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Dishonesty or forward planning?

September 21, 2025

Pentecost 15 – 2022

Luke 16:1-13

Marian Free

In the name of God who asks us to attend to the future with as much care as we attend to the present. Amen.

Then Jesus said to the disciples, “There was a rich man who had a manager, and charges were brought to him that this man was squandering his property.  2 So he summoned him and said to him, ‘What is this that I hear about you? Give me an accounting of your management, because you cannot be my manager any longer.’  3 Then the manager said to himself, ‘What will I do, now that my master is taking the position away from me? I am not strong enough to dig, and I am ashamed to beg.  4 I have decided what to do so that, when I am dismissed as manager, people may welcome me into their homes.’  5 So, summoning his master’s debtors one by one, he asked the first, ‘How much do you owe my master?’  6 He answered, ‘A hundred jugs of olive oil.’ He said to him, ‘Take your bill, sit down quickly, and make it fifty.’  7Then he asked another, ‘And how much do you owe?’ He replied, ‘A hundred containers of wheat.’ He said to him, ‘Take your bill and make it eighty.’  8 And his master commended the dishonest manager because he had acted shrewdly; for the children of this age are more shrewd in dealing with their own generation than are the children of light.  9 And I tell you, make friends for yourselves by means of dishonest wealth so that when it is gone, they may welcome you into the eternal homes. (NRSV)

“Make friends for yourselves by means of dishonest wealth.” Surely Jesus is not saying that the entrance into eternity is through making others indebted to us by the dishonest use of funds. This is one of, if not the most, difficult parables to understand. In order to begin to unpack it we have to understand both the context in which it was told and the editorial process that has brought it to us. 

We are so familiar with the gospels and their use in our current context that we tend to forget that Jesus was speaking to a culture far removed in time and place from our own. Those who lived in first century Palestine were seriously impacted by the fact that they had existed under foreign occupation for generations. The rural economy in which land had passed from father to son for generations had been disrupted by the Emperors’ practice of giving grants of land to returning soldiers or to others whom they wanted to reward. The new landowners rarely took up residence on their land, choosing instead to live somewhere more attractive and to appoint managers or stewards to administer their estates. Such managers (many of whom were slaves) were empowered to act on the owner’s behalf. A manager would make decisions about the day-to-day running of the property and was able to make decisions about the expenditure of money, the offering loans and the incurring and forgiveness of debts. Much as is the case in large landholdings in Australia today – the manager had the same authority as the owner.

As I mentioned a couple of weeks ago, the principles of honour and shame were a central feature of the ordering of society and a guide to interpersonal relationships in the first century Mediterranean world. A person’s honour determined their place in society, was easily lost and was more valuable than money, land or possessions. Also, in a world where life was precarious, there was not the luxury of planning for distant events. People in Jesus’ time were more likely to act out of current desires than in pursuit of a long-term goal.

So, we need to grasp that most of the land was in the hands of managers on behalf of absentee owners, everyone knew their place in a culture governed by principles of honour and shame and the focus was on the present reality rather than an unimaginable, perhaps unrealisable future.

If we are to fully grasp the meaning of the parable we also have to have a basic understanding of biblical criticism. The gospels were not compiled until some 40-50 years after Jesus’ death, meaning they were not written by eyewitnesses. Until that time Jesus’ teachings had circulated as oral tradition. They were retold from memory and told in ways appropriate to the situation of those who are listening. Finally, when the gospels were written, the authors took the material available to them and shaped it in ways which suited their particular emphasis. In order for the sayings and parable to make sense, the editors would add linking sentences and even their own commentary. 

It is also helpful to note that the divisions into chapters did not occur until the 13th century and the addition of verses in the 17th century. Our task is try to discern how the authors compiled the material and not to rely on arbitrary divisions.

All this brings us to the parable of the Unjust Steward (a parable recorded only by Luke). 

Scholars agree that the parable proper consists of verses 1-8a and that v8b introduces a sermonising commentary – not the language of master to servant. This means that the parable proper ends with the master commending the steward for acting shrewdly.  Shrewdness not dishonesty is the point.

The parable concerns a rich man and his steward. We are told nothing about the steward’s character or his previous behaviour, only that a report has been brought to the landowner alleging that he is squandering his master’s property. A first century audience would immediately know that whether or not the steward was innocent the reputation (honour) of the landowner had already been compromised and his reputation damaged. They would also know that the steward would have had no means of self-defence – no external party to appeal to – his fate is sealed.

Interestingly, though the landowner asks the steward for an accounting of his management, he tells him he is fired without any reference to the financial record. Also important is that though he fires the steward, he doesn’t ask the steward to repay any debt, nor does he threaten to punish him by beating or imprisonment. (This tells us something about the generosity of the landowner which will make more sense of the conclusion). 

In verses 2 and 3 we hear the steward’s internal dialogue as he considers what to do[1]. Once again honour (as well as age) is a contributing factor in his decision. Finally, the manager announces that he has made a decision. He will place other people in his debt by reducing the value of their debts (v4, which he does in verses 5-7)! This means that though the master (who is already rich) might lose some income, the master’s honour – the far more important commodity – will not only have been restored it will have been enhanced! The landowner commends the steward for his shrewdness because the steward’s actions have increased the landowner’s status in the eyes of the community thus ensuring that his honour has not been compromised and the steward has secured his own future. (Again we are surprised by the generosity of the landowner, who commends rather than condemns.)

Jeffrey Durkin whose article has informed my research, summarises the situation in this way: “a master has a steward who has wasted his possessions and dishonoured him. The master dismisses the steward, creating a crisis for the steward, but he does not punish him. The steward hatches a risky plan to take advantage of his master’s forgiving nature and to secure his own future. By reducing the amounts of the debts owed to his master, he creates goodwill in the community for both himself and his master. The master praises the steward for his purposeful action in the securing of his own future.” [2]

The parable then is not about management, honesty or dishonestly, rather it is about futureproofing, it is about living in the present while focussing firmly on the future – on eternity.

