Posts Tagged ‘boundaries’

Breaking boundaries- Jesus at the well

March 11, 2023

It is usually trivial matters that keep us apart. Jesus’ encounter with the woman at the well challenges us to ask:

What “truths” do we hold on to that limit, separate and divide?

In what ways do we deny other full expression of their humanity?

Are we guilty of excluding from full participation to the community of faith or to the sacraments – baptism, Eucharist, marriage – those who do not fit our prescriptive norms?

 

Can we, like Jesus, to see beyond the external, to the superficial specifics, to the broader, deeper, more significant, shared faith in the one true God?

 

 

Lent 3 -2023

Luke 4:5-42

Marian Free

 

In the name of God for whom there are no boundaries, who sees and loves us just as we are. Amen.

 

Last week was International Pride Week – a whole week dedicated to celebrating the lives of all who do not fit the heteronormative profile.  It was an opportunity for members of the LGBTQI+ community to celebrate who they are and for the rest of us to celebrate the diversity of humanity. Community reaction was, by and large positive. Two things stood out for me. I had heard that the Uniting Church in Pitt St Sydney had painted their steps in the colours of the rainbow and had made it clear that theirs was a welcoming and inclusive church. Sadly some, unable to accept or tolerate difference, defaced the steps with grey paint[1]. In complete contrast, the Coles Supermarket chain used their free magazine to celebrate Pride week (with rainbow themed recipes) and to shine a light on the diversity and inclusiveness of their workforce.

 

While the wider population have come to a point where they can recognize the value of all people regardless of their gender identity, there are many (represented by our paint throwers) who want to judge, to draw boundaries and to exclude those who don’t fit their idea of who and what is acceptable.

 

Today’s gospel speaks to the issue of boundaries and in particular to the way in which Jesus ignored or defied boundaries which to him were arbitrary, unnecessary and even irrelevant when it came to the bigger picture of worshipping God. Jesus constantly caused offense by acknowledging, befriending and uplifting those whom his own community would exclude – lepers, sinners, prostitutes, tax-collectors, and even those with whom is own community is in serious conflict – the Samaritans.

 

Following on from Jesus’ discussion with Nicodemus, John continues his story of Jesus with another encounter (the Samaritan woman), another opportunity to demonstrate the way in which Jesus introduces a puzzle (never thirst again) which provokes his conversation partner to question what he has said (are you greater than our father Jacob?). This in turn provides an opportunity for Jesus to elaborate, to develop the idea of living water and to build on the faith which he and the woman share. Through the process of discussion and discourse Jesus’ dialogue partner (the woman) comes to a deeper understanding and, in this instance, to faith and to proclamation.  

 

According to the gospel account, Jesus, having been in Jerusalem for Passover, is returning to Galilee. The quickest way to do this is to travel through Samaria – something which most Jews would avoid.  Tensions between the two groups of people were high and Jesus could not be certain of safe passage. The Samaritans were perhaps the worst kind of enemies – those who with whom the Jews had most in common, but with whom they disagreed on what to us are trivial matters – the date of Passover and the mountain on which Yahweh. That they had the same law and observed many of the same customs only made the differences between them more obvious and the tensions more extreme. They were competing for what they believed to be the truth[2] – the stakes could not be higher.

 

When Jesus asked the woman (a complete stranger) for a drink, he was overlooking centuries of enmity and more astounding, he was revealing his vulnerability – he needed help, the woman was in a position to give it. Immediately, he breaks down any reservations the woman might have. Though he is a Jew, he is vulnerable. He is not a threat.

 

In engaging the woman Jesus saw beyond her gender, ethnicity, religion and marital status to that which they had in common – faith in God and a longing for the kingdom to be restored. In the face of their shared faith, all other barriers dissolved. Instead of seeing difference Jesus saw what they shared, perhaps more importantly he recognised the woman’s spiritual thirst – a thirst he could slake. He saw too, that the woman needed help to move beyond the superficial observance of faith to a deeper, more personal relationship with God. In order to do this, Jesus began the conversation with a conundrum, piquing her interest and drawing her into discussion. The woman responded with what she knew, the visible and practical -whose well and which is the correct mountain on which to worship.  Jesus moved her beyond these trivial and earthly details (details which separate and divide), to what really mattered – the spiritual worship of the God in whom they both believe.

 

Instead of accentuating difference, or asking the woman (and her community) to conform to the Jewish practice of the faith, Jesus looked beyond the detail to the bigger picture – the faith that they shared – faith in the one true God. Instead of criticizing and condemning the Samaritan practice of faith, Jesus affirmed their faithfulness and shared with them the message that he had for all people. As a result, he broke the walls of enmity and with the help of the woman drew all her neighbours into a new, renewed relationship with God

 

Jesus’ conversation with the Samaritan woman (the longest recorded conversation that he has with anyone) shines a light on our own pettiness, our concern with details (rather than the big picture), our tendency to see difference rather than commonality and our willingness to judge and exclude those who hold a view other than our own.

 

Jesus was not concerned to know whether the Samaritan woman was rich or poor, promiscuous or chaste, Samaritan or Jew. He didn’t want to change or “fix” her. He saw beyond the outward appearance of social isolation and shame, to their shared faith and their shared longing and it was to her, a woman of Samaria, that he first revealed himself to be the Messiah.

 

It is usually trivial matters that keep us apart. Jesus’ encounter with the woman at the well challenges us to ask:

 

What “truths” do we hold on to that limit, separate and divide?

In what ways do we deny other full expression of their humanity?

Are we guilty of excluding from full participation to the community of faith or to the sacraments – baptism, Eucharist, marriage – those who do not fit our prescriptive norms?

 

Can we, like Jesus, to see beyond the external, to the superficial specifics, to the broader, deeper, more significant, shared faith in the one true God?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

.

 


[1] The rainbow was repainted.

[2] Similar differences – the date of Easter, and how to shave one’s head – were among the reasons that the church originally divided – into East and west.

Lent 3 -2023
Luke 4:5-42
Marian Free

In the name of God for whom there are no boundaries, who sees and loves us just as we are. Amen.

Last week was International Pride Week – a whole week dedicated to celebrating the lives of all who do not fit the heteronormative profile. It was an opportunity for members of the LGBTQI+ community to celebrate who they are and for the rest of us to celebrate the diversity of humanity. Community reaction was, by and large positive. Two things stood out for me. I had heard that the Uniting Church in Pitt St Sydney had painted their steps in the colours of the rainbow and had made it clear that theirs was a welcoming and inclusive church. Sadly some, unable to accept or tolerate difference, defaced the steps with grey paint . In complete contrast, the Coles Supermarket chain used their free magazine to celebrate Pride week (with rainbow themed recipes) and to shine a light on the diversity and inclusiveness of their workforce.

