Posts Tagged ‘healing’

Do you want to be made well?

May 24, 2025

Easter 6 – 2025

John 5:1-9

Marian Free

In the name of Christ who came that we might have life and have it in abundance. Amen.

“Do you want to be made well?” The invalid in today’s gospel has been unwell for 38 years – an enormous amount of time in any century, but an extraordinary length of time in a period when the average life span was around 30 years! There is no indication how long the man actually enjoyed good health or what his problem was. Perhaps he was born with an unnamed frailty. Regardless, for 38 years the invalid has been dependent on others for his existence – for food, for clothing, for shelter, and as he says, for help to get him into the healing waters of the pool.

“Do you want to be made well?” In all the gospels no one else is asked such a rude and intrusive question. Often Jesus is asked for healing, or he simply assumes that someone wants to receive healing and there is no interaction at all. Jesus isn’t always directly involved. The woman with a haemorrhage merely reaches out and touches Jesus’ cloak and healing flows from him to her. Jesus never asks whether a person deserves healing or not nor does he demand that the person seeking healing has faith.  On the one occasion on which he might have withheld healing, he allows the Canaanite woman to convince him that her daughter is as worthy of healing as any other. 

“Do you want to be made well?” Of all the people waiting for the water to move, Jesus approaches this one man. He doesn’t ask about the man’s condition, doesn’t say who he is, doesn’t engage in small talk – just asks one direct question. “Do you want to be made well?” The answer would appear to be self-evident – of course someone whose life had been limited and marred by frailty would want to be made well.

“Do you want to be made well?” Instead of giving a resounding “yes”, the man becomes defensive. “Sir, I have no one to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up; and while I am making my way, someone else steps down ahead of me.” In other words, he is implying that his continued incapacity is everyone else’s fault but his own. Jesus is offering healing but what the invalid really wants is pity!

Jesus has touched a sore spot, forcing the man to ask himself what he really wants.  No doubt man thought that he had no choice, or maybe – at least subconsciously – he had understood that there were some advantages to being unwell. Thirty-eight years is a very long time, long enough for someone to get used to the situation, long enough to be resigned to this way of life, long enough to be unsure that an alternative way of life could be better. The man’s life may seem limited and impoverished from our point of view but that he was still alive after 38 years suggests that he was receiving sufficient support to live whether from his family or from strangers.

 If he were to be made well he would have to take responsibility for himself – find work and somewhere to live, he would be expected to marry, to have and support children of his own. He may have had no skills to earn a living or to reintegrate himself back into a society from which he has been absent for so long. He may have become used to the sympathy and attention that his condition afforded him and, in a world in which most people lived on or below the poverty line, begging may have been as good a way of earning a living as any other. In much the same way that a prisoner who has become used to prison – its routines, and the protection it offers – commits a crime in order to return, so our invalid appears to have become so used to his life that he can see no better way of living.

“Do you want to be made well?” “Are you living your best life?” “Are you making the best of your present circumstances?” “Are you using your God-given gifts to the best of your abilities?’

These are questions Jesus might be posing to any of us who have allowed ourselves to become so comfortable in our present situations that we see no need to change, to any of us who have turned down opportunities because we could not predict the consequences, or because we were worried about what we might have to leave behind, or to any of us who have drawn boundaries around ourselves that limit our growth and our experiences.

“Do you want to be made well?” Jesus wants us to live our best lives, to be and to do all that is possible with the gifts we have been given and the opportunities with which we have been provided.  He does not want us to be bound by people and things that do not need to be limitations.

“Do you want to be made well?” Jesus takes no notice of the invalid’s excuses. He can see the possibilities that await a man restored to health, to strength, to his family and his society. He can see, that despite the potential difficulties, the man’s life will be fuller, richer and happier if he stops making excuses, if he steps out in faith, if he believes that God does and will be with him. So, without waiting for an affirmative answer, he orders the man to: “Stand up, take your mat and walk.” Without hesitation, the man does just that.

“Do you want to be made well?” Do you trust that God knows your potential and has your well-being at heart?                                                       Stand up, take your mat and walk.

Who infects who? Woman with a haemorrhage.

July 2, 2024

Pentecost 6 – 2024

Mark 5:21-43

Marian Free

In the name of God who sees our deepest needs and sets us free. Amen.

Thanks to Reginald and Catherine Hamlin, the prevalence of obstetric fistula in Ethiopia became known and, more importantly, addressed. Their story is well known. The medical couple responded to an advertisement for a medico to establish a midwifery school in the hospital in Addis Adiba. Once there, it was not long before they observed the huge number of untreated injuries caused by childbirth. Instead of returning to New Zealand when their contract was completed, the couple founded the Addis Adiba Fistula Hospital. It is the only hospital of its kind and has treated over 60,000 women.

The tearing of the fistula during childbirth can have devastating consequences. It is especially prevalent in places where there is inadequate access to pre-and peri-natal care and where there are no midwives to assist with birth. In countries where child marriage is allowed and in which female circumcision is practiced the situation is even more dire. Girls whose bodies are not ready for childbirth become pregnant and genital mutilation can make the birthing process even more difficult. In Ethiopia something like 100,000 women and girls live with a fistula and around 9,000 new cases occur every year (this in 2022).

An obstetric fistula is a hole or tear that is created during a long or obstructed labour.  The tear creates a hole between the bladder and/or rectum which leads to leakage of urine or faeces over which the woman has no control. This in turn results not only in physical discomfort, psychological distress and infertility but also in rejection by the spouses and families of these women and social isolation. Rejected by their communities, young women who suffer from this condition become homeless and impoverished.

