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How do we know it’s Jesus?

December 14, 2025

Advent 3 – 2026

Matthew 11:2-11

Marian Free

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

 

Recently I have come to understand the appeal of ‘the rapture’ – the idea that Jesus’ return will be accompanied by angels with trumpets and those who are considered worthy will be swept into heaven while the unworthy will be left to face the utter destruction of the world. It occurs to me that believing in the rapture makes everything so easy. When Jesus returns it will be clear that it really is Jesus – angels, trumpets and the raising of the dead will be obvious to all and are definitely not associated with any other expectation. It will it be impossible to miss the rapture (and Jesus’ return). The other advantage of the rapture is that belief in the rapture is that it has the effect of taking away personal responsibility. Somehow the belief itself  builds up confidence in believers that they are among the ones who will be gathered up because they are among the chosen.

According to this the surprise has been taken away. Jesus’ warning that the day will come as a thief in the night is conveniently ignored. The timing of the rapture can apparently be predicted. Those who believe in the rapture do not have to worry about being prepared, because they have prepared themselves simply by being members of  the believing group. (The fact as recently as this year the prediction failed to come to fruition does not seem to worry adherents, they will happily accept the explanations offered for its failure to materialise.)

Another flaw in this belief is that those who believe in the rapture also seem to think that the rapture will occur in a particular place at a particular time and that believers have to be in that place to be gathered up. This would imply that Jesus’ coming at the end of time will not be a universal, but a very limited event OR that those of us who are not in the in crowd will simply  be left behind.

I’ve been thinking about the rapture, not because some people expected it occur in September this year, but because I’ve also been pondering Jesus’ return – how it will happen and how we will know. It seems to me that if it was difficult for people to recognise Jesus in a tiny nation with a relatively small population how much more difficult will it be today when the population has blown out from 170 – 300 million to around 8.26 billion. How would the word spread? How would we know if it really was Jesus if he appeared in a place a long way distant from where we live to a people with a culture very different from ours? If say, people in Mongolia were convinced that Jesus had come among them, what would they need to do to convince the rest of us to believe them?  Even if Jesus came to a city like Brisbane with a population of nearly 3 million, most of us would only hear rumours that someone amazing was making a difference in the lives of the poor and marginalised. It would be easier not to believe that it was Jesus, easier to believe that those making the claims were simply religious fanatics.

For me this has always been a challenging issue.  We are led to expect that when Jesus comes it will be glaringly obvious – angels and trumpets making the announcement so clear that no one will miss it but is that really how it will be?

In today’s world which is surely as rife with injustice, inequality and conflict as that of the first century there are thousands of good, selfless people, risking their lives and living simply in order to bring healing and hope in places of despair and turmoil. In a time of heightened expectation (or despair) anyone of a number of today’s heroes could be named as (or could claim to be) the one sent by God.

So you see I have a great deal of sympathy for John the Baptist. His successful ministry has brought him into conflict with Herod and he is now in prison – a particularly unpleasant place to be in the first century. He will not have known what the future would bring, but it is not surprising that he is questioning his choices, asking himself if he got it right, if Jesus really was the one who was to come. (After all in his time too there were many ‘messianic’ figures.) John had handed his ministry to Jesus but he is not seeing the dramatic changes he might have expected – the nation as a whole has not turned back to God, the Romans continue their oppressive rule and Jesus is not behaving in a way that will bring about radical change. He must have wondered whether he had got it right.

Jesus’ reply echoes the words of God in the Psalms and in Isaiah, in which God’s promise is that the blind will receive their sight, the lame will walk, the lepers will cleansed, the prisoners set free, the deaf will  hear, and the dead will raised. These subtle signs are evidence of God’s presence on earth but they are signs that we might miss. It is much easier as John’s question attests to look for the more dramatic, earth-shattering signs of disruption and the heavenly signs of angels and trumpets.

If we are to know Jesus at his coming, it is essential that we come to know Jesus now, that we open our hearts and lives to his transforming love, that we seek to understand (and practice in our own lives) his preference for the marginalised, and that we are always on the lookout for signs of his presence among us now. If we are really attuned to him now not only will our lives already be lived as if he were here, but we will not fail to meet him when he returns (in glory or not).

