Abundance not sacrifice – Lent is God’s gift to us, our gift to ourselves

March 12, 2016

Lent 5 – 2016

John 12:1-8

Marian Free

In the name of God whose outpouring of love is more than we can ever imagine.  Amen.

It is just possible that I am turning into a grumpy old woman or it may be that I am by nature someone who tends to take the world and faith seriously. Whatever it is, I have found myself being irritated or disappointed by the attitude that some people (particularly via social media) have taken towards Lent. There have been posts on Facebook by people bemoaning the fact that they are saying “goodbye” to beer or wine or some other treat for forty days as if Lent is a burden imposed upon them rather than something taken up freely. Other people have posted cartoons, which again make it seem that Lent is at worst some interminable punishment or at best a trial that has to be endured. To be fair, I am sure that most of the posts are from people who do take Lent seriously and who assume that their friends will understand that they are simply making light of it not expressing how they really feel.

It does concern me however that the negative messages about Lent, give the wrong idea – not only about the practice of Lent but about the Christian faith – to the non-Christians who hear or read them. Those who are not in on the secret could be forgiven for thinking that Lent is a period of misery expected by an exacting and demanding God instead of seeing it as a time of self-imposed abstinence that will liberate us to know more fully an indulgent and affirming deity.

The readings for the first four weeks of Lent have encouraged us to turn our lives around and to remove the barriers that separate us from the overwhelming abundance of God’s love. John the Baptist urged us to “repent” (literally – turn around), the parable of the fig tree reminded us that we share with all of humanity its frailty and imperfections, Jesus’ lament over Jerusalem gave us an insight into the sorrow experienced by God because of our refusal to accept God’s love and the parable of the two sons demonstrated God’s utter refusal to exclude us from that love and at the same time reminded us of the ways in which we place ourselves beyond the reach of God’s affection.

Today, as we approach the end of our forty days, we are confronted by a description of an act of intimacy, extravagance and tenderness – not of God towards us, but of Mary towards God. At first the gospel seems out of place an action of such beauty and lavishness seems to conflict with a time of fasting and self-denial.  But today’s gospel is a perfect fit – not only with the gospel readings that have preceded it, but also with the central purpose of Lent. In conjunction with the gospels of the past four weeks, today’s gospel sums up what Lent is about and what we can hope to achieve.

We discover, if we plumb the lectionary offerings, that Lent is primarily about ensuring that we are in the best condition possible to accept God’s love for us. We allow ourselves a period of prayer and self-examination to reflect on our lives and in particular to consider whether or not we are truly open to the love that God is constantly pouring out on us. Fasting and self-denial are not intended to be a way of  “mortifying” or denying the flesh” but a means of identifying and ridding ourselves of the obstacles that we place between ourselves and God – obstacles which are just as likely to be emotional and psychological as they are to be physical.

When we strip ourselves bare, when we purge ourselves of all the things that prevent us from experiencing the fullness of God’s love, we will be simply overwhelmed by the outpouring God’s grace and the generosity and the bounty of God’s affection. We will be astounded that God could love us so much and we will be acutely aware of our little we deserve that love.

Lent is a lesson of love, God’s extravagant, unconditional and boundless love, which is ours for the taking. The disciplines of Lent are not intended to weigh us down, but to prepare us to receive God’s love without question and without hesitation.

This is where Mary fits in. Mary, the sister of Lazarus, responds to God’s love with an extravagance that matches Jesus’ own. Mary is the perfect example of someone who has allowed herself to be stripped bare, who has opened herself completely and unreservedly to God’s scrutiny and in so doing has discovered not judgement but compassion, not condemnation but understanding, not rejection, but complete and total acceptance. Mary responds in the only way possible – with a demonstration of her deep and humble gratitude.

Even by today’s standards, Mary’s actions open her to disapproval – the loose hair, the public and intimate display of affection, the extravagance and waste. Yet for Mary there is no other response that will adequately express her reaction to God’s love for her. Mary throws caution, propriety and decorum to the wind. She has no thought of what others might think of her only that she must express her own love in a way that matches her experience of the love of God.

Lent then, is not so much about sacrifice as it is about abundance, not so much about self-denial as it is about self-acceptance, not so much about being unable to measure up, but about realizing that there is nothing against which to measure ourselves. Lent is less about sacrifice and more about abundance – about discovering the abundance that emanates from God and not from the world. Lent is less about will power and more about letting go – for it is only when we truly let go that we are able open ourselves to the wealth that is ours for the taking.

During Lent we identify and shed the obstacles that separate us from the love of God – a love so overwhelmingly abundant that it calls for a response that is extravagant, intimate and tender a response like that of Mary sister of Lazarus.

Forty days is not much to ask – in fact it almost seems far too little to give when we gain so much in return.

Not one but two sons

March 5, 2016

Lent 4 – 2016

Luke 15:11-32

Marian Free

In the name of God who longs for us to lower our guard, let go of our pride and allow ourselves to be completely and unconditionally love. Amen.

When many of us were growing up, we knew today’s parable as “The Prodigal Son” – the story of the wastrel who took his share of his inheritance before his father had even died, spent it all, and yet was welcomed home in a show of extravagant love. Over the past few years I have become used to calling the parable “The Forgiving Father” because it has been argued that the point being made was more about the reaction of the father than it was about the action of the returning son. My reading this time around has opened my eyes to another, and to my mind, more applicable title – “The parable of two sons”.