It begs the question – where does our focus lie. Are we shrewd enough to recognise that eternal life is not simply a matter of chance but might take some forward planning? If so how are we going about it?

[1] This is a characteristic of Luke’s writing – see Luke 12:13-21.

[2] “A Cultural Reading of Luke 16:1-9.” Journal of Theta Alpha Kappa. January 1, 2007, 7-18.

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The meaning of repentance (John the Baptist 2)

December 15, 2024

Advent 3 – 2024

Luke 3:7-18 (thoughts)

Marian Free

In the name of God who sees into our very hearts. Amen

In Advent we read the story of John in two parts- last week, John’s baptism of repentance (and his role as the voice crying in the wilderness) and this week, the response of the crowds and John’s advice. Luke’s account gives us more detail than the other gospels and (as is typical of the author of Luke) is more inclusive. Among the crowds who come out to seek baptism are the reviled – the tax collectors and soldiers, persons associated with the Roman occupation, corruption, and extortion – those whom we might expect to be judged as unsuitable for the kingdom (guilty of the unforgivable).

Interestingly, John doesn’t exactly welcome the crowds – the exact opposite in fact. Listening to him speak to the crowds, you would think that he had no interest at all in ‘preparing the way’. When he addresses the people, John’s language is accusatory, direct. There is no subtlety or middle ground for John, the wild man of the desert.

Despite his preaching a message of repentance for the forgiveness of sins, he does not appear to appreciate the response he has received. He is in no mood to offer baptism to just anyone. He questions the sincerity of those who have come out to find him, he doesn’t seem to accept that they have responded to his message, have acknowledged their failings and are ready to repent. He wonders if they are simply self serving, if it is self interest, not genuine repentance that draws them into the desert. John calls them a brood of vipers, asks who warned them to flee from the wrath to come, and insists that their repentance be demonstrated through their actions so that it is evident that they are not simply intent on saving their skins, but really have determined to turn their lives around.

John goes even further. He challenges any idea his listeners might have that their Jewishness might help to save them – “even now the axe is lying at the root of the trees” to thin out those that don’t bear fruit. He warns that: “God can raise up children to Abraham from these stones”. (What matters – as Paul will later make clear – is not a person’s heritage (Jew or Gentile) but their relationship with God.)

Clearly he has put the wind up his audience. It seems that his attack on them has had an effect. Their easy confidence has been shattered. They are all concerned that they understand what John means by repentance, what it means to bear good fruit. The crowds, the tax-collectors, and the soldiers are all anxious to do the right thing. Each in turn ask what it is they must do, in other words what would true repentance look like for them. In each instance John’s advice is practical and doable. He doesn’t suggest that they reach for the impossible or demand that they do something that will lead to their lives being impoverished. What is more, John’s responses are tailor made for his questioners. While there is an underlying theme – that they show by their actions their concern for others, things that will not only show that they are sincere, but which will bring them peace of mind, the actions demanded of each group are particular to their situation.

In response to the question of the crowds: “What shall we do?” John encourages generosity. Those with more than enough should share with those who do not. In response to the tax-collectors’ question: “What shall we do?” John tells them to only collect what they are required to collect (not to enrich themselves at the expense of others). In response to the question of the soldiers: “What shall we do?” John advises that they should be content with what they earn and not extort money by threats or false accusations. In effect, John is saying to them all: “be satisfied with what you have, do not strive to have more than you need, and above all do not try to enrich yourselves at the expense of others.”

You will no doubt have noticed that Luke’ focus is on wealth. Repentance is repentance for having (or wanting to have) more than enough.

“What should we do?”

This Advent as we prepare our hearts for the coming of God among us (as he did and as he will) let us strive to live lives that are authentic, generous and just, let us endeavour not to hold on to our possessions but to be generous towards those who have less and, recognising God’s abundant generosity towards us, let us be content, indeed more than content with what we have.

 

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The Feast of Stephen

December 25, 2021

Christmas 1 – 2021
Marian Free

In the name of God who gave everything for us. Amen.

“Good King Wenceslas looked out
on the Feast of Stephen
when the snow lay round about,
deep and crips and even
brightly shone the moon that night
though the frost was cruel
when a poor man came in sight,
gathering winter fuuu-u-u-el.”

I wonder how many of us have sung this popular carol without giving much thought to King Wenceslas or to the feast of Stephen. Apart from the snow (which even in the southern hemisphere signifies Christmas) there is nothing remotely Christmasy about the words of the song. So why is it associated with Christmas and why does it reference the Feast of Stephen? The answer is simple – today (the day following Christmas Day) – is the Feast of Stephen. We often overlook this as we mark Boxing Day or, as is the case this year, we celebrate the first Sunday after Christmas.

Today’s preacher then has a wealth of themes on which to focus – the secular celebration of Boxing Day, the first Sunday of Christmas or the Feast of St Stephen. (One could even stretch to focusing on Wenceslas who was a Duke and not a King and who lived in Bohemia from 907-935. The Duke was known for his piety and his support of the poor and as a consequence was made a saint.)

Because the first Sunday of Christmas follows immediately after Christmas Day it seems too much of a jump to focus on the readings for that day which take us forward 12 years to the account of Jesus -on the verge of adulthood – frightening his parents by staying behind in Jerusalem. So let us instead consider Stephen, the first person to be martyred on account of the emerging faith in the crucified Jesus.

