in the desert, Jesus models that there is a different way to respond to testing situations, a way that demonstrates confidence in God and an understanding that it is through trust in God, not trust in humankind or in one’s own power that one finds true strength.

The season of Lent is not an opportunity to test our own strength, but a time to test the strength of our confidence in God, to show our willingness to let God direct our way and to determine not to be governed by possessions, by a desire for comfort or by a need for security. 

If we give something during Lent it is to see how we react when we are denied some of life’s comforts, to observe our weaknesses and to learn to trust that God will see us through.

Perhaps the most important thing to note is that Jesus’ time in the wilderness is not of his own choosing. He is led into the wilderness by the Holy Spirit. We observe the season of Lent as a reminder of Jesus’ experience, but that does not mean that our practice at this time should be of our choosing, but rather it should be our response to the prompting of the Holy Spirit revealing what we should give up, what aspects of our behaviour most need examining and what aspects of our relationship with God most need improving.

Perhaps we should emerge at Easter – not stronger but weaker, more vulnerable, more aware of our shortcomings, and more willing to rely on God (not ourselves) to put things right.  

We should ask ourselves is our Lenten practice about what we can do for God or what God can do for us?

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Ash Wednesday

March 5, 2025

Ash Wednesday

On Sunday during the liturgy[1], we burnt the palm crosses given out last year on Palm Sunday. The ashes from these crosses will form the ash with which church goers will be marked today.  The wording for this ritual was so moving that I thought it worth sharing.

The Burning of the Palm Crosses

Let us give thanks and worship God with reverence and awe

for our God is a consuming fire.

On Palm Sunday last year we carried these crosses of palm as a sign of the victory of

Jesus. They were new and green and fresh. They were a sign to us of all the good and

holy within us that responds to God’s call in our lives.

But they are made in the form of the cross.

They reminded us that like the first disciples we, too, fail to live into the truth of Jesus

and must humbly wait for God’s grace to bring us home. We have kept them

throughout this year. Now we give them up to the fire.

The palm crosses are lit.

The ashes call to mind endings. The end of unclear thinking, insecure faith, wavering

commitment and the end of the struggle between death and life.

Loving God,

bless us as we prepare to look deeply within ourselves

through the coming season of Lent.

Let these ashes be for us a way to journey more deeply into Christ. Amen.

Two things stood out for me – the newness and freshness of the crosses when we received them last year contrasted with the endings that the ashes call to mind.

The words with which we are marked with ash: “Dust you are and to dust you will return” are both powerful and humbling words. Not only do they recall our creation from the earth, but they serve as a reminder of our insignificance in the broader scheme of things. “Dust you are.” In the context of the broader community, the nations, the world, the galaxy, the universe, we are as a speck of dust – small and irrelevant except in the very small circle in which we exist. What is more, no matter what we achieve in this lifetime – fame, fortune, influence, it will come to an end.  

Knowing this put all worries, hurts, ambitions, and dreams into perspective – in the wider scheme of things they are trivial. For most of us, all our striving and all our holding on will, at the end, come to nothing. 

Lent is a wonderful time to put things into perspective, to reflect on beginnings and endings and to recalibrate our relationship with God, with each other and with creation.

May you have a holy and fruitful Lenten season.

[1] St Andrew’s Indooroopilly.

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Are you awake? Transfiguration

March 1, 2025

Transfiguration – 2025

Luke 9:28-38

Marian Free

In the name of God who reveals Godself to us in many and varied ways. Amen.

I am sure that you, like me, heard this morning’s gospel in a stereotypical way – after all, we are all familiar with the story of Jesus’ transfiguration. We know that Jesus went up the mountain with Peter, John and James, that Jesus spoke with Elijah and Moses, that he was transfigured, that God spoke from the cloud using language much like that that was used at Jesus’ baptism, that Peter offered to build three tents, and that Jesus told them to say nothing. 

Our familiarity with the story of the Transfiguration can make us lazy readers/listeners. We see and hear what we expect to see and hear which means that we often miss the subtle but significant differences in Luke’s version of the story. For example, if you look again you will notice that Luke does not even use the language of transfiguration (from the Greek word metamorphosis). According to Luke it is only Jesus’ face that was changed. Later we discover that the disciples saw his glory, but there is nothing to suggest he underwent a complete transformation. If we had access only to Luke’s gospel, we would interpret this event as something like the revealing of Jesus’ true nature to his inner circle.  This suggests that Luke felt that Jesus had no need to be changed or transfigured, but that the disciples’ needed to see Jesus for who he really was before they continued on their journey.