The medical situation of the woman with a haemorrhage in today’s gospel is different but the resulting situation is similar – rejection, isolation and penury. In the ancient world, blood, especially menstrual blood, rendered a woman unclean, a source of contamination and therefore as someone to be avoided. The woman with a haemorrhage would not only have been unclean, but also infertile. She would have been socially isolated and her value as a woman (able to bear children) would have been seriously compromised. The woman would have been an object of fear, isolated, destitute and desperate.

No wonder she takes her chance with Jesus. No wonder that she is driven to break the law, to cause offence and to risk the wrath of the crowds.  Jesus is her last and only hope of restoration – to health and to the community.

We know nothing of the woman, but we can imagine that she had been a person of some means, because she has, over the course of twelve years, been able to seek the help of doctors. Now she has spent all that she has on doctors – to no avail. 

Jesus’ reputation has reached the woman, and while the woman dare not appeal to him openly for fear of the crowd’s reaction, she presumably knows that that Jesus has not demonstrated an unwillingness to engage with those deemed unclean. After all, he has healed lepers who, like her are considered impure and forced to separate themselves from family and community. 

So when she learns that Jesus is near the woman somehow slips into the crowd, makes her way to Jesus and touches, not him, but his cloak.  Two things happen simultaneously – the woman knows that she is healed, and Jesus feels power flow from him to another. 

In Jesus, the process of contamination is reversed. His purity is not polluted by her impurity, her uncleanness does not taint him but rather her impurity is sanitised by his purity. His ‘power’, his pureness, moves from him to her, cleansing and restoring her. In healing the woman, Jesus not only sets her free from her suffering, but restores her to her family: “Daughter” he says.

It is easy to fool ourselves into believing that notions of purity and impurity belong to another time and age, but I challenge you  to think of the ways  in which we limit and exclude those who do not fit the norms of our own time, the ways in which we judge those with health issues that we do not understand, the barriers we place between ourselves and those who are different, the ways in which we exclude people from participation in things we take for granted. 

The examples are manifold so I shall only list a few – women with endometriosis who spend years and fortunes convincing doctors that they are unwell and are made to feel that the problem lies with them, the rough sleepers who endure our discomfort rather than our compassion and who feel our discomfort, fear and revulsion, our physical environments that make it impossible for the differently abled to fully participate in the lives we take for granted and which tell them of our indifference. Consciously or unconsciously, we isolate and protect ourselves from the suffering of others. 

Consciously or unconsciously, we send the message that we are repulsed or affronted by those whose situations we do not fully understand.

Time and again, Jesus demonstrates that compassion for and engagement with the despised and rejected takes nothing from himself and gives everything to them – restoring them physically, psychologically and socially. If we are willing to learn from his example, we will create a society in which everyone is valued, included and made whole, a world infected and transformed by kingdom of God.

Holding on to Jesus

February 3, 2024

Epiphany 5 – 2024

Mark 1:29-39

Marian Free

In the name of God who will not be held or confined. Amen.

The gospel reading set for today raises far more questions than it answers. What looks like a relatively simple healing story, followed by a story of Jesus’ sense of mission is much, much more. You will remember that Jesus has spent time in the synagogue. There he was confronted by a man with an evil spirit.  When he cast out the demon he raised the ire of the leaders of the synagogue because they interpreted the exorcism as ‘work’, something that was forbidden on the Sabbath. 

In today’s reading Jesus leaves synagogue and goes to the home of Simon and Andrew.  On hearing that Peter’s mother-in-law has a fever, Jesus goes to her, lifts her up and the fever is gone. The mother-in-law immediately gets up and serves them. At sunset – when the Sabbath has ended – people (the whole city!) bring the sick and the possessed to be healed by Jesus. We are not told, but we presume that Jesus has some time to sleep, because he gets up before dawn to find somewhere quiet to pray.

The account seems straight forward, but if we look closer we are left wondering about a number of things.

  1. Why, in a patriarchal society, is Peter’s mother-in-law living in the home of Peter and Andrew? If she is a widow, her sons not her daughter would be responsible for her and yet she is here with Peter.  
  2. If Peter has a mother-in-law, then he has a wife who is never mentioned and is presumably left to run a household and care for children while her husband and sole source of support abandons his job and his family to go with Jesus. 

We learn nothing else about Peter’s family life.

  • Another puzzle is this – why does the author say that the woman (Peter’s mother-in-law) got up and served them? Is it to prove that she is completely made well or is something else happening here. Peter’s wife is the host, it would be her role to serve the guests. The woman’s actions make sense if we understand that in the ancient world healing was seen not just as a cure for the physical ill, but as a restoration of the person to the community.  Serving guests would have been a sign of the woman’s full re-integration into the family and the community. That is well and good but why, one might ask, does the author use the word ‘diakonos’ for serve? Diakonos – the word we use for deacon – is used by Mark only for Peter’s mother-in-law, angels, and Jesus. Is this a hint that women had formal liturgical roles in the Marcan community or played a significant role among the disciples?
  • Another Greek word is equally puzzling. Mark uses the word “katadiöxen” when speaking of the disciples looking for Jesus.  This word can be translated in a number of ways – “hunted” (as in our translation), “pursued”, “looked for”, or “searched for”. ‘Hunted’ gives us a sense of the disciples’ urgency. They have woken to find Jesus missing and are anxious to bring him back. By now, they have seen what Jesus can do, and they know that they want to be part of it. As his disciples, they would also have felt a sense of responsibility for all the people of their city who still seek Jesus’ healing power.
  • Lastly, and this is the question I’d like to focus on, is why, when the crowds are searching for Jesus does he insist on abandoning them and moving to another place?

The author gives us the answer. Jesus responds to the disciples: “Let us go on to the neighbouring towns, so that I may proclaim the message there also; for that is what I came out to do.”

“So that I may proclaim the message there also; for that is what I came out to do.”

