Preparing the way

December 7, 2024

Advent 2 – 2024

Luke 3:1-6

Marian Free

In the name of God who constantly surprises and whose presence and purpose catch us off guard. Amen.

 

It is said that Albrecht Durer’s sculpture of his brother’s praying hands was a tribute to the sacrifices that Enders, also an aspiring artist, made on behalf of Albrecht. The family who were goldsmiths did not have enough money for both brothers to become artists, so Endres remained at home while Albrecht went to Art School. The story goes that when Albrecht returned and saw the gnarled hands of his brother, he asked him to pose as if in prayer. The result was a carving that has been much copied in 3D and as a drawing/painting.

There are many stories of people who foster the talent of another – sometimes at the cost of their own work. It is possible that Australian author Charmaine Cliff may have been a more prolific author had she not married George Johnston and supported his writing career sometimes at the expense of her own. Parents often put the needs of their children before their own ambitions. In bygone eras women were expected to prioritize their spouses’ career no matter how talented, educated or intelligent they were. Others, recognizing their husband’s gifts sometimes took a step back and of course, there have always been men who encouraged and supported women whose contribution to knowledge, medicine, art they saw as more important than their own careers.

Sometimes such sacrifices build resentments and disappointment but often they are derived from a genuine belief in the other’s giftedness and a real desire to see them succeed and to contribute to their craft, the advancement of knowledge and so on.

An alternative – chosen by most couples in todays world – is that both members of a partnership make compromises so that each may flourish, even if it means that, at least for a time, neither flies as high as they might.

John the Baptist is something of an anachronism. He appears, seemingly out of nowhere, an obscure ‘prophet’ living in the wilderness – possibly known only to a few. Only Luke provides any backstory – his miraculous conception and his naming – but even then we know nothing of his childhood or early adulthood. What we are told is that the word of God came to him in the wilderness and propelled him to travel throughtout Judea proclaiming a baptism of repentance.

It is not even clear that he proclaimed the coming of Christ – only that he announced the coming of God’s wrath.

Just as there was no adequate Old Testament image for Jesus the Christ, so there was no exact model for John the forerunner. The gospel writers, knowing that John emerged from the wilderness, used the only OT text that seemed to fit – a voice in the wilderness. Isaiah’s voice proclaimed disruption and chaos. John, however, preached repentance for forgiveness. He didn’t preach the coming of Jesus, but the coming of God’s wrath. As there was no image that was an easy fit for John, the evangelists seem to have found a text that referred to a voice in the wilderness – even if that voice declared God’s violent, disruptive, world-shaking coming into the world to set things right, rather than the quiet coming of a gentle, forgiving, inclusive, peasant from Galilee.

John had a number of roles in the gospels, none of which are presaged in the Old Testament. He prepared the hearts of the people so that they would acknowledge and repent their failure to live in relationship with God. John was used a a scene setter. He prepared the stage for Jesus, making it clear to the readers of the gospels that Jesus didn’t emerge in a vacuum. God had sent someone before him, preparing the way, turning hearts of God (and maybe making them aware of their shortcomings). John’s role was to make it clear that Jesus was not unexpected. He was announced (at least at his baptism) and that therefore the people had no excuse for not recognising him.

A third role fulfilled by John was that of putting his own interests last, allowing Jesus to flourish, enabling Jesus to fulfill his destiny. John appears to have been secure in his own role. Despite having developed a substantial following of his own, he was not seduced by the headiness of success into forming his own movement or into going into competition with Jesus. He knew himself to be the forerunner- not the Christ. His task as he saw it was to ensure that the hearts of the people were turned to God, open to God’s presence in the world, to build within them a sense of hopeful expectation and to enable them to recognise the Christ even though the Christ would look and act like one of them. He would point away from himself in the direction of Jesus no matter the cost to himself.

Advent and Christmas are overlaid with so much tradition and myth that sometimes we miss what the scriptures are really saying. Sometimes we create a story around John that is not necessary justified by the text.

This Advent, may we see beyond the myth of the wild man in the desert, to the humble, self-effacing prophet who knew his role and who was content to live out his role, without striving to be anything more. May we learn from John the importance of knowing ourselves and may we try to be true to ourselves – not competing with or trying to emulate others.

 

 

 

Your redemption is drawing near.

December 4, 2024

Advent 1 –  2024 (belated thoughts)

Luke 21:25-38

Marian Free

In the name of God, whose presence, sometimes barely perceptible, is always here if we open our eyes to see. Amen.

I am the daughter of a biologist and while I didn’t always appreciate it, I was taught to pay attention to the natural world – droplets on the female gingko (waiting to be pollinated), the tiny buds of green presaging the onset of spring after a long winter, the bird’s nest almost hidden from view – the wonders of nature that are often passed unnoticed. I am the daughter too of a mother who would take us walking after rain so that we could see how the river had grown, and the hyacinth filled its lower reaches. In my adult life I have been so grateful to have a sense of hopeful expectation whenever I am in the natural world or even my own garden, to have a sense of wonder at the power and changeability of the world around me.

Be alert at all times – or you will not notice the signs of life and growth that signal new beginnings.

Today gospel urges us to pay attention, to take notice of what is happening around us, to note the smallest detail and to grasp the broader picture. It comes at the end of long chapter on the tragedies and traumas that were being experienced and witnessed by those to whom Jesus was speaking and by for whom the gospel was written. In the time of Jesus people of Israel had been under the domination of Rome or other nations for centuries (with only a short break), the Temple was considered to be corrupt, and its priests were Roman appointments and the people were burdened with taxes and had had their lands confiscated. Luke is writing at a time when the Jewish revolt had been brutally and completely crushed, the Temple (that splendid symbol of God’s presence) and even Jerusalem had been razed to the ground and the link between early beliefs and their Jewish roots had been irrevocably broken.

In the 60s earthquakes had destroyed many of the cities in the eastern Mediterranean. Many will have lost homes, income and family members. To some it must have seemed that there was no hope for the future, much that they had assumed would last forever had been destroyed.

Be on your guard, these things must take place.