This much loved parable is so popular that the story has passed into popular culture and the expression, “prodigal son” is almost as well known as a “Good Samaritan”. Popular usage and interpretation often makes us blind to the role of the older son, who gets mentioned as an example of poor sportsmanship or else is ignored altogether. A close examination, or even a re-reading of the parable without the blinkers of past experience and pre-conceptions makes it very clear that this is the “parable of two sons”. The clue, as we might expect is the first sentence: “There was a man who had two sons.” There is no need for Jesus to mention the older brother unless he is essential to the story. As we will discover, the older brother is not simply an addition at the end to be taken or left, he is an integral part of the point that Jesus is making.

A fundamental aspect of first century culture is that of honour and shame. A person’s (read man’s) position in society was entirely dependent on what others thought of him and there was a strict code that governed the interaction of equals and that between those who were not of equal status. Honour was ascribed (a matter of birth) or acquired (bestowed by virtue of some act such as service to the Emperor that a person performed.) Whether ascribed or acquired, honour had to be carefully guarded if a person was to maintain their position in the court of public opinion.

The beheading of John the Baptist fits into this picture of honour and shame. Having made a promise in front of his guests, Herod would have been publically shamed if he hadn’t given his stepdaughter what she requested. Being deposed from the best place at a dinner party (Luke 14:7) would be equally embarrassing for a person who had taken the higher place. When Jesus argued with and confronted the Pharisees and scribes, Jesus was in effect, challenging their honour. When he bested them in debate they were publically humiliated – unable to maintain their position of authority in the eyes of the crowds. In order to restore their honour, they had to find ways to expose and humiliate Jesus.

Associated with the culture of honour and shame is that of the collective personality. In our individualistic world, it is difficult for us to understand that a person in the first century did not see themselves apart from their family and the community in which they lived. The action of one member of the family impacted positively or negatively on the family as a whole, which was why it was so important for the head of a household to have firm control over his family and their public and private behaviour[1].

All of which brings us back to the two sons. By asking for his inheritance, the younger son brings the family into disrepute by, in effect, wishing that his father were dead. Then, having taken his share of the inheritance, he brings further shame on the family by squandering the money, and by working not only for a Gentile, but as a swineherd. Despite all this and against all cultural norms and expectations, the father longs for his son’s return, watching and waiting for him to come home. When he sees the son, he casts all dignity to the wind as he does the unthinkable and runs to embrace him. Jesus’ listeners would have been astounded, that the father could endure so much shame and then further humiliate himself by doing the unimaginable – running down the road in full view of everyone.

During the absence of the younger son, the respectable, rule-abiding son has remained at home, doing what was expected and creating no waves. It seems however that his motivation has been, to some extent, self-seeking. He is not doing the right thing out of love and respect for his father, but because he expects to be noticed and to have his efforts rewarded. He has failed to see and understand that he already has his father’s love and attention. Instead he has got it into his head that he has to work for it. As long as our focus is on the younger son, we fail to see that the older son dishonours his father as much as his brother has. We fail to see that the father endures a similar amount of public shame in his attempt to convince the elder son of his love. The older son’s refusal to go into the house and join the party shows a lack of respect for his father and exposes the father to disgrace in front of the servants and neighbours.

We are not told whether the older son, like the younger comes to his senses. The story is left up in the air for the listener to answer. To understand this we have to go back to the beginning of the chapter and the statement that introduces Jesus’ three parables of the lost – the lost sheep, the lost coin and the lost sons. Luke tells us that: the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, “This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.” The parable is left up in the air to allow Jesus’ listeners to form their own opinion, to allow them to consider whether or not, they will allow themselves to be gathered into God’s love alongside the tax collectors and sinners.

The gospels demonstrate what to many is an unpalatable truth – that God loves everyone unconditionally and that salvation is dependent more on what God does for us than on what we do for God. The failure of the older son, is that he is unable to accept and to value the love that his father offers. As a consequence locks himself out of the benefits that are his for the asking. He cannot rejoice in his brother’s return, because he has not allowed himself to be loved.

God loves us. It remains for us to accept that we are loved. When we know that we are loved, we cannot help but allow others to share in that love.

(See last weeks sermon to see how much God agonises over our refusal to be loved.)

[1] We see a form of this in the honour killings that so horrify us in the Western world. A father or brother feels that the only way to restore the family honour is to kill the daughter who by falling in love with the wrong person has brought shame on the family as a whole.

The bitter agony of God

February 27, 2016

 Lent 3 – 2016
 Luke 13:31-35

                                                                                                                                                     Marian Free

In the name of God who longs to gather us in, if only we would allow ourselves to be so loved. Amen.

Today is the last Sunday in four weeks of Long Service Leave – which explains for any who have been paying attention –why last week’s sermon used the gospel for this week and vice versa. In the no man’s land of leave, it was easier to believe that the lectionary would follow the order of the gospel not vice versa! In retrospect there is something liberating in being logical rather than rigidly following the Lectionary. If Luke thinks that the lament comes after the cursing of the fig tree, it makes sense to keep it there. But enough with explanations. Today’s gospel is even more confusing than last week’s unless it is read with the background in mind.

Chapter 13 falls almost in the middle of what has been called Luke’s Travel Narrative (9:51-19:58). In line with Matthew and Mark, Luke organises his gospel geographically – Jesus’ time in and around Galilee, the journey to Jerusalem and Jerusalem. Scholars argue that the author of Luke uses the journey to Jerusalem to teach the disciples and it is true that much of the material that Matthew uses elsewhere is placed here by Luke. It is also true that there are a number of references to the journey in this section (9:51; 13:22; 17:11; 19:11,28). However there is no actual narrative, nothing that looks like a travelogue. What is more, this long section of Luke’s Gospel appears to have very little internal order, there is very little that holds it together. In this repect Luke is very different from Matthew who organises much of the same material into five (or six) distinct blocks or sermons.

