Posts Tagged ‘Advent’

How do we know it’s Jesus?

December 14, 2025

Advent 3 – 2026

Matthew 11:2-11

Marian Free

In the name of God Earth-Maker, Pain-Bearer, Life-Giver. Amen.

 

Recently I have come to understand the appeal of ‘the rapture’ – the idea that Jesus’ return will be accompanied by angels with trumpets and those who are considered worthy will be swept into heaven while the unworthy will be left to face the utter destruction of the world. It occurs to me that believing in the rapture makes everything so easy. When Jesus returns it will be clear that it really is Jesus – angels, trumpets and the raising of the dead will be obvious to all and are definitely not associated with any other expectation. It will it be impossible to miss the rapture (and Jesus’ return). The other advantage of the rapture is that belief in the rapture is that it has the effect of taking away personal responsibility. Somehow the belief itself  builds up confidence in believers that they are among the ones who will be gathered up because they are among the chosen.

According to this the surprise has been taken away. Jesus’ warning that the day will come as a thief in the night is conveniently ignored. The timing of the rapture can apparently be predicted. Those who believe in the rapture do not have to worry about being prepared, because they have prepared themselves simply by being members of  the believing group. (The fact as recently as this year the prediction failed to come to fruition does not seem to worry adherents, they will happily accept the explanations offered for its failure to materialise.)

Another flaw in this belief is that those who believe in the rapture also seem to think that the rapture will occur in a particular place at a particular time and that believers have to be in that place to be gathered up. This would imply that Jesus’ coming at the end of time will not be a universal, but a very limited event OR that those of us who are not in the in crowd will simply  be left behind.

I’ve been thinking about the rapture, not because some people expected it occur in September this year, but because I’ve also been pondering Jesus’ return – how it will happen and how we will know. It seems to me that if it was difficult for people to recognise Jesus in a tiny nation with a relatively small population how much more difficult will it be today when the population has blown out from 170 – 300 million to around 8.26 billion. How would the word spread? How would we know if it really was Jesus if he appeared in a place a long way distant from where we live to a people with a culture very different from ours? If say, people in Mongolia were convinced that Jesus had come among them, what would they need to do to convince the rest of us to believe them?  Even if Jesus came to a city like Brisbane with a population of nearly 3 million, most of us would only hear rumours that someone amazing was making a difference in the lives of the poor and marginalised. It would be easier not to believe that it was Jesus, easier to believe that those making the claims were simply religious fanatics.

For me this has always been a challenging issue.  We are led to expect that when Jesus comes it will be glaringly obvious – angels and trumpets making the announcement so clear that no one will miss it but is that really how it will be?

In today’s world which is surely as rife with injustice, inequality and conflict as that of the first century there are thousands of good, selfless people, risking their lives and living simply in order to bring healing and hope in places of despair and turmoil. In a time of heightened expectation (or despair) anyone of a number of today’s heroes could be named as (or could claim to be) the one sent by God.

So you see I have a great deal of sympathy for John the Baptist. His successful ministry has brought him into conflict with Herod and he is now in prison – a particularly unpleasant place to be in the first century. He will not have known what the future would bring, but it is not surprising that he is questioning his choices, asking himself if he got it right, if Jesus really was the one who was to come. (After all in his time too there were many ‘messianic’ figures.) John had handed his ministry to Jesus but he is not seeing the dramatic changes he might have expected – the nation as a whole has not turned back to God, the Romans continue their oppressive rule and Jesus is not behaving in a way that will bring about radical change. He must have wondered whether he had got it right.

Jesus’ reply echoes the words of God in the Psalms and in Isaiah, in which God’s promise is that the blind will receive their sight, the lame will walk, the lepers will cleansed, the prisoners set free, the deaf will  hear, and the dead will raised. These subtle signs are evidence of God’s presence on earth but they are signs that we might miss. It is much easier as John’s question attests to look for the more dramatic, earth-shattering signs of disruption and the heavenly signs of angels and trumpets.

If we are to know Jesus at his coming, it is essential that we come to know Jesus now, that we open our hearts and lives to his transforming love, that we seek to understand (and practice in our own lives) his preference for the marginalised, and that we are always on the lookout for signs of his presence among us now. If we are really attuned to him now not only will our lives already be lived as if he were here, but we will not fail to meet him when he returns (in glory or not).

 

Be prepared – Advent 1

November 29, 2025

Advent 1 – 2026

Matthew 24:26-44

Marian Free

In the name of God who always is, Christ who came and who is to come, and the Holy Spirit who enlivens and encourages. Amen.

Advent is one of my favourite times of the year.  Though I have never been particularly efficient at opening Advent Calendars, the sense of anticipation that such calendars engender remains with me to this day.  Calendar or not, every day of Advent brings me closer to the great mystery of the Incarnation – the coming of Emmanuel, God with us. 

