Posts Tagged ‘domestic violence’

Loving the deserving and the undeserving

March 26, 2022

Lent 4 – 2022
Luke 15:11-32
Marian Free

May I speak in the name of God, Earth-maker, Pain-Bearer, Life-giver whose love for us is beyond compare. Amen.

This week one of the disturbing stories that is making the headlines is the inquest into the shocking deaths of Hannah Clarke and her three children at the hands of her husband and their father. It is difficult to imagine how anyone who purports to love someone could be so possessive/obsessive that they would kill the one they loved rather than set them free. “Love” that comes with conditions or strings is not love at all, but something else altogether. “Love” that seeks to dominate or control is not love but a perverted idea of what “loving and being loved” might be.

In our imperfect world, there are many ways in which “love” has been corrupted or distorted. Some women stay with violent partners because they have been led to believe that they don’t deserve better. Some children act out because any attention is better than no attention. Others are overly compliant in the belief that only if they are good enough will they be loved. There are just too many examples of the ways in which love has been misunderstood or misused.

Today’s gospel, one with which we are so very familiar is all about love – giving and receiving love in its purest form – undefiled and unconditional.

Sadly, many of my generation were brought up to believe in heaven and hell, and in judgement that resulted in reward or punishment. Whether it was intended or not, the message that we received was that even though God loved us, that love came with an expectation that we were to be “good” and knowing that our “goodness” was constantly being measured against our “badness”.

In that light, the parable of the Loving Father or Prodigal Son was taught as a story of forgiveness. The bad son, the prodigal, had to recognise his sinfulness, repent, and return to his father – who then forgave him. That was easy enough to understand, but many of us struggled with the older son, the good but resentful son. This, I suspect, was because we identified with him and felt that we should not. Like the older son, our sense of fairness is offended by the father’s overreaction to the return of the prodigal. Like the older son, our notion of God’s love is predicated on its being earned. In the parable, this concept is turned upside down – the bad son who has done nothing to deserve it is rewarded – and the good son – who has done everything right – is not. “It’s not fair!” we shout, as if we were still two years old.
Our innate sense of justice wants God to be fair – at least far as we define it. We are torn between wanting to know that we (despite our inadequacies) are loved and wanting to know that God will rain down punishment on those whom we (not God) deem unworthy of God’s love. We want there to be consequences for good behaviour and for bad – otherwise (as the older son seems to feel) what is the point of being good? We fail to see the irony (as does the older son) that most of us are not driven by the threat of damnation but by the fact that we don’t actually want to be bad! It is not so much that we want to be rewarded, but we sure as heck want those who misbehave to be punished or at least reproved for their behaviour!

The meaning of the parable changes if we take as our starting point – not the behaviour of the brothers – but the actions of the father whose love towards his sons is demonstrated – not just at the home-coming but also at the leaving, not just at the going, but at the staying. Often, we are so focussed on the end of the story, that we overlook the beginning. According to the parable, the father loves his younger son enough to let him go. He understands that love that holds on to the other is not love but control and that nothing will be achieved by forcing his son to remain at home. If the younger son conforms but is seething with resentment, nothing is gained. According to the story (and we must remember that it is just a story), there are no strings attached to the son’s freedom, no instructions as to what he should do, where he should go or how he should spend his money. When the son returns, there are no questions, no recriminations – just joy that the one who is loved has returned. The father’s love is freely given – no questions, no expectations, and no conditions.

A fresh tells us something about God’s love for us. As is the father’s love for his child, God’s love for us is non-coercive and non-demanding. This was something that the younger son innately understood – he was not afraid to ask for his inheritance, not so anxious about his father’s reaction that he could not return home and not so ashamed that he held back when his father reached out to embrace him. What a contrast with the older brother who, in the story, appears not to have understood how much he is loved, that everything that was his father’s was his already. Instead of trusting his father’s love for him, he seems to have spent his life seeking approval. It is no wonder that he cannot be generous towards his brother, he has not had the confidence to be generous to himself.

