Swallowsrest

Pentecost 4
(Mark 5:21-43)
Marian Free
In the name of God whose story is our story. Amen.
During the week I attended the Public Affairs Committee of the National Church. The role of the committee is to consider the church’s response to public issues – climate change, nuclear weapons, the Northern Territory intervention and so on. Not small matters, but matters on which the church could have a voice.
At the beginning of the meeting the Archbishop of Melbourne, Phillip Freier addressed us. Among other things, he suggested that the church had lost its confidence in ourselves and in our story. In the face of declining numbers we have begun to look inward and have stopped relating to the world. He encouraged us to revisit or retell the narrative to rediscover the ways in which our story connects with the story of the world around us.
It is true that over the past fifty years or so that we have had a crisis of confidence. In the face of declining numbers and increasing criticism, we have tended to become less sure of ourselves, more conscious of our very obvious flaws and more self-deprecating. Our willingness to be open to the experience of others has sometimes meant that we have played down our own experience and the wealth of wisdom that we have to bring to the table. Our lack of sophistication in interpreting our story has sometimes meant that we have been unable to respond adequately to the charges laid against us, especially that of hypocrisy. There has been a tendency to be ashamed of where we have failed and a failure to be proud of where we have succeeded.
In order to fully engage with the world and to share our story, it is essential that we know our own narrative.
First of all, we need to know and understand the story of our faith as it is revealed in our scriptures. What do we really know about what they say and what they mean? How do we engage with the passage that are challenging and confronting? Are we in a position to explain such difficulties to others? Do we really understand what Jesus was about and can we share with others Jesus’ teachings and actions?
Secondly, it is important to know the history of the church of which we are a part. That includes being honest and accepting the good with the bad. Yes – we were involved in the Crusades and we cannot deny the Inquisition. Yes – the church is just as vulnerable as other institutions to sexual abuse and to abuse of power. Our past is not all good. It reflects the fact that our members are human and that adherents of any religion are not immune to the seductions of power and wealth. At the same time, let us not forget the selfless actions of thousands and thousands of faithful Christians who have built schools and hospitals for the poor, worked with lepers and aids victims, insisted on the abolition of slavery and stood with the poor and the outcast. There is much in our history – and our present – of which we can be justly proud. Being honest about our failings does not mean being silent about the contribution we have made and continue to make in the world around us. We must know our own story so that we can see how our story interacts with the story of our surrounding culture and what it is that we have contributed.
Further, it is important that we understand what our story means, that we are able to give meaning to our story. That is, we have to know and understand our theology. What does it mean for example, that Jesus ends the suffering of a woman and heals a small girl? We all know that first century miracles are not necessarily convincing for 21st century sceptics. On the other hand, a God who not only enters our experience, but pays attention to what is going on and responds to pleas for help may well speak to those who lives are empty of meaning. A God who feels the touch of a woman in the crowd and goes out of his way for a 12 year old girl, is a God who is as interested in the small things as well as the big. When we know our story and what it means, we will be able to make connections between our story and the stories of those around us.
Our central story, is not simply an historical event, but an event which continues to shape us and to shape the world around us. Jesus’ death and resurrection affirm that suffering is a part of human existence and reassure us that faith in God will give us strength to endure and hope that not only will the suffering end, but that we can look forward to a new and better future. Jesus’ life and death tells of a God intimately involved in the experiences of God’s people. A God who loved so much that he chose to share our life (a life which is always bound by birth and death, which includes joy and sorrow, health and sickness, loyalty and betrayal).

Our story begins with God’s engagement with the world and continues as we learn to tell the story anew for every generation.

For two thousand years the narrative has transformed lives, led to acts of selflessness and courage, inspired struggles for peace and justice and encouraged solidarity with the poor and the despised.
What happens in the next two thousand years depends on us and on how we tell the story.

Pentecost 3 – 2009

Mark 4:35-41                                                                                                                                                                                        Marian Free

In the name of God who calms our fears and rides with us through the storms. Amen.

“On that day, when evening had come, he said to them, ‘Let us go across to the other side.’ And leaving the crowd behind, they took him with them in the boat, just as he was. Other boats were with him. A great gale arose, and the waves beat into the boat, so that the boat was already being swamped. But he was in the stern, asleep on the cushion; and they woke him up and said to him, ‘Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?’ He woke up and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, ‘Peace! Be still!’ Then the wind ceased, and there was a dead calm. He said to them, ‘Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?’ And they were filled with great awe and said to one another, ‘Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?’”

Many of us will be familiar with today’s gospel from our Sunday School days. The story is one that can be told with great drama. Our teachers will have inspired us with wonder that Jesus so powerful that he was able to still the storm. This, in fact, is the message that Mark intends: “Who is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?” Jesus’ influence over the natural elements of the world would have been evidence of his power in a first century world – convincing evidence of his divinity.