It would be easy to fall into despair given the current state of the world, to feel that God has abandoned the world to its own devices, to wonder if God is going to let the world run headlong into destruction

We are living in times of great uncertainty. The reality of human nature – the greed, selfishness and desire for power that feeds conflict and civil unrest, the unpredictability of the planet which has been worsened by our own actions and the frailty of the human body are the constant background of our lives.

“Heaven and earth will pass away but my words will not pass away.” 

Today’s gospel reading can be read as a warning to be constantly on our good behaviour, anxiously awaiting the coming of a fierce tyrannical judge, or it can be seen or, as I choose to read, it it is a message of hope, a call to steadfastness in the midst of and despite the chaos and to see the signs of God’s presence in the small things.

Jesus seems to be reminding us that faith is not about the big dramatic interventions of God in the world, nor is faith dependent on miraculous events, faith is not a panacea against all the ills in the world. Faith is not a shallow, superficial fix-it or nor is it a way of warding off trouble. Faith is a stable centre in the midst of instability, a still small voice in the centre of the storm, a firm a bed-rock in shaky ground.

The kingdom is near – notice the signs (however small). Be on your guard – don’t be so distracted by what’s going on around you that you take your eyes off God (and what God’s doing). Be alert – because God’s presence is all around you – in the budding fig, the smile of a child, the small acts of kindness, the generosity of a stranger. The world might fall apart around you but your redemption has been won/is drawing near. If everything seems to fall away remember that the words of Jesus will never fall away.

So, no matter how bad things seem to be, hold fast to faith, ground yourself in the love of God, notice God’s presence everywhere.

This Advent, in a world which is increasingly volatile and unpredictable, don’t let yourself be overwhelmed by fear and anxiety- see the fig tree, know that your redemption is near, know that my Jesus’ words are the ground on which we stand.

 

 

 

 

 

What sort of king?

November 26, 2024

Christ the King – 2024

John 18:33-37

Marian Free

In the name of God who continues to surprise, confound and amaze us.  Amen.

Many years ago, I read an article in an occupational therapy journal about children in foster care. It reported that no matter how much abuse or neglect a child had suffered at the hands of a natural parent they still wanted to go home. It seemed that the idea of family, mother, father created a deep longing to belong, even if the child’s reality did not live up to expectation. Apparently, an abusive mother was better than no mother, a disparaging, derisive father was better than no father. 

Terms like mother, father, mum, dad, family come laden with meaning – often idealistic and vastly different from many people’s reality. Few parents are perfect and even if they were, their styles of parenting would differ according to their own experience, their personalities and the relationship that they have with each other – no one family is the same. Even though the definition of “family” has vastly changed over the last 50 years, still many of us have an idea of what a mother/father/family should be like[1].  

The same is true of the expression “God”. In the eighties and nineties many feminists and others chose to use the term “Godde” to make it clear that the divinity in whom they believed was not a bearded, white-haired man sitting on a throne, condemning people to the fire of hell and that “Godde’ was much bigger and broader than the narrow image that was circulating. Many of us still confront the problem that the God which many of our friends have rejected is unrecognisable to us – a human invention not a revelation of scripture ad certainly not related to our experience.

Over and again, scripture confronts a narrow, unimaginative concept of God, an image of God that is easier to manage, understand and, dare I say, control. In a phrase that I often repeat, Isaiah says: “God’s thoughts are not our thoughts and God’s ways are not our ways.” (Is 55:8).  Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians makes the same point when he  argues that the cross exposes our false understanding and overturns all our preconceptions. “God’s foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God’s weakness is stronger than human strength.” (1 Cor 1: 28).

Though there might be some assumptions that we can make about God, God consistently overturns and challenges our simple-minded ideas.  Nowhere is this more obvious than with the person Jesus. On every level, Jesus failed to meet expectations and at every turn Jesus refused to be bound by the limits of the human mind. Jesus came to serve not to be served, he argued that the first would be last, and announced – not that he would lead the Israelites to victory – but that he would suffer and die.

That Jesus confounds every attempt to label him and to box him in, is particularly clear in Jesus’ interaction with Pilate. Despite the fact that Pilate is in a position to put Jesus to death, Jesus refuses to give Pilate a clear answer to Pilate’s question as to who he is. In response to Pilate’s questioning Jesus is evasive, elusive and enigmatic. 

Until the moment of Jesus’ trial, Jesus was probably unknown to Pilate and now he is brought before him by the Jews (whose traditions and laws Pilate does not understand, and over whom he has no jurisdiction). Pilate makes an attempt to discover who and what Jesus is, yet Jesus speaks in riddles and throws Pilates’ questions back to him. “What makes you think I’m a king?”

Jesus does not deny that he is a king, but he is clear that like “God” and “family” the title “king” is impregnated with meaning and expectation and that if he admits to being “king” Pilate (and the crowd) will impose their own understanding on the word – Pilate will see Jesus as a threat to Caesar and the crowd will expect him to seek power.

By prevaricating, by being evasive, by not directly answering Pilate’s question, Jesus is trying to redefine “kingship”. Yes, he is a king, but not the sort of king that people are used to – not a king who enriches himself at the expense of others, not a king who expects everyone to be subservient to him, not a king that seeks to dominate and oppress all the nations of the world. Jesus is king of an unworldly kingdom, a king whose primary purpose is to testify to the truth – the content of which is contained in John’s gospel, the purpose of which is that those who hear Jesus’ voice will attain eternal life.

In just five verses the author of the gospel has de-stabliised and undermined the traditional understanding of what it means to be king. Jesus is king, but he is king on his own terms, he will not be defined and confined by the expectations of others – whether they be his fellow Jews or the representatives of Rome.

The passage is left hanging with Pilate’s question: “What is truth?” 

There is an interesting twist to John’s account of Jesus’ trial and crucifixion. Traditionally a name is attached to the cross to identify the one being crucified. Pilate orders that the sign on Jesus’ cross read (in Hebrew, Latin and Greek): “Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews.” Despite the objections of the Jews, Pilate leaves the wording as it is. Has Pilate come to see the truth? Has he grasped that Jesus is a king (albeit a very different one) or is this is Pilate’s way of justifying an execution which at heart he believes is not justified.