If we turn this parable on its head, we will see that it has as much to tell us about accepting love, as it does about being loved. God, who is love, cannot help but love us. It is we, whose ideas about God are often misinformed or misguided, who think that we have to earn God’s love and who in turn begrudge the fact that God freely gives God’s love to all people – both the bad and the good – who have to re-frame the way that we see God and God’s love not just for some, but for all.

God’s boundless, unconditional, and unquestioning love is poured out on all God’s creation. When we claim that love for ourselves we cannot refuse it to others.

All we have to do is say: “yes – I know that I am loved.”

Scripture should never imprison, love should never hurt.

May 15, 2021

Easter 7 – 2021

John 17:6-19

Marian Free

In the name of God who calls us to love selflessly and unconditionally. Amen.

In the past two years, we have been rightly shocked and appalled by the horrific deaths of Hannah Clark and her children and more recently that of Kelly Wilkinson. Both women died at the hands of the men who had promised to “love and protect them”, both had endured years of abuse prior to making the decision that enough was enough and both were failed by a system that was unable to keep them safe. In recent times, a crisis that used to be hidden (or ignored) because it occurred behind closed doors has become front and centre. The very public acts of violence like the murders of Luke Batty and of Hannah Clark and her children have exposed the extent of the problem and the weakness of the response. 

In Australia one woman every week is murdered by an intimate partner. Many more are locked in abusive or coercive relationships that they find impossible to escape. It is estimated that one in 6 Australian women and 1 in 16 men have been subjected, since the age of 15, to physical and/or sexual violence by a current or previous cohabiting partner (ABS 2017b). Despite the statistics, despite public awareness and despite the attempts to strengthen the law and to police it, we seem unable to keep vulnerable women safe and unable to change the behaviour of men who abuse them. 

Historically, and to our shame, the church has often been complicit in the situation. A misunderstanding of the nature of forgiveness, a misinterpretation of scripture and a misplaced conviction regarding the sanctity of marriage has meant that the church has often turned a blind eye to domestic violence and worse, sent women back to their violent partners rather than confronting the partner’s abusive behaviour.

As we have seen with the issue of child sex abuse, too often a church that has focussed on outward appearance has fostered a culture of silence. Our embarrassment and confusion regarding the misbehaviour of our some of our members and our failure to confront what amounts to a misunderstanding of sacraments and the misuse of scripture has meant that not only have we not adequately addressed the issue of domestic violence, but we have created an environment in which women feel too ashamed to admit what is going on behind closed doors.  

For one reason or another in the past and continuing into the present the Bible has been used to coerce and control others. Individual verses have been used to ensure that women know and keep their place within an intimate relationship and to justify the use of controlling and abusive behaviour by men towards their partners. 

Three passages in particular are used to justify the control of or domination over a woman by a man.

The first of these is the creation story. It has been argued that because Eve was created from Adam, she was somehow inferior, and that it was her role to serve Adam rather than to be his partner. What is more, it was believed that because Eve persuaded Adam to eat the apple, women were by their nature both vulnerable andseductive -(as if that wasn’t a contradiction) – and therefore dangerous and in need of control by the more superior man. 

The other two texts come from Colossians and Ephesians. “Wives, be subject to your husbands, as is fitting in the Lord” (Col 3:18-19) and “Wives, submit to your own husbands, as to the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife as Christ is the head of the church, his body, and is himself its Saviour” (Eph 5:22-33). Both these texts have been used to coerce a woman into compliance and to take responsibility for the violent behaviour of her partner. (After all, she must have behaved in such a way as to provoke such a response.) These verses are probably the source of the language of Holy Matrimony in the Book of Common Prayer in which the words “obey and serve” are added to the words of consent said by the woman alone.

All these texts are misrepresented by those who use them to justify violence against women. Yet what sort of God would not only condone, but actually incite violence against women I wonder? 