As Luke tells it, the journey from Galilee to Jerusalem is slow and not particularly logical. In 9:51 we are informed that Jesus “set his face” towards Jerusalem yet here, four chapters later Jesus is still in Galilee (Herod’s jurisdiction) and verse 33 suggests that the journey has not even begun. Later, in chapter 17, Jesus has apparently only just reached the area between Galilee and Samaria – that is, he has not yet entered Samaria and Jerusalem is still some way off. (This despite the fact that as early as 9:52 Jesus is supposed to have entered a village of Samaritans.) All of which is a reminder that Luke, as the other gospel writers, is not trying to provide an accurate chronological record of Jesus and that we should not believe that the events are recorded “as they happened”.

That the journey is filled with trepidation is indicated from the very start. “Jesus set his face to go to Jerusalem.”Jesus didn’t “decide” to go or think that it might be a good idea to go. The language “set his face” suggests a degree of determination to do something that he knows ahead of time will be difficult and unpleasant. It makes it clear that Jesus is not going to Jerusalem for a social visit or a holiday. Going to Jerusalem, is something that must be done not something that Jesus wants to do, a sentiment that is picked up in verse 33 which reveals what lies ahead. “It is impossible for a prophet to be killed outside Jerusalem.” Jesus knows that going to Jerusalem means certain death. He knows too that there is no escaping this fate.

So the setting for today’s reading is Jesus’ slow (meandering?) journey to Jerusalem, behind which lurks the threat of execution. The verses don’t make a lot of sense. It appears that Luke has joined together two quite separate traditions (the warning about Herod and the lament over Jerusalem) with a sentence explaining why Jesus must go to Jerusalem.

The first two verses are unique to Luke and provide a more flattering view of the Pharisees than we are used to. In this instance the Pharisees are warning, not challenging Jesus. They are afraid for his safety if he stays in Galilee! From Luke’s point of view this exchange serves to keep Herod in the picture . Herod is very much part of Luke’s story. He has beheaded John the Baptist, expressed concern that Jesus is John risen from the dead and he will appear again when Pilate sends Jesus to him.

Jesus is not at all concerned about “that fox”, for he is already on his way to Jerusalem which is outside Herod’s sphere of influence and which, to his mind is far more threatening.

The reference to Jerusalem provides the cue for Jesus’ lament which Matthew places on Jesus’ lips after his attack on the Pharisees. The lament expresses not only Jesus’ foreknowledge with regard to his own faith, but his deep grief that those whom he came to save will not allow themselves to be gathered under his wings. Not only will those at the centre of Judaism stand apart from Jesus and his message, but they will also, they will be the source of his destruction.

There is not much OT evidence for the death of the prophets, but it does appear to be a tradition by the first century when there has been no prophet in Israel since the exile. Whether or no Jerusalem has killed the prophets, Jesus’ lament is one that echoes through the OT from Deuteronomy to Hosea. It a lament of longing, of God who, knowing that we are safest and happiest when we are under the shelter of God’s wings, sighs in despair that we will not consent to be loved, enveloped, protected. It reflects a grief so deep that will will do anything, give anything, sacrifice everything to open our eyes and to help us to see where we truly belong. It is a sorrow so profound, that it will take Jesus to the cross.

Has anything really changed? Is it not true that the world of the twenty first century is as self absorbed, self interested and as determined to go its own way as first century Palestine? We hope God is there when we really need support and comfort, but do we rely on God all day every day? Do we allow ourselves to be gathered in or do we, like toddlers, assert our independence and try to prove that we can go it alone?

Jesus’ lament is the expression of the anguish of God, the anguish of God who knows the solution to the world’s pain and heartache, but will not impose it on us but wait in torment until we are ready to accept it.

The time is now

February 20, 2016

Lent 2 – 2016    Luke 13:1-9

                                                                                                                                                Marian Free

In the name of God who, in an uncertain world calls us to the one thing that lasts for eternity – a relationship with God. Amen.

Whenever something awful or inexplicable happens it is not unusual to hear the questions – what or why? What did he ever do that he should experience something so terrible? Why did it happen to her? He did so much for others, she wouldn’t hurt a fly. Why, why, why? In general, it seems that we try to make sense of terrible things by finding a reason for them. If only we could say that a person deserved what had happened to them or that they had done something to precipitate the events that had such terrible consequences we would find the tragedy more palatable.

At the same time there is a feeling that if we just knew the cause of a calamity or if we were able to place the blame on the victim then we could be both less disturbed by the event and in a position to ensure that a similar fate did not befall us. Knowing more would allow us could avoid the behaviour, the relationship or the activity that had such disastrous consequences for someone else. If we had more information, we could say to ourselves: “they deserved that”, “they were always taking risks”, or “we knew that person was no good for them”. Being able to think such things would not only reduce our state of anxiety, but have the added benefit of allowing ourselves to feel a certain smug satisfaction confident in the belief that because we don’t do those things that caused the problem we will almost certainly no come to harm.)

The problem is that life is not like that. Bad things do happen to good people. Innocent people can find themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time and natural disasters are completely indiscriminate. Too often we can’t find an explanation for tragedy. The good do die young and the bad can seem to live forever.

Today’s gospel consists of two sayings and a parable – a pattern that is not unusual for Luke. Ostensibly people among Jesus’ audience have reported on a particularly nasty occurrence in the temple. We don’t know whether this or the event of the falling tower really happened ,but they serve to make the point that Luke has been driving home since the beginning of chapter 12. Now is a time for decision, a time to decide whether to turn to God or to continue to live in a way that doesn’t recognise the necessity of a relationship with God. Throughout that chapter Jesus urges the listeners to trust God with their future, to be prepared, to be able to read the signs. Jesus warns that he has come to bring fire to the earth. He has not come to bring peace – his presence will cause division. Now is the time to decide whether or not to follow Jesus. It is a decision that may be misunderstood and that may cause rifts with those who do not understand, but a time will come when it will be too late, when his listeners discover that they have turned their backs on God/Jesus for the last time, that they have set their faces and their lives irrevocably in the other direction.

