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Forgiving as God forgives – uprooting trees and replanting them

October 4, 2025

Pentecost 17 – 2025

Luke 17:1-10

Marian Free

In the name of God, who seeks out the lost and welcomes the sinner. Amen.

Corrie Ten Boom, a Dutch woman, the daughter of a watchmaker, was transported to a concentration camp during WWII for sheltering a Jew in contravention of the Nazi policy. Her father was sent to a different camp, but Corrie and her sister Betsy were not separated. Throughout their ordeal Corrie and Betsy showed enormous courage, holding fast to and sharing their deep faith and finding the positives in the most awful of circumstances.  During their imprisonment they made a pledge that after the war, they would not be bitter or hold grudges against the perpetrators of their suffering but would establish centres of forgiveness and healing. Sadly, Betsy did not survive, but Connie spent her lifetime fulfilling their goal and travelling the world preaching forgiveness. 

Despite her deeply held belief that forgiveness was the only way to move forward from hurt and trauma, Connie tells two stories against herself that demonstrate that forgiveness requires much more than the conviction that it is the right thing to do. She discovered that while she had forgiven the corporate sin of the Nazis, there were still personal hurts that were more difficult to overcome.  

In one instance, after Connie had spoken to a large audience on the importance of forgiveness, she was approached by a man whom she immediately recognised as one of her former guards, someone who had humiliated her beloved sister Betsy. The man said to her: “I know God has forgiven me, but I would like to know that you have forgiven me.” He held out hand, but Connie, despite having spoken so passionately about forgiveness only moments before, found herself unable to move. It was only after pleading with God for help that Connie was able to take the man’s hand.

On another occasion Connie was deeply hurt by the actions of some friends. When asked by another friend if she had forgiven her offenders Connie insisted that yes she had. Then she pointed to a pile of letters. “It’s all there in black and white,” she said. In reality, by holding on to the letters and to the evidence of the offense, Connie was demonstrating that her forgiveness was only skin deep.

I tell these stories as a reminder that forgiveness is not a light superficial action but something that demands complete selflessness, and a willingness, despite all evidence to the contrary) to see others worthy of our love and compassion.  In other words, true forgiveness insists that we see the perpetrator of our hurt as God sees them – as the lost coin, the lost sheep or the lost coin – and that we ourselves are so confident of God’s love that we do not need affirmation from any other source.  Few of us are so self-assured!

It is no wonder then that when Jesus tells the disciples that they have to forgive an offender over and over again (even on the same day) that the disciples respond as one: “Increase our faith!”

“Increase our faith!”

In my bible, and I suspect in most translations verses 5 and 6 of chapter 17 stand alone, as if faith was unrelated to what precedes and what follows.  But, as I have just made clear, the disciples’ request and Jesus’ response follow directly from Jesus’ instruction on forgiveness, suggesting that in this instance at least, faith has a very specific meaning. That is, when Jesus replies: ““If you had faith the size of a mustard seed, you could say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it would obey you,’” he is not necessarily saying: “If only you truly believed, you could do anything you put your mind to,” but rather, “the smallest amount of confidence in God’s love would allow you to love as God loves and to forgive as God forgives.”

Unfortunately, too often having enough faith has been seen as a prerequisite for healing or for other sorts of miracles. Too many good, faithful Christians have been made to feel lacking, been made to feel that in some way their faith was insufficient because they were unable to control the circumstances of their lives, unable to prevent their cancer from spreading, unable to pray hard enough to end their child’s addiction to drugs or gambling and so on. 

To interpret this verse as meaning that faith enables us to do anything, that faith is a power that can be used to our own benefit or that having sufficient faith enables us to do the impossible suggests that God needs us to prove our faith or to demonstrate our conviction or worth before God will intervene in our lives or in the lives of those whom we love. It assumes that the God who created the universe can be manipulated by our pleas or appeased by our obsequiousness. It assumes that “faith” in some way allows us (not God) to control our destiny. 

To suggest that if we have enough faith we can move mountains or uproot trees and replant them at will, is to forget that Jesus himself resisted the temptation to engage in dramatic, attention-getting stunts – turning stones into bread and jumping off cliffs. Nor did Jesus’ faith prevent him from being tortured and crucified.

No, faith is not a simple matter of trusting in God to put things right.

In this context, I suggest that to have faith is to so completely align oneself with God, that we cannot help but behave as God, that our lives cannot help but reveal the presence of God within us. To have faith, even if it is only the size of a mustard seed, would enable us to see with God’s eyes, to love with God’s heart and therefore to forgive as God forgives. To have the faith that Jesus speaks of here is to see, beyond the words and actions of the person who has hurt us, to the neglect that has formed them and to wounds that have been inflicted on them. To have faith is to see all people as God sees them – as children of God, who given love and acceptance, will find healing and wholeness and who will grow into their full potential. To have the faith that will forgive over and over and over again, is to acknowledge the hurts that our own insecurities and carelessness cause on a daily basis and to remember that, despite our own imperfections God loves us still.

“Increase our faith!” Help us to love as God loves – both ourselves and those who cause us harm.

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Your redemption is drawing near.

December 4, 2024

Advent 1 –  2024 (belated thoughts)

Luke 21:25-38

Marian Free

In the name of God, whose presence, sometimes barely perceptible, is always here if we open our eyes to see. Amen.

I am the daughter of a biologist and while I didn’t always appreciate it, I was taught to pay attention to the natural world – droplets on the female gingko (waiting to be pollinated), the tiny buds of green presaging the onset of spring after a long winter, the bird’s nest almost hidden from view – the wonders of nature that are often passed unnoticed. I am the daughter too of a mother who would take us walking after rain so that we could see how the river had grown, and the hyacinth filled its lower reaches. In my adult life I have been so grateful to have a sense of hopeful expectation whenever I am in the natural world or even my own garden, to have a sense of wonder at the power and changeability of the world around me.