What amazes me though, is not that Jesus stills the waves or that he has control over the environment. (Why didn’t he stop the tsunami?) What amazes me is that in the midst of a great gale which causes his fishermen friends to be terrified, Jesus is asleep. The boat is already being swamped and yet Jesus is asleep on a cushion. (I love that detail!) Jesus’ confidence in God is such that he can sleep when everyone else is in fear of their lives. Apparently it hasn’t occurred to him to be worried. Jesus knows – as Paul does later – that whether he lives or dies, he is in God’s hands and that being in God’s hands is a pretty good place to be.

There are a great many things and situations which cause us to worry – our health, our employment or lack of it, our children (parents), the state of the economy – the list is endless. If Jesus can hand over all his cares to God, why can’t we?

The cushion is there in the boat, just waiting for us lay down our heads.

Trinity Sunday 2009

John 3:1-17                                                                                                                                                                  Marian Free

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

While it is not explicit, the second story of creation creates an picture of God and Adam as intimate friends walking and talking at the evening of the day. It is an image of relationship and of intimacy. It describes a God who is not removed from creation remote and distance in the heavenly realms but who instead draws near to God’s people in friendship and love. God’s choice is to be closely involved with those whom God created.

That this is true is demonstrated throughout the Old Testament. Even though God’s relationship with Adam is irrevocably damaged when Adam chooses to share God’s power, God continues to build close relationships with humankind. For example, God’s relationship with Abraham is, in places, that of a confidant. God speaks directly to Abraham and goes so far as to include him in decision making. God is equally close to Moses. On Mount Sinai, God speaks directly to him and God takes notice of what Moses has to say about how God should behave. The Old Testament is the story of God continually reaching out to God’s people, seeking to restore and to rebuild a relationship with them which is intimate and authentic and which includes them in the work of salvation.

This action of God comes to a climax when God enters human history as a human being. God as Jesus attempts once for all to rebuild the connection which God so desires. In Jesus God makes friends with us, as one of us. He eats and drinks with us, laughs and cries with us. Imperfect as we are he invites us to share with him in the task of salvation. Having shared our lives so intimately, God does not withdraw into heaven from where he can maintain the friendship at a distance. Instead God remains as a real presence in the world and in the lives of believers in the form of the Holy Spirit.

We see that intriguingly, not only does this relational God seek to connect intimately with humankind, but that God contains within himself the most marvelous relationship – Creator, Redeemer and Sanctifier, Father, Son and Holy Spirit – demonstrating in the very nature of God, the nature of life and faith. The relationship which God desires with us is revealed in the relationship which is found within God – a relationship which is so close and personal that there is no distinction between the members. So strong is the inter-relationship that for us to know one person is to know all three, for us to experience one person is to experience all three.

The nature of God has always been a complex relationship of equals. God did not divide into two at the point of the Incarnation and then into three on the day of Pentecost. In the beginning the creation was set in trail by God the creator, working hand in hand with the word of God or the wisdom of God as the spirit of God breathed the world into being. God has always been incarnate in creation, the divine has always inhabited humankind and been present in the created world. Throughout the Old Testament God’s spirit has enlivened, challenged, empowered and encouraged both the ordinary and extraordinary people of faith. The wisdom of God and the spirit of God are in evidence in a dynamic relationship with the God the creator and with God’s creation. Throughout history Father, Son and Spirit act as a unity to build and rebuild the people of God.

When we recognise the relational nature of God, we understand that to separate or divide the unity Godhead does violence not only to the nature of God, but also to the relationship of God with us and the relationship of God to the history of humankind. Each person of the Trinity represents each other person, they do not stand alone. Jesus is not separate from or distinct from the Father, nor is he separate or distinct from the Spirit. The Father is not separate from or distinct from the Son, nor is he separate or distinct from the Spirit. The Spirit is not separate from or distinct from the Father, nor is he separate or distinct from the Son. The nature of God is to be in relationship, and God that is not in relationship is not the God in whom we believe.

A relational God tells us about ourselves and the way in which we should live with one another and with all creation. A relational God helps us to see the inter-connectedness of all things and challenges us to live lives which recognise the impact that we have on one another and on the world around us. A relational God teaches us how to respect and value one another as equals and how to set each other free to reach our full potential. A relational God forces us to recognise the presence of the divine within.

The Trinity is not an abstract, academic construct designed to alienate or confuse, rather it is an expression of the God who from the very beginning sought to be intimately engaged with his creation and to be in a relationship of equals with those whom he created in his image. The Trinity reveals the nature of a relational God and at the same time reveals the nature of humanity as those in whom the presence of God is known and found. The Trinity is an exciting, living, energizing description of the God who continually seeks us out and restores us to a relationship with him.