While the wider population have come to a point where they can recognize the value of all people regardless of their gender identity, there are many (represented by our paint throwers) who want to judge, to draw boundaries and to exclude those who don’t fit their idea of who and what is acceptable.

Today’s gospel speaks to the issue of boundaries and in particular to the way in which Jesus ignored or defied boundaries which to him were arbitrary, unnecessary and even irrelevant when it came to the bigger picture of worshipping God. Jesus constantly caused offense by acknowledging, befriending and uplifting those whom his own community would exclude – lepers, sinners, prostitutes, tax-collectors, and even those with whom is own community is in serious conflict – the Samaritans.

Following on from Jesus’ discussion with Nicodemus, John continues his story of Jesus with another encounter (the Samaritan woman), another opportunity to demonstrate the way in which Jesus introduces a puzzle (never thirst again) which provokes his conversation partner to question what he has said (are you greater than our father Jacob?). This in turn provides an opportunity for Jesus to elaborate, to develop the idea of living water and to build on the faith which he and the woman share. Through the process of discussion and discourse Jesus’ dialogue partner (the woman) comes to a deeper understanding and, in this instance, to faith and to proclamation.

According to the gospel account, Jesus, having been in Jerusalem for Passover, is returning to Galilee. The quickest way to do this is to travel through Samaria – something which most Jews would avoid. Tensions between the two groups of people were high and Jesus could not be certain of safe passage. The Samaritans were perhaps the worst kind of enemies – those who with whom the Jews had most in common, but with whom they disagreed on what to us are trivial matters – the date of Passover and the mountain on which Yahweh. That they had the same law and observed many of the same customs only made the differences between them more obvious and the tensions more extreme. They were competing for what they believed to be the truth – the stakes could not be higher.

When Jesus asked the woman (a complete stranger) for a drink, he was overlooking centuries of enmity and more astounding, he was revealing his vulnerability – he needed help, the woman was in a position to give it. Immediately, he breaks down any reservations the woman might have. Though he is a Jew, he is vulnerable. He is not a threat.

In engaging the woman Jesus saw beyond her gender, ethnicity, religion and marital status to that which they had in common – faith in God and a longing for the kingdom to be restored. In the face of their shared faith, all other barriers dissolved. Instead of seeing difference Jesus saw what they shared, perhaps more importantly he recognised the woman’s spiritual thirst – a thirst he could slake. He saw too, that the woman needed help to move beyond the superficial observance of faith to a deeper, more personal relationship with God. In order to do this, Jesus began the conversation with a conundrum, piquing her interest and drawing her into discussion. The woman responded with what she knew, the visible and practical -whose well and which is the correct mountain on which to worship. Jesus moved her beyond these trivial and earthly details (details which separate and divide), to what really mattered – the spiritual worship of the God in whom they both believe.

Instead of accentuating difference, or asking the woman (and her community) to conform to the Jewish practice of the faith, Jesus looked beyond the detail to the bigger picture – the faith that they shared – faith in the one true God. Instead of criticizing and condemning the Samaritan practice of faith, Jesus affirmed their faithfulness and shared with them the message that he had for all people. As a result, he broke the walls of enmity and with the help of the woman drew all her neighbours into a new, renewed relationship with God

Jesus’ conversation with the Samaritan woman (the longest recorded conversation that he has with anyone) shines a light on our own pettiness, our concern with details (rather than the big picture), our tendency to see difference rather than commonality and our willingness to judge and exclude those who hold a view other than our own.

Jesus was not concerned to know whether the Samaritan woman was rich or poor, promiscuous or chaste, Samaritan or Jew. He didn’t want to change or “fix” her. He saw beyond the outward appearance of social isolation and shame, to their shared faith and their shared longing and it was to her, a woman of Samaria, that he first revealed himself to be the Messiah.

It is usually trivial matters that keep us apart. Jesus’ encounter with the woman at the well challenges us to ask:

What “truths” do we hold on to that limit, separate and divide?
In what ways do we deny other full expression of their humanity?
Are we guilty of excluding from full participation to the community of faith or to the sacraments – baptism, Eucharist, marriage – those who do not fit our prescriptive norms?

Can we, like Jesus, to see beyond the external, to the superficial specifics, to the broader, deeper, more significant, shared faith in the one true God?

.

Breaking boundaries- Jesus at the well

March 11, 2023

 

Lent 3 -2023

Luke 4:5-42

Marian Free

 

In the name of God for whom there are no boundaries, who sees and loves us just as we are. Amen.

 

Last week was International Pride Week – a whole week dedicated to celebrating the lives of all who do not fit the heteronormative profile.  It was an opportunity for members of the LGBTQI+ community to celebrate who they are and for the rest of us to celebrate the diversity of humanity. Community reaction was, by and large positive. Two things stood out for me. I had heard that the Uniting Church in Pitt St Sydney had painted their steps in the colours of the rainbow and had made it clear that theirs was a welcoming and inclusive church. Sadly some, unable to accept or tolerate difference, defaced the steps with grey paint[1]. In complete contrast, the Coles Supermarket chain used their free magazine to celebrate Pride week (with rainbow themed recipes) and to shine a light on the diversity and inclusiveness of their workforce.

 

While the wider population have come to a point where they can recognize the value of all people regardless of their gender identity, there are many (represented by our paint throwers) who want to judge, to draw boundaries and to exclude those who don’t fit their idea of who and what is acceptable.

 

Today’s gospel speaks to the issue of boundaries and in particular to the way in which Jesus ignored or defied boundaries which to him were arbitrary, unnecessary and even irrelevant when it came to the bigger picture of worshipping God. Jesus constantly caused offense by acknowledging, befriending and uplifting those whom his own community would exclude – lepers, sinners, prostitutes, tax-collectors, and even those with whom is own community is in serious conflict – the Samaritans.

 

Following on from Jesus’ discussion with Nicodemus, John continues his story of Jesus with another encounter (the Samaritan woman), another opportunity to demonstrate the way in which Jesus introduces a puzzle (never thirst again) which provokes his conversation partner to question what he has said (are you greater than our father Jacob?). This in turn provides an opportunity for Jesus to elaborate, to develop the idea of living water and to build on the faith which he and the woman share. Through the process of discussion and discourse Jesus’ dialogue partner (the woman) comes to a deeper understanding and, in this instance, to faith and to proclamation.  