Either way, Jesus’ crucifixion is the ultimate act de-stablises, unsettles and even undermines all our expectations of what it means to be King of the Jews, the one sent by God, the anointed.  

Jesus’ dialogue with Pilate, is a reminder that the narrative is not within our control, that God the Trinity will always act in ways that we do not expect and will always defy our attempts to categorise and define.  In the face of Pilate’s efforts to label him Jesus infuses the expression with new meaning.  He is a king, but he is a king like no other (before or since).

May all our longings for the kingdom be tempered by the knowledge that the kingdom is not of our making and that our human intellects are inadequate to the task of truly comprehending who and what God is, what it is that God plans, and what the kingdom will finally be revealed to be.


[1] Of course, the nature of families has completely changed and with that comes a change in expectations.

See what large stones! Trusting in the temple or trusting in God.

November 16, 2024

Pentecost 26 – 2024

Mark. 13:1-8

Marian Free

In the name of God in whom we trust. Amen.

One only has to read/watch the news to see the catastrophic state of the world: the unimaginable devastation and loss of life from the floods in Valencia and the wars in the Middle East, Ukraine and elsewhere, the disorder and civil unrest in Haiti, the drug-fuelled violence in Mexico, the displacement of people in the Sudan, Burma and elsewhere, the increasing polarisation between people of the same nation and background and between people who confess the same faith, and the exaggerated rhetoric and personal attacks around differing political views and cultural values – even in countries like our own. 

It is difficult at times not to fall into despair. It is tempting to look at the state of the world, to ask “what is going on?”, to wonder what the future might hold and to ponder where God might be in all this upheaval. Are all these disturbances a sign of more to come (as the changes in climate seem to threaten)? Are we witnessing the end of life as we have known it OR is this really the beginning of the end of the world?

It is human nature to want to make sense of calamity[1]. Collectively, we want to give meaning to the death of a child, the destruction of our home, a life-threatening illness – to any unexpected tragedy or calamity. So great is our need to give meaning to something that has no meaning that we fall into the trap of making up trite, often pious explanations for such events. We are anxious find explanations that cover up our feelings of inadequacy, our inability to find the right words to say, or which to help us to avoid facing the trauma of the inexplicable. 

I’m sure that you know what I mean. You may even have used phrases yourself. “God wanted another angel”, “They are in a better place,” “This will make you stronger” and so on. There are any number of such sayings that have entered our vocabulary to be trotted out when we have nothing better to say.  Sadly, by failing to honestly acknowledge someone’s pain, by not facing the trauma head on, we often increase a person’s sense of isolation and grief. Instead of providing comfort, we reveal our own failure to understand and our unwillingness to engage.  When say these things to ourselves, we withhold permission from ourselves to express our heartache, to sit with our grief until such time as the healing process can begin.

Today’s gospel forms the beginning of what is known as the “Little Apocalypse”, the description of things to come. Very often these are taken to be sign of the end – in fact that language implies that that is what Jesus is saying.

I want to suggest that Jesus’ meaning is much broader and much more related to the present (at whatever time in history that present might be). 

Scholars believe that Mark’s gospel was written to and for a community under threat. It written to reassure believers that their experience is not out of the ordinary, that in fact it was to be expected as a consequence of following Jesus. The gospel is a reminder that 

following Jesus is not a protection against the world’s ills. Faith in Jesus is not some or of amulet that will protect believers from harm. Believers will face the same travails and encounter the same losses as anyone who does not believe.

In our reading this morning the disciples look at the Temple which appears to have been built to withstand any threat. It was by all accounts a magnificent structure, built of huge stones, some of which were fifty feet long and eight foot high and thousands of tonnes in weight. To the disciples – Galileans all – the Temple must have seemed indestructible[2]. At the same time, despite all that Jesus has tried to teach them – about his suffering, about their taking up the cross – they still seem to hold the belief that Jesus has come to Jerusalem to confront the Romans, to restore Temple worship by removing the corrupt priests.

It is possible that for most if not all of the disciples are visiting Jerusalem for the first time. As followers of Jesus, they experienced his triumphal entry into the city and now they can sit and admire the Temple – the meeting place between YHWH and God’s people. “Look, Teacher, what large stones and what large buildings!” 

Jesus’ response would have been entirely unexpected. instead of joining in their wonder, Jesus announces the destruction of the Temple. “Do you see these great buildings? Not one stone will be left here upon another; all will be thrown down.” The Temple is not as indestructible as they think. Like everything else on earth, it is ephemeral and temporary, subject to destruction and decay.

This is too much for them to comprehend. The disciples need details, they need to make meaning out of what Jesus has said, they want to be able to prepare for such a catastrophic event. So they ask: “Tell us, when will this be, and what will be the sign that all these things are about to be accomplished?” It is then that Jesus begins to tell them of all the things that might happen. These, as I have suggested, are not so much signs of the end as Jesus providing a corrective – don’t look for signs even the angels in heaven do not know the time (13:32). Understand (Jesus seems to be saying) that worldly existence is precarious, humans are susceptible to variations in the weather, human bodies are vulnerable to disease and deterioration, and human nature tends towards competitiveness and selfishness. Peace and prosperity, health and fitness are not a given, but a privilege enjoyed by a few.  There are no simple, trite answers to trauma.

Our faith does not protect us from wars, earthquakes, famines, from hardship, poor health, or frailty. What faith does at its best is determine how we react to setbacks, traumas, and loss. What matters is not so much that we are able to interpret the times, but how we respond to what is going on around us. 

As people of faith, we cannot cut ourselves from the realities of human existence, but we can learn to live in the present, accepting what is rather than looking back to an idealized past or striving for an unrealistic future.[3] As people of faith, we are to learn to  place ourselves, our loved ones and the world in entirely in the hands of God, believing – sometimes against all evidence to the contrary, that all things will work for good. In this way, and this way alone, we will be ready for whatever is to come because we will already have placed our trust in things eternal, things that will last.