Be alert at all times – or you will not notice the signs of life and growth that signal new beginnings.

Today gospel urges us to pay attention, to take notice of what is happening around us, to note the smallest detail and to grasp the broader picture. It comes at the end of long chapter on the tragedies and traumas that were being experienced and witnessed by those to whom Jesus was speaking and by for whom the gospel was written. In the time of Jesus people of Israel had been under the domination of Rome or other nations for centuries (with only a short break), the Temple was considered to be corrupt, and its priests were Roman appointments and the people were burdened with taxes and had had their lands confiscated. Luke is writing at a time when the Jewish revolt had been brutally and completely crushed, the Temple (that splendid symbol of God’s presence) and even Jerusalem had been razed to the ground and the link between early beliefs and their Jewish roots had been irrevocably broken.

In the 60s earthquakes had destroyed many of the cities in the eastern Mediterranean. Many will have lost homes, income and family members. To some it must have seemed that there was no hope for the future, much that they had assumed would last forever had been destroyed.

Be on your guard, these things must take place.

It would be easy to fall into despair given the current state of the world, to feel that God has abandoned the world to its own devices, to wonder if God is going to let the world run headlong into destruction

We are living in times of great uncertainty. The reality of human nature – the greed, selfishness and desire for power that feeds conflict and civil unrest, the unpredictability of the planet which has been worsened by our own actions and the frailty of the human body are the constant background of our lives.

“Heaven and earth will pass away but my words will not pass away.” 

Today’s gospel reading can be read as a warning to be constantly on our good behaviour, anxiously awaiting the coming of a fierce tyrannical judge, or it can be seen or, as I choose to read, it it is a message of hope, a call to steadfastness in the midst of and despite the chaos and to see the signs of God’s presence in the small things.

Jesus seems to be reminding us that faith is not about the big dramatic interventions of God in the world, nor is faith dependent on miraculous events, faith is not a panacea against all the ills in the world. Faith is not a shallow, superficial fix-it or nor is it a way of warding off trouble. Faith is a stable centre in the midst of instability, a still small voice in the centre of the storm, a firm a bed-rock in shaky ground.

The kingdom is near – notice the signs (however small). Be on your guard – don’t be so distracted by what’s going on around you that you take your eyes off God (and what God’s doing). Be alert – because God’s presence is all around you – in the budding fig, the smile of a child, the small acts of kindness, the generosity of a stranger. The world might fall apart around you but your redemption has been won/is drawing near. If everything seems to fall away remember that the words of Jesus will never fall away.

So, no matter how bad things seem to be, hold fast to faith, ground yourself in the love of God, notice God’s presence everywhere.

This Advent, in a world which is increasingly volatile and unpredictable, don’t let yourself be overwhelmed by fear and anxiety- see the fig tree, know that your redemption is near, know that my Jesus’ words are the ground on which we stand.

 

 

 

 

 

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A storm tossed boat – relinquishing control

June 22, 2024

Pentecost 5 -2024

Mark 4:35-41 (thoughts while on leave)

Marian Free

In the name of God who knows our deepest fears, who holds us in the palm of God’s hands and who knows the number of hairs on on head. Amen.

One of my favourite hymns is ‘Abide with me.’ I have always loved it but knowing the role the hymn played in the life (or rather death) of Edith Cavell has given it new power and meaning.

 Abide with me, fast falls the eventide
The darkness deepens Lord, with me abide
When other helpers fail and comforts flee
Help of the helpless, oh, abide with me

Swift to its close ebbs out life’s little day
Earth’s joys grow dim, its glories pass away
Change and decay in all around I see
O Thou who changest not, abide with me

I fear no foe, with Thee at hand to bless
Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness
Where is death’s sting?
Where, grave, thy victory?
I triumph still, if Thou abide with me

Hold Thou Thy cross before my closing eyes
Shine through the gloom and point me to the skies
Heaven’s morning breaks, and earth’s vain shadows flee
In life, in death, o Lord, abide with me
Abide with me, abide with me. (Henry Francis Lyte and Will Henry Monk)

Edith Cavell was a nurse, and an extremely competent and brave woman. During the First World War, Cavell was based in Brussels. Her hospital was taken over by the Red Cross. Working for the Red Cross, Cavell treated all injured soldiers without distinction – friend and foe – and she assisted some 200 hundred Allied soldiers escape German occupied Belgium. For this, she was captured, accused of aiding a hostile power and sentenced to be executed for treason. The daughter of a priest, Cavell had a strong faith. The night before she was to face the firing squad, she was visited by an Anglican priest who was based in Brussels. After she received the Eucharist, she and the Rev’d Gahan sang together ‘Abide with me.’

I don’t know the history of this hymn, but the lyrics express a complete and utter faith in God, especially at the time of death. That Cavell could sing this when the firing squad awaited her fills me with awe as does the fact that she was able to ask the priest to tell her loved ones later on “that my soul, as I believe, is safe, and that I am glad to die for my country”.

To face such a gruesome death with such calm and confidence is surely something all Christians are capable of, but how many of us along the way allow ourselves to be bothered and weighed down by trivial and unimportant anxieties. When it comes down to it, how many of us trust God with every aspect of our existence.

This, I think is what today’s gospel is getting at – the ability (or not) to place our lives, with all their minor irritations and major setbacks, completely in the hands of God.