God the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit created us.                                                                                                       God the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit redeemed us when we turned away.                                                     God the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit fills us with the presence of God.                                                                    God the Trinity longs to be our intimate companion and friend.                                                                                           It remains for us to open our hearts and lives to the relational God who desires to be in relationship with us.

Easter 4, 2009
John 10:11-18
Marian Free

In the name of God who gives his life in order that we might live. Amen.

John’s gospel is particularly dense. Each section contains multiple ideas and images many of which are interwoven throughout the gospel. This is true of this morning’s reading. At the beginning of the chapter, two images are introduced, that of the gate to the sheep fold and that of shepherd. The image of the gate is allegorized in verses 7-10 and here in verses 11-18, the image of the shepherd is elaborated. In its wider context, chapter 10 connects with the account of the healing of the blind man and leads into the report of the raising of Lazarus. The Pharisees don’t understand what Jesus is saying and so indicate that they are the ones who are blind. The life which the results from self-giving death of the shepherd is powerfully illustrated in the raising of Lazarus. Chapter 10 also provides the bridge between the two feasts which John uses to give a chronological context for the reflection on the shepherd – the feast of the Tabernacles, which is the reason why Jesus is in Jerusalem, and the feast of the Dedication. Interestingly, as Guilding has pointed out, the readings for the Sabbath nearest to the feast of Dedication relate to the theme of sheep and shepherds .

Throughout the Old Testament the image of shepherd is used, as an image for God. As in the 23rd Psalm God, the shepherd is one who cares for and protects the people of Israel. At the same time, the patriarchs were all described as shepherds and over time the expression shepherd became a figurative term for all leaders. More often, though, the term is used negatively as an image for the leaders of Israel who are derelict in their duty. In Ezekiel God denounces the rulers who have not cared for their flock and impious kings are labeled as wicked shepherds. (1 Kings 22:17; Jer 10:21, 23:1-2). Because of the carelessness of the shepherds, the sheep are scattered.

When Jesus uses the image of the shepherd he is using language familiar to his hearers – the shepherd leads and cares. In these verses shepherd is interpreted twice – 11-13 claim the willingness of a model shepherd to die for the sheep and 14-16 expand on the intimate knowledge the model shepherd has of the sheep which is an elaboration of an earlier verse. The final two verses refer to the love the Father has for the son and the authority which the son has over his own life.

While the shepherd image is not new, the willingness of the shepherd to die is unique to John’s gospel as is the expression “to lay down one’s life which is rare in secular Greek and in the OT the shepherd cares for (or does not care for the sheep) but doesn’t lay down his life. Elsewhere in the New Testament, the shepherd seeks out the lost sheep and Jesus’ compassion is elicited by the crowd who are like sheep without a shepherd, but it is only John who suggests that the shepherd will lay down his life for the sheep.

Not only does Jesus state that he, as the model shepherd chooses to lay down his life, he claims that he has the power over his life – he can lay it down and to take it up again. He will later reinforce this claim when he says that the ruler of this world has no power over him (14:30) and when Pilate claims to have the power to crucify him or release him, Jesus will inform Pilate that he has no power of him except what he have been given. Jesus is clear that the power or the choice to lay down his life belongs to him alone. Giving up his life is not something that is imposed on Jesus from without. It is not a demand that God makes of him or a matter of duty. Jesus chooses freely to give his for the life of those for whom he cares.

Love is the driving force behind this choice. Love of the Father for the Son and the Son for the Father and the love of both for the world. The command of verse 18 is the gift of love and of eternal life (12:50).

There are a multitude of themes running through these few verses – responsibility, knowledge, love, intimacy, authority, choice and the gift of self. In the larger context are the themes of bandits and wolves, the mistrust of the Pharisees, the union between the Father and the Son, and the life (in the present and for eternity) that Jesus gives.
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One thing is very clear – the author of John’s gospel understands Jesus’ death to be both a choice and a gift. Jesus loves us so completely that he is prepared to lay down his life. We do not find here the idea of sacrifice or redemption. Jesus’ death is not something that God demands as some sort of payment for debt, rather it is a gift freely given, an act of service, an act of love. The gift liberates us and frees us to live both in the present and in the future, because it demands nothing of us. Just as the sheep do nothing to earn the loyalty and love of the shepherd, so we have done and can do nothing to deserve Jesus’ gift of himself to us.

In our economy of exchange this is such a radical notion that it is difficult to grasp – nothing is for nothing. Surely God wants something in return. But love that is not freely given is not love at all, and life that is constrained by demand, is not a life that is fully lived.

God who created us loves us though we do nothing to warrant that love and God will stop at nothing to free us to live the life that God intended for us. God knows that the power of love is far greater than the power of censure, that the power of freedom will always overcome the power of constraint, that the power of good will always defeat the power of evil, and that ultimately the power of life will overturn the power of death.