All our scripture readings have to be seen in context including these. For example, the creation of Eve occurs in the second of the two accounts of creation. In the first God creates humankind in God’s image, male andfemale (Gen 1:26-27). There is no hierarchy here. In the second account of creation woman is created to be Adam’s partner and equal because none of the animals could fulfill that role. (We note that Eve may have taken the apple, but as the story goes, Adam was weak enough to eat it. If blame is to be apportioned, both are culpable.)

The verses in Colossians and Ephesians are conveniently taken out of context – both historical and literal. If we were to read on, the next verse in Colossians says: “Husbands, love your wives and never treat them harshly” and Ephesians emphasises mutual subjection: “Be subject to one another out of reverence for Christ.” Misused these minute pieces of scripture have done considerable damage – not only to the lives of those impacted by domestic violence and but also to the gospel itself that has at its heart a message of love, respect and empowerment, regardless of gender, class or race.

As individuals and as church it is incumbent on us to break the code of silence and to free women (and men) to speak of their experiences without shame or fear of judgement. In order to truly show the love of Christ, we must equip ourselves to respond to occurrences of domestic violence, not only by understanding the issues surrounding it, but also by being able to offer alternative interpretations of the biblical texts that have had such a damaging impact on the lives of many.

After all, our scriptures should never imprison and love should never hurt.

God is relationship – Trinity Sunday

May 21, 2016

Trinity Sunday – 2016

Marian Free

In the name of God, Earth-maker, Pain-Bearer, Life-giver[1]. Amen.

Whilst in the process of thinking about today’s sermon, I was reminded of the debate around alternate Trinitarian language – in particular the arguments against using the expression Creator, Redeemer and Sanctifier in the place of Father, Son and Holy Spirit. The heart of the argument is this: that the relational nature of the traditional language of Father, Son and Holy Spirit is lost when Creator, Redeemer and Sanctifier are used.

Language is important because it both describes our reality and defines our reality. That is, we use words to make sense of the world around us and those words then take on a meaning of their own, which in turn affects how we see the world.

A good example is the use of language to label other people – especially those who are different from ourselves. Up until the 1980s it was not uncommon to refer to a person by their disability. No one thought twice about referring to a person as “a spastic” or “a mongoloid”. In that way a person was defined more by their physical condition rather than by their personality or by their ability. Thankfully that use of language is by and large in the past. Today we might refer to someone as a person with cerebral palsy – acknowledging that they are a person first and foremost. The change in language use helps us to see people differently and helps them to have a self-identity that is distinct from their disability.

Despite dictionary definitions, words do not carry the same meaning for everyone. For example our experience of “Father” or “Dad” can vary from that of a loving, interested caring man, through that of a distant, indifferent man to that of an overbearing or abusive person. Our experience of our own father may determine our own understanding of what a father is. If our experience of “Father” has only been of someone who hurts or belittles us, we might find it hard if not impossible to apply that terminology to God. A woman who has been raped or sexually abused, might have the same difficulty relating to the maleness of Jesus[2]. It can be hard for such a person to believe that a man – even a man such as Jesus can really identify with the experience of a violent or unwanted sexual attack.

A greater understanding of issues such as domestic violence and rape has led the church to embrace a greater variety in the language we use for God and to a lesser extent for Jesus. This has two benefits. First of all it recognises that the bible itself refers to God in more than one way; that God cannot be confined by language; that God is neither male nor female and that while we might attribute human characteristics to God, God is anything but human. An examination of the Old Testament reveals that the language for God is not restricted to Father, but includes feminine and even inanimate language to try to capture the grandeur and ineffability that is God[3]. Secondly, broadening the language for God enables those for whom “Father” does not bring to mind images of gentleness, love and encouragement, to use language that does encompass those characteristics for them.

Of the three-persons of the Trinity, the Holy Spirit is the least bound by gender-defining language. This might be because the Spirit is the most difficult to conceptualise and also because the Spirit is never named other than by its nature.

The issue of language is more complex when it comes to the Trinity. An important aspect of the Trinity is the relationship between the three-persons, a relationship of inter-connection that is both a model for and a reminder of our relationships with one another. As members of the Body of Christ, we are invited into relationship with one another and more importantly into the relationship shared by the members of the Trinity.