What we know about Stephen comes from the Book of Acts in which Luke provides us with a stylised view of the emerging church. From Acts 1:8 we can see that Luke structures his account in concentric circles. He imagines the gospel spreading from Jerusalem, to Judea, to Samaria to the ends of the earth. The movement is not only geographic, but ethnic – from the centre of Judaism, to the Jews, to the Samaritans (who have something in common with the Jews) and finally to the Gentiles. According to Luke’s telling of the story it is Stephen’s martyrdom that sets this movement in train and which presages the spread of the faith beyond Jerusalem to ‘the ends of the earth.’

Stephen’s story begins in Acts 6 and concludes at the end of Acts 7. According to Luke, the earliest community of believers was led by the Twelve. It becomes clear that they cannot do everything and that the widows of Hellenist (Greek or gentile) believers were being neglected in the daily distribution of food. The Twelve make the decision that they should not be distracted from preaching by waiting on tables and they direct the Hellenists to choose seven men of ‘good standing full of the Spirit and wisdom’ to fulfill this task. Seven were chosen and were formally ‘ordained’ by the laying on of hands and with prayer. Among the seven was Stephen.

As I said, Luke. Uses the appointment of another tier of leadership (the beginnings of the diaconate) to introduce a new period of growth in the church – many come to ‘the obedience of faith’, even priests. Unfortunately, as is often the case, with success came conflict. Members of the synagogue of Freedmen (who themselves appear to have been Hellenists) argued with Stephen and, being unable to compete with Stephen’s wisdom and spirituality, they stirred up others against him and brought false charges of blasphemy against him.

Stephen is brought before the high priest and in response to the accusations gives a long speech (a typical Lucan device) in which he recites the history of the Jews from Abraham to Jesus, recounting the ‘typical’ rejection of the prophets by the people of God. This, as you might imagine, only further enraged his opponents. When Stephen concluded his speech by saying that he saw the heavens opened and Jesus standing at the right hand of God Stephan’s opponents had had enough. They dragged him out of the city and stoned him. Hence Stephen became the first person to be martyred for his faith, to sacrifice his life for Jesus.

In a recent podcast Alexander John Shaia suggests that it is possible to link Boxing Day and the Feast of St Stephen to each other. I share it with you, not because I am convinced, but because it is a novel idea worth pondering. In the northern hemisphere Christmas falls near the winter solstice. It is the depths of winter a time when earth was often covered with snow. Snow or not, it is impossible to grow crops and for the poor there was nowhere to forage for food. On the day after the winter solstice, the Celts had a tradition of teaching boys on the verge of adulthood something about the value of sacrifice – giving of themselves that others might live.

The ritual (which seems barbaric to us) involved killing a wren and letting its blood run into the earth in order that the earth might regenerate after the long hard winter. Shaia argues that the early Celtic Christians saw in this tradition a resonance with their newfound faith. Stephen the first Christian martyr had given his life for the life of others. As was the case with many Celtic traditions, they kept the day but gave it a new meaning. They no longer sacrificed a wren, but adopted the spiritual practice for men and boys to gather and give food and money and clothing to poor and shut ins.

Here Shaia brings us back to the carol which ends:
“In his master’s step he trod,
where the snow lay dented.
heat was in the very sod
which the saint had printed.
therefore, Christian men, be sure,
wealth or rank possessing,
ye who now will bless the poor
shall yourselves find blessing”

Having asked his page who the poor man is and where he lives, the king and page set out in the bitter weather with food and wine and fuel to ease the suffering of the poor man. When the page’s strength fails, the king urges boldness to combat the cold and the carol ends – as we see with a blessing for those who are generous.

Whether we link gift giving and generosity to the wise ones or the tradition of Stephen, it is important that in the midst of our own celebrations, our self-indulgence and our (often) over eating, that we remember those for whom every day is a struggle – the refugee, the poor, the hungry, the lonely, those suffering from the effects of war, civil strife or natural disaster and that we give – not what we can spare – but generously and openly so that our small sacrifice might make the world a better place and ourselves better for the gift.

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Something for nothing

September 12, 2020

Pentecost 15 -2020

Matthew 18:21-35

Marian Free

In the name of God who longs to gather us under his/her wings as a mother hen gathers her chicks. Amen.

God can’t make it right.

I don’t often, if ever, begin where I left off the previous week, but it seems particularly appropriate this week. Chapter 18 of Matthew is best considered as a whole. In it the author of Matthew has gathered the sayings of Jesus that have advice as to how to live in community. It includes an exhortation to become as a child and warns the community not to do anything that would hurt the vulnerable among them. Jesus continues with a dramatic and gruesome encouragement to look to their own lives and remove from themselves all that causes harm. Jesus’ concern for the outcast is illustrated by the parable of the lost sheep (which is also a not so subtle reminder that he expects the majority to remain in the fold while he is off looking for the one that is lost). In last week’s reading from the gospel, Jesus gave the community some advice regarding dispute resolution suggesting at the same time that what was bound on earth was bound in heaven.  

Finally, Jesus responds to Peter’s question about forgiveness, specifically forgiveness of a fellow member of the community. 

Peter, who obviously knows Jesus’ attitude to forgiveness, asks a question intending, it seems, to demonstrate his own magnanimity – forgiving seven times seven is surely generous!  Jesus plays Peter at his own game – not seven times seven but seventy times seven! Peter’s question indicates that he has in fact learnt nothing. It also exposes his own small-mindedness. In God’s eyes there is no limit to forgiveness. In fact, God does not even keep count! Peter’s question alone reveals that he believes that forgiveness has its boundaries, that it can be used up if a person goes too far. 