Jesus’ primary focus was never on the miraculous, but on the message. It was never about having crowds of adoring fans, but on challenging people to change their lives around. His mission was not to heal, but to proclaim the good news, to teach God’s inclusive, unconditional love and to draw the whole community into a relationship with God that was based not on their observance of the law, but on God’s love for them.  Jesus heals because he can. Jesus heals because he has compassion not because that is what he was sent to do. Jesus casts out demons because they stand between him and his message of love and inclusion. He casts out demons because they hold people in their thrall and keep them separated from the love of God – not because he wants to draw attention to himself. 

Jesus’ mission was never about building his ego as is made clear in the accounts of the wilderness temptations in Matthew and Luke. There, the devil tempts him to turn stones into bread, to jump from the Temple so that the angels can catch him. Jesus resists the temptation to do the showy and obvious – even though that might have been a much quicker way to gain an audience and to build a following. But it is not about him. It is not about what he can do, but about the message he has come to bring.

Jesus knows that some will follow him because of what he has to offer them. He knows too that they will not last the journey.

If we turn Jesus into a miracle worker, we see only the surface. If we want a hero who works magic then we will lose interest when the magic is not in evidence. If we want someone to make everything right, we will fall away when life gets hard.  So when the disciples seek him out and urge him to return, he turns his face away from the easy option. He will not stay and be made a local hero. He will do what he came to do and preach God’s kingdom.

Who is Jesus to you?  Would you like to own and contain him as your personal helper or are you willing to stand on your own two feet, take Jesus’ teaching as your standard and your comfort and let Jesus go so that his message might ring throughout the world?

“Better the devil you know” – man with unclean spirit.

January 27, 2024

Epiphany 4 – 2024

Mark 1:21-28

Marian Free

In the name of God who confronts, disturbs and challenges us. Amen.

Several years ago, I watched a documentary that followed the experiences of a group of people who had recently left an abusive and controlling cult. The cult consisted of only a few – mostly related – families and was led by a man who instructed them on every aspect of their lives which included the harsh discipline of their children. The group who  had left were given safe accommodation and counselling. They were traumatised and anxious about forging a future, but by and large were happy to have broken the spell that the cult leader had cast on them. One woman, however, was stuck. Even though she recognised that the teaching and practices of the cult were damaging to herself and her children, she could not accept the assurance of her fellow-cult leavers, or of the counsellor that she would not go to hell if she left. The teaching of the leader was so deeply ingrained in her that she could not trust that her salvation did not depend on her belonging to the cult. Nothing could convince her that the God of love, represented by the crucified Jesus, would not insist on the degree of subjugation and loss of self that the cult leader demanded. So she returned to something that was awful but familiar, demeaning but clear.

Change can be unsettling and even frightening. There is no guarantee that the change will lead to something better. As they say: “Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t.” It is better to stay in the situation in which you find yourself than to move to another setting which – while looking more attractive – may turn out to be even worse. For example, a person working for a difficult and demanding boss may resist changing jobs on the off chance that a new boss is as bad or worse. Having got used to working in the current job and having made accommodations to that person’s ill-temper, they don’t want to start all over again and possibly have to make allowances for the foibles of another boss. They are unwilling to trust that a position might give them more opportunity, might enable them to work to their full potential, or at the very least free them to work without always having to look over their shoulder. 

But: “Better the devil you know.”

So many people endure unsatisfactory relationships, suffer injustice or put up with poor health because they are afraid that change will make their lives worse rather than better. They choose not to take risks and so never truly know freedom, joy and fulfillment. 

After all: “Better the devil you know.”

I am sure that this saying did not originate in New Testament times, but It seems to me to be particularly apposite with regard to today’s gospel. A man with an unclean spirit recognises Jesus and demands: “What have you to do with us?” The man, it seems, has become used to his present (demon-possessed) state is anxious that his life might be worse if Jesus exorcises the spirit that possesses him. He would rather stay with the devil he knows than risk the wholeness, peace, and freedom that Jesus could offer. His present status may come with all kinds of negatives, but he is so used to living with whatever the demon is  that he cannot possibly imagine an alternative way of being.

Over and over again in the gospels we see those who are possessed by demons wishing Jesus to be anywhere but in their presence. However uncomfortable or distressed they are, they have adjusted to their current position.   Their illness or state of being possessed, may elicit sympathy from the community or it may be a reason to beg for their living. If Jesus casts out the demon they may lose the support that they currently receive or worse, lose their only source of income. 

What seems good to us – health, release from suffering – may for them be a cause of great anxiety and in some ways may not leave them better off. 

This last goes in some way to explain the reaction of the demon-possessed man. Jesus may promise a better future, but who knows? If they take up his offer of healing and wholeness, what is the guarantee that their life will improve? “Better the devil you know!”

Change is difficult and threatening. It can require mental energy and discipline to let go of the way in which we have understood the world and our faith. 

We do not belong to a cult, but that does not mean that we have not been formed by our Sunday School teachers, our preachers and by the literature we read. We do not belong to a cult, but we have probably become used to the norms of the community in which we find ourselves. We do not belong to a cult, but it is not always easy to trust that change is better.

We resist change because it makes us feel uncomfortable, because it takes energy and courage to adjust our ways of thinking and because we cannot see into the future and believe that change will be good not just for us but for our whole community. We resist change because we cannot be 100% certain that we are doing the right thing, and we don’t trust God enough to believe that God will still love us if by any chance we have it wrong.

The man with an unclean spirit does not want to have anything to do with Jesus because accepting Jesus’ love for him will mean that his life will be irrevocably changed, and he does not have the courage to face a different future.