Jesus the good shepherd will continue to love us into being and continue to give all of himself in the hope that we will be liberated through that love to live life to the full, and so attain with him to that life that never ends.

Easter 3 2009

Luke 24:36b-48

Marian Free

In the name of God, whose forgiving love transforms our lives and forms us for mission. Amen.

I would like you to imagine that you are part of a coach tour to Egypt and the Middle East. The trip is for a fortnight and over that time you have become very close to those who are touring with you. Because you are thrown together for long periods of time you have come to know each other well. You know each other’s weaknesses and strengths. During the tour you have shared some difficult moments – like the time at the check point when the security forces thought that your tour group was trying to smuggle arms to the Palestinians, or the time when a rocket exploded near to your motel and you thought you would die. The shared experiences have brought you closer together and you are sure that when you return home you will continue to meet and your friendship will grow.

So close have you become to the group, that you do not think twice when one of them asks you to carry a souvenir back to Australia. She is staying in Singapore for a few days longer and wants room in her luggage for some shopping. When you reach Singapore, you are surprised that the sniffer dogs take an interest in your luggage and alarmed when heavily armed police approach you. You look around for the person who gave you the souvenir and find she is no where to be seen. At the same time, your new found friends, embarrassed by the turn of events and anxious not to be associated with you, are slowly melting into the crowds.

You are in serious trouble and alone. Alone you face the indignity of a luggage search and the worse indignity of a strip search. Alone you protest your innocence as you are led into custody. Alone you wait for a lawyer and a member of the Embassy to visit. You are frightened and confused, aware that your gullibility and trust has contributed to the situation and dismayed that friendship could be so shallow. Desolated and abandoned, your thoughts are filled with foreboding – will your holiday end in an ignominious death, for a crime of which you were as much a victim as a perpetrator?

Miracles do happen! Somehow you are brought from death to life as it were. Your so-called “friend” is known to polics and has been caught and has confessed to planting the drugs. You are free to go. What do you do? My guess is that the last thing you want to do is to seek out your former friends. They might be sorry for their behaviour, but you are probably still too hurt and bewildered to speak to them. I’d be surprised if you ever wanted to see them again – the value of their friendship is seriously diminished and no apology will make up for their betrayal. Right now you just want to get on with your life and put this awful experience behind you. You are not sure you will ever travel again and not at all sure that you will be able to trust anyone again.

At least that is how I imagine such a scenario. A normal human being would find the experience of facing death for drug trafficking so devastating, so demoralizing, that they would want to get as far away as possible from the person who planted the drugs, and as far away as they could from those who disassociated themselves from you.

Jesus is no ordinary person. He is even more intimate with the disciples than the imaginary you. He has spent up to three years with them. They have travelled together and eaten together. They have faced the criticism of the Pharisees, Chief Priests and scribes together. The disciples have seen Jesus happy, angry and sad. They have witnessed his healing power, heard his teaching and promised loyalty even to death. Yet, at Jesus’ moment of greatest need, all courage left them. Afraid of being caught up in Jesus’ strife and sharing the consequences of his arrest, the disciples fled. Apart from Peter who denies him, no one is present for the trial and only the women are present at the cross. During the worst hours of his life, Jesus is alone. He dies abandoned by his closest friends.

So what does Jesus do when he is brought from death to life? Amazingly, he doesn’t skulk away to lick his wounds. Nor does he ascend immediately to heaven leaving his friends to live with their shame, embarrassment and disgrace. To our surprise, Jesus behaves as if nothing has happened. The first thing that he does is to seek out his friends and to offer them peace. He doesn’t make them sweat it out, but simply appears among them to share the good news! Despite the disciple’s obvious betrayal and desertion, Jesus gives no indication of recrimination or reproach. He doesn’t demand that they explain themselves or beg for forgiveness, nor does he withhold his friendship or trust. What is more, despite all that they have done, he entrusts them with the message of the resurrection!

How extraordinary! Not only do the disciples not have to face the consequences of their actions, but Jesus continues to treat them as his best friends and successors! No wonder that they are transformed. I can think of no better way to assure his friends that there were no hard feelings and that Jesus continued to have faith in them. No wonder the disciples change from a group of frightened, humiliated people into a force for change. Jesus has seen past their betrayal, their cowardice and their disarray, to their goodness and their potential. Jesus demonstrates confidence in them when they have lost all confidence in themselves.

No wonder they found the audacity and energy to proclaim the Christ. They have experienced for themselves the power of God’s love and goodness. They can assure others of God’s ability to overlook their faults, because they have experienced God’s forgiveness in their lives. They can proclaim the resurrection with confidence because, not only have they seen the risen Lord, they too have been brought from death to life.

