A gift of love

January 11, 2014

Baptism of our Lord – 2013

Matthew 3:13-17

Marian Free 

In the name of God, Creator, Redeemer and Sustainer. Amen.

 Last Sunday I attended a friend’s annual Epiphany party. In the course of the afternoon one of the guests began a discussion about godparents and in particular when the practice of having godparents began. Frankly, I had no idea. I thought that it was probably a late development as, up until the fourth century and even later, whole families, if not whole tribes, were baptised at the same time. It was an all or nothing situation, the head of the family or the king would be converted and the family and the tribe had no choice but to go along. There was no need for anyone to make promises for the children who would have had no say, then or in the future, as to whether they were Christian or not. As they grew up, it would simply have been a part of their identity. They would have absorbed by osmosis what it meant and their own children would have likewise been brought up in the faith of those around them

 An examination of that great source of wisdom and knowledge – the internet – revealed that I was wrong. Apparently, the equivalent of godparents came into being as early as the second century when parents made the confession of faith on the part of their child and were charged with their children’s spiritual upbringing. St Augustine allowed for exceptions to that practice, but apparently within a hundred years the exception had become the rule – parents were no longer allowed to sponsor their children for baptism.  However the relationship of a godparent  to the child was considered as close as that of a parent. This can be seen in the practice from the fifth century when baptismal sponsors were called “commaters” and “compaters” – co parents whose relationship to the child was considered sufficiently close that they were forbidden from marrying them.

Until recently, most children in this country were baptised. There was an assumption that this was a Christian country and that even those who rarely attended church were Christians and that their children should be formally identified as such. For some, there lay behind this practice a belief that a child who was not baptised would go to purgatory or to hell, but for many baptism was simply part of the culture of the day. Fear is no longer a driving force and in our time a great many people who no longer have any connection to the church, or who do not profess the faith, have come to the conclusion that baptism is at best unnecessary and at worst hypocritical.

The church has also undergone a change. Far from wanting to rescue so many innocents from the clutches of the devil, the church has had conversation after conversation about the practice of infant baptism and whether or not children of non-practicing families should be baptised. Some churches, including some Anglican congregations insist that parents attend church for a minimum number of weeks and attend classes before their child is accepted for baptism. The purpose of this is to ensure that the parents take their commitment seriously and that they will have some knowledge of the faith that they will claim to profess. Sadly this practice has led to a feeling of rejection and alienation among those who have felt that their good intentions were rejected when they were genuinely trying to do the right thing by their child.

Baptism as a form of initiation appears to be a Christian innovation. There is no evidence of a practice of baptism in Judaism. Purity laws meant that believers regularly had ritual baths to purify  themselves, but there is little to suggest that converts to the faith were washed or baptised. The Greek word Βαπτίζω simply means to wash. Jews washed away their impurities, but did not extend this practice to include the initiation of new believers.  John the Baptist appears to have taken the practice of ritual cleansing to a new level –  the idea of washing away sins and renewing of one’s relationship with God was unique to him.

Jesus’ baptism by John was controversial for at least two reasons. It was impossible for the Gospel writers to believe that Jesus had any sins to be washed away and it was equally impossible to imagine that John’s stature was such that it would warrant his baptizing Jesus. For both these reasons Jesus’ baptism seems to have been a cause of embarrassment for the authors of Matthew and John. Matthew tries to explain Jesus’ baptism away telling us that the Baptist insisted that Jesus should baptise him, to which Jesus responds that it is “proper for us to fulfill all righteousness”. John’s gospel does not mention Jesus’ baptism at all. However it clear that Jesus did seek and did receive baptism from John.

It is probably because Jesus himself was baptised that the early church adopted the practice as its form of initiation even though Jesus himself baptised no one. We have only a few New Testament references to baptism. Some scholars believe that Gal 3:28 is a baptism formula: “In Christ there is no Jew or Greek, slave or free, male or female” and Romans 6 uses the language of dying and rising with Christ. We heard in today’s reading from the Book of Acts that water was important for baptism – even though those who heard the message had already been filled with the Holy Spirit.

It is in the Didache (a second century document) that we find the first instructions for Baptism. The Didache tells us that we should baptise in this way. “After explaining all things you should baptise them in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. If you cannot do it in flowing water then do it in cold water, if not in cold then warm. If you have very little water pour it on the head three times in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Before the baptism both the baptizer and the candidate for baptism, plus any others who can, should fast. The candidate should fast for one or two days beforehand.” (The practice of fasting during Lent is an extension of this practice. The whole community would fast in preparation for the baptisms that were to take place at Easter.)

I’m not sure how many people fast before a baptism these days. Certainly, even for those encouraged to attend church for six weeks, the preparation is a far cry from the days when a candidate would spend four years learning the faith before they were accepted for baptism.

Over the centuries, the details of baptism services have differed, but the intent remains the same. Through baptism an individual, or godparents on behalf of that individual, declare an allegiance to the Christian faith and in so doing recognise and accept the place of God in their lives. In this overtly materialist world, those who bring their children for baptism acknowledge that the material world has its limitations and they express a desire to expose their child to the world beyond this world, to give their child an opportunity to see that there is more to life than what can be seen and felt and touched. The children whom we welcome into our faith community are already loved by God. In baptism we acknowledge God’s love for them and formalize their entitlement to that love. We recognise that everyone is loved by God and is a child of God.

Of course, that is only the beginning.  Jesus’ baptism signaled the beginning of his ministry. So too for us – our baptism is a gift that shows its true potential only when we set it free to act in and on us. Baptism is a gift of love that is activated most fully when we respond to that love. If we allow it, if we set it free, God’s love will empower and direct our lives, it will fill us with joy and it will activate our compassion and desire for justice and peace. Knowing our place in the spiritual realm will enable us to sit lightly with this world – not to be tossed about and driven by desire for material possessions, status and wealth.  Conscience of God’s presence always with us, we will face every difficulty with courage and every set back with grace. Having been affirmed as a child of God, we will strive to be worthy of that privilege.

Let our beginning not be our ending. May we, the baptised, give God the freedom to renew and transform us, so that we may become more truly ourselves – set free to love and be loved and to make God’s presence known to all around us.


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Who is in and who is out?