 

According to the gospel account, Jesus, having been in Jerusalem for Passover, is returning to Galilee. The quickest way to do this is to travel through Samaria – something which most Jews would avoid.  Tensions between the two groups of people were high and Jesus could not be certain of safe passage. The Samaritans were perhaps the worst kind of enemies – those who with whom the Jews had most in common, but with whom they disagreed on what to us are trivial matters – the date of Passover and the mountain on which Yahweh. That they had the same law and observed many of the same customs only made the differences between them more obvious and the tensions more extreme. They were competing for what they believed to be the truth[2] – the stakes could not be higher.

 

When Jesus asked the woman (a complete stranger) for a drink, he was overlooking centuries of enmity and more astounding, he was revealing his vulnerability – he needed help, the woman was in a position to give it. Immediately, he breaks down any reservations the woman might have. Though he is a Jew, he is vulnerable. He is not a threat.

 

In engaging the woman Jesus saw beyond her gender, ethnicity, religion and marital status to that which they had in common – faith in God and a longing for the kingdom to be restored. In the face of their shared faith, all other barriers dissolved. Instead of seeing difference Jesus saw what they shared, perhaps more importantly he recognised the woman’s spiritual thirst – a thirst he could slake. He saw too, that the woman needed help to move beyond the superficial observance of faith to a deeper, more personal relationship with God. In order to do this, Jesus began the conversation with a conundrum, piquing her interest and drawing her into discussion. The woman responded with what she knew, the visible and practical -whose well and which is the correct mountain on which to worship.  Jesus moved her beyond these trivial and earthly details (details which separate and divide), to what really mattered – the spiritual worship of the God in whom they both believe.

 

Instead of accentuating difference, or asking the woman (and her community) to conform to the Jewish practice of the faith, Jesus looked beyond the detail to the bigger picture – the faith that they shared – faith in the one true God. Instead of criticizing and condemning the Samaritan practice of faith, Jesus affirmed their faithfulness and shared with them the message that he had for all people. As a result, he broke the walls of enmity and with the help of the woman drew all her neighbours into a new, renewed relationship with God

 

Jesus’ conversation with the Samaritan woman (the longest recorded conversation that he has with anyone) shines a light on our own pettiness, our concern with details (rather than the big picture), our tendency to see difference rather than commonality and our willingness to judge and exclude those who hold a view other than our own.

 

Jesus was not concerned to know whether the Samaritan woman was rich or poor, promiscuous or chaste, Samaritan or Jew. He didn’t want to change or “fix” her. He saw beyond the outward appearance of social isolation and shame, to their shared faith and their shared longing and it was to her, a woman of Samaria, that he first revealed himself to be the Messiah.

 

It is usually trivial matters that keep us apart. Jesus’ encounter with the woman at the well challenges us to ask:

 

What “truths” do we hold on to that limit, separate and divide?

In what ways do we deny other full expression of their humanity?

Are we guilty of excluding from full participation to the community of faith or to the sacraments – baptism, Eucharist, marriage – those who do not fit our prescriptive norms?

 

Can we, like Jesus, to see beyond the external, to the superficial specifics, to the broader, deeper, more significant, shared faith in the one true God?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

.

 


[1] The rainbow was repainted.

[2] Similar differences – the date of Easter, and how to shave one’s head – were among the reasons that the church originally divided – into East and west.

The proper place to worship

October 12, 2019

Pentecost 18 – 2019

Luke 17:11-19[i]

Marian Free

In the name of God, from whom nothing can separate us. Amen.

While it is part of a long, historic conflict, modern Turkey’s invasion of northern Syria represents some of the malaise of the modern world. In Israel, the United States and in parts of Europe, nations are building boundaries to separate themselves from their enemies (real or perceived) and to protect their interests and to provide a barrier between themselves and any kind of danger. Nations feel that not only their safety is at risk, but that their identity is being compromised and their resources stretched, so they create borders not only to bolster their own security and so that they can determine who goes out and who comes in. At the same time those whom they wish to exclude are stereotyped, demonised and excluded.

In the Hebrew world, boundaries related to personal purity rather than to personal safety. Six whole chapters in Leviticus deal with the issue of purity, the ways in which uncleanness can be avoided and the ways in which purity can be restored. Pollution or contamination could be communicated by the consumption of impure foods, the release of bodily discharges, by menstruation and childbirth and through skin disease. The first of these pertain to boundaries between the body and the external world. Approved and unapproved foods enter the body through the mouth; blood, children and bodily discharges cross the boundary of the body through other openings. “Leprosy[ii]” is a little different from other forms of contagion because it concerns an external skin complaint – a flaky, repulsive or scaly condition that crossed the boundaries of skin, clothes and walls. It was impossible for those with a skin disease to keep their contamination to themselves, so they were thrust out of their families and communities and forced to live on the outskirts of society. Like anyone who was considered to be unclean, they were also excluded from the Temple and therefor from the worship of God.

According to anthropologists, cultures that are concerned with the maintenance of safe and secure bodily boundaries, are often as concerned about societal and geographic boundaries – in part, because they risk being polluted by those who do not observe the same restrictions as they do.

We usually associate the account of the ten lepers with gratitude, but in fact it is as much about worship and about boundaries. The scene is set in an in-between place, the boundary between Galilee and Samaria. Differing views of scripture, worship and what it means to be holy had created tensions between the two peoples. Centuries of hostility between the Samaritans and the Jews meant that most people would prefer to make the much longer journey to Jerusalem rather than to travel through Samaria. Anyone travelling to Jerusalem would not want to risk exclusion from the Temple (usually the point of their journey) by being polluted by association with the Samaritans.

Throughout the gospel, Jesus has demonstrated that he finds boundaries restrictive, limiting and even inhumane. He mixes with sinners, allows himself to be touched by a woman with a haemorrhage and comes into contact with the dead. He is not afraid of pollution or contamination. Jesus’ own godliness or purity means that rather than impurity flowing from the unclean to himself, Jesus’ presence and goodness make clean, restore and heal those with whom he comes into contact. Jesus has no need to be afraid of being contaminated by the Samaritans.