By way of illustrating Peter’s niggardliness, meanness and lack of generosity, Jesus tells a parable about an extraordinary debt – something like $2.5m in today’s terms. No one would have a hope of paying back such an amount, let alone a slave and surely no one, not even a king, could afford to lose (forgive or overlook) that sort of fortune. Yet, in response to the man’s pleas, the king forgives the debt – every cent. There is no suggestion of paying it back with interest and no hint of indebtedness. The slate is wiped clean, the slave owes nothing at all. You would think, wouldn’t you, that the slave would leave the king’s presence overwhelmed with gratitude, wonder and a deep sense of humility, but no, the man has learnt nothing from the experience. (One notices in retrospect that he has not even thanked the king!)

Perhaps then we should not be surprised to learn that his first action on leaving the king is to grab hold of a fellow slave and demand the repayment of a paltry amount. Unlike the king, the first slave is completely deaf to the pleas of his fellow slave and has him thrown into prison. He has learnt nothing. The king’s generosity has not touched his heart. It appears that he simply could not understand that his slate could be wiped clean, nor could he believe that repayment would not be exacted at some future date. His failure (or inability) to truly grasp the generosity and magnanimity of the king has denied him the benefits of forgiveness and has shut him off from the generosity that was so freely offered. (One could argue that he was already in a prison of his own making or, as Kavanaugh suggests, the state of his soul had been so hardened that no amount of compassion and kindness could soften it[1].

Peter’s mistake was to believe that there was some sort of mathematics of reconciliation (Kavanaugh again), that forgiveness was a numbers game that could be measured and doled out. Jesus’ response and the accompanying parable give the lie to this point of view. God simply does not operate in this way. God’s forgiveness knows no limits. There may come a time when we turn our backs on God, but God never turns God’s back on us.

In our “tit for tat” economy, we find it hard to believe in something for nothing. If someone hurts us, we expect some form of recompense and sadly we attribute to God our own smallness of mind and meanness of spirit. Yet surely the message of the cross is this – humankind had done nothing at all to warrant, let alone earn such self-sacrificial love, but God extended that love anyway.

It is our foolish pride, our unnecessary self-consciousness and our stubborn independence that cuts us off from the love of God. It is not God, but our failure to believe that we are loved and forgiven that locks us out of the kingdom. If we shut ourselves off from God’s boundless love, if we fail to believe in God’s limitless forgiveness and if we refuse to allow ourselves to be carried back to the fold, there is nothing that God can do.  

If we shut ourselves off from God’s love, if we refuse to be gathered into the fold, there is ultimately nothing that God can do for us. If having been forgiven a debt of the size of that of the slave, we still don’t understand God’s goodness and boundless generosity, there is little more that God can do to prove that love. If we don’t want to be held in God’s loving embrace, or to be carried on God’s shoulders back to the fold, God is not going to force our hand. We have to swallow our pride and relax into God’s all-embracing, forgiving love and, when we do, we will discover in ourselves the same expansive generosity that will allow us to love and to forgive – not seven times seven, but seventy times seven.

[1] https://liturgy.slu.edu/24OrdA091320/theword_kavanaugh.html

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The profligacy of God

July 11, 2020

Pentecost 6 – 2020

Matthew 13: 1-9, 18-23

Marian Free

In the name of God who created the universe from nothing and whose boundless generosity is strewn with wild abandon throughout the world. Amen.

The parable of the sower is something of a golden oldie. Almost from our first encounter with church we learn this story and its interpretation. The imagery is graphic and simple – weeds choking, sun burning and birds eating. It makes a great Sunday School lesson. Children can be presented with pictures of seeds landing in bad or indifferent places and growing or not growing as a result. They can be encouraged to think about what sort of soil they might be and made to feel guilty because they are not disciplined enough, not brave enough.

This is a problem which not helped by the attached interpretation which is found in all three gospels – which draws our attention away from the sower to where the seed lands. However, when we are distracted by the soil – good, bad and indifferent, we fail to be astounded by the randomness – some would say thoughtlessness – of the thrower. In other words, concentrating on where the seed falls leads to our focussing on ourselves – on the state of our own spiritual ground instead of looking to where the seed comes from.  We find ourselves wondering about the state of our spiritual lives and, in the worst-case scenario, having judged ourselves we turn outwards and judge others. (Which of us represents the seeds on the path, the seeds on the rocks or the seed among thorns?) How often have we in the church thought to ourselves or out loud, that the reason that our churches are empty is because everyone else has become distracted by the cares of the world? 

Interestingly, scholars generally agree that the interpretation of the parable is a later addition – an explanation added by the early church to provide justification for the indifference of non-believers or the lack of courage or failure of commitment on the part of some who had come to faith but fallen away. This interpretation could be used to affirm members of the believing community, who could, as a consequence of their steadfastness, consider themselves to be the good soil.

Parables were, by and large, intended to stand alone. They usually said something unusual or shocking that challenged a traditional way of thinking and forced the listener to consider the world in a new way or to change their conventional way of thinking. (Think for example of the parable of the Good Samaritan – a contradiction in terms for a self-respecting first century Jew. There was no such thing as a Samaritan who was good.) The point of a parable came in the unexpected “sting” or surprise at the end – a mustard seed that becomes a tree, a farmer that sells everything for one pearl.

Further support for this argument lies in the fact that parables are usually intended to tell us something about God or about the kingdom of God. Most parables begin: “The kingdom of God is like …” To make this parable about the seed and the soil is to make the parable about ourselves rather than about God. It leads us to dwell on ourselves and our reaction to the word of God rather than directing us to consider the action and nature of God – an action that is wildly extravagant and which stands in stark contrast to the action of a careful, prudent first century farmer[1]. 