Sadly, I have long since given up my habit of separating Advent and Christmas, of keeping the two seasons distinct in my practice and in my mind. The commercial world which fills our stores with Christmas decorations and gifts from September, and which removes all signs of Christmas on Boxing Day makes putting up a tree on Christmas Eve and waiting till January 6 to take it down feel a little bit hollow. Even singing carols on the first Sunday after Christmas can seem somewhat strange when you know that the rest of the world is already preparing for Easter!

Many years ago, I made the decision to stop resisting the tide of change. I no longer try to hold on to traditions that are meaningless to the rest of the world. Nor do I get frustrated that an increasingly secular world has no idea about what Christmas means and that the commercial world has capitalized on the Twelve Days of Christmas by putting them before and not after Christmas. The world may change but nothing can diminish my sense of anticipation and joy as Advent approaches, and I enter once again into the sense of wonder at the birth of Jesus, the mystery of God’s vulnerability and the astounding reality of God’s becoming one of us. 

Given that Christmas celebrates God’s quiet and gentle entry into the world it seems odd that our church year begins and ends with gospel readings that appear to be a series of threats – threats of destructive forces, lawlessness, and. persecution, threats of judgement, of the impending end of the world, and threats that God will catch us unprepared as a thief during the night. We are warned, as we are today, to “keep awake” so that we can catch the thief and not be surprised. These are hardly messages that are designed to fill us with joy and excitement, but rather with terror. They seem designed to keep us on our toes, with one eye watching our back and the other scanning the horizon for danger. The message seems to be: “Be afraid, be very afraid.” Be afraid if not of judgement, but of those terrible events which will precede Jesus’ coming again.

During Advent, these messages are thankfully paired with messages of hope and renewal from the prophets, such as that from Isaiah this morning. God’s coming is associated with putting things straight. This can look like judgement and terror especially to those who resist or deny God, but the prophets assure us that God’s coming is primarily to put the world to right, to bring peace where there is no peace, to make the desert bloom, to give sight to blind, healing to the sick and release to the prisoner and to draw all people to walk in the light of the Lord. In other words, God’s coming will restore the world to that which God intended from the beginning.

What then do we make of the dire warnings that begin at the start of this chapter and which, to be honest, populate the pages of the prophets? 

Themes of destruction and restoration usually arise at times when the nation of Israel is feeling particularly vulnerable and oppressed, or when the people have wandered so far from the faith that it seems that the only possible solution is to begin with a clean slate. This was almost certainly how many people in Palestine at the time of Jesus. It must have seemed that the only way Israel could be restored would be by a dramatic intervention of God who would destroy the forces of Rome, purify Temple practices and bring about healing and peace.  

In reality, as we know, this was not how God responded. 

Today’s gospel is part of Jesus’ response to a question about the signs that will indicate that the end is near. Jesus uses language familiar to the disciples to insist that it is impossible to read the signs. Turmoil in the world is not a sign that God is near, but sign that humanity is flawed and that we live on a fragile planet. Jesus warns that those who want signs are looking for the wrong thing, are asking the wrong question. That they have to ask already indicates their failure to understand. Certainly, they want to be ready, but on their terms. By asking for signs, they reveal that they want to be able to spread out their preparations, they want to be in control. After all this time with Jesus, they have failed to understand that discipleship means giving their lives completely to God, submitting entirely to God’s will and absolutely trusting God with their future. In other words, ceding all control to God.

Scenes of chaos and destruction, images of thieves who catch a home-owner unprepared are a reminder that planning such as the disciples envisage is impossible. No one can go without sleep forever. 

The only plan is to be ready NOW – to admit that our future is in God’s hands, to surrender our lives to God in the present, to trust that whatever life throws at us, God will be with us; and to know in our hearts that if God/Jesus were suddenly to come among us we would not need to be afraid because our hearts would already be God’s, we would already be confident of God’s unconditional love and we would not hide in fear but welcome God with open arms. 

Being ready, being watchful is not the same as being afraid. Being prepared doesn’t mean planning, it means being ready now – knowing that we already beloved, just as we are. It means waiting and watching with quiet anticipation for that time when God will come and when all things including ourselves will be gathered into God’s kingdom.

God has given Godself to us. This Advent let us make sure. That we have given ourselves to God.

Preparing the way

December 7, 2024

Advent 2 – 2024

Luke 3:1-6

Marian Free

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

 

 

Voices in the wilderness – John the Baptist

December 9, 2023

Advent 2 – 2023

Mark 1:1-8

Marian Free

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

Most of us associate wilderness with the season of Lent and Jesus’ forty days in the wilderness, but here, on the second Sunday of Advent, Mark’s gospel compels us to face the wilderness in this season of preparation for Christmas.  John the Baptist, dressed in camel skin and eating locusts and honey, has chosen the wilderness, as they place to which he will draw people to face their past (confess their sins) and to embrace their future (look for the one more powerful than he). 