 Jesus’ comments about the destruction of the Temple are less about the timing of the end, and more a corrective of the disciples’ belief that Jesus has come to overthrow the leaders of Rome and of the Temple. They are a reminder not to look back to an idealised past or forward to an unrealistic future, but to live fully in the present, with all the good and bad that comes with that and to trust that God is with us through it all. 


[1] When my parent’s home was completely covered by flood waters in 1974, my father wandered round in a daze half-jokingly asking why God had asked him to build an ark!

[2] All that remains today are the Temple steps (see photo)

[3] It is important to note that non- resistance does not equal passive acceptance. If we can change things, if by the way we live and the way we act we can make a difference in our lives and in the lives of others, then we should do so.

Praise or sarcasm – the widow’s mite

November 9, 2024

Pentecost 25 – 2024

Mark 12:38-44

Marian Free

In the name of God who consistently demands that we care for the alien, the widow and the orphan. Amen.

Recently I had cause to meet someone for lunch in Beenleigh.  Just prior to the shopping centre I made a wrong turn. We found ourselves in what had been a park. Well, it was still a. park, but now every square inch was covered with tents and tarpaulins. People who for whatever reason had nowhere to live had made homes of a sort in this relatively out of the way place. 

I cannot imagine what it must be like to be a parent who has to put their children to bed without a proper meal, to send them to school  without the right school books or who has to tell their children that their home is no longer their home and that they will be living in a tent or in a car or in someone’s garage until they can find another home to rent. The current cost of living crisis and the shortage of accommodation means that more and more people are finding themselves in these sorts of situations – tossing up between paying the power bill and buying nutritious food, having to rely on food banks and the kindness of others, and constantly having to say “no” to one’s children.

In Jesus’ time there was no welfare. The poor were totally reliant on the kindness of others. Women were entirely dependent on their families – their fathers and then their husbands and then their sons.  Widows who did not have sons were particularly vulnerable. The Temple offerings were meant in part to support the widow and the orphan, but Jesus’ attack on the scribes suggests that this was not a current practice.

Our use of scripture is fascinating. Despite the fact that this morning’s gospel begins with Jesus’ attack on the scribes (scribes who ‘devour widow’s houses’). Most preachers (myself included) have tended to use the widow’s actions as an example of sacrificial giving. Many a stewardship sermon has urged congregation members to give until it hurts, using the widow’s willingness to give her last coins as a model for the giving approved by Jesus.

At first glance, Jesus does appear to commend the widow for giving everything (in contrast to the rich whose large gifts represented only a small proportion of their total wealth).  “For all of them have contributed out of their abundance; but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on.” But is this really the point that Jesus is making? Can we really imagine Jesus – the same Jesus who raised the son of the widow of Nain and so saved her from destitution – taking delight in the actions of a widow that will leave her nothing to live on? Could Jesus, raised on the Old Testament insistence that the Israelites care for the widow and the orphan, simply commend the woman from a distance and allow her to return home to die (if indeed she has a home to go to)?

The usual interpretation, tempting as it is to all clergy who would like to encourage parishioners to be more generous, denies the widow of her personhood. She becomes an object lesson rather than a flesh and blood individual. No attention is paid to her life, how long she has been widowed, whether or not her husband had left her with something or nothing, whether or not she ever had sons, where her father and brothers might be, or how she has survived until now. No thought is given to her current state of destitution – her two small coins would only have been able to purchase enough flour to make one or two biscuits. No one asks whether she is giving away the coins, not as a sign of generosity, but as evidence of her complete despair – her willingness to give up and die.

Interpreting the widow’s act as a sacrificial also fails to take into account the immediate and the wider context of the story. Given Jesus’ prior comments about the scribes – who not only do everything they can to draw attention to themselves, but who also use their status and their education to impoverish widows – (charging for legal assistance, taking advantage of a widow’s hospitality, taking money on the promise of a prayer)[1] – it is more likely that Jesus is here continuing his critique of the scribes. You can almost hear his voice dripping with sarcasm – rather than commending the widow, he is condemning the scribes – she is giving all she had to live on. The scribes, whose task it was to interpret the law, appear to have forgotten the law’s instruction to care for the widows. While they give only what they can afford, they treat the widow as if she doesn’t exist.

Rather than be an example of sacrificial giving, the widow serves to expose the self-serving, self-obsessed scribes who think only of the attention that they receive if they wear their long robes and make long prayers. 

The wider context of these verses supports this interpretation. It commences with Jesus’ Cleansing of the Temple (11:15-19) and concludes with Jesus’ prediction of the destruction of the Temple (13:1-2). Throughout the section the focus is on the corruption of the Temple worship and on the failure of the leaders of the church.  

In this broader context the widow becomes an illustration of just how far from God’s ideal the church has fallen. That a widow, who has nothing left to live on should feel that she has to continue support the Temple (instead of it supporting her) indicates that the system has become so corrupt that it cannot sink any lower. 

This gives us pause for thought. What does Jesus see when he looks at our society, our care (or lack of care) for the poor, the vulnerable, the homeless? Had Jesus been in the car with me in Beenleigh, would he have commented: “Look how simply they live.” meaning, “how well you and your kind are living”?

What does Jesus see and how is he calling us to respond to the present economic crisis?


[1] Chelsey Harmon points out that the scribes were guilty of taking advantage of widows: 

  • though it was forbidden, many took payment from widows for providing legal assistance;
  • while serving as lawyers, some cheated on the wills or mismanaged the widows’ estates;
  • some scribes were known to take advantage of, and freeload upon, the hospitality offered to them by widows;
  • certain scribes were in the habit of taking payment and promising to make intercessory prayer for widows (i.e., making it a business transaction);
  • and if a widow could not pay, there were known cases where scribes literally took the widow’s home as payment for services rendered,
  • offering to invest their money, then robbing them of it. https://cepreaching.org/commentary/2021-11-01/mark-1238-44-3/

All Saints

November 3, 2024

All Saints – 2024

John 11:37-44

Marian Free

In the name of God, who created the universe out of nothing, and who gives life to the dead. Amen.