According to the parable, the sower tosses scarce and precious seed with gay abandon; is utterly heedless as to where it might land and gives no thought as to the condition of the ground where it might fall or the waste that might result. This sower, it appears, is not fixated on the final crop, nor is the sower concerned about giving each individual seed the best chance of growing and producing fruit. Rather, this sower seems to be more anxious that the seed is spread as widely and generously as possible – regardless of where it might fall and whether or not it will be able take root and grow. Here’s the point though – what seems extraordinary and rash to a prudent farmer is not as foolish as it seems – the crop that results from such carelessness is not pitiful it is enormous! The seed that does take root and grow produces grain in abundance – one hundredfold, sixtyfold and thirtyfold! 

The significance of such a crop would not have been lost on Jesus’ audience. In first century Palestine the expectation would have been that a crop would produce sevenfold – tenfold at best. Even thirtyfold would have been an amazing result, 60 would have been extraordinary and 100 would have been simply unbelievable. 

When we concentrate primarily on the interpretation of the parable – the seed and the soil – we are tempted to make the parable about us, to become self-absorbed and mean spirited, seeing primarily ourselves and our various reactions to God’s words and God’s actions as the point of the parable.

When we take our focus off the ground and place it on the sower where it belongs, we are forced to be less egocentric and less concerned about how we, or anyone else reacts to the word of God. Paying attention to the parable rather than to the interpretation enables us to see the wanton extravagance of God and God’s confidence that God’s word – spread without thought and without restraint will land on good soil, will take root and will produce abundantly.

The challenge of today’s gospel is to stop navel-gazing and to turn our attention outwards to the boundless, senseless, heedless profligacy of God.  

[1] There are more technical reasons to believe that the interpretation is a later addition, in particular the fact that the structure of the interpretation does not match the structure of the parable.

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Why resist

August 10, 2019

Pentecost 9 – 2019

Luke 12:32-40

Marian Free

In the name of God whose generosity and love know no bounds. Amen.

In the mini series, North and South, there are a number of poignant scenes as the story takes us into the ‘dark Satanic mills’ of the newly industrialised England. Families crowded into single room dwellings struggle to make ends meet on the pittance that the recently rich industrialists pay them. Children are put to work as soon as they are able and those who are not at work stay at home to look after those too young to earn a living. Life expectancy is low, not least because the cotton fibers fill the lungs of the workers. The poverty is heart-breaking. At one point, the heroine, Margaret Hale, ventures into the slums to visit a friend. Margaret, the daughter of a former country vicar, is used to accompanying her father on his visits and taking with her baskets of food to alleviate the suffering of the poor. As she is making her way, Margaret passes a woman who is trying to pacify a crying child. In response to Margaret’s look of sympathy, the woman tries to reassure her: “Don’t worry,” she says, “the child is only hungry.” Without hesitation Margaret takes out her purse intending to give the family a coin with which to buy food. However, rather than expressing relief and gratitude, the woman turns away – offended by the proffered gift.

There are all kinds of reasons why a person might refuse or resist a gift – embarrassment, pride, a sense of unworthiness, a fear of ensuing indebtedness or obligations, or a desire for independence among others. In the the story, it seems as if the woman’s refusal relates to more than one of these possibilities. To her the offer of help is both patronizing and humiliating. She does not need to have her poverty so rudely exposed and Margaret’s pity is unintentionally demeaning. It reveals the great divide between the rich and the poor and, rather than bridge that divide, Margaret’s charity only exaggerates it.

Today’s gospel includes a number of unrelated sayings and a parable. It occurs in the midst of a long teaching section which Luke places in the context of Jesus’ journey to Jerusalem. The sayings express Jesus’ frustration and grief, his confidence in God’s benevolence, his anger at the Pharisaic view of the world and more general teaching about discipleship. Included in the teaching are many warnings: ‘Be on your guard against greed’, ‘you must be ready’, ‘unless you repent, you will all perish’, and ‘from everyone to whom much has been given, much will be required.’.

In the midst of such disparate sayings and dire predictions we come across two extraordinary revelations about the nature of God. The first is one that is easily overlooked. It does not seem to fit the context and is often passed over so quickly that it is missed and yet it tells a great deal about God and God’s relationship with us. ‘Do not be afraid, little flock,’ Jesus says, ‘for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.’ This one sentence is filled with affection, warmth and reassurance – ‘Little flock’ – Jesus recognizes our vulnerability and wants to take away our fear. ‘Good pleasure’ – God’s deepest desire is to give us the kingdom expecting nothing in return.

Jesus follows up this saying with a parable. ‘Do not be afraid.’ God is not an overbearing slave master who makes unreasonable demands – just the opposite. The conclusion of the parable both reverses the normal image and expectation of God and completely upsets the social norms of his time, (and to some extent of ours). The parable imagines servants waiting for their master to return from a wedding banquet. Imagine their surprise when, instead of demanding that they prepare his supper or his bed, the master tightens his belt and proceeds to serve them at table. The story abounds with love and generosity – God’s free gift of Godself to all who are open, willing and ready to accept it!

Hidden in the midst of Jesus’ other sayings we find these two expressions of God’s tenderness and selflessness. From this perspective, much of the remainder of Jesus’ teaching in these chapters appears as an expression of Jesus’ exasperation at our stubborn refusal to accept God’s gracious gift of the Kingdom, indeed of Godself. We refuse because we cannot believe that the kingdom is offered at no cost to ourselves; because we are afraid of losing our independence; because we are too dependent on our possessions and cannot see that true wealth comes from dependence on God. We resist because we are uncomfortable about being served (and the implication that somehow we are somehow incompetent or immature).

Jesus is clear: it is God’s good pleasure to give us the kingdom. If the kingdom is not yet a reality, perhaps it is because we are not yet ready, because despite the promise we still struggle, choosing things as they are (however imperfect) rather than things as they could be.

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Giving our all and receiving so much more

April 6, 2019

Lent 5 – 2019

John 12:1-8

Marian Free

In the name of God who longs that we give God all that we are and all that we have. Amen.