 

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Pointing beyond ourselves. Advent 2

December 6, 2025

Advent 2 – 2025

Matthew 3:1-12

Marian Free

In the name of God who calls us to point away from ourselves to God. Amen.

I am the first born in my family, so I have very little experience of what it is to live in someone else’s shadow. No one has ever said to me: “You’re not as clever as or as good as Marian.”  No teacher, guide leader or other adult has ever been able to compare me with a family member who came before me. No one has had unrealistic expectations of me based on what an older sibling achieved before me.  I do know that this is a realty for many younger siblings – always having to live up to some sort of standard set by the eldest, always having their own gifts and talents ignored. It is slightly different if the younger excels more than the elder but differences between siblings tend not to go unnoticed – at least by the siblings themselves.

This week I found myself wondering about John the Baptist, and whether his childhood and youth was overshadowed by that of his cousin, Jesus. John’s calling was predicted before his birth, and it is clear that by the time he was thirty he was living out his vocation and that he had a passion for God that drew a significant following (one sufficiently strong that it continues to this day). It makes you wonder: How did he feel when his younger cousin Jesus came along and started preaching the same message: “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near”? 

If Luke’s account is correct John, even though he was the elder by a few months, must have always been overshadowed by Jesus.  You can imagine some of the conversations when he was growing up: “John, it is true that God has given you a role to play, but your role is to support not to outshine Jesus.” “John, I know that your father prophesied many things about you, but remember your task is to point away from yourself to Jesus. You are to prepare the way, but Jesus will be the way.”  “Yes I know that you and Jesus are the same age that he is allowed to drink, but the angel specifically said that you were not to drink wine or strong drink.”

I wonder if there were times when a teenaged John quietly raged against the expectations that were placed on him – even before he was born. I wonder too, if there weren’t times when he was furious that his younger cousin had so much more freedom, possibly even fewer expectations. Were there moments when John thought that it was simply unfair that Jesus, who didn’t even have his priestly heritage, was chosen for the more important role? Were here times when the idea that he had to serve his younger cousin simply rankled? Later, after John had begun his ministry, fired up with a desire to restore the people to their right relationship with God, calling them to turn their lives around, did he feel just a pang of resentment when Jesus came along to steal his thunder, to draw his disciples away from him and to begin a movement of his own? 

From before his birth John was destined to be the forerunner, to always be in Jesus’ shadow. Our scriptures and religious art smooth over any questions John might have had about the clear distinctions between the two but that is not to say that there were not tensions or misunderstandings. After all, prophet or not, John was a real person with real feelings and almost certainly with real failings. To make him a super human is to do him a disservice. It also diminishes his role as a model and guide to those of us who come after.

That John was very much a human being will be made evident in next week’s gospel when, despite his confidence at Jesus’ baptism, John, now in prison, begins to question whether Jesus really is the one who is to come.

In order for us to identify with John we have to see in him characteristics that we can reasonably emulate. 

Whether or not John felt the imbalance between himself and Jesus, it is clear from our gospel accounts that at least once he had begun his ministry John understood that his vocation was to prepare the way. This he does with such grace. Even as the people, including the church leaders, throng to him he resists creating his own movement but points away from himself to Jesus, with whom, he says he is not worthy to be compared. 

John may well have known his destiny from birth, but as we have the story, he was one of those rare people who was willing to allow himself to diminish so that someone else could flourish, he was able to allow someone else take the credit for the movement he had begun, and to allow that person to take his movement forward and in a different direction.

John, as we meet him in scriptures, models what it is to be people who point the way to God and who draw others into faithful relationship with Jesus. He models what it is to proclaim the one who has come and is coming. He encourages us to prepare the way for God – smoothing away the difficulties that prevent people from engaging with the faith and removing the obstacles of bad theology and bad behaviour that turns good people away. He reminds us that if others take the credit for the ground work we have done, we are to rejoice that someone has come to faith and not be resentful that we have not received praise for simply doing what we are called to do. He shows us that instead of drawing attention to our own talents and abilities, we are to encourage and build up others so that they might discover and develop their own gifts and abilities. 