John is a bridge between the world of the prophets and the coming of Christ. He represents an era that is coming to an end and points forward to an era that is about to begin. As such John’s voice in the wilderness is a potent reminder that Advent is not only a wilderness time, it is also an in-between time – the time between what was and what will be, between what is and the potential of what might come. Advent wilderness provides time for reflection. It is an in-between time in which we can ask ourselves what got us to where we are? And how can we move on from here? 

In the language of the gospel, we are being provoked to prepare a way for the Lord and to do that by confessing our sins (past faults) and seeking John’s baptism (being made ready for the coming of Jesus).  

As we come to the end of 2023 and stand on the threshold of 2024, we face a world that is so much bleaker than it was twelve months ago. The war in Ukraine continues to drag on with its loss of life and the destruction of families, homes, and lives. Awful as that it is, it is now overshadowed by the conflict in Israel/Palestine – the horrendous acts of October 7 and the ongoing devastation of Gaza and its populations. In another part of the world, we face the possibility of war between Brazil and Venezuela. The daily news reminds us of the social collapse of Haiti, warns of the increasing instability that threatens Myanmar and, in many places in the world, the growing intolerance of and hostility towards, those who are in any way different from a perceived norm (European, white, Christian)[1].

Throughout the world there are millions of displaced or stateless persons who are struggling to survive and thousands who have lost their lives trying to escape situations that have left them totally without hope. In addition, our generation are witness to the ever-widening gap between rich and poor.

Here, at home – in one of the world’s richest nations – the increased cost of living is sending many people to the brink, there are an increasing number of people (including families) who are impacted by the housing crisis, and we seem to be unable to prevent the over representation of indigenous people in our criminal justice system.

At the end of 2023, the voices of those in the wilderness threaten to deafen us –

  • The children caught up in events not of their own making, traumatized by war, separated from their families, 
  • the parents who cannot keep their children safe, who cannot feed or house them, or offer them a future,
  • the civilians caught in a conflict not of their making, who have lost homes, livelihoods, loved ones,
  • the refugees and the stateless who have nowhere to call home,
  • the migrants, the LGBTQIA+ community and all who are vilified and marginalised because they are different,
  • and the many others whose voices are drowned out by the volume of need, or whose voices are silenced by our indifference.

In today’s gospel, John the Baptist represents all these voices in the wilderness, voices calling us to pay attention and to recognise the injustice and trauma in the world and hear the cries of the suffering and the dispossessed, voices that demand that we confess our failure to act and commit to turning our lives around. Above all, John’s voice in the wilderness challenges us to soften our hearts so that we might be ready to see in the infant Jesus the one who has come to bring good news to the poor, to proclaim release to the captives, recovery of sight to the blind, and to let the oppressed go free, and, having seen,  be ready and be willing to join him in the task of transforming the world. The voices in the wilderness demand that we prepare a way, that we make room in our hearts for the Christ-child to take up residence. The voices in the wilderness insist that we see the face of Christ in the traumatized, the marginalised, the lost, the homeless and the imprisoned.

The Psalmist says: “Righteousness will go before him and make a path for his steps” (Ps 85:1).  John makes it clear that we are responsible for that path, for the righteousness that goes before the Lord.

This Advent, may voices in the wilderness find in us a willing listener, an open heart, and a desire to make a difference (if only in our small corner of the world).


[1] In Europe that is.

Jesus’ coming – joyful anticipation or fearful expectation?

December 2, 2023

Advent 1 – 2023

Mark 13:24-37

(Is 64:1-9, Ps 80:1-7, 17-19, 1 Cor 1:1-9)

In the name of God, whose coming we celebrate with joy and whose return we anticipate with trepidation. Amen.

Though it is hard to avoid the fact that the rest of the world is already celebrating Christmas, I continue to love the season of Advent. For me it represents a time of quiet anticipation – a time to focus on the real meaning of Christmas – the gentle in-breaking into our world of God’s chosen one, the vulnerability of God in the infant Jesus, and the courage of Mary and Joseph. It is, for me, a time of wonder and joy, as I ponder the gradual unfolding of the story.

So it is that I am often taken aback by the violence and threat that lie in the gospel set for today, the first Sunday of Advent. We find no quiet waiting in Mark 13. There is no sense of hopeful expectancy. Instead, we are presented with a picture of God’s sudden and terrible explosion into the world.  An eruption that is accompanied by the destruction not only of the earth, but of the cosmos. The sun will be darkened, and the stars will fall from heaven. Without any warning all of the powers of heaven will be shaken. Keep awake, we are warned – for you do not know when the time will come: “in the evening, or at midnight, or at cockcrow or at dawn.” There is no room here for peaceful contemplation on the birth of Christ. Instead, we are placed on edge, forced in a state of constant alertness in which we worry about what it means to keep awake. We are left wondering if we have to live in a state of constant vigilance (never truly living in the present) – always looking over our shoulder for God to surprise us, always straining ahead, always worrying about our every action just in case God should burst in and find us wanting?  

Of course, it would be utterly exhausting live in a state of constant anxiety, to be always on the lookout for something negative to happen, always terrified that we would be caught out. So – what to do? What are we to make of the warnings in Mark’s gospel and how do they inform our observation of the season of Advent?