He has barely entered Samaria when he is confronted by a group of lepers who dare not cross the invisible boundaries that separate them from their families, their communities and him. They beg Jesus, not for healing, but for mercy – a word that means he should meet his obligations to them! As Jews, they were “owed” membership in the holy community of Israel, freedom to return to their families, freedom to worship God in the Temple and they ask Jesus to make this possible – to break down the barriers that prevent their return. Jesus responds to their request by telling them to: “Go and show yourselves to the priests”. In other words: “Go to the Temple and worship God”.

Jesus’ instruction is all well and good for nine of the ten. Once certified as clean by the priests they will be free to enter the Temple and to worship God with other members of their community. But the tenth, the Samaritan, is caught in a dilemma. He sets off with the others but stops short. He knows will not be welcome in the Jewish Temple and that nothing the Jewish priests say or do will make him fit (in their eyes) to be a member of their worshipping community. Does he go instead to the Samaritan place of worship on Mount Gerizim and to his own priests? Where does he go to worship God? Then it comes to him – God is no longer to be found either in Jerusalem or at Gerizim. God is to be found in the person of Jesus.

The Samaritan turns back “praising God”. He bows his face to the ground at Jesus’ feet and thanks him – using a word only used in the Greek for thanks and praise given to God.[iii] He is commended and the nine are censured, not for giving thanks, but for returning to Jesus and giving praise to God.

The Samaritan, the outsider, recognised what the others from their privileged position of inclusion did not, that God was no longer to be encountered in the exclusive space of the Temple, but in the person of Jesus. In Jesus, the boundaries between clean and unclean, sacred and profane, insider and outsider are broken-down. The barriers between God and humanity have been torn apart. Through Jesus we have direct access to God. We do not need intermediaries to intercede for us or to praise God on our behalf. We are free to worship as we are and where we are. We have no need to feel worthy enough or holy enough to worship God.

It doesn’t matter where we are as long as together and individually we recognise all that God has done for us, and that we respond with praise and thanksgiving.

 

[i] I am indebted to John J. Pilch and Denis Hamm for some of these insights. (see http://www.liturgy.slu.edu for October 13, 2019)

[ii] What we know as leprosy is not very contagious and was not known in antiquity.

[iii] “eucharistein” is used in the Greek bible only for thanks and praise given to God.

More to it than meets the eye

October 8, 2016

Pentecost 21 – 2016

Luke 17:11-19

http://bible.oremus.org/?ql=342912842

Marian Free

 

In the name of God who opens our eyes to a world that could be. Amen.

Today through the internet, mobile phones, social media we have access to world events 24/7. On many occasions we learn of events as they take place and not after the journalists have had time to write and file their reports. It is possible to see earthquakes almost at the same time as they are happening, videos of the shooting of black men in America come to our phones in vivid detail, as do the effect of violence against rioters in Egypt and in other places that are experiencing civil unrest. Even without our tablets and phones, our newspapers and television stations are able to give us details on Hurricanes almost as they happen. We appear to know more than we have ever known but at the same time because we only receive “sound-bites” on our devices or even in the regular media, we really only ever know what other people tell us, what they want us to see and hear and very often our understanding is determined by the way the information is interpreted, rather than hearing both sides in a dispassionate way and being allowed to form our own opinions.

Newspapers have to sell, TV stations need to attract viewers so as often as not it is the more sensational news that reaches us. What we see and hear is always selected for us and few of us go to the trouble of looking further to discover the background to the story, what led up to the events that are being reported, what really took place and who, if anyone really is to blame.

So often we see only what we want to see. We pass judgement before we have all the facts at our disposal and we form opinions on what other – sometimes biased – people tell us. Too many times we fail to look beyond the obvious, contenting ourselves with the superficial – not willing or not interested enough to look deeper.

The same, dare I say it, is as true of the way we sometimes approach the bible. Take this morning’s gospel for example. I am sure that you, like I, hear the account of Jesus’ healing the ten lepers and think to ourselves: “We know what this is about. It is about gratitude. In particular it is about the ingratitude of the nine who were Jews and the gratitude of the tenth – the outsider.” That is all well and good, and there is no real problem is we are content with that way of seeing and understanding the text. But if we go to the trouble of examining this simple story in more detail we will discover that it has much more to reveal than a superficial reading would have us believe.[1]

For example, were we to place these verses in the context of the whole gospel we would see among other things that this is Luke’s fourth reference to Jesus’ healing of lepers (Luke 4:27, 5:12-14, 7:22). If we were able to do a word search we would discover that Jesus’ final words to the Samaritan “get up and go” are the same words used when Mary “gets up and goes” to Elizabeth and the Prodigal “gets up and goes” home. A careful study of Luke’s presentation of Jesus’ life would reveal that it begins and ends with people glorifying Jesus (2:20 – the shepherds, 23:47 – the centurion). In fact, we would discover so much about the text that we would see it in a completely new and more sophisticated light.

Comparing the story to the account of the healing of Namaan the Syrian,

Dennis Hamm SJ suggests that this is not so much a story about healing and thankfulness, as it is about “discerning the presence of God”[2]. Namaan whose leprosy is healed when he deigns to dip in the insignificant waters of the Jordan comes to realise that the God of Israel is the God of all the world. His eyes are opened to a new and radically different truth[3].

In today’s gospel we are told that Jesus is “along the borders of Samaria and Galilee” – a reminder that Jesus meets people at the boundaries but also a geographical clue. When Jesus tells the lepers to present themselves to the priests they must go south – to Jerusalem. Ordered by Jesus, all men set off in a southerly direction. All are healed, but of the ten, it is the Samaritan (Hamm suggests) who is faced with a dilemma. Surely, when Jesus suggests showing himself to the priests he means the Temple in Jerusalem. Here however, the Samaritan will not be welcome. He will face another boundary, one that confines him to the Court of the Gentiles. Should he instead go to Gerizim – the place where the Samaritan priests are and the place that they believe is where God’s presence is mediated?

Here, “along the borders”, in a place of uncertainty, the Samaritan suddenly sees clearly. God is not to be found either in Jerusalem or in Gerizim but in the person of Jesus. He returns to give “thanks” – but this is no ordinary gratitude. The Greek word “euchariston” is the word we used for our Eucharist. In the Greek Bible it is used only for “thanks and praise to God”. The Samaritan has come to the realisation that Jesus is both the place where the sacred is to be found and also the one to whom thanks and praise are to be offered.