So, when the idea of change makes us feel uncomfortable (whether in our personal lives, in the church or in the world around us), it is important not to dismiss it out of hand. Instead of asking: “What does this have to do with me?” perhaps we should be asking whether the change will liberate us from the devil we know who has bound us into old, out-dated, ungodly ways of thinking and being.  

In other words, is the devil we know really better?

And who is a child of God?

August 20, 2022

Pentecost 11 – 2022
Luke 13:10-17
Marian Free

In the name of God who created us and who loves us as we are. Amen.

– ‘She was asking for it’, ‘What did she expect dressed like that?’ ‘Why was she walking alone at night?’ Victim blaming is endemic – especially in relation to women who are victims of crime. It is assumed that if certain conditions had been met (by the victim) they would not have been harmed, would not be living on the street, would not be a sex worker? Blaming the victim frees the perpetrator of abuse from any sense of culpability. The rapist excuses themselves: ‘I wouldn’t have done this – if you weren’t dressed like that, if you hadn’t wanted it, if you weren’t someone who slept around.’) The child abuser who says: ‘you must want this to let me do it’. Blaming the victim diminishes the likelihood that the victim will take things further and so the perpetrator is let off the hook, doesn’t have to face up to what they have done or to go before a court. Blaming the victim means that (at least until recent times) the burden of proof has been on the victim not the perpetrator.

As a society we have many ways of distancing ourselves from the sufferings of others; making their suffering/isolation/experience of abuse their fault – not ours, not the social structures, not the government of the day. If it is not our fault, we are free from any responsibility for their suffering and therefore from any need to take action. Victim-blaming reinforces the way things are and resists any attempt at change.

Today’s gospel is an unusual, apparently stand-alone story that occurs only in Luke’s gospel. It is a healing story that interrupts a series of sayings and parables and Jesus’ observations about the signs of the times. The setting, the time frame and therefore the audience changes. Whereas Jesus was outside, now he he is in a synagogue. Whereas he was addressing the crowds who had gathered in their thousands (12:21) now his audience is limited to only those who can fit in the synagogue. Previously we had no idea what day of the week it was, but now we are told that is a sabbath.

Despite that at first glance, the story of the bent over woman is deceptively simple – a woman who has been bent over for 18 years appears in the synagogue and Jesus heals her. A closer look though, reveals a number of important details. Jesus is teaching when the woman appears in the synagogue. He sees the woman, stops teaching, and calls her to him. He says: “Woman you are set free” and then he lays his hands on her. The woman responds by standing up straight and praising God.

Jesus sees the woman and sees her pain, her exclusion, and her diminished lifestyle. It doesn’t occur to him to wonder if she deserves to be healed. He doesn’t ask the causes of her condition – bad diet, accident, abuse. How she got here doesn’t matter to him. It is how she goes forward – healed, restored to her community, and freed to live a full and integrated life – that is of interest to him.

It is the reaction of the leader of the synagogue that is surprising – not that he is irritated (we are used to Jesus eliciting that sort of behaviour). As we might expect, the leader of the synagogue is outraged that Jesus should be ‘working’ on the Sabbath but, instead of directing his anger at Jesus, he engages in victim-blaming. It is the woman’s fault that Jesus has broken the law! Addressing everyone present the synagogue leader reminds them that there are six days on which work can be done, six other days on which they can seek out healing from Jesus. If they want to be healed, they should come on those days – not the Sabbath. In other words, he is saying don’t come to the synagogue on the Sabbath if you are seeking healing, comfort, or release. Don’t come to the synagogue if you want to be restored to the community, if you want to be declared a child of God!

Jesus sets the woman free, whereas the synagogue leader wants people to remain where they are – bound by their condition, bound by his interpretation of the law. Believing that he is upholding the law, the synagogue has lost sight of the law. Believing that he is confronting a challenge to God’s sovereignty, he is in fact denying God’s sovereignty.

So many things can weigh us down and there are so many ways in which culture and society can make us feel responsible for our situation, situations for which sometimes there really is no way out. Today, as in Jesus’ time, poor health, disability, race, poverty, gender diversity, same-sex attraction, childhood abuse, domestic violence, and much more, separate people from their peers, their communities and even from their churches.

Today’s gospel which “challenges all who have settled into narrow interpretations of Scripture or ungenerous theological positions – those who miss the heart of what it may mean to be a ‘new creation in Christ’ (2 Cor 5:17)” is timely. During the week, news broke that GAFCON has created a company which they have named the “Anglican Diocese of the Southern Cross.” There are many reasons for the action, but according to reports the decision is based primarily on their objection to the blessing of same-sex marriages . As the Rev’d Penny Jones wrote, this is another example of
“when queer Anglicans yet again being made to unjustly to feel shame and as though somehow this fracture is ‘their fault’” – a case of victim-blaming .

When we use scripture to enslave and weigh down any of God’s children, we have lost sight of the Jesus who came to set us free. When we oppress and exclude any of God’s children, we have lost sight of the Jesus who came to make us whole. When we hold fast to rules or tenets of faith in the belief that we are preserving the truth of the gospel, we align ourselves with the synagogue leader and demonstrate that we have lost sight of the Jesus who broke the rules and who came to turn everything upside down (healing on the Sabbath, re-interpreting scripture and challenging church practice).

I want to say to all my rainbow brothers and sisters, to all who feel bowed down and who feel that their wholeness is denied – Jesus sees you and if Jesus sees you it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. Stand tall, children of God.

Praying for a miracle

February 3, 2018

Epiphany 5 – 2018

Mark 1:29-39

Marian Free

In the name of God who brings us to newness of life and calls us into service. Amen.