January 4, 2014

Epiphany 2014

Matthew 2:1-12

Marian Free

In the name of God, whose love knows no bounds and creates no boundaries for those who would love God in return. Amen.

I imagine that many of you have seen the movie My Big Fat Greek Wedding. It is a wonderful, light-hearted look at a family of Greek migrants in the United States. Like many migrants, they have formed their own sub-community and have done what they can to maintain their culture in a new and strange land. One of the ways in which this extended family can ensure that their traditions are maintained is to insist that their offspring marry someone of Greek descent who will be like them. The movie follows a young woman, her desire to build her own life and to marry the American man with whom she has fallen in love. We watch in agony as her Father parades a number of less-than-attractive but suitable Greek men before he is persuaded to give in and allow her to marry the man of her choice. Along the way we observe the difficulties of two different cultures coming to grips with each other and the migrants letting go of their rigid insistence on remaining apart.

 Of course, the movie is an exaggeration but I grew up in a Brisbane in which recent Mediterranean migrants mostly lived in West End with others who shared their language and ate their food. The supermarket in that suburb was stocked with huge tins of olive oil and the fruit shops introduced us to exotic vegetables like zucchini (which as a child I could have well done without)!

It is human nature to seek out those who support and encourage us, to find those with whom we have something in common, to mix with those who share our background, language and history. Migrants in particular often form communities in the new countries in which they find themselves. Living close to those who have shared their past and their journey to another world provides a sense of continuity, makes the present less strange and makes it easier to practice one’s faith, to cook the foods one is used to and to speak a familiar language and be understood. 

From what we can glean from the New Testament Judaism, in the first century at least, had very clear boundaries and cultural identifiers. According to Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus claimed to have come for “the lost sheep of Israel”, and all the Gospels make a clear distinction between those who are Jews and those who are not. Paul’s letters to the Romans and Galatians indicate just how strong Jewish ethnic boundaries were and how effective they had been in keeping others out. These included adherence to the law – including dietary regulations and purity laws – the circumcision of every male and belief in the one God.

These borders appear to have been fiercely guarded. Outsiders who admired and practiced the faith usually only obtained the status of “God-fearers” and were never fully included as members of “God’s chosen people”.

It is difficult to know if this was always the case, but almost certainly the experience of the exile (500 years before Jesus), would have served to define and harden national identity. It would make sense that those living in exile in Babylon would have placed an emphasis on those characteristics that distinguished them from the culture around them. (We see in the Book of Daniel a description of how some people responded to living in a culture vastly different from their own. In the face of great opposition, and at the risk of his life, Daniel holds fast to his identity and refuses to compromise his beliefs and the practices associated with his faith.)

When the exiles return home they have a clearer vision of who they are, but it is not long before they are again under foreign rule – this time in their own land. By the time that Jesus is born, Palestine has been ruled by foreign powers for over three hundred years. It would be reasonable to suppose that this too created a need for them to preserve their unique identity, to stress their distinctiveness and so claim their place in the world. Those who had left Palestine and settled in other parts of the Empire may (like today’s migrants) have drawn in on themselves and stressed the importance of the things that made them different from the world around them.

For Christians reading the Old Testament, the exclusiveness of first century Judaism is harder to understand. Books like the book of Ruth and Jonah tell, in different ways, the story of God’s concern for and desire to include every nation in the covenant that God made with Abraham. Ruth is a Moabite (non-Jewish) woman who becomes the forebear of David and therefore of the expected Saviour. Jonah’s task is to warn the Ninevites (non-Jews) of God’s wrath and to urge them to repent. According to the Book of Kings, the Queen of Sheba travels to meet King Solomon, to pay homage and to listen to his wisdom and according to the prophet Isaiah, Cyrus, the Persian King is God’s anointed or Messiah. In more than one Psalm, the author sees a time when the whole world will stream to Jerusalem. As we read the Old Testament, it seems clear that God’s intention was always to include the Gentiles.

 By the first century, possibly because the Jewish people were feeling so embattled, they had not only drawn clear lines around themselves but, from what we can tell, they had come to the conclusion that a Jewish Saviour would only save the Jews – or those who were prepared to become Jews. This created a dilemma for the early believers. Many Gentiles had come to faith in Jesus just as they had and what is more, they too had received the gift of the Holy Spirit as a result of that faith. Could they be excluded from membership in this new community simply because they were not Jews by birth? The answer was “no”. Both Acts and the letter to the Galatians tell us that the issue was resolved at a council held in Jerusalem. Rather than be compelled to become Jews, Gentile converts were required only to observe a minimum number of practices in order to belong.

A different dilemma faced the Gospel writers who, some twenty years later, had to confront the reality that Jesus, the Jewish Saviour, had made a greater impact on the Gentiles than he had on the Jews. In order to resolve this puzzle, it was important that they discover and record the evidence that Jesus’ ministry clearly demonstrated an intention to include the Gentiles. In the Gospels there are accounts of Jesus commending Gentiles who exhibit more faith than the Jews, of a Canaanite woman who argues that her daughter deserves to be healed, Jesus’ command to make disciples of all nations and his promise that the disciples will receive the Holy Spirit and be his witnesses to the ends of the earth.

It is in this context that we are to understand Matthew’s account of the coming of the Magi. The author of Matthew, whom we believe was writing for a primarily Jewish community, needed to make it clear that right from the very beginning of the story, Jesus was recognised and worshipped by Gentiles. Furthermore, these magicians – astrologers or scholars – were no ordinary people, but, like the Queen of Sheba who visited Solomon, they were people of significance and wealth who come to pay homage to a Jewish Saviour. In this way the author of Matthew establishes that, from his infancy, Jesus was identified as the Saviour not only of the Jews but of the whole world. The implication being that if Jesus is the Saviour of the world, then those who are not Jews by birth or practice can and should be included in the worshipping community. Anyone who has faith in Jesus can belong.

It is always a mistake to try to second-guess God, to believe that we can determine who is in and who is out, who to include and who to exclude. If we are rigid and exclusive, if we insist that only those who behave in a certain way can belong, we are in danger of drawing our boundaries too close and of failing to see what God is doing in the world.

Who do we exclude and why? If anyone who has faith can belong, who are we to decide who is in and who is out?

 

 

Despite evidence to the contrary – good will prevail

December 28, 2013

Christmas 1 – 2013

Matthew 2:13-23 (Holy Innocents) 

Marian Free

In the name of God, Creator, Redeemer and Sustainer. Amen.