Now it all becomes clear. The Samaritan does not receive praise for saying “thank you”, but for his insight into the nature of Jesus and for giving glory to God through the person of Jesus. (“The other nine, where are they? Was none of them found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?”) The Samaritan, the outsider is not bound by the same traditions and influences of the Jews. This has freed him to see below the surface and to discern that Jesus is no ordinary man, but is in fact God incarnate.

The account of the ten lepers is less about gratitude, than it is about recognising God in unexpected places and in surprising people. Sometimes we only see what we want to see, hear what we want to hear. The tenth leper, the Samaritan challenges us to be open to other possibilities, to look beyond the obvious, to seek out more information and to discover God in people and places we cannot even begin to imagine.

 

[1] A useful site for getting to know the Sunday readings better it that of the St Louis University http://liturgy.slu.edu/28OrdC100916/theword.html

 

[2] See the liturgy.slu.edu. website for October 9, or Hamm’s article “”What the Samaritan Sees: The Narrative Christology of Luke 17:11-19.” Catholic Biblical Quarterly, 56.2 (1994) 273-87.

[3] (He is so taken with this idea that he wants to take home as much of the land of Israel as he possibly can (2 Kings 5:14-17).

Breaking boundaries, flouting convention

June 11, 2016

Pentecost 4 – 2016

Luke 7:36-50

Marian Free

 

In the name of God who breaks down boundaries, flouts convention and welcomes sinners. Amen.

 Imagine this – you have gathered for worship at your local, traditional Anglican Church. The priest (Jane) has just announced the first hymn when the usually sedate, dignified curate (Maurice) bursts in, robe awry, and runs down the aisle shouting: “ I’ve got it! I’ve got it! I now understand! God loves me, God REALLY loves me! I’m not perfect, but God loves ALL of me! Can you believe it? It’s so amazing, so wonderful. I want to laugh and cry at the same time. God loves me, God really, really loves me. Here take this,” he says as he thrusts bags of money into the priest’s hands. “I can’t think of any way to say ‘thank you’ except by giving all my savings to God. Take it, take it all, use it for whatever you think. God loves me, God really loves me.”

During this rant, you (and possibly everyone else) were almost certainly squirming in your pew. Perhaps it was your voice that the priest overheard saying: “Why doesn’t she just stop him. Can’t she see he is overwrought? Surely she knows that his behaviour is totally inappropriate. Anglicans in this place are more constrained, more reserved. No one will come to church if this gets out.”

Imagine your surprise when the priest not only lets the curate finish his speech, but takes him by the hand and says: “I am so happy for you. Come and take your place beside me. Help me to share this good news with everyone.” Your surprise turns to indignation when the priest singles you out: “(Your name here) do you begrudge Maurice this joy? Have you never experienced the marvel of God’s love? Do you not know what it is to be truly loved and forgiven or do you think that you are so special that God can’t help but love you? Maurice knows that he has nothing to deserve God’s love, that is why he is so overwhelmed. I wish that you could share his humility, because only then could you share his joy.”

It is hard to imagine the scene in this morning’s gospel. We have become so inured to the woman’s extravagant, beautiful act of love that we often fail to see how scandalous and socially inappropriate it was and is. Simon, the Pharisee was simply voicing what any respectable person would have thought in that situation. The woman has broken a number of social and religious laws, and in Simon’s home. No wonder he is offended. In first century no woman would have been invited out for a meal, no man would have touched a woman, let alone allowed her to touch him in such an intimate way. Any such contact would make the man ritually unclean and unfit to fulfill his religious duties. What is more, it appears by the fact that the woman’s hair is loose, that she is not even a respectable woman, but a woman of the streets.

By allowing himself to be touched by such a woman, Jesus also is crossing all kinds of boundaries and is himself guilty of causing offense. Even by today’s less rigid standards, if an unknown woman gate-crashed a party and started wiping the feet of the guest of honour, it would send shock waves through the room. The guests would not know where to look, they would squirm in discomfort and wish her anywhere but there. Most of them would quietly hope that Jesus would say something to make her stop.

Instead of chastising the woman, Jesus tells a parable that indirectly condemns his critics. It is their self-righteousness, their rule-bound lives, he implies that, rather than freeing them to experience God’s loving forgiveness, actually imprison them in their own smugness. Those who criticise Jesus and the woman are so busy “being good” and conforming to the expectations of those around them that they have failed to see that their very self-assurance is a vanity that contradicts their sense of goodness.

The woman on the other hand, knows her short-comings all too well. She knows that according to the standards of the church and the standards of society she falls far short of expectations, but somehow, (and we are not told how), she has grasped what the others in the room have yet to grasp – that God loves her utterly and unconditionally. She is aware that she has nothing to deserve God’s outpouring of love and yet she knows that it is hers. The experience is simply overwhelming – a mixture of joy and awe. She feels that she has to respond and so she does, in the only way available to her. She takes the most expensive possession that she has and seeks Jesus out. Weeping with gratitude and joy she collapses at Jesus’ feet, bathing them with her tears, wiping them with her hair and finally anointing them with ointment. She doesn’t care what other people think. Her only concern is to let Jesus know how overawed she is by his gift of love and acceptance.

Those of us who are cradle Anglicans may not have had the sort of experience that brought this woman to her knees. Not all of us have had the sort of conversion experience that led Paul to understand that despite his past actions, God could not only forgive and love him, but use him to build the church. Our experiences may be less intense – the quiet, deep gratitude that a loved one has pulled through surgery, the elation at the safe birth of a child, the thankfulness that God has brought us through a time of trial or tragedy – but they are no less real.

We may not have experienced for ourselves the intensity of this woman’s love, but hopefully in our journey of faith we have learned that what sets us apart is not that we are better than anyone else, that we are more law-abiding, or that we do more good works. What sets us apart is that, despite our imperfections and despite the fact that we have done nothing to deserve it God loves us.

God loves us unreservedly and unconditionally and will continue to love us for all eternity and even if we were to give everything that we have, we would never be able to repay God for the tremendous, awesome, underserved gift of that love.

Smashing boundaries, confronting stereotypes

May 28, 2016

Pentecost 2 – 2016

Luke 7:1-10

Marian Free

 

In the name of God who welcome all those who seek God. Amen.