It is against this background that we must understand today’s gospel. Jesus is calling his listeners (and therefore us) to turn their lives around. They must not think that just because nothing traumatic has happened to them that they are in some way better than those who have have had towers fall on them or who have had their blood mixed with sacrifices. No – as the gospels remind us over and over again – there is no hierarchy of sin against which we can measure ourselves, no form of measurement that lets us complacently sit back and assume that because we are ‘better’ than someone else that we have no more to achieve. The gospels are clear – sin is sin and anything less than perfection is imperfection. What saves us is not what we do, but what God does for us. This is why it is important that we “repent ” that we literally turn our lives around, stop focussing on ourselves and the things of this world and begin to focus on God and the things that endure for eternity.

Chapter twelve and the first few verses of thirteen are filled with a sense of urgency. Jesus is anxious that those who are following him make a decision that they don’t just listen but they also respond. They have the opportunity then and there to make to make up their minds to give their loves to God. Jesus is impatient. He cannot imagine why anyone would delay when there is so much on offer.

The language is so strong and the demand so insistent that it would be easy for us to lose heart to believe that we will never get there. However when we read on we discover that Jesus’ message is tempered by the parable that follows. Impatience and frustration don’t have the last word. There is room for a second chance. According to the parable, the fig tree has had three years to produce fruit. The impatient landholder thinks that that is more than enough time. Why should it take up space that a tree that produces fruit could use? “Chop it down!” he says. The gardener however is more temperate. He asks that the tree be given another chance and so it is. 

Just because God is patient is no reason for us to take advantage. Just because we think we have given ourselves to God does it mean that there is no room for improvement. Lent gives us time to think, time to ask ourselves what parts of our lives do we need to turn around, what aspects of our lives are we withholding from God’s scrutiny and God’s love our lives and in what ways do we fail to trust God with our present and our future?

None of us knows when our time will come. If it were today or tomorrow would we feel that we had done what we could to prepare? Would we wish that we had dealt with some of the things that mar the image of God in us? Would our relationship with God be such that we were ready to be face-to-face with our Creator?

Jesus reminds us that the time is now.

What are we waiting for?

No quick fix

February 13, 2016

                                                                       Lent 1 – 2016 – some thoughts                                                                                             Luke 4:1-15

                                                                                                                                                                  Marian Free

In the name of God who asks for all that we have so that God can give us all that we need. Amen.

Some time ago, I had surgery on my foot. As part of the healing process I was to keep off my foot for a fortnight and not drive for six weeks. It has to be said that even with lectures to prepare and movies to watch, two weeks stuck on a couch seemed like forever. Once the pain had diminished, it was tempting to move about to fill in the time in other ways, but in this instance I knew that a “quick” recovery meant doing what was required. So, bored and uncomfortable I stayed on the couch with my foot on a stool and moved about only when absolutely necessary.

It is tempting to cut corners, to avoid the hard yards that a good job requires. At first it might appear that it made no difference that we went back to work too soon, that we used an injured limb before the recommended time, that we didn’t properly prepare the timber before we painted, that we didn’t properly cream the butter and the sugar for our cake. In fact, there will be times that we don’t experience any ill consequences for our failure to do something properly. However, there will be times when the consequences of our failure to follow through are disastrous. A bad paint job will need redoing sooner rather than later, a cake that has not been properly stirred might be lumpy, but a limb that has not properly healed might cause us even worse problems later on, and a return to work when we have not fully recovered from an illness may mean that the infection returns – more virulent than before – and we lose even more time from work than had we been patient in the first place.

Here, at the beginning of his ministry, Jesus is offered a short cut, a way out of the difficult and painful course that lay before him. The tempter tells him that doesn’t have to be hungry. It would be easy enough for Jesus to turn stones into bread. As the Son of God Jesus he could simply enforce God’s rule, bend the wills of people to his own, there was no need to persuade and encourage. He didn’t have to endure the suffering and pain of the cross when he could simply call on the angels to save him.

Jesus has been driven into the wilderness to reflect on his call and on his role. The temptations are anything but theoretical. They reflect the very real choices that faced Jesus – to fully enter the human experience or to exert the power of his divinity, to impose his will or to draw people to his way of seeing things, to gain attention by being a miracle worker or by working beside people, to try to escape pain and suffering or to place his trust completely in God and believe that the cross would be worth it.

 

Forty days in the wilderness have taught Jesus that near enough would not be good enough and that easy solutions would not achieve the end goal. Jesus knew that people who were impressed by easy miracles would not stick around for the long haul, that loyalty that was forced would be no loyalty at all and that without the cross there would be no resurrection.

Jesus will be a very different sort of Christ from the one whom many expected. His leadership will be marked by service and his victory will look like defeat, but it will only be through his complete submission to God that Jesus will be able to restore the relationship between God and the people of God. So Jesus refuses to be drawn into the devil’s ruse, he resists temptation to take the easy way out and sets his mind to the task that is before him.

What is true for Jesus is true for us. Later in the gospel Jesus will ask the disciples: “Who do the crowds say that I am?” When Peter identifies him as the Christ, Jesus makes sure that the disciples know what this means telling them that he must suffer and be rejected and killed and that on the third day he will be raised. He goes on to say that those who follow him must set their minds to the same experience – figuratively if not literally. They must deny themselves and take up their cross daily. If they want to save their life, they must lose it.