You may or may not have realized that there are a number of different accounts of Jesus’ being anointed by a woman. Mark’s account (Mk 14:3f) (which is followed quite closely by that of Matthew) tells us that Jesus, having arrived in Jerusalem for the Passover, is spending the evening in Bethany. He is sitting at table at the home of Simon the leper. While he is there a woman comes in from the street and pours a jar of costly ointment over Jesus’ head. Some of the disciples are angry and scold the woman. They ask why the ointment was wasted when it could have been sold and the money given to the poor. Jesus responds that they always have the poor with them and comments that the woman has anointed his body for its burial.

Matthew makes a only couple of small changes – in his account all the disciples are angry, but they do not scold the woman.

Luke uses similar elements to tell the story in a very different way (Lk 7:36f). Whereas Mark, followed by Matthew and John puts the account at the end of Jesus’ ministry. Luke places it much earlier in his narrative. In his version, Simon the leper becomes Simon the Pharisee and the woman is identified as a sinner. In Luke’s re-telling, the Pharisee has invited Jesus to eat with him. As they eat, a woman comes in off the street. She bathes Jesus’ feet with her tears and wipes them with her hair. Then she anoints and kisses Jesus’ feet. According to Luke the disciples have no part to play in the narrative. It is Simon the Pharisee who reacts negatively to the woman’s actions. Simon is not offended by the waste of money, but by the fact that Jesus (who must surely know that the woman is a sinner) is allowing her to touch him.

Despite his obvious concern for the poor elsewhere, Luke does not quote Jesus saying about the poor. Instead, Luke uses the account to teach about forgiveness.

The story of the woman who anoints Jesus is (unusually) found in all four gospels. In John’s gospel the setting (like that of Mark and Matthew) is in Bethany – immediately before the Passover. John however, places the account in the home of Jesus’ close friends – the siblings Mary, Martha and Lazarus. It is Mary, not a stranger off the street, who takes the costly ointment and uses it to anoint Jesus’ feet. As with the sinful woman of Luke’s gospel, Mary wipes Jesus’ feet with her hair. In John, it is only Judas who thinks that the ointment should have been sold and the money given to the poor.

If we leave aside Luke’s account, it is interesting to note that it is the extravagance of the anointing that causes offense in Mark. Apparently, the disciples are not worried that the woman is behaving in a way that, even in the twenty first century would cause onlookers to squirm – only that the ointment could be sold and given to the poor. We have no way of knowing if this reflects their attitude to possessions in general, a genuine concern for the poor or whether they resent the fact that the woman/Mary can afford such a gift or if they are anxious that her extravagance shows up their frugality or meanness.

John’s telling of the story, though brief, is redolent with meaning. It lies between the raising of Lazarus and Jesus’ own death. The fragrance of the ointment contrasts with the stench of Lazarus’ body and Mary’s action prefigures Jesus’ foot washing at the last supper.

What has challenged interpreters throughout the centuries is not the differences between the accounts or the symbolism of John’s version but rather the meaning of Jesus’ words: “You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.”

Does this mean, as many have suggested, that we have no responsibility for those who, for whatever reason are less fortunate than ourselves? Or does it mean that Jesus is telling us that we should not use the poor as a means to an end – to draw attention to ourselves or to demonstrate our generosity? Or does it, as Janet Hunt reflects , ask us to consider where our priorities lie? In other words, are we, like Mary, able to focus not only our resources but our time and our energy entirely on Jesus or are we constantly distracted by other “important” or “worthy” tasks – by the poor whoever they may be.In other words, do we convince ourselves that our inattention to prayer, our failure to set aside time to be with God is justified because what we are doing instead – visiting the sick, minding our grandchildren, cleaning the church – is another way of showing our commitment to our faith.

“You always have the poor with you.” There is always time to be of use to our family and friends, to provide solace, company and assistance to others. Putting Jesus first does not rob them of our attention or our time, but rather it makes our care for them more focused and more meaningful. Making time for Jesus, giving ourselves to Jesus first and foremost ensures that we have the reserves to give ourselves more fully to those in need and it means that we are not using their needs as an excuse not to look after ourselves and after our relationship with God.

When Mary takes the ointment and anoints Jesus’ feet, she is thinking only of Jesus and is giving herself completely to him. It is not that other things, other people do not have a claim on her, but for this moment she is totally focused on him. Other demands, on her time and her resources, will still be there when she is done and she will see to them then.

The distractions in our lives – even those that seem praiseworthy or commendable – will not vanish if we put God first and, if we put God first, the praiseworthy and commendable will be even more so. Those whom we seek to serve will be better served by one who, having been restored in God’s presence can give themselves even more freely and even more generously.

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Enough and more to spare

July 28, 2018

Pentecost 10-2018

John 6:1-21

(Notes while on leave)

Marian Free

In the name of God whose giving is never measured or constrained, but lavish and extravagant. Amen.

We are told that there is enough food in the world to feed all the people in it yet each day hundreds of thousands of people go to bed hungry and thousands more die because the world’s resources are not evenly distributed. Just this month I heard that one third of the catch of fish from the Mediterranean is wasted. That’s an enormous amount. Think of the people who could be fed with the two thirds that is simply discarded . It is equally distressing to realise that a majority of people in the Western world throw out around a third of the fresh food that they purchase every week and that that figure doesn’t take into account the food that restaurants and supermarkets are forced to throw out every day – good food that cannot even be given to the homeless or the hungry.

There must be dozens if not hundreds of ways to reduce waste and to ensure that the food that is produced is more equitably distributed. In France, for example, supermarkets are now prevented by law from throwing out food that someone would be grateful to eat. Elsewhere individuals and organizations are doing what they can to source ‘unsaleable’ fresh food and to give it to those in need. It is a great tragedy that we live in a world in which one person dies of hunger or of a hunger related cause every ten seconds and in which first world countries are facing an obesity epidemic. Something is just not right.