In our arrogance and self-centredness, we are tend to think that our salvation depends on us, on what we do, that we have to present ourselves perfect before God. The mystery of the gospel is that we do nothing and God does everything. God in Jesus comes to us – forgiving, restoring, healing, loving and empowering. God, in Jesus, does away with all our transgressions. God, in Jesus, comes to us when we have betrayed and abandoned him and offers us a future. God, in Jesus, lives to show that we are truly forgiven and restored.

When we know God’s love it is impossible not to share it. When we understand that we are forgiven, it is difficult not to forgive others. When we understand God’s confidence in us, we are empowered to act.

Loved, forgiven, restored and free, we can take the gospel to the world.

Easter 2
John 20:19-30
Marian Free

In the name of God – never changing, always new. Amen

Given the extraordinary nature of the event, there is remarkable congruity in the gospels when it comes to accounts of the resurrection. All four report that the women were first to the tomb, all four include an appearance to the gathered disciples and all include a commission to spread the gospel to the entire world. As you might expect there are variations. Mary Magdalene is a consistent figure among the women who go to the tomb, but in John’s gospel she is alone. The appearance to the gathered disciples is associated with Jesus’ ascension in Matthew and Acts. Jesus appears to the disciples in on a mountain in Galilee.  In Mark, Luke and John the disciples are gathered in a room. Mark and Matthew specifically mention that all 11 disciples are present.

Interestingly, in all four accounts of the resurrection there is also an element of doubt – at the tomb, while the disciples are walking together and when the disciples are gathered.  In Mark, the disciples are upbraided by Jesus for their,  “lack of faith and stubbornness because they did not believe in those who saw him”. In Matthew the gathered disciples worship Jesus, but “some doubted”. The Jesus of Luke’s gospel says: “Why are you frightened and why do doubts arise in your hearts?” In Luke and John, Jesus invites all the disciples to touch and see to allay their doubt.

It is only in John’s gospel that Thomas is singled out as the disciple who doubts the resurrection. According to John, only 10 of the disciples are present when Jesus appears behind locked doors. We are not told why Thomas is not there, just that he adamantly refuses to believe the other disciples and will only be convinced when he, like them has an opportunity to see and to touch. When doubt is a common reaction, why is Thomas separated for mention here?

It has long been recognised that Gospel of John is interrupted in a number of places by editorial additions which do not make sense in their context. For example, in chapter when the official asks Jesus to heal his son,  Jesus bursts out “Unless you people see signs and wonders, you refuse to believe!” The modern reader can see no reason for Jesus’ outburst – the official was not asking for a sign and his request indicates that he does believe. We might also notice that Jesus’ response addresses “people”, when the official is only one. The interruption does not seem to fit the story.

Fortna argues that the original gospel was compiled by one person and later after the rift between the Christians and the Jews, another person added a commentary . The original gospel, written when the Christians were still attached to the synagogue had become obsolete. Unlike us, the people  for whom the changes were added would have known the original gospel and would have understood what the commentator was trying to do. Centuries later, we only notice the interruptions and the contradictions.

In the case of today’s gospel, the story of Thomas’ is appended to the account of Jesus’ appearance to the disciples who in this instance do not appear to have any doubt. All the doubt is concentrated in the figure of Thomas who appears to illustrate a theme running throughout this chapter – the relationship between seeing and believing. At the beginning of the chapter the beloved disciple believes when he looks into the empty tomb in contrast with Peter and the other disciples – notably Thomas -who wait to see Jesus before they believe.

A couple of points support the view that the commentator has elaborated on the original story. In the first instance v 18 begins, “when it was evening on the first day of the week.” We already know that it is the first day of the week – that is how the chapter began. The repetition is unnecessary but may prepare for Jesus’ second appearance – to Thomas – which occurs a week later, presumably on the first day of the week.  Second, and more compelling, the author does not seem to consider it odd that the ten are not required to believe without seeing.  Jesus appears to them and shows them his hands and side. The requirement to believe without seeing is made only of Thomas.

Scholars such as Fortna do not take our texts apart in order to confront us or to challenge our faith. Just the opposite, they are seeking to make sense of the gospels, to understand why they were written and how they were heard. When flow of the gospel doesn’t seem smooth, or when there are obvious contradictions, repetitions or omissions, scholars try to explain them. It is not their intention to shock us, but rather to help us to come to a deeper understanding of our faith.

In this instance, we are better placed when we understand that Thomas is used by the commentator to make a point and that in John’s gospel Thomas’s doubt encapsulates the doubt expressed by all the disciples in the other gospels. It may helpful to some to understand that the contrast between believing without seeing belongs to John’s gospel alone, that doubt is not an unusual reaction to such an unusual situation.