Jesus’ life and death not only win our salvation, but they provide the model for our own spiritual lives. If we are to realise our full potential as children of God, we, like Jesus must be prepared to go the full distance, to put in the effort that is required, to give ourselves whole-heartedly and with conviction. In order to be formed into the image of Christ we must be prepared to stick with it,, to understand that short-term pain leads to long-term gain. We must try to see the big picture rather than getting caught up in the minutia of the every day. We must learn that near enough is simply not good enough.

Lent provides an opportunity for us to share Jesus’ wilderness experience, to ask ourselves once again, what it is that God wants of us. Lent allows us time and space to see how we are going, to ask ourselves whether we are content with the superficial or whether we are ready to explore the depths of our existence, to consider whether our focus is on the present or on eternity. Lent gives us space to ponder whether we trust God sufficiently to give ourselves completely to God or whether we are still holding something back, whether we understand that it is only by giving all that we have that we gain everything that we could ever want or need.

Lent forces us to ask whether we are just giving lip service to faith or whether we are really ready to allow God to be all in all.

How will you spend this Lent and will your practice equip you for the rest of your journey or will it simply fulfill the needs of the moment?

 

A quiet observance

February 10, 2016

Ash Wednesday

Matthew 6:1-8,14-18

Marian Free

 

In the name of God who created us and who, with our consent, continues to recreate us. Amen.

Jerusalem - Ramadan

Canon fire to mark end of fasting.

In 2015, we were in Jerusalem during Ramadan. Two things stood out, one was the fact that it was not until 8:00pm that the streets came alive. Food vendors who had been there for most of the day suddenly became busy as Palestinians came out to eat. The second was the canon (yes, canon) that helpfully fired at 4:00am to remind people that the time to fast had begun and again at 8:00pm to indicate that the fast had ended. Our Palestinian driver was observing Ramadan and while we Westerners ate lunch, he sat in the bus eating nothing.

One of the most challenging things about being in a largely Muslim country is the observance of faith. Five times a day the Muezzin gives the call to prayer – a haunting chant that floats overhead reminding the observant to stop what they are doing and offer worship to God. Five times a day faithful Muslims unroll their prayer mats and in full view of the world make their obeisance. For myself the call to prayer is a powerful reminder of the presence of God in every aspect of life, further, it always seems to me that such a public proclamation is an indictment of the Christian world whose faith is practiced behind closed door. (We might ring bells before services, but today few churches ring the Angelus.)

I think that it would be fair to say that in today’s secular world, more people know about Ramadan than they do about Lent. The reason for this can be placed directly at our door. If our observance is lack-lustre or non-existent, there is no reason for others to ask what we are doing and why. If we ourselves are not prepared to demonstrate that it is possible to go without for a short time or that it is necessary to hone our spiritual practices, how can we possibly confront the materialism and secularism of the world around us?

That does not mean that we should fast loudly and blatantly. It certainly doesn’t mean that we should go about with long faces so that everyone is able to notice how much we are suffering for our faith. Just the opposite – our practice of Lent should be quiet and unobtrusive. If our abstinence or our practice is noticed by others, we can say, without fanfare, something like: “Oh, this is just something that I am doing for Lent.” It is just possible that this will lead to further questions about why we do such things in Lent and give us opportunities to expand on the benefits of devoting a period of time to being less self-obsessed.

It is possible too that some will find our Lenten practice disquieting and confronting. Some people may feel uncomfortable around us if they are being extravagant and we are being economic, if they are feasting and we are fasting. Hopefully their disquiet may lead to further thought and questions (just as the Muezzin confronts my failure to display my faith more publicly).

Either way, without trumpeting our self-righteousness or proclaiming our self-discipline, an observance of Lent by more than just a few of us, may just enable the secular world to understand that we take our faith seriously, that our practice of the faith is more than just outward form and that God as known through Jesus Christ is indeed a very real presence in the world.

Let this be a year in which we take our practice seriously and in which our observance of Lent contributes to the knowledge of God in the world.

Beyond belief

February 6, 2016

Transfiguration

Luke 9:28-36

Marian Free

 In the name of God, whom we experience in the transcendent and in the everyday, the unbelievable and the believeable. Amen.

Captain Cook’s journey to Australia was not simply an expedition to discover and to claim new lands. It was also a very serious scientific enquiry. Cook himself was a navigator and a cartographer who had an interest in astronomy. During his first voyage among other things he recorded the transit of Venus. Nor was he alone in his scientific exploration. Other scientists joined him on his voyages including naturalists Joseph Banks and Daniel Solander and father and son scientist Johann and Georg Forster. The biologists recorded and preserved the new and interesting specimens of flora and fauna that they encountered on their travels. Some of these, including kangaroos and koalas were creatures that were previously completely unknown.

The most unusual animal to be discovered was the platypus. British scientists thought that the skin that was taken back to England was an elaborate joke. At first it was believed that someone (as a joke) had sewn a duck’s bill, a beaver’s tail and four webbed feet onto a rabbit’s body. It was apparently not until a third specimen arrived in England 1800 that Sir Joseph Banks, the naturalist on the voyage was able to declare that: “Suspicions about the existence of the platypus are now completely dissipated.” It is not just the appearance of the platypus that makes it unbelievable. The platypus is one of only two mammals in the world that lays eggs and even though they suckle their young, they have no nipples. No wonder the British scientists found it difficult to believe that they were not being duped.

It is not quite the same, but biblical scholars, especially those who are interested in uncovering the historical Jesus, try to ascertain whether some of the unbelievable things described in the Gospels really happened, or whether they are creations of the early church who, in trying to give flesh to their faith, embellished the “facts” or retold the story in such a way as to give it a particular emphasis. Such is the case with the account of the Transfiguration that records Jesus’ dazzling appearance and a conversation between Jesus and two people (Moses and Elijah) who at that time were long since dead.