There was a time when scholars and others tried to make sense of Jesus’ miracles. In the face of a rational, scientific world they came up with explanations as to what really happened when Jesus healed the lame, cast out demons and fed the 5,000. It was suggested that the feeding of the 5,000 could be explained in this way – even though the boy had only five barley loaves and two small fish his act of generosity meant that every one present was shamed into producing food that they had kept hidden. In the end there was plenty to go around. The problem with this approach is twofold, in a world in which food was scarce it does not account for what was left over and further it says more about humanity than it does about divinity. It turns a miracle story into a morality story making it a reflection on human selfishness.

I don’t know what happened on that day nor do I really care to know. What I do know is that the feeding of the 5,000 is a reminder once again of God’s unlimited, unbounded and unearned generosity. God withholds nothing and always (as the collect says) gives us more than we need or deserve. God never gives barely enough or just enough. God always gives more than enough. God gives in abundance such that there is plenty to go around and more to spare. What is more, God is not diminished but enlarged by every act of generosity.

The more we hold things to ourselves the poorer and meaner we become. In my experience generosity always leads to abundance and that we ourselves are richer, not poorer for what we give away. In fact generosity works both ways – the other ends us with more than enough and we ourselves are not impoverished by the giving.

If we, like God, gave in abundance and held nothing back, we might discover that there is plenty to go around and more besides.

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Life-giving, all-embracing Trinity

May 26, 2018

Trinity Sunday – 2018

John 3:1-17 (The gospel set for the day – not the starting point for this reflection)

Marian Free

In the name of the Trinity – boundless and abundant love, creative and life-giving force, all-giving and endlessly welcoming. Amen.

I have just started reading the novel, Gone Girl. The story seems to be about the disappearance of a young woman who has reluctantly moved with her new husband from New York to an uninspiring town in the mid-west. The novel is written from the point of view of the young woman, Amy, and her husband, Nick. Amy and Nick each have an opportunity to tell their side of the story. This means that while the readers are engaged in the investigation into Amy’s disappearance they are, at the same time, given a glimpse into the unraveling of what had appeared to be a perfect relationship – brought about by differing expectations and by different experiences of family.

Human relationships can be messy, complex and destructive, threatened by insecurity, damaged by carelessness and undermined by unrealistic expectations. The inability of some to form mutually respectful relationships is exposed not only in families, but also in communities, nations and the world as a whole. It is only too obvious that our world is not an harmonious place in which people rejoice in difference and seek the well-being of others. Our fractured and broken world is a place in which competition rules and in which suspicion and fear cause people to look inwards, protecting what is theirs and creating boundaries between themselves and those whom they believe threaten our security and our comforts.

Richard Rohr suggests that the Trinity provides the answer to the problem of relationships with each other, within communities and between the nations of the world. A greater understanding of the relational nature of God – Father Son and Spirit, Creator, Redeemer and Sanctifier might, he suggests, help us to relate better to God and more importantly to one another. He points out that the Trinity is a much-neglected aspect of our theology. The concept is difficult to explain, and most clergy are grateful for the fact that the Trinity is celebrated only once a year rather than on every Sunday of every year. Rohr quotes Karl Rahner who states: “Christians are, in their practical lives, almost mere ‘monotheists’. We must be willing to admit that, should the doctrine of the Trinity have to be dropped as false, the major part of religious literature could well remain virtually unchanged.”

When I first read that quote, I thought that Rahner was right. I wondered how many of us would be truly distressed if we discovered that God was one and not three at all. We might even be relieved to learn that we no longer had to struggle with the conundrum of a threefold God.

On reflection though, it seemed to me that while we may not be able to articulate the meaning, most of us do relate to God who is three but is also one. God as Trinity is something we know intuitively. Over the course of a lifetime the Trinitarian God becomes part of our DNA. Though we tend to use shorthand when we pray – God, Father, Jesus, Holy Spirit, Creator, Redeemer, Sanctifier, we simply assume that when we pray to one we pray to all, when we relate to one we relate to all.

The problem – if there is a problem – is that because we take for granted the threefold nature of God, we may not take the time to reflect on the meaning of the Trinity and to consider what it really means to engage with God who is Earth-maker, Pain-bearer, Life-giver and we (and perhaps the world) are the poorer for this. Perhaps, if we make an effort to struggle with the relational nature of the threefold God, we will be better equipped to share that mystery with others. If we really grasp what it means to worship a threefold God we might discover that the Trinitarian God is a model for all relationships and a solution to all the problems of our fragmented world.

Last year on this day, I read you the poem that is in the Foreword of Richard Rohr’s book The Divine Dance. I confess that I haven’t read the book to its end, but what I have read has been life-changing and faith-renewing. Rohr has helped me to know God in a new way and my faith is enriched by that knowing. In fact, I don’t think that I am over stating it if I say that I feel that I have found my way to the heart of the Trinitarian God. Rohr has helped me come to grips with the Trinity in a way in which all my academic study did not – indeed could not.

I have come to see that God who is three is relational. God relates to Jesus who relates to the Spirit who relates to God, who relates to the Spirit who relates to Jesus, who relates to God in an outpouring of love that flows from one to another and back again. A constant stream of love that in turn creates an atmosphere of love that cannot help but flow outward from the threefold God to the world – drawing the whole world into a loving and welcoming embrace. The love that each person of the Trinity has for the others is complete and without reserve. Nothing is held back, each person of the Trinity is totally open to the other members of the Trinity. Each person of the Trinity is completely vulnerable – having given everything of themselves to the other persons.