Mark’s account of the stormy sea crossing has a number of interesting features. In the first instance, according to Mark (and only Mark), the disciples venture on to the sea in the evening – a time when, as anyone knew, the waters could be rough and difficult to manoeuvre. We are not told why they took the risk, but it is clear that Mark places the responsibility for the dangerous journey on them. Secondly, we are told that they took Jesus ‘just as he was’ which supports the notion that not a lot of thought or preparation was put into the journey. Again, the blame for the situation seems to be being laid at the feet of the disciples.

 Despite the lack of preparation and the failure of the disciples to take the conditions into account, Jesus is completely relaxed. Indeed, he is so relaxed that he falls asleep on a cushion.

 As might be expected, a storm blew up in the evening. The boat was tossed about and swamped. Unable to control the boat, and in fear of their lives, the disciples wake Jesus, accusing him of not caring about them: ‘Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?’ they shout.

 Jesus wakes, rebukes the wind and chides the disciples. It is important to note that Jesus doesn’t berate the disciples for not believing in his ability to control the elements. He doesn’t ask them: ‘didn’t you believe that I could do this?’  His question to the disciples is: ‘why are you afraid?‘ why are you afraid?

 It is fear not faith in Jesus’ power that is at issue here.

 Jesus, who probably knows the lake as well as any other Galilean, got into the boat and promptly fell asleep. He will have known that the wind was likely to come up. He will have known too, that if he so chose, he could command the wind to stop but he chooses to sleep instead of take control. Unlike the disciples, Jesus trusts in God so completely that he has no fear. Having placed himself in God’s hands Jesus trusts that whatever the outcome of the storm, he is with God and God with him. Sleep is possible because he has chosen not to worry – living or dying he knows that his life is God’s.

 When we read this story, we are often so focussed on the storm and Jesus’ power over the natural elements that we lose sight of what may be the central point of the story – the sleeping Jesus’ utter trust in God, his lack of fear in the face of possible death and his knowledge that God is with him in every circumstance of his life – be it good or evil.

 Like the disciples- who are foolish and uncomprehending in Mark’s gospel we don’t always get it. The disciple’s response says it all. ‘Who then is this that the wind and the sea obey him?’ It has nothing to do with faith and everything to with the miracle – which, when you think about it, completely negates the need for the sort faith that Jesus is modelling and which he will continue to model until the end. Faith that is dependent on miracles, faith that relies on God to get us out of tight corners, faith that believes God will always intervene to protect us from harm, is not the faith that Jesus lives and proclaims.

 The faith that allows Jesus to sleep through the storm, is a faith that trusts the God of the universe to get us through (not avoid) life’s difficulties. The faith that Jesus lives is a faith that gives God control over our destiny (rather than trying to control every aspect of our lives by ourselves.) The faith that allowed Jesus to face the cross is a faith that understands that in life, in death, God abides with us.

 This is a story not about Jesus’ taking control, but about Jesus’ willingness to relinquish control.

 When we are tossed and turned about, do we seek to control our circumstances and rage that God doesn’t care? Or, can we like Jesus, remain asleep in a storm tossed boat?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Get over yourselves – be as a mustard seed

October 1, 2022

Pentecost 17 – 2022
Luke 17:5-10
Marian Free

In the name of God – Source of all being, Word of Life, Holy Spirit. Amen.

Apparently the Danish theologian Soren Kierkegaard said that “we need to forget all Christian language for 100 years”. It is a radical statement, but one that deserves to be taken seriously. There are so many “givens” that we now take for granted – especially when it comes to our biblical texts – that we are in danger of losing the original meaning of a text or of reading into a text what we expect to be there, rather than being open to what is actually there. Starting with a clean slate (abandoning inherited interpretations) would provide an opportunity to see our faith and our texts with fresh eyes and to glean a new – more accurate – understanding.

Today’s gospel provides one such example of the way in which we have read things into the text or used a text for our own purposes. This is because a) we approach the text from a particular viewpoint and b) because the literal translation of the Greek doesn’t immediately make sense.

The gospel this evening consists of two apparently unrelated texts – a demand for faith on the part of the disciples followed by Jesus’ example of the relationship between slaves and masters. Examining these texts anew and without the baggage of our existing understanding shows them to be closely related and makes it clear that they are less about the amount of faith one has and more about a life of faith as servants of God.

A traditional interpretation of our text is that if only we had enough faith, we could do astonishing – if extremely odd – feats. Doing the extraordinary – uprooting and re-planting mulberry trees, healing the sick or turning water into wine – has become, at least for some, a benchmark of the degree of faith that one has. Behind this is an assumption that faith is somehow quantifiable, something that we can measure, a benchmark that we should aim to reach. The implication is that it is possible to have too little faith, or that faith and the performing of miracles are intimately related.

Three things argue against this interpretation.

First is the context. The disciples’ demand to have their faith added to follows Jesus’ instruction to forgive. (Forgiveness might be miraculous, but it has nothing to do with the moving of mulberry trees.)

A second argument against the idea that Jesus’ saying has to do with the amount of faith one has is revealed by an examination of Greek text. When we do that, we discover that the translators have done what they often do – they have added words. This is because it seems to them that the original text needs additional words in order to make sense. The presumption seems to be – if the disciples have asked Jesus to add to their faith, Jesus response must be related to the size of their faith – which is what the NRSV English translation suggests. “If you had faith the size of a mustard seed, you could say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it would obey you.” The Greek however says nothing about the size of a mustard seed. A literal translation of the sentence is: “If you had faith as a mustard seed.” Our translators have replaced “as” with “the size of” probably because the idea of a mustard seed having faith presents its own difficulties!