The answer lies, I believe exactly in the tension – the tension between the unobtrusiveness of Jesus’ first coming and the unmistakable disruption of his coming again; the tension between Christ’s coming as an infant and Christ’s coming again as judge of all; the tension between the powerlessness of the baby and the ultimate power of the Creator of the Universe. Advent –  with its focus on beginnings and endings – highlights the tension between the God who loved us enough to become one of us and the God who will one day ask us to give an account for our lives, the tension between trusting in God’s mercy and not taking it for granted, the tension between knowing God’s love and not taking advantage of that love and the tension between knowing that though our salvation has been won, we still have a responsibility for our salvation..

Advent provides us with a time to look back and to look forward, a time to remember all that God has done for us and a time to ask ourselves what our response to God’s love has been and whether or not we would be pleased to see God now. 

The warning to ‘keep awake’ is not so much to keep us in a state of hypervigilance, but rather a timely reminder that we should not get too comfortable, not to fall into complacency. It is a warning against the assumption that a happy ending awaits us all, just because God has entered into history. 

Learning to live in this in between time, coping with the tension between God’s breaking into the world, and God’s breaking the world apart, teaches us to live with uncertainty, with the “not-knowing” – not knowing the mind of God, not knowing when Christ will return, not knowing exactly how we measure up. Living with the tension between the times keeps us open to what God has to say to us in the present and what God might be doing in our lives right now. In this in-between time, expecting God to appear at any moment, keeps us alert and expectant, enabling us to see the ways in which God is always breaking into the present. Keeping awake ensures that we do not miss any opportunity and ensures that we are prepared for anything that God might reveal or that God might do.

In two thousand years, the sky hasn’t fallen in, the cosmos hasn’t been dramatically. It is difficult to believe in the second coming, to maintain the sense of urgency that pervades this morning’s gospel and yet, we need the message of Mark 13 even more than the church for whom it was written. 

At this time of year, it is easy to get caught up in the sentimentality of Christmas – the stars and angels, the shepherds and wise ones, the hope, joy, comfort and promise of the visible signs of God’s love. The evangelist knew only too well how easy it is to get comfortable, to see the return of Christ as a distant, even unlikely possibility. He knew too, that his own generation had been caught by surprise, had failed to see in the infant in a manger and in itinerant preacher, the one sent by God to save the world. So, with words of dire warning, Mark urges his readers not to get too comfortable, not to assume that because Jesus had not returned that they could start to relax, but to so order their lives that Christ could come at any time and we would be ready.

In this season as we prepare for both our Christian and our secular Christmas, let us be filled with joyful anticipation as we await the birth of Christ and some trepidation, as we expect his coming again.

November 25, 2022

Advent 1 – 2022

Matthew 24:36-44

Marian Free

In the name of God who is always near, and always coming. Amen

Unless the danger is real, it is impossible to live constantly on the edge, or in a heightened state of awareness. After the September 11 attacks for example, we were urged to be constantly alert to any unusual or unattended package or luggage and, for a while, we were “alert, but not alarmed”. Thankfully, there have been no bombs and in Australia, terror attacks were largely averted or limited in their impact. Over time, the messaging stopped and the fear of a terrorist attack no longer felt real.[1] People began to let down their guard, to stop living as if an attack were imminent. More recently of course, we have lived with a constant fear of COVID. Even though that was threat was very real and impacted on every person, few have remained are as cautious as they once were. Even though, in Australia, a fourth wave has hit, the number of people wearing masks is considerably lower than it was six months ago. The danger is real, but the energy to deal with it is missing because, by and large, the community is exhausted by the stress of the last few years. It is  simply impossible to constantly live on a knife’s edge. When the immediate danger has passed, most of us breathe a sigh of relief and go back to the way we were before.

 

This, I imagine, was the situation for which Matthew (indeed all the Synoptics were written). Jesus had suggested that he would return and gather believers to himself and, if further evidence were needed, he had not established any formal structures that would have implied that he expected a community to form, to establish ways of being together and to develop leadership structures. Fifty years after Jesus’ ascension into heaven it was no longer possible to live with the same sense of urgency that might have been expected immediately after

 

No doubt the first generation of believers had lived with an air of anticipation, aware that Jesus might appear at any time and that they must be ready for his return. At the time Matthew was writing, the faith community consisted of third generation believers. Those who knew the earthly Jesus had died and those who now believed had apparently become complacent (as is attested by Matthew’s parables of the bridesmaids and the sheep and the goats.) No one can constantly live on tenterhooks and maintaining a sense of trepidation is increasingly difficult especially in a time when the threat of Jesus’ coming appears  increasingly unreal.