For the last eighteen months or so, I have been praying for a miracle. A young woman of my acquaintance has terminal cancer. The best that the medical community can do is to delay the inevitable. To that end Mary, who gave birth to her child shortly before the cancer was diagnosed, is enduring endless surgery and chemotherapy in the hope that she might live long enough to see her child go to school. I have been praying for a miracle – hoping against hope and against all evidence to the contrary that somehow the cancer can be reversed, that the damage to this Mary’s body can be sufficiently healed that she can watch her child grow to adulthood, that her child can have a mother and her husband a wife. I am praying for a miracle because I believe in miracles not because I expect a miracle or understand what a miracle is or when a miracle happens. I am certain that God acts in this world in ways that we cannot begin to understand, but I am equally certain that we cannot control or manipulate God or force God to do our will. So I am praying for a miracle, but I am also praying that my friend will know the presence of God in her life as she faces whatever future lies ahead of her.

It is true that the gospels record instances of Jesus’ healing all kinds of injury and ailments. There is even evidence that Jesus raises the dead. Jesus quite clearly responds with compassion to those in need and we can be confident that he was able to perform miracles. In reporting Jesus’ miracles the intention of the gospel writers is more complex than simply presenting Jesus as one miracle worker among many. The gospel accounts of Jesus’ healing are multi-layered and are intended to expose more than the surface event. Today’s gospel reading, in particular the account of the healing of Peter’s mother-in-law, is an example of the complexity of Mark’s story-telling and an indication that his intention is not so much to reveal Jesus as a healer but to point to the deeper meaning of Jesus’ ministry and purpose.

Reading the story in isolation fails to do it justice. Mark skillfully works into this account for example, that the occasion is a Sabbath day (Jesus has just been in the synagogue where he has cast out a demon). In these verses, we see that Jesus moves between public and private spaces – synagogue, house, crowds, wilderness and towns in Galilee. At the same time Jesus’ fame is spreading and this serves to increase the tension not only between Jesus and the sources of evil, but also between Jesus and the authorities.

At the heart of today’s reading is the healing of Jesus’ mother-in-law. All the elements of this story are important. The one healed is a family member. She has a fever – something that in the first century could lead to death. As a result of her illness the woman is no longer able to function in the way that she normally would. She is unable to play her role in society. The woman is at risk of dying, restricted in what she can do and her social interactions have been significantly curtailed.

Jesus responds by taking her hand (as he does in many other healing stories) and raising her up. The Greek word translated as ‘lifted’ is in fact the word for ‘raised’. This word appears in a number of healing stories and, of course, points forward to Jesus own resurrection. As a result of Jesus’ actions the fever leaves the woman (as the demon left the man in the previous story). Restored to health and life, the woman ‘serves’ those who are present.

It is this last that is most misunderstood. Some have tried to theologise or explain away this part of the story. Others are concerned that the woman is being returned to the domestic sphere (being kept in her place as it were). What we see however is that Mark’s account of the healing conforms to the pattern that is generally used for miracle stories: the healer touches the person – who is cured instantly and who then acts in such a way that it is clear that they have been healed. The woman’s service then is an indication that she has been cured – she is doing what women do – it is also more than that. The Greek word ‘diakonos’ means to serve food or to wait on tables. (It is from Acts 6 and the choice of Gentiles to serve at tables that our ministry of the diaconate has emerged.) Mark then may be intending to suggest that Peter’s mother-in-law is exercising a form of ministry or discipleship. The word ‘diakonos’ is used for discipleship in Mark 9:33-37 and 10:43-45 and of the women who followed Jesus in Mark 15:41. Jesus’ own ministry is described in terms of service. It is possible then, that rather than confining Peter’s mother-in-law to the domestic sphere, Mark is opening up possibilities for ministry and discipleship.

For the author of Mark’s gospel miracles have a significance in and of themselves but more important is their significance for our understanding of Jesus’ mission and of our response to that mission.

I will continue to pray for a miracle, but I will do so as I have: aware that Mark reports on the miracles of Jesus, not so much as events of themselves but as a sign that Jesus can raise people from lives that are deadening into lives that are fulfilling, that Jesus restores the lost to their families and their communities and gives meaning to their existence and that those who have been raised from death to life respond through discipleship and service. Above all when Jesus raises the sick to wholeness, he is pointing forward to his own resurrection and to the assurance that no matter whether we are healed or not in this life we will all, with Jesus, be raised to life eternal.

(I am indebted to Cynthia Briggs Kettridge for some of these ideas http://www.workingpreaching.org and to Ben Witherington III for the reminder about the structure of miracle stories The Gospel of Mark a Social-Rhetorical Commentary.)

Exposed for all to see

August 29, 2015

Pentecost 14 – 2015

Mark 7:1-8, 14-23

Marian Free

 

Lord our God, our Creator, Redeemer and Sanctifier, we ask you to cleanse us from all hypocrisy, to unite us to our fellow men and women by the bonds of peace and love, and to confirm us in holiness now and forever. Amen.

Last week we looked – in a rather light-hearted way – at a number of the reasons people give for not inviting others to church. As I reflected on some of those reasons, it occurred to me that not one of us mentioned that the church was perceived as hypocritical. In the latter half of the last century if not before, the accusation of hypocrisy was often leveled at the church and used to justify non-attendance. If the subject of church attendance was raised, we were as likely as not to be told: “I don’t go to church, the church is full of hypocrites”. Those who made the accusation felt that the lives of churchgoers did not match the values and morals that they proclaimed to uphold. To be fair, this statement was made in an age in which the church had set itself up as the moral guardian of society at large and not only did many people feel burdened by the sometimes harsh demands placed on them, but on more than one occasion the church or its members had spectacularly fallen from grace. Issues such as fraud, adultery and underage sex all made front-page headlines and demonstrated that even members of the church were unable to achieve the high standards that they set for others.

The reputation of the church was seriously eroded long before the more recent revelations of the prevalence of child sex abuse in the church and its agencies.