There are a number of other curious differences in Luke’s retelling of this event. 

Luke tells us why Jesus went up the mountain – to pray. Prayer is an integral aspect of Jesus’ ministry in Luke.  Jesus prays before all the major events of his ministry. It is in the context of prayer, communion with God, that Jesus’ face is changed, and the disciples see his glory. Only Luke tells us the content of the discussion between Jesus, Moses and Elijah. They are talking about “Jesus’ departure, which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem.” Specifically, the topic of conversation is Jesus’ departure or death, the high point or fulfillment of his mission – something that Jesus has already revealed to the disciples, but which probably needed reinforcing.

Some context is important here. The event on the mountain top occurs at a pivotal point in Luke’s account of Jesus’ life.  In the previous verses we have learnt that Jesus has equipped the twelve with power over demons and the ability to cure diseases and that he has sent them out to proclaim the kingdom – in other words Jesus has begun the process of handing over his ministry to the disciples. What is more, Jesus’ true identity has been revealed to the disciples when Peter declared: “You are the Christ”. Jesus has followed up Peter’s statement by announcing for the first time that he, Jesus, is to die and rise again. Then, in Luke 9:52 we read that Jesus set his face towards Jerusalem – the place where death awaits him. The strong language “set his face” suggests that going to Jerusalem was for Jesus a matter of will – he knew what lay before him, but he knew too that to fulfil his purpose he had to go. 

We can see then Jesus has begun to prepare his disciples for their future ministry, he has revealed his true nature and told the disciples what the future holds. From now on, his teaching which previously had been addressed to everyone will be focused on his disciples. 

It is in this context of transition – leaving Galilee and going to Jerusalem, teaching everyone and teaching the disciples – that Luke places his account of Jesus’ on the mountain top. Jesus goes up the mountain to pray.  While he is praying Jesus’ face is changed and Elijah and Moses, icons of Israel’s past appear and talk to Jesus about what is to happen – whether they give him advice or courage, we will never know.

While all this is happening, Peter, John and James – Jesus’ inner circle – are “weighed down with or heavy with sleep”. The expression is ambiguous. It is not clear if the disciples are struggling to keep awake or if they are groggy because they have woken from sleep.  Either way, these privileged three appear to have nearly missed seeing the change in Jesus’ face, eavesdropping on the conversation with Elijah and Moses, observing his glory and hearing the voice from the cloud. 

What a close call! How much poorer would our understanding of Jesus’ life and ministry have been had the disciples drifted off!

We miss so much if we are not paying attention to what we hear and read. We fail to notice the subtle ways in which the gospel writers put their own slant on the Jesus’ story.  We blend the four gospel accounts into one and miss seeing details that are intended to enrich our understanding or to challenge our complacency. We overlook the very obvious flaws in Jesus’ followers, even those who are closest to him. We soften the edges of Jesus’ challenging and confrontational teachings.

What else do we miss? Are we like the disciples so “weighed down” with sleepiness or complacency that important revelations of God come and go while our attention is elsewhere?

The sleepiness of the Peter, John and James is a warning to us all. They so nearly missed out on one of the most extraordinary events of Jesus’ ministry because, despite being specially chosen by Jesus for this one event, instead of being alert and expectant, they allowed their focus to slip. 

The sleepiness of Peter, John and James confronts us with our own lack of attention, our own failure to believe that the out of the ordinary can occur at any time and in any place – whether we are at prayer or engaged in the business of our day, whether we are alone on a mountain top or in the midst of a crowd of people, whether we are wide awake or drifting off to sleep. 

As we enter the season of Lent, it is timely to ask ourselves: What are the distractions that prevent us from being aware of God’s presence – busyness, ambition, complacency, tiredness, or anxiety. 

Let us pray that our Lenten practice will increase our awareness of Gods’ presence in our lives and of the ways in which we allow ourselves to be “weighed down” by distractions.  

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Love your enemies?

February 22, 2025

Epiphany 7 -2025

Luke 6:27-38

Marian Free

In the name of God who overlooks our shortcomings, and who does not exact retribution. Amen. 