Finally, the fact that the author of the gospel has paired Jesus’ saying about the mustard with the example of the master and slave, suggests that his intention was that we read the two sayings together. Jesus’ example is image from everyday life with which Luke’s readers would have been familiar. In the highly structured culture of the first century, each person fulfilled their assigned role with no expectation that they would be singled out for praise simply for doing what they were meant to do. This interpretation is further strengthened when our attention is drawn to another translation issue.

The final line of Jesus’ example is translated as: “So you also, when you have done all that you were ordered to do, say, ‘We are worthless slaves; we have done only what we ought to have done!’” Behind this assumption is the view that slaves would be self-deprecating, or worse that the early Christians (whom we assume to be the slaves) think of themselves as having little value in God’s (the master’s) eyes. We see Jesus’ example quite differently when it is pointed out that the word translated as “worthless” is actually the negative of the word “need”. The sentence could just as easily read: “we are slaves without need.” In other words, the slaves do not need to be thanked for carrying out their role because fulfilling their role is sufficient reward.

In the light of these three points – context, translation, and pairing – it becomes clear that Jesus is not childing the disciples for their lack of faith, rather he is chastising
them for imagining that faith is a commodity – something that can be owned, measured and used. A mustard seed has no choice except to fulfill the purpose for which it was created. A slave has little choice but to do what their master requires. Jesus seems to be encouraging the disciples to be satisfied with fulfilling the purpose for which they were created and with living out their God-given vocation.

He might just as well be saying: “Get over yourselves! Faith is not something to possess but a state of being – in relationship with God and in relationship with others. Be happy with who you are. Live out your vocation faithfully. Trust God to work in and through you and get on with living.”

Jesus says: “Have faith as a mustard seed.” “Be content with the person that you were created to be.”
Our response might be: “We are slaves without need.” “We will live our lives faithfully, allowing ourselves to be used for God’s purpose rather than striving to be what we are not.”

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Taking Responsibility

June 13, 2020

Pentecost 2 – 2020

Matthew 9:35-10:8 

Marian Free

In the name of God who calls, equips and sends us into the world. Amen.

A number of you will have received and returned the Parish Survey – thank you. The Wardens wanted to get a sense of your expectations as we prepare to re-open the church for public worship. If you have completed the survey you will know that most of the questions are quite straightforward – where you are most comfortable worshipping, how you have found the isolation, what are you most looking forward to when you return and how you see St Augustine’s (what does it mean to you). I imagine that no one had difficulty with any of these questions and, from the answers we have received so far, it is clear that a majority of people have been reasonably happy with what we have been doing in the past and are keen to resume face-to-face worship in much the same way as it was before.

After answering the more general questions you might have been caught by surprise (as I confess, I was) when it came to the last statement on the survey: My vision for my spiritual future looks like:…. Most of the other questions were somewhat general and impersonal. They allowed us to place responsibility for the life of the Parish elsewhere: on the Parish Council or on the ministry team. But, as I read it, this last statement asked us to take responsibility for ourselves and for our own spiritual journey. “My vision for my spiritual journey.  The statement challenged us to reflect on our own spiritual health, to consider whether or not it will look any different in the future and, if we think it will look different, what we are going to have to do to make that future a reality. 

It is a quite confronting and even demanding statement, especially for traditional Anglicans who are not used to articulating their inner experiences or sharing their spiritual practices with others. It is a reminder too, that in the end it is we as individuals (not the Parish as a whole) who will have to answer to God for the way in which we have responded or not to the presence of God within us. As members of this Parish we may have to justify how we have or have not built the Kingdom of God in this place, but how we do that will depend in part on how we have responded to God’s call in us.

In the end how we move forward as a community depends not on the Ministry Team or the Parish Council, but on each one of us. Together we make up the congregation of St Augustine’s or of the Parishes of which we are a part. Our individual spiritual health contributes to the health of the congregation as a whole. Our commitment to grow in our faith and to develop good spiritual practices will in turn ensure the health of our Parish. The depth of our relationship with God and with each other will be a sign of hope in the wider community which will in turn draw others to faith.

Taking responsibility is at the heart of today’s gospel. Jesus sends the disciples out to do the very things that he has been doing: “preaching the good news, curing the sick, raising the dead, cleansing the lepers and casting out demons”. Jesus “sends them”. He doesn’t go with them to ensure that they get it right. He doesn’t give them explicit instructions as to what to do or what to say. In fact, he sends them out with very little – except their faith in him and his confidence in them. Jesus trusts his relationship with them and theirs with him. His mission and its future depends absolutely on his ability to trust the disciples to take responsibility for the healing, life-giving good news that he himself proclaimed. 

So, Jesus sends them out – on their own. He doesn’t go with the disciples and hold their hands. He doesn’t hand them a script and expect them to follow it word-for-word. He doesn’t give them a check list that they have to tick off. He doesn’t look over their shoulders to ensure that they are getting it right. Jesus simply sends them out believing that they are up to the task while he himself gets on with his own teaching and proclaiming. 

We know that the disciples were a mixed collection of foolish, ambitious, cautious (even cowardly) men yet Jesus has complete confidence that they are up to the task and the disciples, despite their human frailty, trusted Jesus (or the Holy Spirit that Jesus bestowed on them) to empower and lead them to complete the mission they had been given. 

So, it is with us. Jesus gives us the responsibility to trust that the Holy Spirit that each of us received at our baptism will lead, inspire, direct and encourage us to complete our mission – in our life as a community and in our individual spiritual lives. Jesus will not give us a detailed list of instructions or a specific road map of the way ahead. He won’t continually check up on us but will treat us as adults as people who have their own agency and their own free will to respond to his call on our lives and to carry out the mission to which he has assigned them.

It is somewhat unnerving I admit. The future is not clearly spelt out for us, it is not written down step by step. It will simply unfold as we continue to place our trust in Jesus and in Jesus’ trust in us. 