Today we celebrate all the saints who have inspired, challenged and changed the church for the better. These would be saints whether or not we believed in the resurrection.  Their example and faithfulness would be remembered and would stand as a beacon through the ages. We would remember them with fondness and (as best we could), would model our lives on theirs regardless of whether or not we believed that they continued to exist. As it is we are confident of the resurrection, and such can find strength and courage in their continued presence with us.

Because, not only can we be inspired by their lives, but we can continue to be in relationship with them. That relationship will vary depending on our background and our temperament. Many in the Roman Catholic tradition believe that the saints intercede for them. In practice this can take the form of almost superstitious prayers (to St Anthony of Padua to find something that is lost, or to St Christopher to keep a person safe when travelling) or the more profound prayers for healing, support in grief, guidance for the future. In some churches in Italy, tombs of the saints are covered in post it notes and adorned with cards that carry pleas for the saint to intercede for those in need.

In the letters of Paul, everyone who believes is called “αγιος” (holy or saint), but it seems that very early in the life of the church a belief emerged that those who had died continued in some way to be part of the community, these were also called saints. Hebrews for example, tells us that we are surrounded by a great company of saints. “Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, (martyrs) let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, who for the sake of the joy that was set before him endured the cross, disregarding its shame, and has taken his seat at the right hand of the throne of God” (12:2).

This conviction that there was life after death is significant as the notion of the resurrection to eternal life was a matter of some controversy in the first century. From the gospels we can tell that while the Pharisees believed in resurrection, the Sadducees did not. In fact, the Sadducees tried to trip Jesus up over this very question. According to the Psalms and other Old Testament writings, those who had died did not rise to new life but went to Sheol ,a shadowy place from which a person could no longer worship God. As the Psalmist says: “In death there is no remembrance of you; in Sheol who can give you praise?”  

It was during the exile, when the Hebrews lived in Babylon and were influenced by the culture around them, that ideas of resurrection began to influence the Jewish faith.

Even though the idea of resurrection was not embraced by all people of the Jewish faith, belief in life after death is attested to in the Book of Maccabees an inter-testamental book in which each of seven brothers refuse to eat pork – even under torture. The fourth of the brothers to be tortured states: “One cannot but choose to die at the hands of mortals and to cherish the hope God gives of being raised again by him” (2 Macc 7:14). The mother of the seven young men, who watches her sons tortured to the point of death, encourages them to be steadfast believing that: “the Creator of the world, who shaped the beginning of humankind and devised the origin of all things, will in his mercy give life and breath back to you again” (2 Macc 7:23).

In the beginning of the first century, Jesus’ resurrection confirmed once for all, that the dead would be raised. The raising of Lazarus pre-figures Jesus’ own resurrection, and powerfully demonstrates Jesus’ power over life and death. It also provides an opportunity for Jesus to teach about the resurrection. Lazarus is raised to life in the present, but not for eternity.  The sisters believed that Jesus had the power to prevent Lazarus from dying. Jesus is more concerned that they understand that he is the resurrection and the life, that he is the one who will defeat death once for all. in other words, the raising of Lazarus is but a foretaste of Jesus’ ultimate victory.

The message of Jesus’ resurrection lay at the heart of the proclamation of the gospel, it gave heart to those who were persecuted for their faith and strength to those who were facing difficult times. If this life was not all there was, then anything could be borne.

As the church spread and grew, and as it settled into a more sedentary form of existence, there was less need for courage and strength, but there were still those

whose lives of faith stood out from the crowd. Those whose wisdom, holiness, fortitude,  self-sacrifice set them apart and those whose gifts of prophecy, teaching or healing made them distinct, came to be revered in life and, on their death, to be considered not only as examples to follow, but as saints whose continued presence could influence and sustain the faith journeys of others.

The Feast of All Saints is a reminder that we are not alone in this journey of faith. Those who have gone before us continue to exist, to give us strength when we face dark times (after all many of the saints faced far worse), to give us hope when all seems hopeless (they did not give up when times were tough), to teach us compassion when we are tempted to ignore the suffering around us (they were not afraid to embrace the leper, to feed the hungry), and to seek the peace and joy that comes from within rather than to depend on the things of this world to meet our deepest needs. 

I once was blind but now I see – the healing of Bartimaeus

October 26, 2024

Pentecost 23 – 2024

Mark 10-46-52

Marian Free

In the name of God who opens the eyes to the truth of God’s being.  Amen.

One of the privileges of ministry has been teaching religious education. Trying to share the faith at age-appropriate levels or finding ways to encourage children to understand that God wants to encourage, not demand; to affirm, not condemn has led to some very deep reflection, to some amazing insights and above all to some magical moments in the classroom.

Children, at least those of eight years old and older, bring to religious education a degree of scepticism. Without fail, someone in the class will ask: but what about the dinosaurs? They, possibly influenced by their parents, want to challenge the creation story – the one at the beginning of Genesis that, if taken literally, suggests that God created the world in seven days. As someone who grew up with a copy of The Evolution of the Species on my bookshelf, I was never fazed by the question. The problem was, how could I explain say that I didn’t think the Genesis story was true without discrediting the Bible as a whole – especially when the students were only in year four (turning nine).

After some thought and much prayer, it occurred to me that Aesop’s Fables might provide the answer. When asked the question I would tell the story of the tortoise and the hare and ask the children if it were true. Students, eager to please, often said: ‘yes’. To which I would respond can animals really talk? ‘No’ they would say. ‘Does it tell us something that is true?’ I’d ask. ‘Yes!” would be the answer. This gave me an opportunity to draw a parallel with the accounts of creation in Genesis. They are not historically accurate, but they do reveal truths – truths about creation, about the human desire to be independent of God and so on.

One of the most rewarding lessons was the occasion on which I could almost see the cogs turning in a young girl’s head and a light bulb coming on as she realised that the Bible didn’t have to be historically accurate to be true. It was truly like watching her eyes open for the first time, as if this was something that had puzzled and now everything had fallen into place. 