 

One of the tasks of the gospel writers was to find ways to revive the sense of expectation, to confront the apparent complacency of believers and to recall them to their call. This is not, I suspect an attempt to force believers to live in fear, but to encourage them to  live ‘as if’ – as if Jesus were to return, as if Jesus might catch them unawares. It is not so much that the gospel writers desire that believers should live in terror – always wondering if they could meet the standard expected – but more that they are encouraging those who follow Christ to strive to live in such a ways that they would not be ashamed were Jesus to appear in the next minute, the next hour, the next day.

 

The gospel for this morning provides both reminders and incentive.  “Keep awake! For you do not know on what day your Lord is coming.” Life may appear to be going on as it always has – eating and drinking, working in the field, grinding grain, but the simple and mundane things of everyday life should not be allowed to make us complacent. It is not so much that daily life does not continue – of course it does. Nor is it a matter of being always on the edge – worried that Jesus will come and find us wanting. It is a reminder that no matter when Jesus might come it is important that we are not caught sleeping.

 

That does not  mean that we have live in fear, constantly worried about being caught out. Fear is a poor motivation. It sees only judgement and punishment; not welcome and joy. Fear does not lead to growth, it leads us to play it safe, to behave in ways that we believe will please, to become rule bound and rigid – believing that there are ways to be and ways not to be. Fear tempts us to hide our flaws instead of accepting and facing them honestly. Worse, living in fear does not provide the basis for a healthy, and real relationship with God. Fear leaves us anxious and self-conscious, unable to trust in ourselves and in God’s abundant love and forgiveness, and failing to engage with the deep and difficult work of allowing Jesus  to transform our lives, so that we are being formed in the image of Christ.

 

In practical terms then, ‘being ready’ living in a state of expectation means that at all times we are to strive to live our best life, to detach ourselves from the passions and desires of this world,  and to draw ever closer to the God who gave everything for us that in turn we might give our all for God.

 

This Advent, and every Advent is an opportunity to re-examine our lives and to ask ourselves: “Were Christ to come tomorrow, would we want to cling to the things of this world or would we be ready to let go and excited to experience something new? Would we be happy to go out in joy to greet him, or would we want to hide ourselves in shame? Would we have learnt to be comfortable in God’s love or would we still feel we needed to put on a front?”

 

Are you ready and if not, what would it take?

 


[1] I have been surprised therefore, to be hearing the message again now that I am in the UK.

Looking back, looking forward

November 27, 2021

Advent 1 – 2021
Luke 21:25-38
Marian Free

In the name of God, Earth-Maker, Pain-Bearer, Life-Giver. Amen.
On the 26th of July, Marmour Kunpeter wrote for Anglican Focus: “I fled South Sudan for Ethiopia when I was 11. The journey across the desert without clothing or shoes was very bad. We travelled for many days – we walked for more than a month across the desert to escape the persecution of the Khartoum government who wanted to abduct boys so they couldn’t join the rebel groups once they became older.
More than 20,000 boys walked across the desert as unaccompanied minors. We are known as the ‘Lost Boys of Sudan’. There were seven from my extended family and we walked with 13,000 others. I left my parents with only the food I could carry, which my mum packed for me, and a two litre container of water. My mum packed simsim for me, a sort of produce like peanuts that doesn’t need cooking so it was easy to eat. I didn’t see my parents again.

We travelled at nighttime, mostly so the Khartoum government military in helicopters could not find us. We ran out of food quickly and ate wild animals, although not all of us would get a portion. It was a struggle. The desert was very dry and it was dangerous. We could be abducted. Many were eaten by wild animals. Some children were eaten by lions. Most children who died just fell asleep and did not get up as they were too weak to walk any further.” Once the group entered Ethiopia it took three months before the United Nations came with food and water, by then many more children had died.

Unless we have had a similar experience, it is impossible to really understand the privations that some people go through and still come out the other side – the death camps of the Holocaust, the civil war in Syria, people-trafficking, the persecution of the Rohingya are just a few of the horrific examples that come to mind.

The gospels were written at a time when the violent and murderous march of Titus through Galilee and the subsequent destruction of Jerusalem were fresh in the minds of many. Not only had the siege of that city by Rome led to starvation and desperation, but the in-fighting between the different sects of Judaism had made the situation even worse. After five months, the Romans entered the city and razed it to the ground so that it could not once again become a focus for dissension and rebellion. Those for whom the gospels were written would have known only too well how uncertain and precarious life could be. Jesus’ words as reported by Luke, would have provided reassurance and a sense of optimism to his community – reassurance that catastrophic events such as the destruction of Jerusalem (and with it the Temple) were not unexpected, and a sense of optimism that God is present even in the very worst of circumstances.

Today is the first Sunday of Advent, the beginning of the church year, yet we begin at the end of the story – Jesus’ warning of future events in the days before his death. This is perhaps because Jesus is referring to an end that is also a beginning, to devastation that has within it the seeds of the future. As Advent continues our readings will move us from upheaval, through promise to joyous expectation. Together they serve as a reminder that, with or without faith, life rarely runs smoothly, that there may well be times when our hopes are dashed and our expectations shattered, when we are forced to face difficulties and obstacles for which we were unprepared.