C.S. Lewis had the most extraordinary ability to express complex theology in a way that is easy to understand. This is demonstrated above all in his stories. The Screwtape Letters proved a light-hearted insight into the subtleties of evil and The Great Divorce reveals Lewis’s understanding of the final judgement. Perhaps his greatest achievement is The Chronicles of Narnia – children’s stories that Lewis wrote for his god-daughter. In seven short books, Lewis manages to sum up some of the central tenets of our faith in story form. From an account of creation in The Magician’s Nephew to an imaginative presentation of judgement and the end of the world in The Last Battle Lewis manages to share the faith in an adventure story that is so compelling that even on the one hundredth read is impossible to put down and that even on the one hundred and first read still has greater depths to reveal.

Narnia is an imaginary land into which children from this world are unexpectedly thrown and in which they find themselves confronting, challenging and fighting the forces of evil. In Narnia the divine is represented by a huge lion – Aslan – who appears terrible to those who don’t believe or who have gone their own way, but full of light and love to those whose hearts are open and who have nothing to hide. Because Lewis is writing from a Christian perspective, it is clear to us that Aslan represents the Trinity and in particular Jesus. Readers observe Aslan breathing the world into being, being destroyed and yet being restored to life and being present as an invisible presence and power. Aslan is welcoming, forgiving and understanding, but not without expectations of those who would be his friends. He expects the children to trust him and to show the same sort of care for others as he shows to them.

Perhaps the most extraordinary book in the series is the last. In this story, he tries to capture the theme of Revelation – a difficult enough book for any of us to grasp. Suffice to say, the story deals with the destruction of the world and the final judgement. It is impossible to summarise the plot here and I simply want to focus on one aspect of the story. The final battle is between the cruel Calormenes and the Narnians. In the course of the battle the heroes are slain and find themselves in the most wonderful land in which everything is larger, brighter and somehow more real than the land from which they came. They are not alone in this new place. All the Narnians who have fallen in battle are there with them. There too are a small group of dwarves, huddled together in terror, so bound by their unbelief that they simply cannot see the beauty and bounty that surrounds them.

Also in this new and wonderful land is a Calormene who is wandering freely and in wide-eyed wonder. Emeth, for that was his name, had spent his life faithful to the god of his own people and was deeply disturbed by what the deceptions that had brought Narnia under Calormene control. Unlike the dwarves who were blinded by their skepticism and arrogance, Emeth was open to the presence of the divine, by whatever name it went. When he found himself in the strange new land, he was at first unafraid. It was only when he came face to face with Aslan that he threw himself to the ground, certain that he – a follower of the god of the Calormenes – would be struck down and destroyed. Instead he feels the lion bend down and touch his tongue to his forehead saying: “Son you are welcome.” Despite Emeth’s protestations that he is not worthy, Aslan assures him that his life, his goodness and his desire for God were all in fact in the service of Aslan and that he belongs in this strange new place.

There are a number of surprising aspects to today’s gospel. The centurion is not only not a Jew, he is a Roman and a soldier at that. He cares for his slave almost as a father cares for his child yet, despite his authority he does not feel that he is in a position to ask for Jesus’ help directly. Instead he sends some Jews to ask on his behalf. They assure Jesus that he is worthy of Jesus’ attention however, when Jesus’ nears the home of the centurion he sends another delegation – this time his friends – to tell Jesus that he is not worthy to have Jesus come to him.

It is clear that the centurion has seen the divine in Jesus and that, in the presence of the Jesus, he is acutely aware of his outsider status, his unworthiness. He is seeking Jesus’ help even though he does not worship the God of the Jews. The centurion knows that he does not belong, that in the eyes of many he represents the enemy, the oppressor.

Jesus sees in him, not an enemy but someone who is open to the presence of the divine, someone who is not so bound by his own ideas or by his skepticism that he cannot see Jesus for who he is. Jesus sees not someone who worships another god, but someone whose life, goodness and desire for God are in the service of the one true God. In fact Jesus rather than being disturbed is amazed – even among the Jews he has not found a faith to match that of the centurion.

Unlike Jesus, there are many who are quick to judge, who believe that they know who is in and who is out, who think that they know just what faith entails and how God will judge their faith and the faith of others.

The gospels are quick to destroy the arrogance that insists that there is only one way to God and only one way to be accepted by God. Rather than creating strict definitions of who belongs and who does not, Jesus is constantly smashing boundaries, confounding stereotypes and confronting the self-confidence of those who think that they are the only ones who will be saved.

Then who will be saved when that final curtain falls and Jesus comes again to judge? Those who seek God in the ways that are known to them and whose understanding of God is not limited to a prescribed set of ideas but who are open to the presence of God in themselves and in the world, those who have the humility to recognise their own unworthiness and who do not feel that the world/God owes them anything and who understand that they do not cannot deserve Jesus’ attention. In other words salvation belongs to those who trust in God – whoever and whatever God may be – and who, instead of trusting in themselves, admit their faults and throw themselves on God’s mercy.

Moving the boundaries

August 16, 2014

Pentecost 10. 2014

Matthew 15:21-28

Marian Free

 

In the name of God who is constantly breaking down barriers and opening new possibilities for existence. Amen.

The account of the Canaanite woman is perhaps the most confronting story in the New Testament. Our familiarity with the Gospels means that we are not at all shocked by the way that Jesus befriends sinners and eats with them. Nor are we surprised that he allows a woman of the street to wash his feet. It seems perfectly reasonable to us that Jesus should heal on a Sabbath. But this story is shocking Jesus is rude and unsympathetic. He refuses to respond to a mother’s agonised cry for help. Worse still, not only does Jesus ignore the woman’s pleas, he adds insult to injury when he justifies his refusal by likening the woman to a household pet that does not deserve the same food as the children.

This hard, uncompromising Jesus is almost unrecognisable. Is this, we might ask, the same Jesus who only a short while ago had such compassion for the crowd that even though he needed to be alone he healed the sick and fed more than 5,000 people?

What is going on here? Such an unflattering and unexpected description of Jesus demands further explanation. Why would the Gospel writers include an account in which Jesus is so uncompromising, so rude? What is it that causes Jesus to withhold healing in this situation? Did he think that he would find the peace he was seeking outside Israel’s borders and did the woman interrupt that peace? We may not be able to find a satisfactory answer to those questions, but we can draw the conclusion that the purpose of this story in Matthew’s gospel is to explain how it is that the Gentiles have come to faith in a Jewish Messiah. – why it is that the faith community consists of both Jew and Gentile.