Many of us have had such light bulb moments – those occasions when suddenly we see clearly – what we have to do, how to move forward, how to let go of the past. Sometimes those moments are lifechanging and we cannot believe that we had lived without such insights.

What does this have to do with Bartimaeus I hear you ask. Well, in one sense nothing. But it does have a lot to do with Mark’s telling of the Jesus’ story and in particular Jesus’ teaching on discipleship.

Many scholars believe that Mark 8:22 –10:52 form a discrete section in which Jesus teaches the disciples. Here, Jesus is revealing his true self and his mission to the disciples and educating them as to what it means to be disciples. Three times in these chapters Jesus announces that he is to suffer and die and to rise again, twice he reminds his disciples that the greatest among them will have to become their servant, and that they must become like children to enter the kingdom. The disciples are told that they must take up their cross and follow Jesus, that they must lose their life to gain it, and that with mortals it is impossible to enter the kingdom of heaven.

Throughout this section, as Jesus tries to prepare the disciples for what Jerusalem has in store and the disciples consistently reveal their failure to understand, their determination that Jesus should be the type of Messiah that they were expecting. Peter rebukes Jesus when he says he has to suffer, the disciples argue about who is the greatest, and James and John ask to sit at Jesus’ right hand and his left.

Interestingly, the discussion on Jesus’ suffering and what it means to be disciples is framed by accounts of Jesus’ healing a blind man. The stories are very different, which suggest that Mark has deliberately sandwiched Jesus’ announcements between two stories of receiving sight. It is the differences between the healing stories that lead to this conclusion.  

In the first account (Mk 8:22-26) the blind man is brought to Jesus. Jesus takes the man outside the village, puts saliva on the man’s eyes and lays hands on him. When he asks if the man can see, he responds that he can see people but that they look like trees walking. Jesus tries again and this time the man is able to see. Once he is healed, he is sent (and he goes) home.

Bartimaeus does not need to be brought to Jesus. He is sitting begging on the road to Jerusalem.  When he hears that Jesus of Nazareth is near, he calls out: “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”  Bartimaeus has agency (he does not need to be brought to Jesus). He has insight: he knows that Jesus is the one promised by God – Son of David. He is enthusiastic: he springs up and goes to Jesus. He is healed by Jesus’ word, and he is fully healed. He is told to go but instead he chooses to follow Jesus.

That Mark has chosen to frame Jesus’ journey and his revelations about himself, his mission and discipleship with stories of people coming to sight suggest that the gospel writer is describing for his readers a process of coming to understanding, of gaining insight that leads them to a fuller understanding of Jesus. That the first blind man didn’t see immediately reflects partial knowledge, knowledge that allows one to accept healing, but not to follow.  Bartimaeus is healed, he sees clearly, he leaves everything[1] and follows Jesus. All that Jesus has been trying to teach his disciples, Bartimaeus knows in an instant. His eyes have been opened to the truth and he cannot unsee it.

By framing the section on discipleship with the two different descriptions of healing, Mark illustrates the journey to faith – with all its missteps, setbacks, misunderstandings and finally submission. It is a story for all time. A journey into discipleship through ignorance and self-centredness to yearning, comprehension and finally to complete surrender.  


[1] It might not seem like much, but begging was a source of income, and presumably his home and family were in Jericho.

The art of not knowing (Mk 10:35-45)

October 20, 2024

Pentecost 22 -2024

Mark 10-35-45

Marian Free

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

The Book of Job can be a difficult read but in summary it is a reflection on the limits of human knowledge and how little we know in comparison with all that there is to know. It provides us with a reminder that in this life there are some things that we will never understand, and it confronts our simplistic, pious ways of explaining away trauma and tragedy. 

Job has had everything stripped away from him, wealth, family and even health. His well-meaning friends have come to visit and, believing that Job’s current state is a consequence of something he has done, proceed to use their misinformed theology to try to get Job to admit to his fault. Job, convinced that he has done nothing to offend God, maintains his innocence. The discussion goes on and on and on and on.  

All this time, God is silently listening and holding God’s tongue. Finally, when God can stand it no more, God interrupts and speaks directly to Job.  

This morning’s reading gives us just a taste of God’s speech (which continues for three whole chapters).  “Then the LORD answered Job out of the whirlwind: 

2                “Who is this that darkens counsel by words without knowledge? 

3                Gird up your loins like a man,

                                    I will question you, and you shall declare to me.”

As we read further, we can sense the irony and even the sense of playfulness in God’s words. Take these from chapter 41: “Can you draw out Leviathan with a fishhook,

                                    or press down its tongue with a cord? 

2                Can you put a rope in its nose,

                                    or pierce its jaw with a hook? 

3                Will it make many supplications to you?

                                    Will it speak soft words to you?”

You can almost hear God smiling. God is using exaggeration and sarcasm to make a point – all human knowledge and wisdom is limited, and the mind of God is ultimately beyond our comprehension.

The comparison of how much we think we know with how little we actually understand provides a useful background to today’s gospel (indeed to much of the gospel story). Over and again, Jesus finds himself in the position of correcting the misunderstandings of his opponents, of enquirers and even of his disciples. The Pharisees think they can trick Jesus with questions such as the one about divorce, the rich young man thought (hoped) that rigid adherence to the law was all that was required for salvation and James and John who thought that Jesus was seeking to take control. 

Jesus was so different from what anyone had expected that followers and opponents alike struggled to adjust themselves to reality – even though it was right in front of them. After all that Jesus has said about the last being first, the lowliest being the greatest, In today’s gospel, James and John (believing that Jesus is on the way to Jerusalem to usurp the power of the Romans) have approached Jesus and to ask that they be given places of honour – to the right and to the left of Jesus – when he takes the throne. 

Did they not hear what Jesus had just said – that in Jerusalem the Son of Man (Jesus) would be handed over to the chief priests and scribes who would condemn him to death???   Have they not understood anything that Jesus has taught them during his ministry?