According to Fitzmyer[1] there have been numerous attempts to come to grips with this extraordinary account. A number of scholars believe it to be an historical event, that after Peter confesses that Jesus is the Christ, he, James and John receive a physical affirmation of the fact. The problem is that this does not explain Peter’s later denial and the disciples’ abandonment of Jesus. Another explanation is that the Transfiguration is a vision that Peter, or all three experienced. Yet another explanation is that it describes a post-resurrection experience that was written back into the life of Jesus. This however does not explain what Moses and Elijah are doing and why Jesus’ glory is noted here and not in the resurrection accounts. Nor does it explain the differences between this story and the records of the resurrection. Lastly, there are some who believe that it is a description of Jesus at his coming again. No explanation is truly satisfactory.

The reality is that we will not (this side of eternity) be able to know with absolute certainty what lies behind this amazing story. We can however try to see what part it plays in the overall gospel account. In Luke’s gospel the Transfiguration acts as a kind of fulcrum between the Galilean ministry and the cross, it maintains the tension between Jesus’ suffering and his glory, between present realities and future vindication.

If we look at the account in context we will note that immediately prior to the scene on the mountain, Jesus has asked his disciples: “Who do people say that I am?” They respond – Elijah, John the Baptist, one of the prophets.” Finally, Peter proclaims: “You are the anointed one of God.” Then, as if to temper this outburst of enthusiasm, Jesus responds by predicting his death and resurrection and urging the disciples to: “take up your cross daily and follow me”. It is consistent with Luke’s telling of the story that Jesus makes clear that there are no short cuts to glory. Jesus’ victory will not come easily and now the disciples know that their reality will be the same as his. Vindication will be hard won, those things that are worth having are worth struggling for.

As if to reassure the disciples that it will all be worth it, Jesus then takes his inner circle with him up a mountain. There, they not only see Jesus completely transformed, but they also hear God’s voice affirming what Peter has earlier declared: that Jesus is the chosen one of God. The experience serves to assure the disciples that Jesus is the person whom they think he is and this despite what is to come – Jesus’ rejection, arrest, trial, crucifixion.

Faith in Jesus is not able to protect us from hardship, trouble, grief or pain – just the opposite, Jesus tells us that we will follow him to the cross. At the same time, Jesus gives us mountain-top experiences, moments of revelation and exhilaration that assure us that our faith is not misplaced, that Jesus is who we think he is and that just as he has come into this glory, so too will we finally be transformed from glory into glory.

[1] Fitzmyer, Joseph. A. The Gospel According to Luke I-IX. New York: Double Day and Company, 1979, 795-6.

God knows!

January 30, 2016

Presentation of Christ in the Temple – 2016

Luke 2:22-39

Marian Free

 In the name of God who gives Godself to us completely and utterly. Amen.

I happened to read a women’s magazine during the week. One of the stories was of a career woman who had had no intention of having a child, but at forty-five had given birth to her first child. Like so many other public figures she said that the experience had changed her life. “I have this fierce mother instinct – it’s quite fierce and protective.” For many of us, holding a newborn is one of the most amazing experiences. The child in your arms is so vulnerable and so dependent. Even if the child is not your own, you are often overcome with the urge to protect the child and there is a sense of foreboding in regard to all of all that could go wrong – in the present and in the future. What if someone drops the child? What if they don’t hold his/her head in just the right way? Will the child be settled or unsettled? Are the new methods of wrapping, feeding, bathing really better than they way that they used to be done? All of those thoughts can go through our minds in an instant – the wonder, the joy, the fear and the anxiety together.

After the initial excitement has passed, we might begin to consider what sort of future the child might have. If the child is our own, a grandchild, a niece or nephew, most of us would be secure in the knowledge that she/he would be well loved and parented well. If not, we might have fears for the safety and well-being of the child. And the distant future – well that is purely the subject of our imagination, fuelled by our own desires and concerns our fears and anxieties. Will the child be able to escape tragedy in his/her life? Will the education system/the health system be sufficiently well-funded to ensure that the needs of the child are met? Will the child have the resilience to resist peer pressure – avoid drugs and alcohol? Will the environment be able to sustain another generation on the planet? Will we, particularly in today’s violent and unstable climate be able to protect this child from acts of terror or from war?

So many unknowns lie ahead of every child and the best parenting in the best environment is not enough to prevent tragedy or disaster – whether of the child’s own making or from external causes.

Jesus is still an infant when his parents bring him into the Temple to present him to God as demanded in the Book of Exodus (13). The Temple is a bustling place, especially the outer courts which are open to men and women of every nation and where, as we learn later, the exchange of money occurs and the animals to be used in thank offerings are sold. Into this crowd come two very ordinary people bringing with them their infant son. Somehow Simeon (who has been drawn to the Temple precincts by the Spirit) identifies this couple and knows immediately that their child is the anointed one for whom he has waited his whole life.

Without so much as a: “by your leave”, Simeon scoops the child into his arms and before his surprised parents bursts into a song of praise in which he identifies this baby as the one who is to bring glory to Israel and to be a light to the Gentiles. Perhaps Mary and Joseph are not totally surprised by this. Luke’s introduction leads us to believe that they know full well who Jesus is and what he is to become. They might be surprised to hear that not only will he save his people, but that the Gentiles will also come to faith through him, but the angel has already told them that: “he will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end.” It may be that they have already begun to imagine their future and that of their son – the honour and respect that might ensue once he became known for who he really was!

Imagine their shock when Simeon concludes: “This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed—and a sword will pierce your own soul too.” “The rising and falling”, “A sign to be opposed” –suddenly a sense of foreboding is introduced into what had been a situation of joy and hope and expectation. Simeon’s words suggest that Jesus’ future will not be all smooth sailing, not everyone will share their confidence that Jesus is the Son of God.