 If we are honest, we have to admit that the world is an ugly place in which to live. On Christmas Eve 2013, a three year-old Palestinian child was killed in an Israeli strike on Gaza in retaliation for the killing of an Israeli civilian. The ABC website carried a photo of the dead girl, Hala, being cradled by her uncle. She looked beautiful almost doll-like – a lovely round face framed by dark, wavy hair. Now she will never grow up. Her family will not know her loves and hates, will not have the pleasure of seeing her mature and take her place in the world. Imagine if she were your child, your niece, your grandchild. It is estimated that since September 2000, 1,519 Palestinian children have died in the conflict as well as 129 Israeli children – so many parents whose children will remain children forever.

Sadly, that situation is far from unique. In Syria an estimated 11,000 children have died as a result of the war – one million more now live in refugee camps, their future uncertain. Here in Hamilton, a wealthy suburb in one of the richer countries in the world – a country that has largely known peace – it is almost impossible to grasp the fact that, on a daily basis, millions of children around the world have their innocence stolen from them, millions never have an opportunity simply to live and millions endure such hardship, cruelty, poverty and disease as is impossible for us to imagine.

The statistics for children who are trafficked, children who are forced into the sex industry, used in pornography or compelled to fight in adult wars are nothing less than horrific. When we celebrate the birth of a child, we can have some degree of certainty that we will be able to protect them from harm, that we will be able to access health care in a timely manner, provide them with a home and with education. In this country we can allow ourselves to imagine a happy future for our children. To be sure, as many of you know, we cannot protect our children against every calamity. It is impossible to prevent accidents and our medical advances cannot cure every disease. However, the chances that our children will be sold into slavery are small, our labour laws will ensure that they will not be made to work in appalling and dangerous conditions, our relative wealth means that they will not starve and the stability of our government means that civil war and its associated costs and horrors will not be part of their experience.

All this, I know, is depressing material for a Sunday morning – or any other time for that matter. The figures are incomprehensible and the degree and scale of suffering are beyond our ability to grasp – especially when they relate to children. That said, today’s gospel is disturbing and, among other things, it compels us to come to terms with the consequences of human greed and the lust for power.

According to Matthew’s Gospel, Herod, afraid that the child sought by the Magi might prove to be a threat to his hold on the throne, orders that all children in Bethlehem who are under the age of two be slaughtered. Can you imagine the anguish of the parents, their despair at not being able to protect their children and their confusion at such a random, unexpected and irrational act? What a violent contrast to the account of Jesus’ birth. There are no angels to celebrate these children, no angels to protect them and no angels warn their parents to flee from Herod’s soldiers. Instead, there is a sudden and wanton destruction of the innocent, the slaying of children caught up in a power struggle that has nothing to do with them.

You may be relieved to know that there is no historical record to back up this part of Matthew’s account. The author of this gospel appears to be exercising poetic license in his attempt to show Old Testament prophecy was brought to fulfillment in Jesus – a dominant theme in these first few chapters of the gospel. The fact remains however, that horrendous things do happen and the Bible does not provide a cocoon of innocence that allows us to shut ourselves away from the world and to pretend that all is well. Within its pages, we are constantly faced with the harsh realities of existence, the cruelty of human nature and the indifference of creation. Our scriptures provide us with accounts of the worst of human nature – murder, adultery, genocide, fratricide, infanticide, incest, rape, political intrigue and execution. They remind us, through stories of flood and famine, that the world is not a benign place in which to reside. As Christians, we cannot escape the knowledge that life is precarious, that people are selfish and avaricious and that faith does not provide assurance that we (or the innocent) will be protected from harm.

The child who held the hopes of the world on his shoulders was, ultimately, unable to save us from ourselves. In his own time, not only was his message ignored, it was considered sufficiently disruptive that the messenger, Jesus, had to be destroyed. Worse than that, in the last 2000 years since Jesus coming, the world has not changed significantly as a result of his presence. In the face of such an unpromising beginning and such a lack of progress in the present, why do so many of us continue to hold the faith?

You will have your reasons – these are some of mine.

I believe that the innocence and promise of the Christ-child invites our love and time and again draws us into a relationship with him and therefore with God. The baby in the manger provides us with promise, fills us with hope and encourages us to believe that the world can be a better place. The selflessness, generosity and compassion of Jesus inspire us to model our lives on his – to work for justice and peace in the world and to confront oppression, cruelty and greed. Through his death Jesus shows that there is no price too high to pay for the salvation of the world and the power of the resurrection gives us the confidence that in time good will prevail and evil will be utterly destroyed.

While children and adults alike are exploited, denigrated, threatened and abused in this world, we who believe are confronted with the baser side of humanity and we are reminded that it is a baseness that we all share. Jesus, through his life demonstrates that humanity is capable of so much more and he shows us through his life how we can be the people God created us to be. Jesus’ example challenges us to recognise and to respect the dignity and worth of all people, to see others as who and what they really are – children of God.

As we wonder yet again at the innocence of the Christ-child, may we remember how much still remains to be done to bring salvation to world and may we commit ourselves to do all that is in our power to be part of the solution and not the problem.

Bridging the gap

December 24, 2013

Christmas Eve 2013

John 1:1-14 – a reflection

Marian Free

In the name of God who will stop at nothing to ensure that we reach our full potential. Amen.

“In the beginning was the Word and the word was with God and the Word was God.” Have you ever noticed that John’s gospel denies us the Nativity. Not for John the angels, the shepherds or the Magi. John does not mention Mary or Joseph or Bethlehem. Those looking for familiar images or for the Christmas card stories will find none of that sentimentality here. The author of John takes us back to the very beginning – to creation. Whereas Matthew and Luke use genealogies to trace Jesus’ lineage – Matthew to Abraham, Luke all the way back to God. John makes it very clear that Jesus existed before anything else. According to John, Jesus is much more than Luke’s “Son of God”. Before time began – the Word, Jesus, co-existed with God, in fact was God.