Remember these are not just any followers.  James and John are part of Jesus’ inner circle. They are not only among the twelve disciples, they, with Peter are the ones to whom Jesus entrusted the experience of the Transfiguration, they with Peter, will be invited to pray with Jesus in Gethsemane, and yet they don’t get it. No matter what Jesus says, no matter how little he conforms to their idea of a Saviour they simply cannot change their preconception that God would send a triumphant saviour – not a suffering servant.

Jesus confounded and continues to confound all expectations. He was not a king. He was not a warrior. He was not a priest. Jesus did not build an army. He did not take on the might of Rome. He did not restore the historic priesthood. There was no existing model of a Saviour that matched the reality that was Jesus. And because Jesus did not conform his followers, even his inner circle could not grasp what he was really about. However hard Jesus tried to confront the preconceptions of his disciples, they kept trying to impose their presumptions on him, they kept trying to make him fit the mould they had in their heads. 

The problem was and is that Jesus just won’t fit. His life and death defied all previous expectations. Jesus’ birth, his life and his death were the polar opposite of what the people of Israel were looking for. His very existence, instead of being comforting and assuring, instead of. shoring up the hopes of the people, was destabilising and disquieting. 

In his person, Jesus is an illustration of the point made by God’s response to Job. By turning everything. Upside down, Jesus demonstrates in his own person that God cannot be defined or limited as is ultimately beyond our understanding.  

Over and over again the disciples tried to make Jesus fit their expectations, much as Job’s friends tried to get Job to agree to their understanding of his suffering. The problem is that Jesus doesn’t not fit. Jesus unsettles and challenges pre-existing ideas and confronts the limits of our knowledge in the hope that our hearts and minds might be set free from what we think we know and that we might find the courage to enter into the emptiness of unknowing.

The spiritual journey, as the disciples discover time and again, is a process of unlearning and unknowing what we thought we knew so that in the end it is our unknowing not our knowing that will lead us into the heart of God.

Go, sell all that you have

October 12, 2024

Pentecost 21 – 2024

Mark 10:17-31

Marian Free

In the name of God who cares for the greatest and the least, and who preferences the poor over the rich. Amen.

How much money is too much money? This is a question that greatly troubled someone I once knew. He (I’ll call him Jack) had married into a family that was very comfortable and he had worked in a profession that ensured a good income.  Jack wasn’t Steve Jobs rich, but he was well-off. For reasons that he didn’t ever share, today’s gospel passage caused him particular concern. On more than one occasion he approached me with questions about the passage, especially in relation to the camel and the needle’s eye. He researched articles that softened the definitiveness of Jesus’ teaching. These included descriptions about the types of thread and needle referred to and one that suggested that the needle’s eye was the name of one of the gates into the old city of Jerusalem through which camels could not pass (this latter is not borne out by a google search). Hopefully he resolved the issue to his satisfaction, and his mind was put to rest before he died.

Jack’s unease in relation to his relative wealth is reflective of the uncomfortable relationship that the church and many churchgoers have with money. We read Jesus’ teaching in this and other places and yet we build beautiful, expensive churches and fill them with beautiful, expensive things which then need to be maintained and insured. 

The Vatican, for example, has a vast treasure trove of priceless art and liturgical vessels, and it owns billions of dollars in real estate.  In 2018 The Age reported that it was possible to estimate the wealth of the Catholic Church of Australia at around $30 billion dollars[1]. The Anglican Church would not be too far behind. Of course, many of these assets are schools and hospitals and aged care facilities which provide services for hundreds of thousands of people who are not members of those churches, but much of our wealth is in our churches and their decorations.

It is hard to reconcile this with the Jesus who preferenced the poor and the marginalised and whose own life was one lived without attachment to home, security, or comfort. He famously told a would-be follower: ‘Foxes have holes and birds have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.’

From the very beginnings of Christianity there have been some who felt that the only way to follow Jesus was to renounce everything – home, family, possessions and to give oneself wholeheartedly to following Jesus but in general most of us retain those things and then try to resolve the tension caused by today’s gospel and other sayings of Jesus.

As Sarah Wilson points out, our discomfort with Jesus’ response to the rich young man and Jesus’ teaching on wealth in general is revealed in the way that we try to manage the story, and the ways we try to wiggle our way out of having to give up all our possessions[2]. She suggests among other things that manage the story by saying that what Jesus was suggesting was peculiar to this young man and a response to his particular need; or we try to convince ourselves that we are not rich (after all there is always someone richer than ourselves). We can take comfort in Jesus’ saying that it is impossible and  only God can do it, or we can take the route that Peter did and point out what we have given up!  

The issue of wealth and what to do with it is made even more complicated by the fact that few of us (including governments and charitable organisations) have a clear enough understanding of the overall picture to ensure that our attempts to create a more equitable world do indeed benefit those whom we try to help. Sadly, charitable attempts to help sometimes leave those “helped” worse off. To give just one example, developing and promoting a rice that produces a greater yield has had the effect of reducing the varieties of rice that are planted in many countries and has therefore reduced the possibility that something will grow even if the conditions are not ideal. In good years the people are better off but in bad years they are now worse off. 

Many of us who are comfortably off, are so by virtue of living in this country. We are not stateless like the Rohingya, we are not facing both famine and war as are the people of Sudan, Ethiopia and Gaza, we are not burdened by corrupt governments that use our resources for their own benefit and we are not without opportunities to study and to work . All of us are relatively privileged compared to millions of others throughout the world.

The story of the rich young man is confronting and challenging.  We can avoid the disquiet it causes by explaining it away or we can sit with the discomfort, forcing ourselves to consider what Jesus might be saying to us. We can ignore Jesus’ response to the young man, or we can allow it to remind us of Jesus’ general attitude to wealth and to ask ourselves what it might mean for us. 

Clearly I have not given up all my possessions as Jesus appears to demand. Instead, I consistently remind myself of this and other teachings and ask a number of questions. These include:  What is my attitude to my possessions, and do I hang on to them at all costs? How can I best use the resources that I have to contribute to a more equitable world? Can I change my lifestyle in a way that might be beneficial to others – especially when I recognise that changes in the climate most adversely affect the poor?  When I vote do I make choices that protect my own interests over the needs of others?