In their love for one another, the members of the Trinity create an energy that is life-giving and dynamic, a creative force that drives and empowers all that is good in this world. God in relationship is generous, self-giving and abundant. God in relationship is not remote and disinterested, but is fully engaged and participatory. God in relationship is fully immersed in the world and invites us to fully immerse ourselves in God. God who is relational has no boundaries, but welcomes us into the very heart of the Trinity that we might be caught up and held in the stream of love that flows between the three. The threefold God is not afraid that our presence (or the presence of anyone else) will contaminate their divinity, but rather has absolute confidence that our being in relationship with God, Creator, Redeemer and Sanctifier will serve to enhance and enrich that relationship and our relationships with one another.

The Trinity models the love that can be the salvation of the world – love that heals and sustains, love that delights in the other, love that gives itself entirely without losing anything of itself and without seeking anything in return, love that embraces difference, love that seeks the well-being of the other and love that refuses to exclude anyone from that love.

God who is one could be aloof and alone. God who is two could be self-contained – each focussed wholly on the other. God who is three is other-centred, inclusive, life-giving and welcoming. The Trinity, God who is three invites us all to be a part of this loving community, to allow ourselves to be loved and to give ourselves in love and in so doing, to contribute to the healing of the world.

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No room for neutrality

March 10, 2018

Lent 4 – 2018

John 3:14-21

Marian Free

In the name of God who so loved the world, that God sent his Son to save it. Amen.

Most of us would agree that it feels as though the world is teetering on the edge of disaster. We feel distressed by Trump’s apparently erratic behaviour, by Kim Jong On’s threats of nuclear war, by the intractable nature of the war in Syria, by the civil war and famine in south Sudan and Yemen, by the rise of the ultra-right in Europe and by the grab for power by dictators in more countries than one. We are rightly distressed by the plight of refugees, the increasing gap between the rich and poor and by corruption and the misuse of resources by those in power. We feel helpless in the face of terrorism and are frozen in indecision when we think about the damage that we are inflicting on the environment.

The world seems to be falling apart and we feel powerless to stop it.

That, at least is one way of seeing the world.

It is possible to see the situation quite differently. On Tuesday[1] Radio National’s Big Ideas presented a lecture by Gregg Easterbrook – writer for the Atlantic Monthly and the New York Times. Easterbrook pointed out that despite what appears to be evidence to the contrary, there are good reasons for optimism. Worldwide, malnutrition and extreme poverty are at historic lows, he says, and the risk of dying by war or violence is lower than at any point in human history. Everywhere in the world people are living longer and healthier. Contrary to what we see daily in our news, the frequency and intensity of war in the last 25 years is 5% of the rate wars of the previous century. According to the United Nations malnutrition is at its lowest point ever.

And those are just a few of the statistics that Easterbrook produced.

The world is an interesting and challenging place. On the one hand we as humans are capable of inflicting unimaginable suffering in places like Syria, and on the other hand we have not only reduced the threat of nuclear war, but in the last few decades the world as a whole has reduced its spending on all things military. On the one hand, we as humans are capable of the most appalling abuse of our fellow human beings when we traffic them into sexual or other forms of slavery and on the other hand, we are capable of acts of utter selflessness when we risk our lives to prevent the spread of deadly diseases or to bring relief to victims of wars and natural disasters.

The future of the world is both hopeless and hopeful, the nature of humanity is both heroic and despicable.

“God so loved the world, that he sent his only Son.” The world of the first century was no less violent, corrupt or inequitable than the world of the twenty-first century. Humanity was as cruel, as greedy and as violent then as it is now. Despite this, despite all the reasons for pessimism, God remained optimistic. God saw the potential in God’s creation and risked everything to save it.

That is not to say that God was or is naïve. The presence of Jesus in the world was not benign – anything but. Jesus was not and is not a comfortable Saviour. Jesus was (and is) confrontational and challenging. His very presence was divisive because it forced people to declare their hands. As the presence of God in the world, Jesus shone a light on injustice, oppression, greed, cruelty and exploitation. Jesus’ love and compassion exposed the baseness and insensitivity of those around him. His generosity and selflessness made people uncomfortable with their own greed and self-absorption. No one wants to feel that they are less than perfect. No one wants to have their flaws opened to the light of day, visible to the scrutiny of others. (They would rather remain in darkness.)

The person of Jesus revealed the true natures of those with whom he came into contact. People were either drawn to or repelled by him depending on their openness to change or their desire to maintain the status quo, their self-awareness or their smug self-satisfaction; their willingness to surrender control or their determination to hold on to their independence. Those who shared Jesus’ love of God and love of humanity found in him a source of hope and strength. Those who sought only their own advancement and gain, saw in Jesus a threat to their way of life. Those who desired to create a world of justice and peace found in Jesus a sense of purpose and direction. Those who were happy with the world as it was saw in Jesus only chaos and disorder.

“God so loved the world, that he sent his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.” John 3:16 is not simply a comforting, comfortable verse that can be easily and blithely turned into some sort of simplistic Christian slogan. It challenges us to think about what it means to believe. The verses that follow tell us that unbelievers are those who do not want to have light shone on their selfishness, their meanness and their desire to dominate others. Unbelievers are those who are happy with the world the way that it is and do not want it to be saved.

Believing in Jesus means being committed ourselves to Jesus’ programme of loving the world. It means allowing both the good and the bad in us to be exposed to the light of God’s love and it means understanding that unless we allow ourselves to be changed we might be part of the problem rather than part of the solution.

God so loves the world that, through Jesus he enlists our help to save it. There is no room for neutrality – we are called to make a decision to come into the light or to remain forever in the darkness.

 

 

[1] March 6, 2018, Radio National, Big Ideas.

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