Luke and Matthew try to engage us with stories of Jesus’ human beginnings, John is much more interested in connecting us with the mystery of Jesus’ being both God and human. John tells us that in Jesus, God takes on human flesh and becomes fully engaged in human existence. John not only takes us back to the very beginning, but he also grounds us in the present. In the fourth Gospel we come face-to-face with the confronting reality(?) of a God who is fully human and a human who is fully God. Instead of contemplating a baby, we are forced to consider the deeper realities of our faith, to ask ourselves what does it mean? How can Jesus be both fully human and fully divine? Why would God abandon the heavenly realms for the messy, dirty, risky experience of earthly existence?

God enters our existence to bridge the gap, to heal the divide between human and divine, to show once and for all that all creation – including the human species – is infused with the presence of God, and to demonstrate that God is intimately engaged with God’s creation. The Word made flesh is not a dispassionate, detached deity who is uninterested in human affairs, but in the person of Jesus, has fully identified with the human condition – assuring us that nothing is outside of God’s concern, that our daily lives are not so dull that God is not interested in them. The Word made flesh is proof positive that unlike us, God does not make a distinction between the holy and the mundane, the extraordinary and the ordinary. When God in Jesus took on human form, God in effect declared that all creation bears the image of God.

When we revisit the baby, we discover that the child in the cradle is just as confronting and challenging as the Word made flesh. There, vulnerable and dependent lies God himself – totally (and at great risk) entering into the human condition. This is what we discover once more at Christmas time. God’s love for the world was so great that God could not stand aloof, but had to become one with God’s creation, so that creation could achieve its true purpose – to become one with God.

An angel made me do it

December 21, 2013

Advent 4 – 2013

Matthew 1:18-25

Marian Free

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

 There is a wonderful line in the mini-series of “Pride and Prejudice” when the overly religious and moralistic Mary states – in response to Lydia’s elopement: “As difficult as this situation is, it is a useful reminder to us that a woman’s virtue, once lost, is irretrievable.”  She reflects a common view. Her cousin, Mr Collins has already commented something to the effect that the situation would not have been as bad had Lydia been dead. All the blame, all the responsibility for her loss of virtue fall on her. Mr Wickham, the man who has persuaded Lydia to run away with him, will have a reputation of not being a “respectable man”, but it is Lydia and her family that will bear the censure and the social isolation that will result from her reckless behaviour. No one will want to socialise with the family after this and the four other sisters will now be tainted by association. As Elizabeth says: “She is ruined, and her family must share in her shame and disgrace.” Sexual indiscretion on the part of the woman seems to have been seen as something that was contagious. It was considered to be so morally wrong that no one would want to be seen to be condoning it by maintaining a friendship with the family.

These sorts of attitudes regarding chastity make Joseph’s reaction to Mary’s pregnancy quite extraordinary. In many cultures even today, a woman who shames her family or her husband can be cast out of that society or even worse, put to death. A respectable man would want nothing to do with her and would certainly not want to raise someone else’s child as if he or she were his own.

So far as we can tell, in the first century, as in some places today, young people were engaged at a very young age. They didn’t necessarily live together and were not actually married until they were older. This seems to have been the case with Mary and Joseph. When Mary fell pregnant she and Joseph were not married and not living together. You can imagine his shock and disappointment when he discovered that Mary had become pregnant to someone else. In the normal course of events he could have caused a commotion. Mary’s pregnancy would have been a source of great humiliation, shame and embarrassment to him. In normal circumstances, he would want nothing more to do with her, he would not want to be associated with someone who was not chaste and he almost certainly would not want to raise someone else’s child – especially in a culture in which a son was required to carry on the family name.

Mary’s parents have let him down. They have not kept their side of the bargain that would have been to ensure Mary’s chastity – any commitments they made with regard to the betrothal have been broken. Now that Mary is pregnant, she is “spoiled goods”. Joseph is within his rights to ask for compensation and not to marry her.

However, he resolves not to make a fuss, to demand recompense or to make an example of Mary. Instead he decides “to dismiss her quietly” and to release her and her parents from any arrangement they have made. Perhaps, as tradition has it, Joseph is an old man who with the wisdom of age understands why a young woman might choose someone else or perhaps he just likes to keep to himself and does not want to draw attention to the situation. Whatever the reason, Joseph presumably thinks that this episode in his life has been dealt with and put behind him. Not so – God, in the form of an angel intervenes with an outrageously unbelievable story. “The child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will bear a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.”

Assuming the account to have some truth in it, Joseph is asked to make a huge turn around. He has to reverse his decision, he has to come to terms with marrying Mary, he has to accept and raise a child that is not his own, he has to confront the fact that his neighbours may view him with contempt and that his only explanation for behaviour which will make no sense at all to those around him – will be: “An angel made me do it”.

Unfortunately, we cannot go back in time, so can only guess at the scenario and wonder how much license the author of Matthew has taken with the story. It is possible, as Matthew suggests, that Joseph was held in such esteem in the community that his behaviour would have been seen as further evidence of his goodness and generosity. He is protecting a young woman from life-long isolation and shame. All the same, we cannot underestimate what a huge decision this would be for Joseph and risks he was taking in marrying a woman who was already pregnant. His own moral codes would be called into question and his social standing compromised as a result.

It is possible that the culture of the time was more open to God speaking to people in dreams or to angels appearing apparently out of nowhere with messages that turn a person’s life upside down. Even so, few, I imagine would believe that God was asking Joseph to do something that was so socially unacceptable. In effect, Joseph would have had to convince his family and friends to accept that God was asking him to do something that would compromise his (and God’s) moral standards and to behave in a way that was contrary to the principles and values that his community held in common. Joseph had to be absolutely convinced that he message that he had dreamt did indeed come from God, absolutely sure that the risks he was taking were worth the end result and that going against his own moral code was, in this instance, the right thing to do.

Some people make the mistake of confusing Christianity with morality. Being a Christian, they believe, has to do with being good (as opposed to being in union with God). This allows them to make moral judgments and to censure those who do not live up to their particular set of standards. The reality, as we know, is much more complex. When we strip away the sentimentality from our Christmas stories we find a different point of view. Beneath the romantic story of angels and dreams and of Mary and Joseph and the baby, we discover that God is not bound by our ideas of right and wrong or by our set of moral principles. The central characters of the Christmas story are a woman who has become pregnant out-of-wedlock and a man who is prepared to risk his own character and to ignore the accepted morality of first century Palestine. Each, in their different ways, respond to an angel who asks them to behave in ways contrary to the social mores of their time and to act in ways that will expose them to derision and disdain. Yet their relationship with God is such that they are able to place their trust completely in God, to put their own hesitations behind them and to take risks that make them vulnerable to censure and to social exclusion to ensure that God’s purpose can become a reality.