On Valentine’s Day I watched the Italian movie “Burning hearts” though a more literal translation would be “Eating the heart.”   It was a very violent movie which, for some reason my Italian teacher thought suited a supposedly romantic day.  Based on actual events, the movie relates the story of rivalry between three clans in the region of Puglia.  The film begins with the gruesome slaughter of four members of the Malatesta. family. The youngest son Michele, who has escaped death because he has been in the pen with the goats, makes it his mission to avenge the lives of his parents and siblings.  As soon as he is old enough, he kills five men of the Camporeale clan. 

After this, some sort of peace deal is worked out between the two families. Instead of meeting violence with violence, recompense was to be discussed and accepted in exchange for the offense. A tenuous peace seems to have ensued – that is until the son of the Malatesta family, Andrea falls in love with the Marilena, the wife of the Camporeale boss (who is on the run). The two throw caution to the wind and, ignoring all pleas to end their relationships, run away together.. 

A third clan – the Montanari – try to make a deal between the Malatesta and Camporeale – 150 cattle for the death of Michele Malatesta.  However, the deal is not kept and. Michele, Andrea’s father is killed – presumably by the Camporeale.

Andrea returns for his father’s funeral – with Marilena who is pregnant with his child. Marilena is tolerated by the Malatesta family because the child is of their blood. Michele’s widow, Andrea’s mother, is determined that her eldest son and Michele’s heir should avenge her husband’s death.  At first reluctant, Andrea gets a taste for revenge and begins to eliminate all the male members of the Camporeale family. As a consequence of the violence his brother is lured into a trap (set for him) and killed.

At the end of the movie, Marilena manages to escape, and Andrea realises that it was the Montanari, not the Camporeale who murdered his father. His murderous violence was misdirected and now the Montanari – having deceived him into destroying their rivals – can assume dominance in the area. 

This movie clearly illustrates that violence doesn’t end violence. Hatred does not end hatred.  It is only by meeting violence with peace and hatred with love that the cycle is broken.  

We only have to look at the current situation in the Middle East to understand that retribution and revenge are not the answer to harm done. As long as both sides – the Israelis and the Palestinians – continue to demand recompense for the violence committed against them, more lives will be lost, and more children (on both sides) will grow up with hatred in their hearts. The only way to break this cycle is for one side or the other to desire peace more than “justice”, to desire living in harmony rather than living in conflict.

That is not to say that perpetrators of violence should not be held accountable for their actions, or. that there should not be consequences for horrific acts against another – whether on the domestic, local, or international front. Anti-social behaviour needs to be named and called out – love that ignores wrong-doing is not love but some form of indulgence. Love that doesn’t address the underlying behaviour may encourage, not stop it. Peace that insists that one side capitulate everything, is not a peace that will last. Peace that disempowers one side will only lead to resentment.

When in today’s gospel, Jesus insists that his followers “love their enemies” he is speaking a hard truth that few have been able to live out, because few can recognise the power and the strength behind his words. Jesus himself lived into this teaching – not by being weak and spineless, but by refusing give to others the power to determine his response to their behaviour. His apparent submission to the leaders of the Jews, to Pilate, to the cross was in fact an act of resistance. In allowing his “enemies” to hand him over, to condemn him to death and to crucify him, Jesus stripped them of their power – their power to intimidate him, their power to make him capitulate, their power to bend his will to theirs. Jesus claims power over his life by refusing to give that power to others. He will not allow himself to be dominated by the fears and anxieties of his enemies. 

This does not mean that Jesus takes abuse lying down.  Over and again he confronts the leaders of the Jews. He names the ways in which they abuse their power, take advantage of others and twist the law to their advantage. 

True love is not sentimental and weak. True love sees the person behind the behaviour and wants the best for that person – even if sometimes that person must be disciplined for what they have done. True love does not love for what one can get in return – a feeling of self-satisfaction, or of worthiness. True love is freely given from a place of well-being not of need. True love does not judge or condemn because true love recognises and accepts the motivation behind a behaviour (and forgives the perpetrator, while not overlooking the misdemeanour).

Jesus’ teaching today is difficult and demanding. For many of us it is counter-intuitive – we want to love, but we want people to pay for what they have done. Love that is undeserved, seems to many of us to be unconceivable – but surely that is the exactly the love that Jesus offers us. After all, what could the best among us have done to “earn” Jesus’ death on the cross?   

Love that is given freely and without judgement comes back to bless us in more ways and in greater abundance than we could ever conceive: “A good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, will be put into your lap; for the measure you give will be the measure you get back.”  

Yes, it is a difficult teaching but. the rewards for us – and more importantly for. the world – are more than worth the effort of trying to apply it.

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