It has been a long time since I have heard the hypocrisy of the church used as a reason for someone not to come to worship or as a justification for abandoning the faith. The reason for this is simple. Over the last decade or so the human frailty of the church has been laid bare for all to see. In the light of catastrophic failures such as child sex abuse it has become impossible for the church to continue to claim the high moral ground and difficult for us to impose on others standards of behaviour that we ourselves cannot consistently achieve. Collectively, we have been forced to concede that we cannot always live out what we preach.

I don’t know about you, but I find this new situation strangely liberating. It means is that we no longer have to pretend. Instead of trying to present a perfect face to the world, we can now be honest about our brokenness and frailty. Instead of standing apart from (dare I say above) society as a whole, we can admit our common humanity. Instead of constantly striving to be what we are not, we can finally relax and let people see us as we really are – imperfect, struggling human beings, set apart only by virtue of our belief in the God revealed by Jesus Christ.

While the exterior of the church may be tarnished and our failures laid bare for all to see, we have been set free from the unnecessary burden of pretence. Now that there is no longer anything left to hide, now that it is impossible to pretend that we are something that we are not, we can concentrate on our true vocation – being in a relationship with the God who accepts us as we are, frees us from guilt and fear and challenges us to strive for wholeness and peace – for ourselves and for others.

Our gospel this morning warns us against giving priority to rules in the belief that somehow we can achieve a degree of godliness simply by our own efforts. It is a reminder that it is what we try to be, not what we pretend to be that really matters. Authentic living, the gospel suggests, means that we should not elevate our public image at the expense of an honest and authentic engagement with and identification with the world at large.

These are lessons that for today’s church have been hard-won but, thanks to the failures of the past, it is much clearer now that the church (the Christian faith) is less about codes of behaviour and more about love, less about being good and more about being with God, less about judgement and more about forgiveness, less about guilt and more about acceptance, less about anxiety and more about confidence, less about exclusion and more about inclusion and most importantly that it is less about putting on a face and more about being real.

We come to church, not because we believe that we are better than everyone else, but because we know that we are not. We come to church as we are – broken and lost – knowing that we are assured of a welcome from the God who forgives the sinner, seeks the lost, embraces the prodigal, lifts the fallen and who longs to heal, forgive and restore a humanity that has lost its way.

This is what we (the church) have to offer the world – not a false image of perfection, but an assurance that God who loved us enough to die for us, is waiting with outstretched arms until each of us finds our way home.

 

As Rowan Williams said in his enthronement sermon: “The one great purpose of the Church’s existence is to share that bread of life, to hold open in its words and actions a place where we can be with Jesus and to be channels for his free, unanxious, utterly demanding, grown-up love. The Church exists to pass on the promise of Jesus – You can live in the presence of God without fear; you can receive from God’s fullness and set others free from fear and guilt.”

 

We cannot go it alone

February 14, 2015

Transfiguration
Mark 9:2-9
Marian Free

In the name of God whose engagement with the world draws us into engagement with God. Amen.

Last week I was struck by the number of similarities between last week’s gospel and this week’s account of the Transfiguration. In both instances Jesus has been pressed in upon by people demanding his attention, seeking healing or simply desiring to be in his presence. After both occasions Jesus withdraws to a mountain to gather his strength and to reconnect with God. After the healing of Peter’s mother-in-law, Jesus wakes early in the morning and goes to a “deserted place” by himself to pray. He gets little peace, because Peter and his companions seek him out. (The Greek is even stronger – it reads “hunted him”). “Everyone is seeking you”, they say. It seems that those who have experienced his ministry and his healing power do not want to let him go. They try to draw him back, to keep him to themselves. That is not possible. Jesus informs them that he doesn’t belong to them or even to their small part of the world. His role, as he understands it, is to spread his teaching to as broad a group of people as possible. His ability to heal, belongs not to a few, but to all the world. He had not come into the world to be a local miracle worker. His mission could not be restricted nor could his healing power be owned by just a few.

There are differences and similarities between this account and today’s account of the Transfiguration. Again, the crowds, recognising what Jesus can offer, have allowed him little respite. “They have been with me three days” – three days with no time to himself, no time to think! Jesus’ personal resources must have been stretched to the limit. He has fed five thousand people with seven loaves and some small fish, he has returned sight to the blind, argued with the Pharisees and had the emotionally draining experience of trying to share with the disciples what the future has in store for him. (A task made even more difficult by Peter’s refusal to understand.) As in the first chapter, Jesus’ response to the pressure is to take time apart, to go to a place where he is unlikely to be disturbed, a place in the wilderness where he can take stock and allow God to minister to him and to restore him to himself. On this occasion Jesus does not go alone. He takes with him his closest friends, those who will share the most intimate parts of his journey – Peter, James and John. In doing this, he exposes them to the nature of his relationship with God and gives them a glimpse into who he really is.

This moment is more dramatic than his quiet prayer in the wilderness. On this occasion his experience of the presence of God is not only tangible, it is transformative. Before the disciples’ eyes, Jesus is physically transfigured – his clothes become dazzling white. Even more amazing, the disciples witness Jesus speaking with those giants of the Israelties’ faith – Moses and Elijah. On this occasion too, Peter wants to hold on to the moment. At the beginning of Jesus’ ministry, Peter and his companions want to keep Jesus to themselves. Now, on the mountain, Peter seeks to capture and contain the experience, to hold on to the moment, he does not want to let go of such a tangible, affirming encounter with the holy. “Let us make three tents” he says. Just as he did not want Jesus to leave his home town, so now he doesn’t want this amazing encounter to come to an end.