As the church year continues, we will experience the full gamut of human emotions – terror and hope, despair and joy, disappointment, and surprise, wonder and confusion. In the stories of Jesus’ followers, we will witness excitement and expectation as well as foolishness and betrayal. The gospels are not a record of dry, historical events, but a microcosm of human experience, a reassurance that our experiences are not unique but are shared (to a greater or lesser extent) by all humanity. All of us will at some time or another have our lives turned upside down – by external events (war, COVID, natural disaster), by personal issues (the death of a loved one, a diagnosis of a terminal or deteriorative disease). At such moments, Jesus assures us, God will not have abandoned us. Indeed, as many of us can attest, it is often when our world seemed to be falling apart that we discovered that God was closer than we had thought.

In the midst of his unimaginable travails, Marmour found God. “It was at this time when I was 11 years old that I began to have a relationship with God. In Ethiopia there was a church that I went to. It was there that I found out about the Israelites and how they travelled a long way on foot. After hearing their story, instead of thinking so much about going back to my parents, I thought to myself that this is what I had to live with, that this is my life now. I thought about what I had experienced and decided that there had to be some kind of power – something that was sustaining my life.”

Now in Brisbane, Marmour is married with six children and studying for his Bachelor of Theology. His story is a powerful illustration of God’s presence in the worst of circumstances and a reminder that, at the start of another year, a year in which anything could happen, that in good times and bad the kingdom of God is near and that “Heaven and earth may pass away, but Jesus’ words will never pass away.”

May we face whatever lies ahead with courage and with confidence that when we need God most, God will be most near.

Being God’s presence in the world

December 19, 2020

Advent 4 – 2020

Luke 1:26-38

Marian Free

In the name of God, in whom we live and breathe and have our being. Amen.

In the movie series Aliens, ghastly face-hugging creatures incubate their young in the bodies of humans. When the young are ready to be born, they burst out of their hosts – in the process killing them. It is a gruesome and disturbing image but can be relegated to the realm of science fiction. Back on this planet, nature has all kinds of examples of one species using another to their own advantage. For example, the fig that uses a host tree to give it support but which eventually suffocates the tree or the mistletoe that uses the tree to gain water and to assist with photosynthesis and which can gradually take over the tree such that it unrecognizable. Some relationships are one-sided as in the case of epiphytes which provide little to the tree on which they grow but which gain support, moisture and nutrients from being attached to the tree. Not all relationships are predatory or self-seeking. There are many examples of symbiotic relationships in the natural world – relationships that are mutually beneficial and in which neither partner loses anything of itself. The clown fish finds shelter among the anemone and at the same time produces nutrients that feed the anemone and frightens away potential predators. The heron eats the pests that bother cattle feeds itself while providing relief to the cow.

Even the human body is a complex ecosystem relying on a variety of tiny bacteria which are necessary for our survival. We the host, support them and they in turn maintain our health.

Pregnancy could be seen as a one-sided relationship. The foetus not only depends on the mother for everything – oxygen and nutrients, but he or she also relies on her to protect it from harmful substances and events. An unborn child can cause discomfort, swelling and even serious illness. Women who welcome their pregnancy bear these inconveniences with varying degrees of good humour. Pregnancy is an extraordinary experience. Almost from conception the intruder makes its presence known in morning sickness and through swollen nipples. Before long the bearer becomes aware pressure on various organs but also of movement and hiccups – the very real signs of a life-form within. Mother (and father) wait with bated breath to meet the child they have created and then they spend a lifetime in awe that watching that child grow and become their own selves.

Mary’s pregnancy, amazing as it is, can be seen as a metaphor for the spiritual life. Mary’s “yes” to God indicates an openness to God’s presence in her life and her acceptance of the pregnancy shows a willingness to bring Jesus to life in the world. 

Our task is no less awesome. God asks to be a part of our life and our “yes” is a commitment to bring Christ to birth in the world. As it did for Mary, our agreeing to bring Jesus to birth entails having the courage to cede control to God, to be unconcerned as to what others might think of us and not caught up with the values of the world. It means allowing the presence of God to totally infuse our lives. It means letting go of our egos and of our human limitations and frailties so that God can truly inspire and direct everything that we do. In saying ‘yes’ to God we discover that we lose nothing but gain everything. 

Like pregnancy, the experience of allowing God to take up residence in us may involve some discomfort and some emotional disquiet. Having said ‘yes’ to God we may find that there are some aspects of our lives that are harder to give up than others. (We might be able to let go of our attachment to material things, but not to our hurts or to our ambitions.) It won’t always be smooth sailing and we may want to turn back when the going gets too hard. There may be times when we resent or resist the gentle or not so gentle urging of God to do or be something different. But if, to quote Augustine: “We let go and let God”, we will become more fully alive, more authentic, more like the God whom we have welcome to live within us.