There are two versions of Jesus’ encounter with a Gentile woman in Mark and Matthew. A comparison between the two accounts shows that Mark’s record of the meeting is much less confrontational. Matthew has heightened the contest in a number of ways, which makes the outcome even more surprising. He elevates the position of the woman and he emphasises Jesus’ refusal to help. The woman recognises Jesus as the Son of David and falls down and worships him. This makes her a more formidable combatant than the woman in Mark’s account as she knows who Jesus is at a time when Jesus’ disciples have not yet made up their minds. The battle lines are more clearly drawn In Matthew, Jesus ignores the woman’s request not once but twice and his refusal to acknowledge her is supported by the disciples who urge him to send her away. Jesus’ response to the woman is strengthened by the assertion that his responsibility is only to the lost sheep of Israel. Matthew makes the woman stronger, Jesus harsher.

The basic elements of the story are the same in both gospels. Tyre and Sidon are on the Mediterranean Sea – a long way from Galilee and in territory that is primarily Gentile. It is Jesus, not the woman, who is out of place. The woman who seems to appear out of nowhere is desperate. An evil spirit oppresses her daughter. When Jesus rejects her plea for a second time she is not deterred. So confident is she in his authority and in his ability that she informs him that the crumbs will be enough. In her wisdom (or humility) she has understood that there is more than enough to go around and that even the left-overs will be more than sufficient to meet her need[1]. By helping her daughter, she suggested Jesus’ ministry to Israel would in no way be diminished.

Jesus is outside his territory on the woman’s home ground and she demands that he take her faith seriously. Consciously or unconsciously, the woman foreshadows the future. After Jesus’ death, the gospel will be preached in the regions beyond Israel. There the Gentiles will recognise Jesus and will demand their place in the community of faith.

In the final analysis, this account is much more than a story about one woman’s faith. It is in fact a reflection about boundaries, boundaries that turn out not to be rigid and immovable but fluid and ever-changing. The world into which Jesus was born was very clear about who was in and who was out and the lines between the two were fiercely guarded. Belonging was more than a birthright it also required adherence to strict purity laws. One could be born a Jew but still be an outsider. Anyone with a disability or skin disease was considered unclean, tax collectors and prostitutes were excluded. Temporary exclusion could result from contact with a corpse, a flow of blood or a failure to observe the purity laws. It was close to impossible for anyone from outside to be given admission to God’s chosen people. The woman’s insight and her refusal to be denied made it clear that the boundaries were moving and that Jesus’ message was intended not just for a few, but for the whole world.

Our readings today remind us that God doesn’t observe conventions or maintain strict boundaries. Genesis tells us that by default Joseph, the Hebrew slave of Pharaoh, becomes the ruler of all Egypt. In Romans Paul reminds us that, contrary to expectation, wIld olive shoots (the Gentiles) are grafted on to the rich root of the olive tree (the Jews).

The faith that grew in Jesus’ name shattered all previous boundaries and admitted as full members those who were previously on the outside or who were languishing in the shadows.

The Canaanite woman demanded and received recognition for her faith. She challenged Jesus’ narrow mind-set and forced him to think differently. In a world in which boundaries are becoming drawn ever tighter or being raised against perceived threats or new fears, perhaps it is time for us to consider where we stand and to ask ourselves whether our fences represent the mind of God or whether they are simply there to separate ourselves from others and to protect the ways of the past.

[1] An interesting insight in view of the quantity of leftovers from the feeding of the 5,000.

Who’s in and who’s out.

June 28, 2014

Pentecost 3 – 2014

Matthew 10:40-42

Marian Free

In the name of God who loves all that God has created. Amen.

On Tuesday evening at St John’s Cathedral the Archbishop consecrated Cameron Venables as Bishop of the Western Region. The service was wonderful but what has remained in my mind is not the liturgy but Cameron’s thanks and greetings. Needless to say there were people present from all parts of Cameron’s life – family, friends and those among whom he had served. The last of his greetings took me by surprise. Using an Arabic form of greeting, Cameron thanked two members of the Muslim community who had attended the service. In a world which seems to be increasingly fragmented along religious lines and in which groups like Boko Haran wreak terror among those who do not share their faith, Cameron’s greeting and the presence of his friends was a breath of fresh air and a reminder that possibilities other than suspicion and hatred are possible.

I am lucky, as the child of an academic I have been privileged to meet a wide range of people from different nations and different faiths. During my late teens our Parish hosted a service for the beginning of the academic year at which adherents of different faiths were present. I have attended multi-faith conferences and the Parliament of World Religions. My P.A. practices the Buddhist faith. All of which is to say that I haven’t led a sheltered or insular life. Perhaps what struck me and filled me with hope was hearing the Muslim greeting uttered in our Cathedral and knowing that it was addressed to people who, despite having different beliefs and practices, had chosen to spend two hours attending a very particular style of Christian worship for the sake of friendship.

Our news and other media sometimes seem intent on exaggerating difference and on trying to build fear of those who differ from us. For many Australians what they know of Islam comes from media reports of the actions of extremist groups and the political fear-mongering that is associated with asylum seekers or boat arrivals.

Of course, the reality is that religious conflict is based less on religion and more on politics, avarice and ethnicity, but the current unrest in the world has made a number of people anxious, suspicious and even afraid.

Today’s gospel is only three verses long, but in the context of religious difference and who is included and who is excluded, they are very significant. Jesus tells his disciples: “Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me.” That’s an extraordinary thing to say – that welcoming you or I is the same as welcoming God. In this instance at least, Jesus does not demand faith, adherence to the law or Temple worship but suggests a simple welcome, an openness to who he is is all that is required. Jesus’ gospel is inclusive. It is open to sinners and to Samaritans and Gentiles and is very undemanding a simple welcome (a not turning away) indicates a preparedness to get to know Jesus and hence to know God.

In the context of first century Judaism, this would have been a radical statement because, as best as we can make out, the Judaism of Jesus’ time had drawn in on itself – drawn up boundaries to determine who was in and who was out. As a people the Jews had been under foreign rule for most of the last few centuries which led them to exaggerate those things which made them distinct – circumcision, food laws and in particular an exclusive relationship with Yahweh. By identifying and building on what made them different, they were able to hold on to the idea that they were unique and that they would survive as a people.

First Jesus and then the early church challenged the idea that God related to/was concerned for only those of Jewish descent. Jesus told parables about “good” Samaritans, allowed himself to be persuaded by a Gentile woman and mixed with those whose lifestyle put them outside the boundaries of the Jewish faith. In his teaching and behaviour he made it clear that goodness was not a characteristic that belonged to just one group of people and that God was not stringent in God’s demands, but offered love to any who would accept it. Paul in particular grasped the inclusive nature of the gospel and the fact that salvation was predicated on faith and nothing else. If belonging to the people of God was based on faith and not law and circumcision, then anyone could belong. Jesus and then Paul, broke down the barriers which had been built up to keep Judaism free from contamination by others – radically challenging the idea that one group alone had all of God’s attention.