The reaction to Jesus’ resurrection was mixed – there was joy and fear, worship and doubt, belief and disbelief – sometimes a mixture of all.  Our faith journeys do not always run smooth. There may be times of absolute clarity and times of questioning, moments of certainty and moments of confusion. It is comforting to know that in this we are not alone, that the experience of the first disciples was much the same, even though Jesus was there with them.

Unlike the first disciples, we are convinced that Jesus has risen. Without seeing, we have come to believe. With certainty and faith comes responsibility. As the risen Christ commissioned the disciples to bear witness to him, so we too are entrusted with a mission to share the message of Jesus with the world. In order to do that, we must first try to understand the stories as they have come down to us and, having understood, we like the commentator in John, must find new ways to share the gospel in our time and place.

Our questions must be put to good purpose and the questions and doubts of those around us must be treated with respect. Together we must seek anew the truth of the gospel and proclaim the risen Christ.

Maundy Thursday 2009
John 13
Marian Free

In the name of God, who chose to share our brokenness and pain. Amen.

There is a short movie called “Coach Trip to Calvary”. It is the story of a tour led by a woman who has established a small tourist business in Israel. The passengers include a man in his twenties, a young woman and an older Russian woman who speaks no English. The bus driver is a Palestinian.

As you might expect, the coach trip covers significant sites from the gospel story. What is different is that as the tour leader tells the story, we watch as the passengers take on the roles of the characters. So the young woman becomes the woman who anoints Jesus’ feet and so on. It is quite disconcerting and also compelling. One minute the tour guide is telling a story and the next, the passengers ARE the story.

Perhaps the most confronting moment in the movie is the depiction of the “Last Supper”. Our tourists are sitting down to eat in an ordinary café when suddenly the Palestinian bus driver takes the bread from the table and violently rips it apart saying; “This is my body”. His voice is so full of anger, that we want to look away. This is not the Jesus we know.

In that instance one gets a new insight into the story, a sense of Jesus’ distress and perhaps frustration. Nothing less than his sacrifice will do, but that doesn’t mean that he is looking forward to the experience, or that he is at all resigned to the betrayal, abandonment, torture and pain that lie in front of him. In fact, he might wish it all to end another way.

We are reminded in this depiction of the Last Supper that the events we celebrate this weekend are not pretty. A member of Jesus’ inner circle sells him out. His closest friends fall asleep when he most needs their support. When the soldiers arrive they disappear into the night – leaving Jesus to face his tormenters alone and that is the more palatable part of the story. Alone and friendless, Jesus will be falsely accused, mocked and flogged. And when that is done he will be subjected to what has been described as the cruelest form of death.

We hear the words so often, that “This is my body” has lost the power to confront us, to challenge us. We have domesticated the brokenness of Jesus body into a sacrament that speaks of wholeness. We celebrate the institution of our central act of worship remembering a common meal not a night of trauma and despair.

“This is my body”  “This is my body” – tonight I will be torn from you and my life will be torn from me. My body which holds my life will be scourged and broken. From now on you will know me in my brokenness as well as in my strength. Remember not only what I have taught you, but also how costly that teaching was. Remember not only my triumphs but my moments of deepest despair. Remember me.”

Remember me, in the brokenness of the world, remember me in the brokenness of your lives, remember me in your aloneness – remember that I know and I am with you.

On this most solemn of nights, as we prepare for the most solemn of days, we remember the cost of our freedom, the presence of Christ in our suffering, and the presence of Christ in the sacrament which we share.

This is my body. Do this in remembrance of me.

Easter garden - St Augustine's

Easter - St Augustine's

Easter Day 2009
John 20:1-18

Marian Free

In the name of God, as close as breath and as distant as a star. Amen.

One of the most memorable pictures of Princess Diana is that of her visiting and  touching AIDS patients. At a time when AIDS misunderstood and feared and its sufferers despised and isolated, Princess Di had both the courage to believe that AIDS was not something to be feared and she had the compassion to realize that those who had been shunned by society were in need of the touch of and the reassurance that they were valued as human beings.

Touch has always been a very confronting thing. Its intimacy not only indicates knowledge and acceptance but risks contagion from the one touched. Centuries before Diana, St Francis shocked his contemporaries by embracing a leper – equally despised by society and equally feared as presenting a risk of infection. Mother Teresa and her nuns similarly faced censure and misunderstanding when they offered touch and comfort to those rejected by their own society.

The fact that Francis’ act is remembered centuries later and that Diana’s action led to media attention around the world is evidence that in our society touch can be considered both daring and dangerous. Touch carries with it the risk not only of contamination, but also the danger of being made vulnerable in the sense of exposing oneself to another. Touch implies intimacy and knowledge and can therefore be both welcome and unwelcome. Touch can be violent and it can be gentle, it can be affectionate or demeaning, life-giving or life-destroying. Touch can be used to draw someone near or to push them away.