In Advent we the church proclaim the coming of Jesus. May we with John, point away from ourselves so that others might see Jesus, enable others to develop and flourish (even at our own expense) and rejoice when seeds that we have sown take root and grow under someone else’s watchful eye. 

Preparing the way, is never about us but always about the one who is to come.

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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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Preparing the way

December 7, 2024

Advent 2 – 2024

Luke 3:1-6

Marian Free

In the name of God who constantly surprises and whose presence and purpose catch us off guard. Amen.

 

It is said that Albrecht Durer’s sculpture of his brother’s praying hands was a tribute to the sacrifices that Enders, also an aspiring artist, made on behalf of Albrecht. The family who were goldsmiths did not have enough money for both brothers to become artists, so Endres remained at home while Albrecht went to Art School. The story goes that when Albrecht returned and saw the gnarled hands of his brother, he asked him to pose as if in prayer. The result was a carving that has been much copied in 3D and as a drawing/painting.

There are many stories of people who foster the talent of another – sometimes at the cost of their own work. It is possible that Australian author Charmaine Cliff may have been a more prolific author had she not married George Johnston and supported his writing career sometimes at the expense of her own. Parents often put the needs of their children before their own ambitions. In bygone eras women were expected to prioritize their spouses’ career no matter how talented, educated or intelligent they were. Others, recognizing their husband’s gifts sometimes took a step back and of course, there have always been men who encouraged and supported women whose contribution to knowledge, medicine, art they saw as more important than their own careers.

Sometimes such sacrifices build resentments and disappointment but often they are derived from a genuine belief in the other’s giftedness and a real desire to see them succeed and to contribute to their craft, the advancement of knowledge and so on.

An alternative – chosen by most couples in todays world – is that both members of a partnership make compromises so that each may flourish, even if it means that, at least for a time, neither flies as high as they might.

John the Baptist is something of an anachronism. He appears, seemingly out of nowhere, an obscure ‘prophet’ living in the wilderness – possibly known only to a few. Only Luke provides any backstory – his miraculous conception and his naming – but even then we know nothing of his childhood or early adulthood. What we are told is that the word of God came to him in the wilderness and propelled him to travel throughtout Judea proclaiming a baptism of repentance.

It is not even clear that he proclaimed the coming of Christ – only that he announced the coming of God’s wrath.

Just as there was no adequate Old Testament image for Jesus the Christ, so there was no exact model for John the forerunner. The gospel writers, knowing that John emerged from the wilderness, used the only OT text that seemed to fit – a voice in the wilderness. Isaiah’s voice proclaimed disruption and chaos. John, however, preached repentance for forgiveness. He didn’t preach the coming of Jesus, but the coming of God’s wrath. As there was no image that was an easy fit for John, the evangelists seem to have found a text that referred to a voice in the wilderness – even if that voice declared God’s violent, disruptive, world-shaking coming into the world to set things right, rather than the quiet coming of a gentle, forgiving, inclusive, peasant from Galilee.

John had a number of roles in the gospels, none of which are presaged in the Old Testament. He prepared the hearts of the people so that they would acknowledge and repent their failure to live in relationship with God. John was used a a scene setter. He prepared the stage for Jesus, making it clear to the readers of the gospels that Jesus didn’t emerge in a vacuum. God had sent someone before him, preparing the way, turning hearts of God (and maybe making them aware of their shortcomings). John’s role was to make it clear that Jesus was not unexpected. He was announced (at least at his baptism) and that therefore the people had no excuse for not recognising him.

A third role fulfilled by John was that of putting his own interests last, allowing Jesus to flourish, enabling Jesus to fulfill his destiny. John appears to have been secure in his own role. Despite having developed a substantial following of his own, he was not seduced by the headiness of success into forming his own movement or into going into competition with Jesus. He knew himself to be the forerunner- not the Christ. His task as he saw it was to ensure that the hearts of the people were turned to God, open to God’s presence in the world, to build within them a sense of hopeful expectation and to enable them to recognise the Christ even though the Christ would look and act like one of them. He would point away from himself in the direction of Jesus no matter the cost to himself.