When we are threatened or isolated from those who share our beliefs, it is comforting to draw our boundaries tighter and to strengthen our identity – to emphasise those things that make us different or special. This is a useful strategy in the face of persecution or when our culture or lifestyle is in danger of extinction. However, this behaviour can lead to the sort of arrogance that enables us to assume that we know what God wants and to presume that what we do or say, we do or say on God’s behalf. This leads to our setting ourselves apart as moral or religious guardians and believing that we are more special to God than others. It can have devastating effects – conflict, oppression and in some cases even annihilation of the other.

Jesus had the kind of self-assurance that meant that he didn’t need to impose his will on others or to tell them what or how to believe. What he wanted most of all was to open the eyes of those who were rigidly confined within boundaries of their own making and to show them that God’s abundant love was poured out on all those who would accept it not on just a limited and predefined few. Jesus’ greatest condemnation was not of sinners or those on the margins but rather of those who believed themselves to be at the centre and those who thought that they knew God’s mind and that they could judge/exclude others accordingly. He does not seem to have needed to make distinctions between people or groups of people, on the basis of faith, or ethnicity. People judged themselves according to their welcome or not of him.

Jesus, who did know God’s mind makes few demands and understands that a welcome reflects a heart that is open to possibilities and a mind that is willing to engage. How different might the multi-faith landscape be, if this was a view that was shared and promoted instead of a faith groups building fortresses and claiming right on their side?

Who is in and who is out?

January 4, 2014

Epiphany 2014

Matthew 2:1-12

Marian Free

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

 

Utter dependence on God

April 6, 2013

Easter 2. 2013

John 20:19-31

Marian Free

In the name of God who calls us to die in order that we might truly live. Amen.

When we start out in life we are completely dependent on others for every aspect of our lives and, if we are lucky, we learn to trust  that our needs will be met. As we grow, we need to be taught about the world, learn what we can and can’t do, how to live in relationship with those around us and how to keep ourselves safe from danger. We learn to trust in and depend on the judgement of those older and wiser than ourselves. At times in our lives, especially in our teens, we test what we’ve been taught and we explore the boundaries that have been set to see how real they are and to determine whether danger really lurks on the other side. As a result of this process we form our own ideas and come to our own decisions as to how to live our lives. Over time, some of the rules and boundaries that were indispensable will be left behind. We no longer need to hold a parent’s hand to cross the road, we can go swimming without an adult watching and so on. As we grow, new skills and boundaries are learned. We learn how to drive, so we learn the road rules. We are old enough to drink and others hope that we will use that privilege responsibly.

At different times of our lives we unlearn some things – how to be dependent in particular – and we learn new things – how to be married, how to parent, how to live with illness or pain and how to age. Some of the changes we face will be embraced and the challenges taken on board, others may be resisted or resented. There will be individuals who adopt a positive attitude to change no matter what. When confronted with difficulties, they will grow and become better for it. However, others will balk at any difference or difficulty in their lives. Their growth will be stunted and they may become bitter and angry, unable to move on.

Our religious journeys are similar to our life’s journey. If we are open to the presence of God, we will grow through dependence to the rule bound childhood of faith into a liberating life-giving adulthood. The difference between the two is that ultimately our faith journey takes us through the independence of adulthood into a second infancy – that of complete dependence on and trust in God.

Just as in life, so in faith, some people have the confidence and courage to grow, to out-grow unnecessary regulations and to leave behind painful and negative pasts. However, unfortunately for some, the lessons taught and the emotional threats used to enforce the rules make it difficult, if not impossible, for them to make their own minds up about right and wrong, healthy growth and unhealthy development. For such people, the consequences of questioning the teaching and boundaries of their childhood faith can be constant anxiety and self-doubt, fear of expulsion from the group and the terror of hellfire. There are others who do not grow in faith because they have come to like the certainty of their set beliefs and behaviours. They are comfortable in their beliefs and do not want them challenged or disturbed. For this group, any admission of doubt would be tantamount to a confession that they had lost their faith. They would feel rudderless and lost and so hold tight to what they have, unable to move forward.

Those unable or unwilling to grow become stuck in the rule-bound faith of their childhood and often justify their position by being critical and judgemental towards those who have taken a different road. They are governed by their own need for certainty and assurance and threatened by any suggestion that there is another way to be. Rules help them to feel safe. They cannot imagine a situation in which they might let go of the rules and allow God to direct their lives. Ultimately they are terrified of ceding control and opening themselves to the wisdom and love of God.

On the other hand, those who have the courage to step out in faith and to follow the path to the end are able to unlearn everything that they had learned. They have no fear of hell or judgement because they have learnt to trust in God’s unconditional love and forgiveness. They do not need to compare themselves with others because knowing themselves loved they can extend that love to those around them.

Paradoxically, our journey of faith is not a journey into certainty, but into uncertainty for in the final analysis God represents all that is unknown. Growing in faith is learning that there is only one rule and that it is not a rule but an attitude – loving and allowing ourselves to be loved. It is regaining the sense of wonder and even bewilderment about the nature of God and the nature of the universe. It is dying to our need for the rational and intelligible and rising with Christ to the impossible and unbelievable.

This is Thomas’ journey. He begins by wanting proof. What he has been told by his friends will not suffice, he wants to see and to touch. He cannot suspend his desire for the rational and the reasonable. What he knows, what he has seen, is that Jesus has died. Without clear proof to the contrary he will not be able to change this world view. When he does see Jesus, all that changes, his demand for certainty is exposed as and he is forced to concede that some things are beyond rational explanation. Thomas, having come face-to-face with the risen Christ, goes further than any other disciple by falling to his knees and identifying Jesus as both Lord and God. In that act, he lets go of certainty and rationality and gives himself over completely to God.

Certainty, compliance to a particular set of regulations, is a form of heresy. It claims that we know all there is to be known about God, it suggests that we have all the answers that we will ever need and ultimately implies that we have no need for God at all. Letting go can be a terrifying experience because we can never be sure what is on the other side. However, unless we have the courage to let go, to stop being in control, we will never know what it is to die with Christ and never experience the power of the resurrection in our lives.