One can imagine that Jesus might have been tempted to stay, to take the easy way out, to abdicate his responsibilities, to avoid the demands of the crowds and to evade the eventual consequences of his mission. But the whole point of his being here, the purpose of the incarnation is that he share in the full human experience. So while he takes time apart to replenish his resources and while his intimacy with God is such that he like Peter might have wanted to rest in it forever, Jesus plunges back into the messiness of human existence – (to be greeted at the foot of the mountain, by yet another situation that demands his full d undivided attention, a situation, which Jesus informs us can only be dealt with because his life is sustained by his relationship with God – by prayer.)

In the wilderness and on the mountaintop, Jesus spends time with God. Here he allows God to fill him, here he ensures that he has the strength and resources that are required to meet the demands that will be made upon him, he he gives God the opportunity to strengthen him to face any of the difficulties that he might face in his life’s journey. Empowered by God he can face anything and do anything. It is God’s presence in and with him that gives Jesus the ability to share the good news of the Kingdom, to heal the sick and cast out demons.

If our lives are to be informed by and empowered by God, we too must find time to be with God, we must discover our own place apart, allow God to restore and heal us, give God room to work in and through us.

With Jesus, we must learn that our busyness and our engagement with the world must be fueled by the presence of God and that the presence of God in our lives will in turn send us back into the world to be a sign of God’s presence in the chaos and turmoil of what it means to be human. In the end, we cannot do it alone, but only in the power of God

Gloria revisited – authenticity exposed

January 31, 2015

Epiphany 4 – 2015

Mark 1:21-28

Marian Free

In the name of God who gives us freedom to stay as we are or to grow into the fullness of life. Amen.

In a different lifetime, I studied Psychology at the University of Queensland. One of my subjects was Counselling Psychology. The course introduced us to the wide variety of techniques and theories that were in vogue at the time. During one of the lectures we were shown a video of three different therapies. The client, Gloria was a real person who was to be rewarded for her participation by being allowed to choose one of the three to be her therapist. The film had such an impact that a Google search shows that the film is still being used and that as recently as 2013 Counselling tutors and others were uploading the video on their blogs.

Of the three techniques explored, by far the most direct and confrontational was that of Fritz Perls, who with his wife developed Gestalt Therapy. This form of therapy aimed to try to get hold of what was obvious, to focus on the surface, the present moment, rather all the client to retreat into the past or worry about the future. The role of the therapist was, among other things, to identify game playing and to assist the client to be authentic.

Perls’ session with Gloria was fascinating. Throughout the half hour he continually drew attention to what Gloria was doing – that fact that she smiled even though she said she was anxious, that she was swinging her feet, rolling her arms and so on. Gloria’s reaction to this was to resist. She became angry and frustrated. Instead of backing off, the therapist kept focusing on her and how she was reacting. Time after time he called her on her attempts to hide her real feelings and time after time he accused her of being phony. Gloria became very uncomfortable, at times fighting back angrily and telling the therapist not only what she thought of him, but how she thought he should behave, how he should treat her. Perls was not deterred. Instead, he encouraged Gloria to express herself, pointing out that it was when she let fly, that she was more truly herself than when she was putting on a face in order to hide her true feelings, or to protect herself from hurt.

Gloria did not appreciate being accused of being a phony, but it was very clear that she did not want Perls to see that she was vulnerable and anxious. It was equally obvious that she did not want to admit that it was her very refusal to be authentic that was the source of the problem that had brought her to therapy. She would have preferred the therapist to be more paternal rather than confronting and challenging her.

Whenever Perls challenged Gloria to recognise that she was putting on an act, Gloria reacted strongly. She didn’t like being seen for who she really was, she didn’t want to believe that she was phony and she didn’t like being exposed. She admitted that it was easier to retreat into her corner where she felt safe and secure. There was a sense that in some way she would rather stay as she was than to do the hard work that it would take to achieve her goal.

In the first century there was nothing like medical science as we know it and certainly nothing like therapy. The explanation for illness or disability of any kind tended to be that it was the result of sin or of demon possession. In today’s gospel, Jesus is teaching in the synagogue when he is confronted by an unclean spirit who calls out: “What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are, the Holy One of God.” To our twenty first century ears, it seems like an odd reaction – especially given what we know of Jesus. Why would someone who was sick or possessed repel Jesus? Why would someone who was suffering think that Jesus had come to destroy and not help him?

Gloria’s story gives us some clues to the man’s reaction to Jesus. The unclean spirit apparently sensed that Jesus saw straight through him. Knowing his that his weaknesses were exposed, he like our modern day Gloria, came out fighting. The man did not want to be helped by Jesus if it meant that his vulnerabilities and weaknesses had first of all to be identified and exposed. He would rather remain bound by his afflictions than let anyone – especially not Jesus – see who he really was.

Like Gloria and the man with the unclean spirit, many of us try to conceal the aspects of ourselves that we are afraid will expose us to ridicule or disdain. We cover up our vulnerabilities and weaknesses because we worry that people would think less of us if they knew who we really were. Some of us would rather live with pain and discomfort than admit that we need help. We don’t want others to think that we can’t cope or that our families are less than perfect. We hide our uncertainties so that others can’t accuse us of being weak or indecisive.

All this deceit and self-deception is exhausting and futile. In the end, the only person whom we deceive is our self. We waste so much time pretending, when we could be expending that time living.

The gospel assures us that God loves us as and where we are, that we have nothing to hide and nothing to fear. Jesus came to offer wholeness and healing, to give to each and everyone of us the opportunity to live life to the full, unfettered by anxiety, timidity or fear and unconcerned by what others might think.

In the end, we can’t hide from God, so why would we hide from ourselves? God wants to work in our lives. Jesus wants us to experience his dynamic, healing presence in our lives, but we have to want to be changed. We have r allow the Holy Spirit to work in and with us to radically transform and empower us and to bring us to wholeness and peace.