If you found the last statement in our survey confronting or challenging that is not necessarily surprising. Our spiritual future is something of an open book – one that is dependent in part on God’s plan for our lives, but one that will not come to fruition unless we continue to place our trust in God and to place our lives entirely in God’s hands. 

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Putting meaning into the abyss

May 2, 2020

Easter 4 – 2020

Good Shepherd Sunday John 10:1-10

Marian Free

 

In the name of God who gave us life and encourages to live it abundantly. Amen.

In 2001, Richard Holloway (the former Primate of the church of Scotland) spoke at the Grafton Festival of Philosophy, Science and Theology. At that point he had retired and was not attending church. He had become disillusioned with the Anglican church and disturbed by its certainties and its steadfast refusal to include gay and lesbian Christians. His lecture took the form of a series of reflections on life, death and faith. Towards the end he said: “Faith for me is now romantic defiance against meaninglessness. Even if it doesn’t mean anything, I choose to live as though it did. And the philosopher of this faith as romantic defiance is the great passionate Castilian Miguel de Unamuno, in the tragic sense of life a magnificent romantic quixotic book, and something that Unamuno wrote and I’d love stencilled on my tombstone: ‘Man is perishing that may be, but if it is nothingness that awaits us, then let us so live that it will be an unjust fate.’ If it is abyss, if we come from the abyss, if we go to the abyss, if the abyss is what it means, then let us so live that we will put meaning into that abyss. That’s to live by faith.

How then are we to live? What is the end of it? I think we’re to live in a state of permanent, expectant uncertainty, and we’re to celebrate it. Even if faith doesn’t mean anything, I choose to live as though it did. If it is abyss, let us so live that we will put meaning into that abyss – to live by faith.”[1]

Even if faith doesn’t mean anything, let us so live that we will put meaning into that abyss. What a confronting and astounding statement. So many people believe that the purpose of faith is to attain entry into heaven that it would be difficult for them to comprehend living a life of faith that did not have eternal life as its end goal. Yet Holloway suggests that even without that hope, even if there is nothing at the end of life but an empty abyss, we should still live by faith. Whatever he believes, he is convinced that there is something about faith (in our case, and his, the Christian faith) that makes sense of life in the present and makes life worth living. He is confident that the practice of faith makes a difference to life in the here and now whether or not there is a life to be lived in the future.

Even though in 2001 Holloway had an uneasy relationship with the church and with the faith that it represented, he was still able to say that given a choice he would not live his life in any other way. Unfortunately Holloway doesn’t not expand on this idea, but I would suggest that the gifts that faith has to offer of strength in the face of difficulty, of hope in the face of despair, peace in the face of tumult, joy in the midst of sorrow, and steadiness in the midst of uncertainty are gifts that few would willingly give up (whether they believed or not). I would claim that the practices of faith – forgiveness, humility and generosity – are not to be discarded lightly because they enrich and ennoble our lives in the present regardless of their impact on our future.

It is even possible to argue the reverse – that faith lived only with an eye on the future can be stultifying and unfulfilling. If we believe and live faithful lives only because we are afraid of the consequences of not doing so we will fail to reap the benefits of grasping the life faith offers in the present.

Jesus’ promise of life is both for the present and for the future. Images of resurrection are applicable to the surmounting of difficulties and setbacks in the present as much as they apply to the rewards of eternal life.

In today’s gospel Jesus says: “I have come that you may have life and have it in abundance.” It is not just that faith in Jesus is life-giving, it is abundantly life giving. Jesus’ gifts are not half-hearted but generous and overflowing (water to wine, bread to feed 5,000, death so that we might live). More than that, in John’s gospel Jesus claims to be water, bread, light and life – all of which are necessities for life in the present (in the future there will be no need for water, bread, light or even life as we know it).

This suggests that people of faith are not to live timidly and cautiously, but boldly and confidently, they are not to avoid danger and hurt but to grasp every opportunity to live a life that is rich and full and they should not to live in fear of disapproval, but in expectation of the abundance of God’s provisions.

Holloway’s doubt may not sit comfortably with me, but questions about the existence of God or the possibility of heaven do not throw me into a spin because for me a life of faith is so rich and meaningful that as Holloway says: “If it is abyss, let us so live that we will put meaning into that abyss – to live by faith.”

Our faith holds out a future hope, but it is a hope that should fill our present with confidence, joy and courage and enable us to live in “a state of permanent, expectant uncertainty.” In today’s world could we ask for better advice or, as those who believe, set a better example?

 

 

[1] ABC Encounter Programme, Sunday 23 December 2001 7:10AM

 

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Badgering God (or not)

October 19, 2019

Pentecost 19 – 2019
Luke 18:1-14
Marian Free
In the name of God who is ever faithful. Amen.

Recently I was told a shocking story that I really hope is not true. According to my source, in a particular faith community, the Pastor assured a childless couple that if they made a donation of $50,000 to the church God would bless them with a child. When after a year the longed-for conception had still not occurred, the Pastor attributed the failure of the miracle to a lack of faith on the part of the couple. The fact of money changing hands is not something I had heard of previously, but many people report that they were informed that their answered prayers were a consequence of their lack of faith on their part.

Perhaps one of the most problematic areas of faith relates to answered (or, more particularly, unanswered) prayer. In more than one place the gospels seem to suggest that if we pray, miracles will occur. In Luke 11 Jesus states: “Ask, and it will be given you.” Later, in chapter 17 Jesus says: “If you had faith the size of a mustard seed, you could say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it would obey you.”  It seems unequivocal – if we pray, our prayers will be answered. This view seems to be confirmed by today’s parable in which the persistence of the widow (and the threat of violence) results in  her getting what she seeks.