The example of Mary and Joseph is not an excuse for us to ignore moral values or cultural norms, but it is a reminder to us that we should build our relationship with God such that not only do we know and do what is right and proper, but that we also know when we are called to step beyond cultural boundaries and social constraints so that God’s presence might be known in the world.

Keeping up

December 14, 2013

Advent 3 – 2013

Matthew 11:2-11

Marian Free

In the name of God who breaks into our lives and changes them forever.  Amen.

There are some events that irrevocably change the course of history, some ideas that change our lives in a way that is irreversible and some experiences from which it is impossible to recover. When Martin Luther nailed his ninety-nine theses to a church door, he had no idea that the church of which he was a part would never be the same. He had no thought that after his death his followers would break away from Rome and form their own church and no notion that the ensuing Reformation would divide the church in a way which continues to have repercussions today. Much later, Darwin’s Origin of the Species shook the world and the church causing people to revisit the stories of their beginnings and to reconsider the nature of humanity. For many of us, our concept of who we are and where we came from changed forever. There are many such events or discoveries that interrupt the direction in which the world is travelling and sends humanity on a completely different and often unexpected path.

The same is true on an individual level. Our view of the world and of ourselves changes – sometimes radically – as we grow and learn and have both positive and negative experiences. Over time we learn for example, that our parents do not know everything, that clouds are not made of cotton wool, that there is no “man in the moon”. Sadly, there are more sinister ways in which our world is changed. A child who is abused by someone whom they trust loses their innocence, their sense of themselves and their ability to trust – often forever.

In the first century, this who came to faith in Jesus, believed that his life, death and resurrection formed one such seminal event. From their point of view the stream of history had been irreversibly interrupted, the time space continuum disturbed. They believed that God in Jesus had broken into history shattering the connection between past and present.

It is this attitude to the world that explains Jesus’ apparently dismissive words regarding John the Baptist. “The least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he.” How can Jesus say that? It was John who called people to repentance, John who drew “all Jerusalem” to him, John who announced Jesus and John from whom Jesus sought baptism. It seems an extraordinary claim that John rates lower than the least in the kingdom of heaven. How can this be?

For the gospel writers it is clear – history has been divided into two – before Jesus and after Jesus. From their point of view, John does not belong to the new dispensation, he belongs to the time before Jesus, a time that had not been affected by Jesus’ breaking into the world. No matter what John the Baptist had contributed to Jesus’ ministry, he was not a part of this new world order. He had not made the transition from one time period to another. John belonged in the past as the last of the prophets, firmly situated in the Old Testament culture and experience and cannot bridge this dramatic disruption in time.

It is possible that John was relegated to the past simply because he did not live to see what was happening.  He was executed at about the same time that Jesus began his ministry so it was impossible for him to participate in what was happening. However, it is also possible that John was stuck in the past because even while he lived he was unable to see and join in what was going on. John’s announcement of Jesus indicates that he expected something different from what actually happened.  He predicted a fiery Saviour who would come to judge the world. Let me remind you what he said: “His winnowing fork is in his hand and he will clear his threshing floor and will gather his wheat into the granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire”  (Matt 3:12).

As we know, the reality of Jesus was vastly different. John’s question from prison demonstrates that it is not clear to him that Jesus is the “one who is to come”. He remains open to the possibility that they might have to “look for another”.

John was not confident that Jesus was the one sent by God because his vision was clouded by the image that he (and many of his compatriots) had developed of a Saviour or Redeemer.  On the basis of some prophetic ideas he and they, it seems, had built up a picture of someone who would come with power to judge the earth, who would separate the wheat from the chaff, the good from the bad. In the process he and they had failed to take note of other prophetic ideas – those from Isaiah in particular – which spoke of a “suffering Servant” whose programme would be to heal and liberate rather than to condemn. They were unprepared for a Jesus who did not fit the image that they had created.

There is a warning for us here. It is very tempting for us to give in to our need for certainty, to scour our Bibles and to try to draw conclusions about the nature of God and the nature of God’s future. However, God is always doing surprising things, the most surprising of which was Jesus who did not conform to any preconceptions and who suffered a shameful, God-abandoned death. For this reason, we should not try to second-guess God, to read into our scriptures things that may and may not be there or to try to tie God down to something someone wrote two thousand years ago.

If we do this not only will we fail in our attempt to define and categorise God but we are in danger of blinding ourselves to who and what God is and we will  – like John – be unable able to see the new things that God is doing in our time.

A vulnerable child, a crucified Saviour – what will God do next and will our eyes be open and our hearts ready for whatever it is that God will reveal? Advent is a time of anticipation and waiting, of preparing ourselves for God’s coming. Let it be a time in which we let go of all our expectations so that we are ready for God, no matter how God comes.

Uncomfortable people – terrorists or saviours, threat or promise?

December 7, 2013

Advent 2 – 2013

Matthew 3:1-12

Marian Free

 In the name of God who is not always comfortable and benign and whose prophets are sometimes harsh and uncompromising. Amen. 

Over the past two days our airways and our print media have eulogised Nelson Mandela and rightly so. His was an extraordinary life and he belongs with the great men and women of history. That said, not everyone shares that view. When we were in Cape Town a few years ago our tour guide expressed disgust that “that terrorist” was regarded as a hero. In Fact, for most of Mandela’s early political life he was considered a revolutionary and a troublemaker. He was a leader of a banned organisation that incited people to revolt against the government. People in South Africa and abroad were divided in their opinions of him and of his means of achieving his goal. For many, he was a respected figure, working for a just cause, but for those who supported apartheid he was considered a dangerous activist who was determined to bring down a legitimate government.

In his autobiography: A Long Walk to Freedom, Mandela takes full responsibility for the decision of the African National Congress to use violence in the struggle against apartheid and when the Government invited the ANC to the negotiating table Mandela refused to lay down arms as a pre-condition for the talks.  He was anything but a comfortable man.