There are many who argue that if we are to change the language of the Trinity from Father, Son and Spirit we will lose the sense of relationship, mutuality and intimacy that this formula implies.

I am a biblical scholar, not a theologian, but it seems to me that if we understand the nature of the Trinity to be relational it is not impossible for terminology such as Creator, Redeemer and Sanctifier to take on a relational aspect. Surely we understand that the Creator is the person within the Godhead to whom we attribute the creation of the world, that the Redeemer is the one who entered the world and was crucified and restored to life for our salvation and that the Sanctifier is the person within the Godhead who enlivens and sanctifies us in the present moment and until eternity. It is not the language that we use so much as the understanding of that language that gives it meaning[4].

In the final analysis, the Trinity is a glorious mystery that invites us into a relationship with a God who is beyond description and of whom we only ever glimpse the smallest detail. The Trinity is a wonderful gift extended to us through the church. It is a shame to waste time arguing over words when we could be letting ourselves be caught up into an experience of God that is impossible to capture and even more impossible to describe.

 

[1] From a version of the Lord’s Prayer in the New Zealand Prayer Book.

[2] There is a powerful poem written by a survivor of sexual abuse who, when confronted by the image of a woman on the cross, was able to understand that Christ knew her own experience and had been with her in her suffering.

[3] God is depicted as midwife (Ps 22:9), as mother (Is 49:13-15, 66:13, Ps 131:2, Is 42:13-15) and as giving birth (Is 42:15, Jer 31:20, Is 14:1, Ps 77:10; 79:8) not to mention as a “rock” and a “fortress” and other inanimate images in the Psalms and elsewhere.

[4] Attempts to develop inclusive language Trinitarian formulae that are also relational leads to such clumsy language as, “Parent, womb, birth-giver” or “The Parent, the Christ and the Transformer”.

Knowing uncertainty

October 4, 2014

Pentecost 17
Matthew 21:23-32, Mark 12:1-12, Luke 20:9-19, Gospel of Thomas 65-66
Marian Free

In the name of God who cannot be pinned down or contained by the limits of human understanding. Amen.

It is easy to be overwhelmed by the issues that confront our world in the second decade of the twenty-first century. Climate change, people trafficking, the Ebola virus, poverty, natural disaster and the displacement of people due to war or civil strife are among the many crises that are facing the world at the present time. Of all these concerns the one that is most exercising our minds and the one that has focussed the attention of our politicians and our media is that of fundamentalism and the violence that ensues as a result of a narrow view of religion and of the attempt to impose that view on others. At the moment our attention is caught by those who call themselves Islamic State in Iraq and Syria but we should not forget that the Taliban are still active in Afghanistan and that Boko Haran is still wreaking terror in Northern Nigeria.

Fundamentalism is a fairly recent phenomenon. It arose in the nineteenth century among the millenarian movements in the United States. According to the Oxford Dictionary it is a form of religion especially Protestant Christianity or Islam, that upholds belief in the strict, literal interpretation of scripture. Among Christians it is usually a reaction to social and political change and to the theory of evolution. Islamic fundamentalism arose in the eighteenth and nineteenth century as a reaction to the disintegration of Islamic economic and political power. I cannot speak for Islam, but for nineteen centuries Christians felt no need for a literal interpretation of scripture. Believers and scholars alike were happy to understand stories such as Genesis 1 as just that, stories. They saw no need to insist that the world was created in just seven days but were content to understand God’s creative energy behind the universe.

There are a number of problems with fundamentalism of which the most serious is a belief that the human mind is able to interpret the mind of God or that any human being can presume that they have the authority to impose the will of God on others. While I would in no way defend the violence and brutality of the militant Islamists, I would urge us to be cautious about feelings of moral outrage and moral superiority and remember of our own checkered history and the hurtful, harmful ways in which we have used our own scriptures – to engage in the Crusades, to defend slavery and domestic violence and to disempower women and children.