Simeon’s prediction includes an element of threat and a warning – Jesus’ life will not conform to expectations. It is possible that he will not be a triumphant king. that his teaching and actions will not always be positively received. Instead of glory, there is a possibility that he will experience suffering and defeat. For Mary and Joseph, the confidence of the angel’s words must have come into question. They must have wondered what they could expect of this child? What would the future really hold? We can only speculate, but I imagine that Mary and Joseph will have left the Temple with a very different and much less certain view of how Jesus’ future would play out.

In order to save humankind, to bring us to our senses, God was prepared to enter our world fully and completely, vulnerable and unprotected. In Jesus, God completely abandoned divinity becoming fully human, completely vulnerable, completely dependent and susceptible to the same dangers and difficulties as the rest of humankind. It is for this reason that Hebrews can record: “For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses”.

Life may not go the way that we expected for ourselves – or for our children. Not even God is able to protect us from the things that living in this world entails, but through good times and bad, disaster and triumph there is one thing of which we can be sure – that God in Jesus chose not to be shielded from the accidents of fate, the cruelties of human beings and the indifference of the planet. God, in Jesus knows that there is no certainty in this life except the certainty of God and of God’s overwhelming love for us that allowed God to immerse Godself so completely in our existence that it would be impossible for us to say: “God does not know what I am going through.”

 

(If you have taken up the challenge to explore Luke’s gospel. Note: Luke’s concern with the Temple, his determination to demonstrate continuity with Judaism – the family undergo the Jewish rites – the presence of the Spirit and the gospel for the Gentiles.)

To act or not to act

January 23, 2016

Epiphany 3 -2-16

Luke 4:14-21

Marian Free

In the name of God who challenges us to build a world without poverty, injustice or oppression. Amen.

The Clergy Summer School usually has two guest speakers. This year our guests were a Professor of Physics from the University of Queensland – Ross McKenzie and an American who is passionate about the pastoral uses of social media, Joshua Case. I’ll share more about social media another time, but this morning I wanted to tell you something about the Parish from which Joshua comes – The Church of the Holy Innocents in Atlanta, Georgia.  From what I can gather, the parish is not too different from our own. It is Anglican and is situated in a middle-to-high income suburb. There are at least two differences between ourselves and Holy Innocents. One is that on a Sunday five hundred people regularly attend services.  Another is the social justice focus of that Parish.

As I understand it, Joshua was employed to assist the congregation discover how they could live into their name – Holy Innocents. This exploration led to a realisation that if their church were to honour the children slaughtered by Herod, they would need to identify and to side with the vulnerable in their own time and place. A number of initiatives have emerged from this starting point. For example, every year the church seeks and obtains the names of all children in the state who have been violently killed over the course of the year. The names of the children are recorded and once a year the church holds a twenty-four hour vigil during which the names of all the children are read aloud.

Children are not the only vulnerable members of society.  In Atlanta, as elsewhere, homeless people have created a tent city on vacant land. The local fire department has made it their mission to support the homeless with food and other necessities. Last week (when the temperatures were still between -1 and 10 degrees C) the local authorities moved in and bulldozed a section of the camp.  That same week, the Federal authorities shipped a number of Latinos – some who had arrived through the appropriate channels and some who had not – to a detention centre in another state. Most of the children detained attended the school associated with the Parish.

The Parish’s relationship with the members of the Fire Department and with the children attending the school means that these actions directly affect them and their mission. They must work out how to respond, knowing that taking a stand may well make them unpopular with others in the city, the state and even the nation.

In today’s gospel, Luke depicts Jesus reading from the book of Isaiah. The language is uncompromising: “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favour.” From Exodus to Malachi, the Old Testament records God’s preference for the poor and the marginalised and details God’s anger: “against those who oppress the hired workers in their wages, the widow and the orphan, against those who thrust aside the alien, and do not fear the LORD of hosts” (Mal 3:5). “Cursed be anyone who deprives the alien, the orphan, and the widow of justice” (Deut 27:19).

Even though the Bible is very clear about God’s expectations, many of us find social activists to be uncomfortable people and we tend to want to distance ourselves from those who challenge the status quo. There are a number of possible reasons for our disquiet – the words and actions of social activists can and often do bring them into conflict with the government and the law and we don’t want to be seen as law-breakers. Activists are uncomfortable people because their willingness to act and take risks can lead to our feeling that we are lacking in courage or determination or, worse, that we have no compassion or understanding for the situations in which some people find themselves.

Those who challenge the status quo are often made to pay for daring to name things as they see them, for standing for and with the oppressed. Michael Lapsley a New Zealander and a Franciscan received a letter bomb that robbed him of both hands and an eye because he dared to speak out against apartheid. Oscar Romero, an El Salvadorian bishop was shot at the altar for taking a stand behalf of the poor. Peter Greste an Australian journalist and his colleagues were arrested and jailed in appalling conditions for reporting the truth as they observed it in Egypt.

We should not be surprised at the crowds’ reaction to Jesus. Jesus’ claim that the words of scripture had been fulfilled in himself was not the source of their anger. Rather it was his interpretation of the words of Isaiah (at least this is N.T. Wright’s suggestion).  With the passage of time, these words and other OT texts had lost some of their sting. As a people who had been in exile or under foreign domination for the better part of 500 years the Jews had come to believe that the words of Isaiah spoke to their situation – they saw themselves as the poor, the oppressed and the imprisoned.  They believed that when God’s anointed came, he would to set them free. They had lost sight of their responsibility for the vulnerable among them.