“Go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.” “It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.”

May we all have the courage to allow Jesus’ uncomfortable questions and teachings to unsettle, to confront and hopefully to change us. May we not find it so hard that we turn away, and may we find comfort in the knowledge that with God nothing is impossible.


[1] https://www.marketplace.org/2023/02/10/how-much-money-does-catholic-church-have/

[2] https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-28-2/commentary-on-mark-1017-31-11

Jesus and divorce

October 4, 2024

Pentecost 20 – 2024

Mark 10:2-16

Marian Free

In the name of God, Earth-maker, Pain-bearer, Life-giver. Amen.

“Till death us do part.” “What God has joined together let no one separate.” These daunting words from today’s gospel formed a part of the marriage vows until the revision of the Book of Common prayer in 1978, which means that those of my age and older will have made this promise (and heard this threat) at their wedding. Two of my close friends, both of whom found themselves in unhappy (and in one case violent) marriages, felt bound to stay in their marriages because of the  weighty commitment they had made before God.  

The Prayer Book that was approved in 1995 has softened the language somewhat, but the sentiment “as long as we both shall live” remains in the vows and the blessing over the couple retains the words: “What God has joined together let no one separate”. No matter what the circumstances, how unsatisfactory, how violent the marriage, the church, using the language of the gospels, adds an incredible burden to individuals who find themselves in what are impossible circumstances. 

Many of us will remember with some sorrow and regret a time in the church’s recent history when these phrases coupled with Jesus’ apparent prohibition against divorce meant that those whose marriages had ended in divorce were refused remarriage in the church. Some faithful, divorced people felt so ashamed, or so excluded by the church’s attitude that they stopped coming to church altogether. 

We now understand that there are many reasons why marriages end – domestic violence, coercive control, incompatibility, a growing apart, the loss of a child. All are a form of death – the death of trust, the death of a sense of self, the death of companionship, the death of communication. In the church (and in the wider community) we still hope that those who love each other enough to commit to marriage will be able to nurture and sustain that love, but now we also understand that that is not always possible. That marriages end for all kinds of reasons is understood and divorcees can remarry in church if that is their desire.

This still leaves us with Jesus’ response to the Pharisees in today’s gospel and our interpretation that Jesus is condemning both divorce and remarriage.

I suggest that centuries of misinterpretation, ignorance and cultural biases have led to a misrepresentation of what is happening here. Let me make a couple of points. Firstly, it is important to recognise that this is not Jesus’ teaching per se but is his response to a question – a question from the Pharisees that is designed to test him – to make him unpopular with the Romans, or with the Jews. It is even possible that this was a live issue at the time – after all John the Baptist lost his head for challenging the remarriage of Herodias. Secondly there are two parts to the discussion: Jesus’ debate with the Pharisees and Jesus’ response to a question from the disciples.

Jesus is no doubt exercising some caution with his answer, trying not to be too confrontational and toeing the party line. His listeners however would have heard the sting behind his seemingly benign words.  In Jesus’ time and culture, it was possible for a man to divorce a woman on almost any pretext putting her to shame and forcing her to depend on the family of her birth. A woman on the other hand had no such escape, no matter the provocation. Seen in this light, Jesus’ teaching is radical and gives women the security they might not otherwise have had– that is that they could not be summarily dismissed, forced to endure the shame of divorce or find themselves in a financially precarious situation. Jesus is doing what he is doing best – turning the law on its head to protect the vulnerable.

Interestingly, Jesus also makes his response personal. Whereas the Pharisees ask: “Is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife?” Jesus’ response is to turn the question on them: “What did Moses say to you?” This raises the question whether the Pharisees, with their obsession with the law, are the ones who are seeking to justify divorce. Certainly, this makes sense of Jesus’ comment: “Because of your hardness of heart” which could be directed at the Pharisees rather than the audience in general. Jesus reinforces his point by quoting from Genesis, the creation story – as Adam and Eve were once one body, so in marriage they become one flesh (Gen 2:24). It is Jesus adds the interpretation: ‘Therefore what God has joined together, let no one separate.”

The question of remarriage is raised by the disciples in a later discussion. This no doubt relates to Jesus’ reference to the law (Deut 24:1-4). The passage to which Jesus directs the Pharisees has more to do with remarriage than divorce and this is important with regard to the church’s teaching on remarriage. What is prohibited in not remarriage in general – otherwise a divorced woman would have no possibility of any sort of life if her husband had divorced her.  What is prohibited is remarriage in its true sense – remarriage to the original wife after she has married someone else.

Given the context of the original discussion and the Old Testament passages that are quoted, it is difficult to imagine that Jesus envisaged his words restricting and even harming generations so far removed from his own.

When we approach the New Testament, we have to remember a) that it is culturally based, b) that many laws have a use-by date and c) that Jesus was a lawbreaker. When Jesus could see that a law caused harm instead of protecting from harm, he was quite happy to break it – think healing on the Sabbath, not washing before meals, eating with tax collectors, prostitutes and sinners. Jesus responds to the question about divorce by redefining the law by which the Pharisees sought to live. That there came a time when in turn that “law” became harmful was surely not Jesus’ intention. 

I don’t imagine that for one minute that Jesus expected the church to condemn people to violent or loveless marriages for the sake of maintaining a harmful and outdated “law”, a comment that he offered in response to a question that was designed to trap him.

We do not live in a static world. In the last century women have made gains that could not have been envisaged in the first century. They are no longer dependent on men for social standing or financial support. Science has helped us understand much that Jesus’ contemporaries could not explain except through the supernatural. Psychology and sociology have thrown light on the behaviour of individuals and groups. What Jesus said and taught addressed a particular time and place. Our task is to investigate Jesus’ underlying principles of compassion, inclusion and his desire to act in ways that led to good not harm, so that we can understand what to keep and what to revise rather than slavishly holding “beliefs” that condemn others to lives of exclusion and pain.