A proper analysis of these and other texts would require more time than we have this morning. What we can note is that these verses do not stand alone as proof texts but, in every case, are part of a larger context that fills out and provides a more nuanced meaning. (For example, in Chapter 11 Jesus implies that God, who is vastly different from the unwilling, neighbour will give the Holy Spirit to those who ask and in chapter 17 the context is disciple’s request for faith – if they pray their faith will be increased).

In today’s gospel we have two parables, I will concentrate on the first commonly called ‘the persistent widow’. Neither the judge not the widow are presented as particularly attractive people here. By his own admission, the judge neither fears God or respects humankind, and the widow’s nature is such that the judge fears that she will use violence against him (the Greek word usually translated ‘wear out’ can equally mean ‘use violence against’)[1].

We do well to remember that the parables are fiction. There is no judge and there is no widow, just a story about a judge and a widow. Further, in many instances, the parables as reported in the gospels are inserted into contexts that are almost certainly different from those in which Jesus told them and the gospel writers often insert interpretative verses. In this instance Luke introduces the parable with a statement about the need to pray always and not to lose heart and he concludes with a question about whether the Son of Man will find faith on earth. A careful reading of the parable suggests that Luke is encouraging those who suffer injustice to hold fast, to continue to trust in and to cry out to God who is just and who will at the end of time grant justice to “his chosen ones”. (Luke is not promising that God will answer all prayer.

It is clear from their context that Jesus’ sayings (parables) on prayer as recorded by Luke do not promise the miraculous. Instead they suggest that if we pray our faith will be deepened and that we will receive the Holy Spirit. We are encouraged to persevere when times are tough, confident that God will hear our cries for justice and that at the end times God will make all things right. If we are honest, we know that it is foolish to believe that we can bend God’s will to our own by continually battering at God’s door (as the widow did the judge). What is more it would be an insult to God to assume that God responds to the loudest voice or the most persistent hammering.

Howard Thurman (quoted by Richard Rohr 22/7/19) reflects: “This is the miracle, the heights and depths of wonder and awe. God reveals His Presence out of the mystery of Being. With all of my passionate endeavour, I cannot command that He obey. All of my prayers, my meditation, my vast and compelling urgency or need cannot order, woo or beg God into the revealing of His Presence. Even my need and my desperation cannot command Him. There is an overwhelming autonomy here; God does move in a mysterious way His wonders to perform. But He is so full of such wonderful and heartening surprises.

In the total religious experience we learn how to wait; we learn how to ready the mind and the spirit. It is in the waiting, brooding, lingering, tarrying timeless moments that the essence of the religious experience becomes most fruitful. It is here that I learn to listen, to swing wide the very doors of my being, to clean out the corners and the crevices of my life—so that when His Presence invades, I am free to enjoy His coming to Himself in me. . . .”
Prayer is so much more than asking God for what we want. Through prayer we open ourselves to God’s presence, we form and build a relationship with God and we listen to hear what it is that God wants from us. Through prayer we learn patience and we discover how to be content with what we have and where we are. Through prayer we allow the divine within us to flourish and grow.

We persist, not because we want to force God to do what we want, but because knowing God, being formed in the image of God and finally being united with God is worth so much more than anything that is temporary, earthly and finite.

[1] It is interesting to note that Luke often uses unsympathetic characters to make a point (think for example of ‘the dishonest steward’ and the reluctant neighbor of chapter 11).

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A matter of life and death

June 30, 2018

Pentecost 6 – 2018

Mark 5:21-43

Marian Free

In the name of God who knows our desperation and responds with compassion and love. Amen.

What would you do if your child or someone whom you loved were dying? Would you, as some parents have done, have raised money to travel overseas to a hospital or clinic that promised a cure, or at least an extension of life? Would you try an untested miracle cure because you didn’t want to leave any stone unturned? Would you publicly challenge doctors and hospitals if they told you that nothing more could be done and that further treatment – even different and better treatment – could not reverse the damage that the disease had already wrought on your child’s body?

None of us really know what we would do until we find ourselves in that situation, but I’m sure that most of us would do everything possible to ensure that our child received the very best chance of a positive outcome.

It should come as no surprise to us then that Jairus, a leader of the synagogue, should have sought out Jesus when he knew that his daughter was dying. Jairus was desperate and despite the fact that the scribes, the Pharisees and other Jews were suspicious of Jesus to the point of seeking to kill him, Jairus’ desperation was such that it overcame any reservations that he might have had about Jesus and overrode any concern for his status within his community. He was prepared to endure any social cost if it meant that his daughter would live. So, with no regard for his position or reputation, Jairus, in the presence of the crowds, threw himself at Jesus’ feet and begged him – not once but repeatedly – to come to his daughter. Jairus was not just hopeful. He was confident that Jesus would be successful.

Can you imagine then how Jairus might have felt when Jesus stopped in his tracks? His daughter was dying and his one hope that she might live had been distracted by someone in the crowd who had touched his clothes! Every second must have seemed precious to the anxious father and any number of people in the crowd could have rubbed against Jesus, bumped him or touched his clothes. As the disciples said, how could Jesus possibly identify this one particular offender? How much worse would Jairus have felt when messengers arrived to tell him that his daughter was already dead?

It is possible to draw all kinds of conclusions from the story as it stands. For example, Jesus knew that he was going to raise the child from the dead, God’s time is different from our time and so on.