In his words and in his actions, Jesus demonstrated his compassion for the outsider – the poor and the dispossessed. By claiming that the words of Isaiah were fulfilled in himself, Jesus was calling the people to return to their biblical roots, to revive a concern for the widow and the fatherless, the hired worker, the alien and the poor.  This made him an uncomfortable figure, someone whom they didn’t want to have around. In the first century, Jesus is interpreting words that were written some five hundred years previously. In the twenty first century, it is our task to make sense of the words for our own time and place.

What do we make of Jesus’ words? Do they make us anxious, uncomfortable or uncertain?  Are we tempted to push the uncomfortable Jesus away from us (over a convenient cliff)? Or do these words challenge us to consider how we should respond. Do they encourage us to ask: Whose are the voices that are not heard in our day? Who are the people who are longing to be set free?  Where are the marginalised and the oppressed?

What is our role as Christians in the world today? Are we meant to keep our hands clean and our heads down or does God demand that we take an interest in and demonstrate a concern for what is going on around us? Do we leave issues like domestic violence, homelessness and refugees to the secular world, or do we take a stand and, with Jesus, initiate God’s kingdom here on earth?

A frivolous God

January 16, 2016

Epiphany 2 – 2016

John 2:1-11

Marian Free

 Creator God, open our eyes so that we may see you in all things, the ordinary as well as the extraordinary, the mundane as well as the sublime, the frivolous as well as the serious. Amen.

When I was working with the Business Community in Toowong, I did quite a lot of reading around the subject of Faith and Work. One of the concerns was that people’s lives seemed to be divided down the middle. In our secular world, many of them felt obliged to leave their faith or their spirituality at the door. The person they were at work was pragmatic and rational, not influenced or informed by their faith. Some it is true might have had prayers or quotes stuck to their notice boards, but these, rather than influencing what they were doing were simply statements about who they were. Their lives were split in two. They were not taking or being their whole selves in the workplace.

The divide between the spiritual and the mundane is not unique to the work/life situation. It is a malady of the modern world and it affects those of us who think that there are some parts of our lives that are beneath God’s notice or that some aspects of our life and of our being are holy and others are not. This split personality or dualism is a kind of schizophrenia that was unknown to the ancient Celts or to the Christian mystics who were able to recognise that God was in all things and that all things were in God. Such people recognised that the divine was encountered in everything, not just at special times or in special places. and they understood that life is simply not divisible into parts – we are our whole selves or we are not.

Which brings us to today’s gospel A wedding is a funny place to begin the account of Jesus’ ministry. There is nothing mystical about a social occasion or gathering of friends, which makes a wedding an unusual setting for Jesus’ first miracle. Changing water into wine is strange choice as the means to reveal Jesus’ glory for as yet no one knows who Jesus is or what can be expected from him. Jesus has barely been introduced to us and here he is at a party – not teaching or healing, but ensuring that there is enough wine for a good celebration.

Matthew, Mark and Luke all begin their accounts of Jesus’ ministry in a much more serious vein. According to them Jesus is driven into the wilderness where he is tempted and where he refuses to do anything that might be seen as entertainment, or as his drawing attention to himself or as his seeking to compete with God for power or for influence. In stark contrast, John begins with a wedding at which Jesus turns the water into wine so that the wedding host will not be embarrassed. Compared with Jesus’ spiritual battle in the wilderness the miracle of changing water into wine seems both trivial and frivolous – hardly a fitting activity for the Son of God.

This beginning to Jesus’ ministry is even more astonishing given that John’s gospel starts on a much more elevated plane than that of the other three. “In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the Word was God.” John portrays Jesus as nothing less than a co-creator with God – a divine being, who as one with God, has been present for all eternity. According to John, Jesus’ existence did not begin through an action of the Holy Spirit and no earthly genealogy could do him justice because there simply was no time in which Jesus did not exist. In John’s gospel we begin in the heavenly realms, and then, without any warning or any context, we are brought right down to earth. We go from the sublime to the ridiculous, the esoteric to the mundane the extraordinary to the ordinary.

Jesus, his mother and his disciples are guests at a wedding. We are not told whose wedding it is or why Jesus has been invited. Mary’s concern regarding the wine suggests that it the wedding of a family member or a close family friend. So far as we can tell Jesus is not a guest of honour, just one guest among many. In reporting the miracle or sign the gospel writer does not appear to be making a significant theological point nor is Jesus depicted as challenging the social customs of the people as he does at other parties in other gospels.

In a gospel which makes it very clear that Jesus and God are so close as to be indistinguishable, changing water into wine seems a rather trivial, ungodly and even self-indulgent miracle with which to start. After all, this is the same Jesus who elsewhere refused to turn stones into bread – specifically refusing to make showmanship a means of attracting followers. Would someone who takes his ministry so seriously bother about something as ordinary as wine for a party, and indeed, would God – the creator of the universe – really be interested in sparing an inefficient host the embarrassment of running out of wine?

It is, as I say, a strange beginning, an odd way to begin a gospel that makes far more lofty claims for Jesus than do the other gospel writers. Perhaps this is just the point. Perhaps the juxtaposition between the Word who was with God from the beginning and the man at a wedding is intended to demonstrate that the ordinary and the everyday are not beneath God’s dignity, that God in Jesus is as much engaged in the minutiae of daily life as he is in the divine and heavenly realm and that the separation of the spiritual and the unspiritual is a figment of our imagination.

Whether or not this is the author’s intention, it is an important point to make – not only with regard to our understanding of Jesus, but also with regard to our understanding of and our practice of our faith. God does not and cannot stand aloof from our earthly concerns but is intimately engaged with everything that we do. There is no distinction between holy and mundane, extraordinary and ordinary. God is all in all. If God makes no distinction, there is no need for us to compartmentalize our lives or to create false divisions that compromise the true nature of our being.

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Thank you for your response. ✨