In our generation, touch has become a matter of such controversy and mistrust that it has had to be legislated. With good reason, boundaries have been set on how and when we touch others, especially the vulnerable.

Touch is important in Jesus’ story. Jesus touches and is touched in order to facilitate healing. He himself is touched in the most personal and intimate of ways. He is held by his parents and by Simeon, he is anointed by Mary and by an unknown woman, he is touched by the guards who flog him and the soldiers who crucify him. He is held by Joseph of Arimethea and others who took him from the cross and laid him in the tomb. Even after his resurrection, touch remains an important factor in the story. According to Matthew, the disciples grasp his feet when they see him. Next week we will hear once again that Thomas was invited to put his finger in Jesus’ wounds. Jesus is certainly not afraid to be touched by those around him –  before or after the resurrection.

This makes his statement to Mary Magdalene today all the more confusing: “Do not hold on to me” “Do not touch me.” Why, when Thomas is specifically invited to touch, is Mary specifically asked to refrain? Is it that Mary wants to hold him to herself rather than free him to do what must be done? Is it that she hasn’t grasped that while he is really alive, he has also really died and cannot stay long on this earth? Does Jesus have more compassion for Thomas’s weakness than understanding for Mary’s strength?

Of course we do not know the answers to questions such as these, but as I struggled with these conflicting stories of touch post-resurrection, it seemed to me that they illustrate something of the paradox that is Jesus. He is both God and human, both present and absent, he truly died and yet we know him to be live. He is completely known and yet utterly unknowable. He is as close as a breath and yet as distant as a star.

There is a tension then between the closeness and intimacy of our relationship with Jesus and our knowledge that Jesus is God and therefore beyond the reach of human understanding. It is important for us to understand and maintain that tension if we are not to bring Jesus down to our level and to deprive him of his Godliness. We have always to be careful lest our intimacy lead to familiarity and familiarity to a casualness which would strip the relationship of its meaning.

This tension is revealed in the different stories of Thomas and Mary. Thomas lacks the intimacy of Mary and needs the reassurance of the closeness of Jesus. Mary knows what it is to be close to Jesus and perhaps needs to understand that closeness needs to be tempered by a certain amount of detachment, a recognition that Jesus as God cannot be contained and limited, but must be set free. So Jesus comforts Thomas and challenges Mary.

We who know the risen Lord must also live with the tension with the paradox, that Jesus who is very present to us is always just beyond our grasp. We are reminded that while we can have a personal relationship with Jesus, we do ourselves, and him, a disservice if we endeavour to hold him too close and to define the relationship on our own terms. We can come know Jesus through his teaching and through our experience of him, but ultimately we have to accept that he is ultimately unknowable. Jesus is ours to know, but not ours to hold.

That Jesus is risen and alive today gives each one of us the possibility of entering into relationship with him. Our knowledge of Jesus is not based on historical recollection, but on our own present association with the risen Christ. We are not limited by stories of the past, but know Jesus through our own present experience of him.

There will be times in our lives when, like Thomas, we need and are given the comfort of Jesus’ presence and times when, like Mary we become so comfortable that we will need to be challenged to let go. Somewhere in the middle we will find the balance – one that is not made so complacent by Jesus’ presence that his divinity is obscured, and one that does not so over emphasise his divinity such that he is never near.

The risen Christ is with us now. Let us not make him so familiar that we reduce him to one of us, nor so remote that we have no relationship with him at all.

Palm Sunday 2009

Mark 15:

Marian Free

In the name of God who calls us to give God our all. Amen.

D. H. Lawrence wrote a poem Phoenix. about the mythical bird of the same name.

Are you willing to be sponged out, erased, cancelled,

made nothing?

Are you willing to be made nothing?

dipped into oblivion?

If not, you will never really change.

The phoenix renews her youth

only when she is burnt, burnt alive,

burnt down to hot and flocculent ash.

Then the small stirring of a new small bub

in the nest with strands of down like floating ash

shows that she is renewing her youth like the eagle,

Immortal bird. Are you willing to be sponged out, erased, cancelled, made nothing?

Are you, am I willing to identify so closely with God that we would give up everything that separates us from God? Are you, am I willing to give ourselves so fully that our individuality and our humanity become absorbed into God’s divinity? Are you, am I prepared to risk everything – our hopes and aspirations, our possessions and our talents, even our lives, confident that God will give it back many times over? Are we prepared to be sponged out, so that we might rise renewed and indestructible?

Our journey of faith is a journey into God. We are here so that God can be formed in us and so that we can be formed into God. We are called to daily die to ourselves so that we can live to God. We are asked to become nothing so that in and through God we can become something. During Holy Week and Easter we are challenged to walk with Jesus to the cross, to ask ourselves once more whether we have the courage and the faith to go the distance, to consider whether, like Jesus we can submit ourselves completely to the will of God, no matter where that might lead, and whether we have the confidence to let go of everything believing that God will restore it all to us and more.