In fact, according to the story, Jairus doesn’t react at all which tells us something about the way Mark has retold these two stories. Almost certainly, the two events occurred on separate occasions[1], but Mark brings them together allowing each to interpret and emphasise the other. Mark often uses this sandwiching technique to give greater depth and emphasis to the point that he is trying to make.[2]For example by interrupting the account of Jesus’ family trying to restrain him Mark makes the point that Jesus’ family are no different from the scribes who accuse Jesus of casting out demons by Beelzebul (3:20-35). Both Jesus’ family and the scribes have failed to see the hand of God in Jesus’ actions. In the same way Jesus’ cleansing of the Temple is framed by the account of Jesus’ cursing of the fig tree and the withering of the fig tree. In this way Mark implies that the failure of the Temple to bear fruit will lead to it’s destruction of the Temple (11:12-24).

In this instance, the raising of Jarius’ daughter is interrupted by the healing of the woman with a hemorrhage. By placing the two stories together in this way Mark emphasises the desperation of the woman and of Jairus and also highlights Jesus’ power to restore a person to life. The two accounts compliment and contrast with each other in a number of significant ways. They are similar in that neither Jairus nor the woman give any thought to behaving in socially acceptable ways. Jesus is their last hope for a cure and they will risk everything – including censure from the community – to tap into his healing power. The stories are also different. Jairus is a person of high status and the woman, thanks to her gender and her illness, is marginalised ostracized. Jairus seeks Jesus’ help, while the woman creeps up to steal a touch. Jesus publically engages the woman in conversation, but heals the girl behind closed doors and insists that Jairus tell no one what has happened.

The similarities between the woman and the child, the disciples and the crowd are also significant.  The woman has been afflicted for 12 years and the child, we are told, is 12 years old. The woman has reached the end of her childbearing years and the girl has reached a marriageable age. The child is physically dead and the woman has been socially dead for years. By curing the woman, Jesus restores her to her place in society and by raising the girl Jesus restores her to her family and, in time to a family of her own. Both the disciples and the mourners doubt Jesus ability – the former question whether Jesus can identify who touched him and the latter laugh when Jesus suggests that the girl can be brought back to life..

These two miracle stories are, in the end, not about Jesus’ power to heal. Mark has intertwined them so as to illustrate the relationship between faith and salvation. Jairus begs that his daughter might be saved and live. The woman is sure that if she touches Jesus’ garments she will be savedand Jesus assures her that her faith has saved herand Jesus tells Jairus not to fear, but to have faith. Faith (confidence in Jesus) is the assurance of salvation. Salvation is life – life both in the present and  in the future.

 

 

 

 

[1]The writing style for each is quite different.

[2]A technical term is “intercalation”.

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Doubt and authenticity

August 27, 2017

Pentecost 12 – 2017

Matthew 16:13-24

Marian Free

 In the name of God who respects our doubts and welcomes our questions. Amen.

Some time ago I met a man who was, I think, in his fifties. We were at a conference on spirituality in the workplace and after dinner we were discussing the opening paper. I mentioned that I was disappointed that the speaker used the platform to sideline the Christian faith (while at the same time using some of Christianity’s key concepts to make his point). My conversation partner (Jack) defended the speaker and in doing so shared something of his own story. He had, he said, attended an Anglican boarding school in country Queensland. At age fifteen Jack had asked a teacher to explain the virgin birth. The teacher’s reply was that the boy had to accept the virgin birth by faith. As Jack recounted the story, his eyes welled with tears. He had been a young person who was keen to understand and desperate to believe. The response of his teacher left him feeling that he been fobbed off, not taken seriously. Worse, Jack felt that questions were out-of-place and this led him to query the depth of his own faith – which, the teacher had implied, was in some way lacking.

Obviously this man had been a serious and thoughtful young man seeking for answers. A consequence of the teacher’s dismissive and unsatisfactory response was that my new friend abandoned his search for truth within the Christian faith and over, the course of his life had explored alternative ways to meet what was obviously a deep spiritual need. Some thirty years later, his tears clearly indicated his feeling of betrayal and the pain that he had experienced as a result of the dismissive reaction to his questioning and exploration.

I still can’t think of Jack’s story without a sense of grief – for Jack and for the church that has lost so many people because they have been made to feel that they do not belong. A common mistake from both within and outside religious traditions is to confuse faith with certainty. It is sometimes assumed that people who confess a particular faith adhere to if not rigid, certainly to reasonably fixed ideas. From this point of view doubt and or questioning can be interpreted as a lack of faith. Confusing faith with certainty and questioning with a lack of faith has served to exclude and alienate many who, with a little encouragement might have come to see that while there are sometimes no easy answers that asking questions can be the beginning of a deep and satisfying experience of the relationship with God.

The idea that faith and doubt are incompatible is incompatible with a great deal of scripture, the Old Testament is very clear that God doe not reject those who question God. In Genesis Abraham challenges God about God’s plan to destroy Sodom () and as we heard a couple of weeks ago, Jacob struggles with God all night. Moses is constantly questioning God’s response to Israel’s unfaithfulness and more than one of the prophets questions God’s wisdom. In the New Testament, in the gospels in particular, doubt and faith seem to go hand in hand (Matthew 28:17).

What is clear is that neither in the Old Testament or the New does God revile or reject those who dare to question, those who are not satisfied with simple or simplistic answers.

Two weeks ago when we looked at the story of Jesus (and Peter) walking on the water (August 13) we saw that, rather than demonstrating Peter’s faith, the story revealed Peter’s doubt, his unwillingness to believe unless he had absolute proof. We saw too that Peter’s language: “If it is you”, put him in the same category as Satan and Jesus’ opponents. According to today’s gospel, it is Peter who claims that Jesus is the Christ. Jesus calls Peter “the rock on which he will build his church” and gives to Peter the keys of the kingdom. However, within moments Jesus is accusing Peter of being Satan because, once again, Peter demonstrates that he simply does not understand the sort of Christ Jesus is to be.