I raise these issues to remind you that it is not always easy to make wise judgements about uncomfortable people – especially when they challenge our complacency, confront our values or threaten the stability of our way of life.  Sometimes it is only with the benefit of hindsight that we understand how easily we are deceived. Hitler – an upholder of law and order – turned out to be a monster. Mandela – a law-breaker – turned out to be a nation’s “greatest son, father of the people.” (Jacob Zuma)

John the Baptist was an uncomfortable and uncompromising person. Despite that people flocked to him from miles around. No doubt he unsettled both the religious and political leaders of his day. Those in authority are suspicious of people who can draw a crowd and nervous about the level of their influence they can exert.

Perhaps this is why the Pharisees and Sadducees ventured into the wilderness to see John and ostensibly to be baptised by him. These unlikely partners in crime would be curious to see what John was doing and teaching. Perhaps they thought they could learn something from him, in particular how they could gain the support of the people. Alternately, they might have been seeking information that they could use in order to discredit him and to regain the deference of the people. Whatever their reasons, it is clear that John saw right through them. He did not believe that they had come to repent or to learn from him. He accused them of shallowness and of duplicity. “You offspring of vipers,” he says. “Bear fruit worthy of repentance.”

For John, it is not enough that they came out into the desert. Nor is it enough that they sought baptism. He was aware that if the Pharisees and Sadducees were not prepared to radically change their lives their baptism would have achieved nothing. Their feigned respect for John the Baptist was meaningless if they had not responded to his message and allowed their lives to be transformed as a result. John was confident that they could no rely on their heritage or their position, only a change of heart would ensure that they retained the privilege of being children of Abraham.

It is easy to be like the Pharisees and Sadducees and to live our lives on the surface, relying on our respectability and our superficial goodness. We can stand at a distance and admire and respect the John the Baptists of the past and the Nelson Mandelas of our time. However to dive into the depths of our being and to root out all that is ugly is a much more challenging and unwelcome task. Not many of us have the nerve to abandon our comfort zones and to allow ourselves to be radically changed. It takes courage to look deep into our souls and it takes a great deal of moral fibre to go against the flow, to associate with uncomfortable and challenging people and, with them, to stand up and be counted.

We do not honour Nelson Mandela by filling our Facebook pages with quotations and photos or by speaking in hushed and reverent voices about his achievements and his legacy. The best accolade that we can give him is to endeavour from this day on to recognise and to confront injustice; to rid our hearts of all bitterness and resentment; and to pray for the wisdom to discern when a person who makes us uncomfortable is a threat or a promise.

John the Baptist issued both threat and promise. He challenged the establishment and promised the coming of one even greater. He announced the judgement of God and provided a means to escape it. He saw through the hypocrisy of the Pharisees and Sadducees and honoured the openness of the people and their willingness to change.

If we do not wish to be censured, if we are sure that we are not the offspring of vipers, it is important that we hear John’s accusations, that we examine our motives for what we do and do not do, that we do not seek to protect what we have but to do what is right. Only an openness of heart, a self-critical attitude and a true understanding of the righteousness of God will help us to know right from wrong, good from bad, hero from terrorist. May God give us discernment, clarity of purpose and an openness of heart and mind, so that we might recognise the prophets among us, respond to their challenge and with them prepare for the coming of our God.


[1] Jacob Zuma commenting on Mandela’s death.

Equal measures of anticipation and trepidation

November 30, 2013

Advent 1, 2013

 Isaiah 2:1-5, Psalm 122, Romans 13:9-14, Matthew 24:36-44 

Marian Free

 In the name of God who both comforts and disturbs, who has come among us and who will come again. Amen.

During the week I conducted a limited survey to see what sort of event or activity made different people both excited and terrified at the same time. Sally thought it would be getting ready for a parachute jump, Jon said that it was his impending ordination. Michael said that for him it would be preparing for a band performance. A Facebook friend expressed both joy and fear at the prospect of moving house.

I’m sure that it is the same for all of us. When we do something new or adventurous, we are filled both with excitement and trepidation. We have a sense of anticipation that the adventure or experience will expand our horizons or bring a sense of achievement, or that the new skill, new home will enrich our lives in some way. That said, no matter how many precautions we have taken, no matter how prepared we are for the event, there is always a sense of stepping into the unknown. We cannot know the outcome until we step out in faith and because we cannot know the end result, there is always the fear that whatever it is may not work out as we had hoped, that we are not up to the task, or that something unexpected will crop up and undermine all our expectations.

There are a number of occasions that make us both nervous and excited, and which have us filled with equal amounts of anticipation and dread. I would contend that Advent is (or should be) such a time.

If we are honest, most of us at this time of year are busy getting ready for Christmas. That means that we are buying presents, thinking about menus, organizing the family get together and hanging decorations. We know that it is Advent because the church is using the colour purple, we have an Advent Wreath and the Pew Bulletin tells us what Season it is.  Sometimes, that is the extent of our Advent preparation. We are filled with anticipation because Christmas is coming, we will see our families, exchange gifts and enjoy the Christmas services. It is a wonderful time of year, filled with expectation for the future and memories of the past. Advent fades into the background, not least because in the world around us, preparation for Christmas began months ago.

Of course, we know that Christmas is really about Jesus, about God’s coming among us over two thousands years ago. At best, we are filled with a sense of wonder that God could choose to be so fully part of human experience that despite all our shortcomings God would send Jesus to save us.

However, as our readings remind (or even warn) us, Advent is much more than a warm, fuzzy expectation about Christmas. The Season of Advent has the dual purpose of preparing us to welcome once more the child of God among us and also of reminding us of our need to be ready for Jesus’ coming again. It is the former that fills us with anticipation and joy and the latter which fills us with a certain amount of trepidation and even dread. While we should be as excited to greet the returning Jesus as we are to celebrate the infant Jesus, we tend to be at least a little anxious about the thought of Jesus’ coming again, an anxiety fueled not a little by the New Testament descriptions of such an event.

In today’s readings the emotions of hope and fear are equally balanced. The Old Testament reading and the Psalm look forward in anticipation to that time when God shall come, but the New Testament readings sound a note of warning and suggest that Jesus’ return will not be so benign. Isaiah chapter 2 and Psalm 122 envisage a wonderful time when all people shall turn to God and there will be peace among the nations. However, Paul’s words from the letter of Romans teach us to temper our expectation with caution. He writes: “You know what time it is” and urges his readers to “lay aside the works of darkness and put on the armour of light”. “Salvation is nearer than when we first believed.”  It is because our salvation is near that it is essential that Jesus not find us in reveling and drunkenness, quarreling and jealousy. NOW (not next week) is the time to put our lives in order, to be confident that, should Jesus come tomorrow, we would be ready and happy to greet him.