Throughout Advent and the weeks prior, we have rediscovered that Advent is all about being prepared, about readiness. The theme of Advent revolves around the letting down of our barriers and of our opening ourselves to God and to God’s presence in us. Above all Advent encourages us to give to Christmas its true meaning in our lives being a part of God’s entering the world and of allowing God to enter us.

The orthodox have a saying: “Jesus became human so that humans might become gods.” It is a profound and difficult statement which challenges us to become more like Jesus – fully human and fully divine – something that is impossible unless with Mary, we find the courage to say: ‘yes’ to God. It is only when we say a wholehearted, ‘yes’ that we discover our true destiny as God’s presence in the world.

Both Advent and Lent focus our minds on our true purpose as Christians – to let go of our own ambitions and to seek that true union with God that is both our purpose and goal.

With or without an angel, God is seeking our cooperation to be part of the Incarnation. Are you ready?

Wake up – before it is too late

December 15, 2018

Advent 3 – 2018

John 3:7-18

Marian Free

You snakes, you brood of vipers! What are you doing here? Is this your insurance policy against death? Do you presume that coming to church will save you from the wrath that is to come, that your baptism alone makes you right with God? Not so! Faith does not consist of outward observance, sticking to the rules or belonging to the church. Your whole lives need to be turned around. You must turn your back on the world and worldly things and give yourselves entirely to God. God is not taken in by externals. God knows the state of your hearts. God can discern the godly from the ungodly.  You must do all that you can to be counted among the godly for God is surely coming and God will know whether you are sincere or whether your faith is purely superficial. Repent and believe in the gospel!

I imagine that you are pleased that I don’t begin every Eucharist by attacking your sincerity, your faith or your behaviour. You will be equally pleased to know that I believe that you are here because you want to acknowledge your dependence on God, express your gratitude for all that God has given you and, in the company of those who share your faith, worship God and deepen your understanding of and your relationship with God. In truth I do not question your authenticity, nor would I dare to cast aspersions on your behaviour.

John the Baptiser had no such qualms. He was very happy to attack the crowds who came to him seeking to be baptised. It didn’t concern him that those who came to him were not the religious leaders but ordinary people, including soldiers and tax-collectors most of whom would have travelled a considerable distance, across sometimes difficult terrain, to seek baptism from this wild man on the banks of the Jordan. How could he question their intentions? The only reason that anyone would have come all this way into the wilderness would be to repent and to seek John’s baptism for forgiveness.

Yet, instead of welcoming the crowds, John attacks them. He challenges their sincerity and suggests that they have come to him out of a sense of self-preservation rather than from a genuine sense of remorse and a desire to change.

But the crowds are sincere. They do not stamp away in high dudgeon, offended by John’s insinuations. Instead they hold their ground and engage John in conversation: “What should we do?” ask the crowds. “What should we do?” ask the tax-collectors. “What should we do?” ask the soldiers. Their desire to turn their lives around is real, John’s rudeness and insolence will not deter them. Because they stay, because they seek to know more, John is forced to accept that their desire to repent is authentic. Their questions demonstrate that the crowds (including the tax-collectors and soldiers) understand that intention must be accompanied by action and that repentance is meaningless unless it is lived out in changed behaviour. “What should we do?” they ask.

And how does John respond? He tells the crowds: “Don’t do just enough – do more than enough.” To the soldiers and the tax-collectors he says: “Don’t use your position to take advantage of others or to treat them badly. Don’t behave in the ways that others expect you to behave – surprise them by refusing to act according to the norm.” To everyone he says: “Don’t conform to the world around you, conform instead to the values and demands of the kingdom. Demonstrate in your lives that you belong to another world, that you belong first and foremost to God.”

It is easy to relegate the story of John the Baptist to history, to believe that his words, his attack on insincerity and hypocrisy belongs to his time and place – to the ingenuous, to the hypocrites and to the unbelievers of the first century. But to make that assumption would be a mistake. John speaks to the crowds, to those who have sought him out. John is addressing people who, like you and I, are trying to do the right thing and to live out their lives faithfully and true. John’s assault on the crowds is like a test. It is intended to shock them into thinking about their lives and to examine their motives. Do they mean what they are doing or is their presence at the river only for outward show? Are they there because they really intend to change or are they there for the circus that is John’s strange appearance and behaviour?

In our age his words challenge us to ask ourselves similar questions. Does our outward behaviour truly represent the state of our hearts? Do we do things for show or because we really mean them? Do we do just enough or do we go over and above to serve God and serve our neighbour?

“You brood of vipers!” the voice of John the Baptist is a wakeup call for us all. In the time before Jesus comes again, John insists: “Don’t take God for granted. Don’t imagine that just because you keep the Ten Commandments and go to church that your place in the kingdom is guaranteed. Don’t allow yourself to think that just because God has set you apart that God can’t and won’t choose others. Examine yourselves and ask whether or not you need to turn your life around.”

Advent is a wakeup call. It is reminder that we cannot afford to be complacent and that we cannot make assumptions about what God will and will not do. It is an invitation to rethink our relationship with God and to ask ourselves whether or not it is in the best shape possible.