Are you willing to be sponged out, erased, cancelled,

made nothing?

It is only when we have nothing more to lose, we discover that we have lost nothing and gained everything. It is only when we are willing to become nothing. we discover that God has already given us far more than we could ever need.

Lent 5
John 12:20-33
Marian Free

In the name of God who calls us to place our trust in God and God alone. Amen.

“You can’t break me because you didn’t make me. I will live neither in their cell nor in my own heart only in my mind and in my spirit. I live for nothing, I need nothing – not tomorrow, not freedom, not justice. In the end, even the prison will vanish.”

Some of you may be familiar with the story of Ruben “Hurricane” Carter a boxer, who was imprisoned for life for murders which he did not commit. I know only the movie version of the story which may have taken some licence with the facts. Accurate or not the movie version has something to teach us.

Ruben’s story begins when he is only 11 years old. He is sent to detention for attacking a police officer. A serious crime we would agree, but what we know and the court does not, is that the young Ruben’s actions were taken in the context of protecting a younger child from the advances of a sexual predator.  After a time Ruben runs away from the detention centre and joins the army.

On returning home from a tour of duty, Ruben finds that he has not escaped his past. The police officer whom he attacked arrests him and makes him serve out his time in jail. When he is finally released, Ruben makes a career out of boxing and is poised to become a world champion when a number of people are gunned down in a bar. Ruben’s nemesis, the pedophile policeman arrests him and a young man who was driving the car. Despite substantial evidence that Ruben and his friend are innocent, the state manages to have them declared guilty and jailed for three life terms.

Another stint in jail is more than Ruben can bear. His past experiences mean that being reduced to a number, de-humanised and regimented is something that for him has become impossible to submit to. So much so, that he endures 30 days in solitude rather than wear the prison uniform and on release would rather endure 30 more days than give up his now soiled and fetid suit for the stripped pyjamas. Thankfully a compromise is reached and he is able to shower and change.

Ruben has two coping strategies. The first is to maintain a sense of self – not wear the prison uniform. The second is to detach himself from the horrendous reality of the situation in which he finds himself. He decides that his life, his attitude, his sense of worth will not be determined by his external circumstances, but by his internal resources. The fact of his imprisonment, will not determine whether he is happy or sad, content or dissatisfied, imprisoned or free.

When Ruben makes the decision to live for nothing, he sets himself free.

There is a tremendous liberation in realizing that we have it within ourselves to be happy or content. We do not need to be defined by the situations in which we find ourselves or by our education, our income or talent. We do not need to be imprisoned by false hopes or by the expectations of others and we do not need to be bound by grief and disappointment that life has not turned out the way we would like it to. Letting go of our attachment to the standards and values of this world sets us free from striving, from anxiety and despair.

This is the freedom faith in Jesus offers – freedom from the limitations of earthly life, freedom from the demands and expectations which others place upon us, freedom from the striving to achieve and freedom from the need to compete. When Jesus says:  “Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life,” this is what he means – giving up a reliance on the things of this world to determine our happiness and to define who and what we are. He is saying that being bound to and by the expectations of this life, may in fact deny us the possibility of eternal life. On the other hand, letting go of the values and standards of the world opens up the possibility of a life that endures forever.

Jesus is not suggesting that to be a disciple, we must actively seek death, or that we must all become like the aesthetics and reject the good things of life. “Hating our life” does not mean hating the life that God gave us, far from it. “Hating our life” means being able to sit loosely with it and not holding on to those things which do not last forever. It means understanding that this life is finite and that all that we value in this world will one day come to an end.

In the light of this reality, Jesus is encouraging us to get our priorities straight, to work out what in our lives has eternal value and what has not, to consider whether we measure our happiness or success in finite, worldly terms or whether our happiness resides deep within ourselves and is able to transcend time and place. We are challenged to seek the lasting wealth of peace, joy and happiness instead of status, wealth, honour or power which will not last forever. Instead of striving for external signs of success and identity, we are urged to build up our inner lives such that the worst life has to throw at us, will not have the power to destroy.

Ruben Carter was able to survive his incarceration, the loss of his career, his marriage and his status because he relied on his inner strength rather than on his external circumstances. Denied freedom by the world, he found freedom within himself.

If we rely on this world alone to meet all our needs, there may come a time when we find it wanting. If our identity or self of self is determined by where we fit in this world, there may come a time when there is nothing to show. If  however, we are liberated from the standards and ideals of the world, we are free to live as if life eternal were ours already.

“Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life.” By losing this life, we are only losing those things which will not last, in contrast we gain those things which will endure forever.