Today’s gospel is a good deterrent against fundamentalism if for no other reason than that there are four different versions of the story and, if Scott is to be believed, it is impossible to determine which of these is closest to what Jesus actually said or what he wanted us to learn. Those who have transmitted the parable have each added their own particular slant in the re-telling. Matthew, for example wants his readers to understand that the Jesus’ community are the true Israel, the ones to whom the owner of the vineyard will entrust it. Mark adapts the parable in such a way that it is very clear that it is a reference to the life of Jesus (the beheading of the second servant seems to point to John the Baptist and the language “beloved Son” is reminiscent of Jesus’ baptism). Both Mark and Matthew begin with a quote about vineyards from Isaiah. In the Old Testament, the image of a vineyard is often used of the nation of Israel. Luke omits this reference perhaps as verse 16 suggests, he wants to make it clear that it is not Israel as a whole that will be destroyed, but only the leaders of Israel. Luke also adds the detail that the son, having been killed, was thrown out of the vineyard – he wasn’t even afforded a burial.

The fourth version of this story is found, not in the Bible, but in the Gospel of Thomas – one of the documents uncovered by a farmer in northern Egypt in 1945. In the Gospel of Thomas the parable is only two verses long but it can be argued that whoever recorded it in this form also had an agenda. The focus here is on knowledge and on the failure of the tenants to recognise the messenger and therefore the one who sent him.

It is tempting to try tease out the differences between the four accounts to try to unearth the original. This approach is fraught with difficulty. Whichever way we look at the story, there are a lot of things that just don’t make sense. Why, when the first servant is killed, is another sent? And why, when the second servant is killed does the owner send his son and heir? If the owner has the capacity to destroy the tenants, why does he hold off until his son is killed? In a culture in which honour is paramount, the owner of the vineyard has been shamed not once, but three times and spectacularly so when his son and heir is killed and thrown out of the vineyard.

It may be impossible to discover the original parable or to determine exactly what message Jesus meant us to hear. What we can do is learn about the agenda of the various Gospel writers and the message that they wanted to promote and to understand the reason why a parable or a healing is told in a particular way. An acceptance that the Gospel writers have told the story in different ways to achieve their different ends, is a great deterrent against fundamentalism. It reminds us that we cannot be 100% sure about the meaning of any text and that we need to keep on exploring, seeking to know more about the God revealed by Jesus.

In today’s uncertain time, the very worst that can happen is that we react to fundamentalism with a fundamentalism of our own, that we respond the the present situation by ramping up our own claim to truth and to knowing the mind of God, that we resort to hurling cheap slogans or that we hide behind our own rhetoric and our own self-justification. Our answers should lead us not to certainty, but to new questions, which will lead to new answers and to new questions until at last we are drawn into the fulness of God when all will become clear and god will be all-in-all.

How well do we tell the story?

September 27, 2014

Pentecost 16

Matthew 21:23-32

Marian Free

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

Recently, our grandchild came to stay overnight. When his mother dropped him off he walked into the living room and waved his arm and said: “MaMa, can you move all this?” I’d have to say that when I surveyed the room and its furnishings I was more than a little dismayed. What on earth was wrong with my living room that a three-year old thought that I should completely rearrange it? Was he having a go at my housekeeping? Did he think that he would knock himself on the sharp corners of the furniture? I just couldn’t make sense of it. Thankfully my daughter came to the rescue. Apparently, before they came, she had been discussing with him the fact that there might be things at MaMa’s house that he wasn’t allowed to touch and he, all three years of him, had responded that that was OK he would just ask MaMa to move things. (And so he did). Without the explanation I would have been completely lost.

So often a failure to understand the context of what is said can lead to misunderstanding and even conflict. We can take offense when no offense was intended or misjudge a person’s intentions because we do not have the full story. Misunderstandings arise when we do not fully understand another person’s culture or background.

This is no less true when it comes to understanding the Bible. First century Palestine was vastly different from today’s Australia. If we are to properly understand the New Testament, it is important to have some knowledge of the historical, social and cultural situation in which the various books were written. It is also important to try to understand the particular agenda of the writer. Why do the gospel writers tell the gospel in their own particular ways? Why does Paul write to a community? What is the purpose behind the Book of Revelation?