Jesus calls Peter out, but he does not reject him nor does he hold him to account. Jesus accepts Peter as he is with his doubts, his questions and his need for absolute proof. If that is not an indication that doubt and questions are an acceptable part of the faith journey, I don’t know what is.

Faith and doubt are not so easily separated. Peter’s struggle to believe demonstrates that the two can be held in tension. Our questions and our struggles are often necessary to bring us to a deeper understanding of and a closer relationship with God. When we refuse to take things at face value we are led beyond the obvious and the superficial to find meaning in the things and issues that puzzle us. We are free to engage in the sort of exploration that is content with the journey itself and that understands that ultimately God will always elude us. As T.S. Eliot expresses the mystery: “We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.”

Peter’s doubt does not exclude him from a relationship with Jesus, but rather demonstrates the sort of authenticity that reveals an openness and a trust that allows the relationship to grow and develop. Rather than isolate him from God, Peter’s freedom to be himself, to question and to challenge, eventually leads Peter to believe with such conviction that he will willingly give his life for what he believes.

 

 

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God doesn’t owe us anything

October 1, 2016

Pentecost 20 – 2016

Luke 17:(1-4) 5-10

Marian Free

 

In the name of God whom we are pleased to serve. Amen.

An irrelevant piece of information: I am a Queen’s Guide. What that means is that I conscientiously fulfilled a number of requirements that enabled me to demonstrate that I had skills in a number of areas including cooking, camping, orienteering, sewing, collecting and so on. Over a number of years I earned badges of sufficient variety and quantity that I was deemed to have passed the requirements to receive the highest award in the guiding movement. It took a great deal of effort and though it barely matters now, I was glad to have my hard work recognised. Gaining the award was celebrated with a huge campfire, lots of singing, a special name and a certain amount of ceremony.

There are many things that we do with an expectation that we will be rewarded. Whether it is our school or university results, promotions at work, the success of our children or sporting prowess there is usually some sort of scale that tells us how well we have done, particularly how well we have done in comparison to others. So we get grades for our academic work, pay rises for promotions; we glow in our children’s reflected glory and accept medals or trophies for sporting success. When we have studied, worked or trained hard, it feels good to be rewarded for the effort we have expended.

Yet, even in this society which values and rewards success and achievement, there are still many who do things without any thought of reward. For example, the homicide detectives who put their personal lives on hold as they work tirelessly to ensure that a killer is found and a family is given some sort of answers in the face of awful tragedy[1]. They at least sometimes get thanked or commended for their sacrifices. There are however, literally hundreds and thousands of carers who look after an elderly or sick parent or spouse or who spend a lifetime caring for a child with a disability. These, the most draining and most demanding of tasks come with little to no recognition and yet those doing the caring mostly do so selflessly and lovingly – their only reward the knowledge that their parent, spouse or child is receiving the very best care that they can give.

Today’s gospel combines a number of Jesus’ sayings, that don’t necessarily seem to fit together until we remember that it is during Jesus journey to Jerusalem that he instructs his disciples. From the time that Jesus “set his face to Jerusalem” (9:51) we have been confronted with a number of difficult sayings about discipleship – “let the dead bury the dead”, “no one who doesn’t not hate mother or father is not fit to be a disciple”, “take the lower seat”, “take up your cross” and so on. Jesus knows what awaits him in Jerusalem and he does not want his disciples to be naïve about the cost of following him – a journey that leads to the cross.

It is in this context that we have to look at this morning’s collection of sayings.

Jesus has recently told the complex parable of the dishonest steward and the challenging parable about the rich man and Lazarus. Now, as if Jesus hasn’t made enough demands, he warns the disciples against being the cause of someone else’s failures and insists that if someone offends them they are to forgive seven times each day!

No wonder the disciples respond by asking Jesus to increase their faith! What Jesus is asking of them must seem to be impossible – they are going to need all the help they can get.

As we have heard, Jesus’ response is two-fold. In the first instance they don’t need any more faith than they have. Even their small amount of faith is sufficient to achieve the impossible and even the improbable. What faith the disciples do have comes from God and God who gives them faith can use that faith if only they take the risk of faith and allow God’s power to work through them.

Secondly, Jesus reminds the disciples that it is important that they do not exercise their role in the believing community with the hope of reward. Serving God and serving each other should be its own reward[2]. In other words, the disciples and now ourselves live out our discipleship faithfully as our response to God’s presence in our lives, not because we are looking over our shoulder and hoping that God will to tap us on our shoulder and say “well done”.

The story of the slave and master is a reminder to them and to us that we cannot earn our own salvation. As Tom Wright puts it: “We cannot put God in our debt”[3]. The story is a warning against the temptation to try to build up credit points for ourselves, to rely on our own efforts rather than on what God has done for us, to create a superficial image of goodness and obedience, or to arrogantly think that we are as able as God to pass judgement on our own behaviour. In other words, if we serve God only for what we think we can get out of that service, then we have misunderstood.

Everything we have we have from God, including our faith. As disciples we serve God willingly and happily, not reluctantly or ungraciously. We serve God not with any thought of what we will get in return, but in joyful gratitude for what we already have.

Faith is not a duty or a burden, but a privilege and a gift. Surely that is sufficient reward for what little we may do in return.

[1] A detective who worked on the Jill Meagher case wiped away tears as he reported that over the years he had missed his children’s birthdays including his daughter’s 21st.

[2] We do not have to be uncomfortable about the image of slavery. Slavery was so commonplace in Jesus’ time that the original hearers would not have taken any offense in thinking of themselves as “worthless slaves”.

[3] N.T. Wright. Luke for Everyone. Great Britain: SPCK, 2002, 204.

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