Taking our eyes off Jesus

August 9, 2014

Pentecost 9 – 2014

Matthew 14:22-36

Marian Free

 

In the name of God who stretches out his hand and holds us when we falter. Amen.

 

One night I dreamed I was walking along the beach with the Lord.

Many scenes from my life flashed across the sky.

In each scene I noticed footprints in the sand.

Sometimes there were two sets of footprints,

other times there were one set of footprints.

This bothered me because I noticed

that during the low periods of my life,

when I was suffering from

anguish, sorrow or defeat,

I could see only one set of footprints.

So I said to the Lord,
 ‘You promised me Lord,

that if I followed you, 
you would walk with me always.

But I have noticed that during the most trying periods of my life

there have only been one set of footprints in the sand.

Why, when I needed you most, you have not been there for me?’

The Lord replied,

‘The times when you have seen only one set of footprints in the sand,

is when I carried you.’

-Mary Stevenson

 

This poem adorns cards bookmarks, placemats, wall hangings, plates and a vast number of other things. It is a reminder that while we might take our eyes off Jesus, Jesus never takes his eyes off us.

Like most gospel stories this morning’s gospel reading is packed with detail.

You may remember from last week, that Jesus sought solitude after the death of John the Baptist and that he and his disciples got in a boat to go to a deserted place. His plan was foiled by the crowds who followed him seeking healing. Jesus’ compassion was such that instead of sending them away, he not only healed them, but he also fed them. It is now evening. Jesus commands the disciples to get into the boat. Then he dismisses the crowd. He himself remains behind to pray (his reason for being in the mountains in the first place).

When the disciples are a significant distance from land, the wind and waves build up and (according to the Greek) “torture” the boat[1]. This is not unusual. The Sea of Galilee is surrounded by mountains. When a wind causes the cool air from the mountains down to meet the warm air of the lake, the change in air pressure means that storms spring up suddenly and without warning. The lake is relatively shallow which means that waves build up more rapidly than they would in deeper water. We know that at least some of the disciples are fishermen and used to weathering stormy seas. This would explain why they do not appear to be afraid of the storm or the wind – even though they appear to have been battling the waves for several hours.

They are not afraid until – sometime between 3 am and dawn – they see a figure that they presume to be a ghost, walking on the water towards them. Terrified, they call out in fear, but Jesus – for of course, that is who it is – responds: “It is I, do not be afraid.” Both phrases are significant. The words: “It is I” are reminiscent of God’s words to Moses from the burning bush. I AM being the self- designation of God. Jesus is identifying himself to the disciples. At the same time he is identifying himself as divine. “Do not be afraid,” is also a familiar phrase. These are the words of the angel to Mary and to Joseph and to the shepherds in the fields. A natural response to the presence of God is fear or awe and from Genesis onwards, God’s representatives are careful always to allay that fear with the words, “Do not be afraid”.

Jesus is present but the storm continues to rage. The storm is not the source of the disciples’ fear, nor is the purpose of this story to demonstrate Jesus’ power over the storm.

Peter, who from now on, becomes the spokesperson for or the representative of the disciples wants to be sure that it is Jesus. Perhaps too he is testing Jesus’ divinity – if Jesus is “I am” then surely he will be able to empower Peter to come to him on the water. Jesus’ command: “Come!” makes the impossible possible. Peter gets out of the boat and walks on the water towards Jesus. At first all is well. Then Peter sees the wind (or more likely the effects of the wind). He loses confidence and begins to sink. Terrified, he calls out to be saved. Jesus reaches out to catch him, at the same time chiding him for having little faith and asking why he wavered or doubted. Together they get into the boat. Only then does the wind stop.

Astounded by what has happened, those in the boat realise that Jesus is the Son of God and the fall down and worship him.

The chapter ends as it began with large crowds seeking out Jesus in order that he might heal their sick.

For the ancients the sea was the place of chaos and evil. It was volatile and uncontrollable. That Peter left the boat at all is evidence of his faith and confidence in Jesus. That he faltered when he realised the danger in which he had placed himself is perfectly understandable. Jesus might chide Peter, but blind faith is not a pre-condition for Jesus’ saving grace.

Faith enables us to do extraordinary things and to face terrifying and demoralising situations. Responding to the call of God empowers us to do things we could not otherwise do – to step out of the safety of our figurative boats and to walk across the stormy seas of life. There will be times when we walk with assurance with our eyes firmly fixed on Jesus, but there may also be times when we falter. When we are overcome with confusion or grief, when we are weighed down with despair or guilt or when misfortune hits us out of the blue we can forget that Jesus is present with us or waiting ahead of us. At those times we can be sure that even if we forget, Jesus will not forsake us and that, when we call out in terror, Jesus will stretch out his hand and pull us to safety. The storm that had threatened to overwhelm us has been stilled.

We will discover that Jesus does not put limits on his compassion or his love nor does he place conditions on his help. Just as he did not abandon Peter to the sea, he will not abandon us in those times when our faith is tested or when our confidence in him has grown weak. Our faltering faith may mean that there are times in our lives when we take our eyes off Jesus, but no matter how much we waver, Jesus will never take his eyes off us.

 

[1] (The Sea of Galilee is not a sea at all but a large inland lake. It is formed between the steep cliffs of a wadi where the Jordan spreads out across the Rift Valley. The sea itself is 680 feet below sea level and the surrounding mountains reach up to 2000 feet in height. This means that while the valley enjoys a temperate climate the mountaintops get quite cold. When a wind rises in the east it brings the cold air down to the lake and when the cool air meets the warm the resultant change in air pressure mean that storms can spring up suddenly and without warning. The lake is quite shallow – 141 metres – and this means that it takes no time for waves to build up.)