Failure to take into account the context of the New Testament has had some disastrous consequences – not least of which was the Holocaust, the destruction of six million Jews. A failure to take into account the historical, social and cultural context of the New Testament has, among other things, led us to defend slavery, to turn a blind eye to domestic violence and to condemn and exclude those who don’t fit our idea of what it is to be “good”.

Context is particularly important when it comes to understanding Matthew’s gospel, a gospel that, to our shame and embarrassment, has been a source of anti-Semitism over the course of history.

Perhaps the first and most important thing to understand is that Matthew is the most Jewish of all the gospels. It is for this reason that the battle is so fierce. The community behind the Gospel is struggling for ascendency over and against the Jews who do not believe in Jesus. It is like two siblings fighting for their parent’s affection or battling it out over the inheritance. An underlying question for the gospel writer is: “Who is the true Israel?” to which Matthew’s answer is: “We are.” What that means is that the gospel is very deliberately setting out to paint the continuing Jews in as bad a light as possible and to do this, he writes the contemporary conflict back into the gospel.

For this reason, we have to be very clear. Jesus was and remained a Jew and while he foresaw that the current trajectory of his people might have led to the destruction of Jerusalem, and though he came into conflict with the Jewish leaders, he did not for one minute imagine the replacement of, let alone the annihilation of his people.

This then is wider context of the today’s gospel. It’s immediate context is Jesus in the Temple as the first sentence makes clear. Jesus is no longer in Galilee, but in Jerusalem the heart of Judaism. It is here that he comes into conflict with the Jewish leaders because he threatens their authority; the people are looking to him not to them. If you remember, when he enters Jerusalem the crowds welcome him as their King. As if that were not enough to cause disquiet among the leaders of the community, his first act is to enter the Temple and overthrow the tables of the moneychangers. No wonder that, on this, his second day in Jerusalem, the legitimate leaders of the Jews want to know what authority he has to behave in the way that he does. No wonder that they want to try to discredit him and reassert their own authority. They ask four questions that they hope will trip him up: about the source of his authority, about paying taxes, about the resurrection and about the law. Jesus not only has an answer to each of these, but he answers in such a way that the leaders do not have a leg to stand on. Finally Jesus asks a question of his own, which convinces them that argument is fruitless. Their plan has backfired. It is not Jesus who has been made to look foolish, but themselves.

In the context of Matthew’s agenda as to who is the true Israel, this section firmly establishes Jesus – the leader of his community – as the legitimate leader (of Israel).

Also in this section are three parables – the parable of the two sons, the parable of the wicked tenants and the parable of the banquet. These are told in such a way that it is clear that just as Jesus is the true leader, so the Matthean community can lay claim to be the true Israel. (Those who were outsiders are the ones who prove worthy of the gospel whereas those who were insiders either reject the invitation or reject the message.) The section finishes with Jesus’ denunciation of the Jewish leaders (which is unique to Matthew) and finally Jesus’ sorrowful prediction of the destruction of the Temple.

Matthew is not alone in telling these conflict stories. All the gospel writers are clear that Jesus runs up against the Jewish leaders, but it is Matthew alone who drives a wedge between the emerging Christian community and its Jewish parent.

It is only when we understand the wider context of Matthew’s gospel that we are able to put his apparent anti-Semitism into context. It is only when we fully comprehend his agenda – to establish his community as the true Israel that we begin to understand why he tells the story of Jesus and Jesus’ stories in the way that he does.

Understanding the context of our biblical traditions ensures that we are less likely to be dogmatic, less likely to be prone to arrogant presumption, more open to the possibility that there is more than one way to understand a story, more willing to engage in discussion with those of different faiths and different points of view and better equipped to explain difficult passages to those who have questions.

If we wonder why our churches are emptying, perhaps we need to ask ourselves whether it has to do with how well we understand and how well we tell the story.