It is the words of today’s Gospel however, that are the most ominous. We are reminded that we do not know when Jesus will come. There will be no warning. Jesus’ coming will be unexpected and many will be caught unprepared. We are told that will be getting on with our everyday lives when suddenly, without notice, Jesus will be here among us. Just as the thief catches a householder unprepared, so too Jesus will come upon us when we least expect him.

The message is this: “keep awake!” – expect Jesus’ return at any moment. Ensure that there is nothing in our lives that we would want to hide from his view. Be aware that at any moment Jesus could come upon us unawares. If there was a cause to be anxious about Jesus’ return, this would be it – that Jesus would come and we would not be ready – that there would be some aspect of our lives that would not stand up to closer inspection.

The Season of Advent provides us with a time to examine our lives; to open ourselves to God’s scrutiny, to ask ourselves whether – if Jesus were to come upon us now – there be anything we would wish that we had put right beforehand.

“About that day and hour no one knows, neither the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.” There is no reason for fear – the coming of Christ among us is a cause for rejoicing – the earth will be renewed, God’s reign will be firmly established. Jesus’ coming again will herald the dawn of a new day when pain and suffering will cease and there will be harmony between the nations. Jesus will come again as he did before – to save and not condemn. Our task is to lead lives worthy of Jesus’ love for and trust in us.  Confident in that love we will welcome his return with the same joy and enthusiasm with which we rejoice in his birth.

Surrender now

November 23, 2013

Christ the King 2013

Luke 23:33-43

Marian Free 

In the name of God who created us in God’s own image. Amen.

Jesus was not the first or the last king to be executed. A great many Kings (or heirs apparent) have been executed or murdered. In the Old Testament, the books 1 & 2 Kings are filled with gruesome accounts of power struggles – particularly among half-brothers. At times whole families are slaughtered in order to ensure that one person’s right to rule is not challenged. The history of the British Monarchy is no less ruthless. Civil wars have been fought by supporters of rival claimants to the throne. In 1483, Richard duke of Gloucester. who had already killed the then Queen’s brother and her eldest son from her first marriage. forcibly locked up her son Edward – the king who had inherited the throne from his father – and shortly after imprisoned the younger son as well. The young princes (aged 13 and 10) were seen from time to time, but then disappeared completely. It is presumed that they were killed so that they would not challenge their uncle’s right to the throne. (In the Art Gallery at the moment a poignant painting of the boys’ Mother bidding them farewell is hung in a prominent place near the entrance.) (The problem with power illegally gained is that is has to be protected from challengers – those who have usurped the throne are only too aware of how easily they might be unseated. All potential threats need to be disposed.)

Some British Monarchs have been publicly executed. At least two of Henry the Eighth’s wives were executed for treason. In our tradition, perhaps the most well-known monarch to have been executed was Charles the 1st who was accused of treason because of his refusal to call a Parliament. Charles was firmly convinced of the divine right of kings and sought to levy taxes without Parliament’s consent. He was tried by 68 judges (there were to have been 135) and beheaded.

What makes Jesus different from this long line of tragic kings, queens and princes is that Jesus never had nor sought power – in fact just the opposite. Jesus did not see himself as someone who was in competition with the priests, scribes and Pharisees. He certainly did not try to usurp power from the rulers of Rome. From our point of view he does not appear (in himself) to pose any real threat to either the leaders of the church or the representatives of the Roman Empire.

He has none of the trappings of royalty – no palace, no fancy clothes, no wealth, no army. Jesus by his own account has nowhere to lay his head and his followers do not appear to be men whom he could easily form into a fighting force. In fact Jesus is the antithesis of all things associated with power and control. As the Son of God, he has all kinds of resources at his command – including angels – yet he chooses not to call on them even when they could save his life. Instead of resisting, Jesus allows himself to be arrested. Instead of mounting a defense he remains silent before his accusers. Instead of calling out an army (of angels) to save him, he allows himself to be nailed to the cross.

Jesus’ approach to death is consistent with his approach to life. From the moment of his baptism, Jesus makes it clear that, though he knows he is God, he is not going to capitalize or take advantage of that knowledge. He could turn stones into bread when he is hungry, jump off the Temple and be unharmed and he could rule the world if he chose to claim power solely for himself. However, despite the knowledge that he has power to just about anything, Jesus never imposes his will or lords it over others – just the opposite. Unlike the dictators of his time (and ours) Jesus knows that imposing his will on others will not secure their confidence or their loyalty. He knows that love that is forced is not love. He knows too, that it is only by forgoing all the trappings of wealth and power, only by giving himself completely to God that God’s purpose (rather than his) will be achieved.

Jesus’ teaching likewise emphasises service over power. Over and over again he teaches his disciples that the first will be last and the last will be first or that the one who serves is greater than the one who lords it over others. By example and instruction, Jesus models the notion that humility is the quality most prized in heaven and that submission to God is more likely to lead to salvation than trying to succeed on one’s own terms.

From beginning to end, Jesus confounds everyone. His life begins in humble circumstances and ends with the shame of the cross. In popular understanding, he does not fit the image of a soldier Messiah, nor does he conform to the expectations of a King of David’s line. Jesus does not exercise his prerogative to judge. All in all, he is a very unlikely and unexpected Saviour.

Jesus’ crucifixion highlights how little he has been understood and the disdain rather than the respect that has come his way. To the very end he held fast to his purpose, which was to demonstrate that true power is demonstrated through service rather than dominance. Interestingly, it is at the end – ironically – that his true divinity is demonstrated. At the very point at which he most identifies with humanity in death, the very point at which he is most human and most vulnerable, he exercises his divine right to both judge and to forgive and in so doing to decide who may or may not enter paradise – something that only God can do.

Jesus is a king who doesn’t conform to the ways of the world. He is a contradictory and confusing king who refuses the identifiers of status wealth and power. Following this king will not lead to power and glory. Sometimes it will lead to persecution and derision. It does not require great exploits and certainly has no career structure. If we choose to follow Jesus, we will learn that we are most empowered when we empower others, that we are most truly ourselves when we are the person whom God created, that true authority comes not from ourselves but from the presence of God within us, that entry into the Kingdom of God is not something that we earn, but something that we receive when we acknowledge Jesus and no other as our King.