Wake up! Repent! Advent is here! Jesus is coming! Are you ready??

Who are you??

December 16, 2017

Advent 3 – 2017

John 1:6-8, 19-28

Marian Free

 

In the name of God who cannot and will not be contained on constrained by our limited understanding. Amen.

 

Renae [1] and I have had an interesting week. I have been introducing her to people whom I visit. Among other things we discovered that not everyone is clear about the role of a curate or a Deacon. For example, one person asked Renae if she was going to be ordained, and another, despite our protestations to the contrary, continued to believe that Renae was my daughter. At one point this person commented how much Renae looked like me; at which point I realised that it was foolish to argue any longer!

Two of today’s readings are about identity – the identity of the prophetic voice in Isaiah and the identity of John the Witness. In relation to John the Witness, those who came to ask who he was, already had made up some guesses as to who he was. If those whom Rosemary and I visited were not troubled by dementia, a conversation between Rosemary and someone who knows a little about her might go like this:

Your maiden name is Solomon. That’s an unusual name, are you related to Peter Solomon? (No, I’m not.)

Solomon is a Jewish sounding name – do you have a Jewish ancestry? (No not at all!)

I guess that if you are a Deacon that you are expecting to become a priest. (Comment)

(If we already know some details about Renae – that she is a woman, a wife and a mother, that she has a Bachelor degrees in Arts and Theology, we might use our preconceptions and stereotypes about these roles and qualifications to fill out our picture of her. In the end, we might have a reasonable amount of information, but we wouldn’t really know her at all.)

It is all too easy to make mistakes or to draw conclusions about a person’s identity on the basis of very little information. Most of us are guilty of drawing conclusions about someone based on first impressions and most of us at some time, uses stereotypes to categorise someone because it saves time and makes life easier than trying to process a lot of information.

The conversation between the priests and Levites and John bears some similarities to that which I have just had with Renae in that it tries to fill out some very limited details by asking simplistic, stereotypical questions. That John is baptizing people in the river Jordan has become known in Jerusalem. In order to maintain their relationship with the Roman occupiers, the Jewish authorities have some responsibility for keeping the peace. They are keen to know whether John poses a threat to the stability of the region or whether his popularity threatens to unsettle their place and their status among the Jews. In short they want to know if John was simply calling the people to repentance or whether he was using his charisma to de-stabilise Temple worship and the priesthood. Was he stirring up the people to call for change or was he simply urging them to repent and to deepen their relationship with God. The former was dangerous but the latter was harmless.

The authorities didn’t go out to the Jordan themselves; they delegated the task to priests and Levites. John’s interrogators are stumped, they want him to fit into a preexisting category: the anointed one, Elijah or a prophet. John is none of these, but because his interrogators can only see the world through one lens, they ask the same question three times: “Who are you? What then? and Who are you?”

John does not fit into any of their boxes. His responses are all negative. He is not the anointed one, he is not Elijah and he is not the prophet. John knows that in and of himself he is nothing; his role is simply to point the way to someone else. He points to Jesus, to the light, to the one whose sandals he is not worthy to untie. He is a voice crying in the wilderness, preparing the way for another. In the end we only learn what John is not, however his responses have reassured his questioners, they return to Jerusalem confident that he is not going to form a revolutionary movement that will upset the delicate balance of power.

John’s gospel is not interested in John the Baptist. The author of John is more interested in John who bears Witness to Jesus. John the Baptist is the wild man of the Synoptic gospels who preaches repentance, addresses the crowds as vipers and warns that Jesus will come with a winnowing fork in his hand and burn the chaff with unquenchable fire. John the Witness is a peaceable, mild-mannered holy man whose spirituality draws people to him and leads them to seek baptism, John the Witness points forward to Jesus. He does not draw attention to himself.

The readings during Advent challenge us to pay attention – to the presence of God in and around us, in people and in creation and in the unexpected surprises in our day. Paying attention demands that we take time to focus, to notice details that would usually escape us and to celebrate God in our lives.

This week we are challenged to pay more attention to people whom we know or whom we think we know. Who are they really? What are their hopes and dreams? We are encouraged to ask ourselves: Do we allow the people around us to really be themselves or do we expect them to conform to our preconceived ideas? Have we boxed them in, restricted them to particular roles or fitted them into pre-existing stereotypes that are limiting and confusing? John didn’t fit the categories into which the priests and Levites tried to place him but so long as he didn’t cause trouble they were content to let him be.

There are no images or types that are able to contain Jesus the Christ. We must be careful to pay attention and try to adjust focus so that when Jesus is right in front of us we will not make the mistake of thinking that he is something or someone else.

This Advent, pay attention, keep awake, be alert. Allow God to stretch and challenge your way of thinking about God. Open yourself to new and different possibilities and experiences of the divine, because only then will you be ready when God in Jesus catches you by surprise.

 

[1] Renae was ordained as a Deacon two weeks ago and has begun working with us as a Curate.