Ultimately, we have no power, no glory, no wisdom or strength or goodness that does not come from God. That being the case, we might as well surrender. As Jesus gave himself fully to God so we might as well give ourselves fully to Jesus and discover as Jesus did that it is only when we give everything away that we uncover the wealth, the gifts and the godliness that was already ours.

Holding firm in the face of threat

November 16, 2013

Pentecost 25

Luke 21:5-19

Marian Free

Holy God, in good times and in bad, give us the confidence to believe that you have our welfare at heart. Amen.

I don’t know if your can imagine what it would be like to come to church unsure if you would make it home alive, or what it would be like if you could not work because you professed a faith in Jesus, or how it would feel if your family, feeling that your loyalty to them had weakened, felt no need to protect you against discrimination or worse – handed you over to those who might take your life. That it is what it is like for many, many Christians in the world today.

On July 29 this year, four bombs hit two churches in Kano, Nigeria. Forty five people were killed in those attacks. Many churches in the northern parts of that country are protected by high walls and other security measures, but that does not keep worshipers safe from those who would ram vehicles laden with explosive into the gates, or from the snipers who would target worshippers as they leave the compound. Christians in Nigeria have been the targets of attacks since at least 2009. On September 22 this year a suicide bomber struck an Anglican church in Peshawar in Pakistan just as the congregation were leaving the service. At least eighty four were killed, including many children, and up to 200 people were injured.

Coptic Christians have been targeted in Egypt since the establishment of military rule because of a belief that they supported the overthrow of the President. For months now there have been demonstrations in Indonesia against the appointment of a Christian to a Government position in a largely Muslim area of Jakarta. This, despite the fact that the Indonesian constitution protects religious freedom. In all these instances, and in many others, believers have lost not only their places of worship, but also their friends and family members. It must be terrible to live under such constant threat. In such situations believers require both faith and courage to persist in the practice of their faith.

It is difficult to imagine what it must be like to know that attending church may be a fatal decision. What must it be like to return home from church knowing that your wife, husband or children had been killed simply because they chose to join you in worship on that day. From our position of relative acceptability and respectability, it is difficult to conceive what it must be like to feel under constant threat because of one’s faith. Yet not only is this a reality for today’s Christians in many parts of the world it was also (albeit to a lesser extent) the reality for the Christians whom the New Testament addresses.

In the first century, the systematic persecution of Christians had not yet begun but there were many ways in which believers could feel persecuted and isolated. Their profession of faith increasingly set them apart from members of the Jewish faith and prevented them from socializing with their Gentile neighbours. A belief in one God meant that believers could not participate in worship of the Emperor which put them at risk of being accused of treason and being unable to take part in the worship of Greek and Roman gods excluded them from the trade guilds and therefore prevented them from working at their chosen professions. Early believers could feel vulnerable, oppressed, isolated and at risk.

Today’s gospel addresses such a situation. Jesus, is looking forward to the future and suggests that it holds a number of possibilities – the destruction of the Temple, the possibility of wars, earthquakes, famines and plagues, and the likelihood that those who choose to follow Jesus may experience exclusion and persecution. He suspects that the unifying symbol of Judaism (the Temple) will fall, that life will continue to be filled with trauma, disaster and conflict and that those who choose to follow Jesus can expect a life of rejection, conflict and discrimination. Even those who might be expected to protect them (their families and friends) will abandon them to their fate, or, worse, actively hand them over to the authorities.

Jesus is aware of the fate that awaits him in Jerusalem and he has the foresight to warn his followers that their association with him will lead to similar consequences – betrayal, being handed over to the authorities and being put to death. He does not promise that because of their faith their lives will be saved or that God will be able to protect them from harm – just the opposite. He knows that following him will almost certainly put the disciples on a trajectory of conflict with their families, their friends, with the synagogues and with the rulers. Just as he cannot escape his destiny, so his followers must accept that their own lives may be in jeopardy if they continue on this course.

Jesus offers no false hopes, he does not pretend that being his disciple will lead to acceptance and respect. He tells it how it is. Life will remain very much the same – there will be no end to warfare and natural disaster. Believing in him will not mean that those who believe will be spared the tragedies and trials of this life. In fact, it might even make it worse. The disciples are to be under no false illusions as to what the future might hold. That said, persecution will provide an opportunity to bear witness and Jesus himself will give them words to say that not even their opponents will be able to contradict. Furthermore, and most importantly, if they hold fast they will preserve their souls. Whatever may happen in this life, their eternal life is secure. If they hold fast to God, God will hold fast to them.

The key to understanding this passage then is perseverance and promise. Life does not always work out the way we had hoped or planned. Our faith does not provide a guarantee that we will be protected from the difficulties and calamities that are part and parcel of human existence. We are assured however, that God will not abandon us, and that if we keep faith with God we will inherit eternal life. Our faith may not provide protection from the exigencies of this life, but it does give us the fortitude to accept what life throws at us and the confidence that a better life awaits us.

It is this confidence that gives our fellow Christians the courage to go on when they do not know whether the next time they worship will be their last. Those who live in places where persecution is a current reality can find the resolve to continue knowing that Jesus did not promise a life of ease and comfort but rather predicted that violence and hatred were a reasonable expectation for those who followed him.

We will almost certainly not experience persecution as a result of our faith. Our church is unlikely to be bombed and we will not be beaten up in the street. We are among the blessed, we have homes, enough food to eat, peace and security. Our tragedies are of a different kind. Believing “that not a hair on our head will be lost” gives us the courage to hold fast when our child dies, when our home is swept away by flood or when we are diagnosed with a terminal illness. Our faith does not waver in the face of disaster because we know that in the final analysis nothing is more important than our relationship with God and our eternal salvation.

Thank goodness our faith is not put to the test in the way that it is for so many throughout the world. Thank goodness we can worship without fear and go about our business unimpeded. May God give us strength and courage to face the ups and downs of our lives and may we remember daily in our prayers those whose faith places them in constant danger and whose courage and steadfastness in the face of persecution is an inspiration and challenge to us all.