Advent and Christmas are overlaid with so much tradition and myth that sometimes we miss what the scriptures are really saying. Sometimes we create a story around John that is not necessary justified by the text.

This Advent, may we see beyond the myth of the wild man in the desert, to the humble, self-effacing prophet who knew his role and who was content to live out his role, without striving to be anything more. May we learn from John the importance of knowing ourselves and may we try to be true to ourselves – not competing with or trying to emulate others.

 

 

 

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Another way – Herod vs Jesus

July 20, 2024

Pentecost 9 – 2024

Mark 6:30-34, 53-56

Marian Free

In the name of God who shows us another way, a better away. Amen.

There have been times I admit when, exhausted from a day of minding children or simply bored with an inane children’s story, that I have skipped a page that I determined was not essential to the plot. I rarely got away with the omission – it was usually met with: “you missed a page!” For the child each page was integral to the plot and to the pleasure of having the story read to them. 

Most stories have a trajectory and are carefully constructed so as to take the reader along with them. This is why it can be frustrating when the lectionary writers leave out sections of the readings as is the case this morning. The missing verses in this instance are Mark’s account of the feeding of the 5000 and the rationale for omitting them is that for the next five weeks we will be focussing on John’s version of the same event. Wisely, the lectionary writers try to avoid too much repetition, but what that means is that we lose Mark’s voice, when it comes to this story and his voice is important.  

As might be expected, the author of John’s gospel takes a very different approach to the re-telling of this miracle. John uses the feeding of the 5,000 to introduce a very long discourse on the theme of bread. Here, Jesus compares himself to the manna in the wilderness, he claims to be the Bread of Life and he states that those who do not eat his flesh and drink his blood have no life in them. The Jesus of John’s gospel appears to be at least a little confrontational here – “if you don’t do this then this will happen”. Jesus’ language and assertiveness mean that some disciples find his teaching too difficult, and they turn away from him.

Mark’s account of the same event is very different. In Mark’ recounting, the emphasis is placed on Jesus’ compassion; on Jesus as shepherd of a people who are lost and who are looking for someone to lead them. Jesus does teach the crowd, but the content of that teaching is not considered worth reporting.  What is important to Mark is Jesus’ response to the crowds who have sought him out – the very crowds he was trying to escape. Though Jesus is desperately tired (and possibly wanting to grieve the death of John the Baptist and to process what that might mean for him) he doesn’t turn the people away. Jesus knows that he needs silence and solitude, and he has taken his disciples to a desolate place. But when he sees the crowd instead of being frustrated, he sees their need and puts aside his own. He teaches and heals the crowd and then, instead of sending them away as would make sense, he feeds them. Jesus draws on an inner strength which enables him to put his own needs last and the needs of the people first.  

Whereas in John’s gospel Jesus gives the crowds a metaphor – “I am the Bread of Life”, in Mark’s gospel, Jesus gives himself, all that he is.  

By leaving Mark’s version of the story out of our Sunday readings, we are prevented from comparing the two accounts, but the real damage caused by the omission of Mark. verses 35-52, is that it does not give us an opportunity to see the way in which Mark is constructing his gospel and the way in which the positioning of this story is significant for the gospel as a whole.

As we will see over the course of the next five weeks, John places the story of the feeding of the 5,000 in the context of the growing tension between Jesus and the authorities and the discourse which follows highlights the misunderstanding and the. tension. Mark uses the story very differently – to make clear the contradiction between the ways of the world and the way of God (as exemplified by Jesus).

In Mark’s gospel the feeding of the 5,000 follows the gruesome account of Herod’s banquet[1].

As you will remember, last week I concluded that there was no good news in the account of the beheading of John which reminds us that the world can be an ugly place in which brutal events occur, in which those who are innocent suffer and God has no magic wand to make everything right. But by juxtaposing John’s beheading with the feeding of the 5,000 Mark makes it clear that it doesn’t have to be this way. There is another way – a way that is not prideful, self-serving and destructive, but is humble, self-sacrificial and life-giving. 

As Donahue and Harrington point out, Herod’s banquet takes place in a palace. It is a birthday and only those who will enhance Herod’s honour will have been invited. The food is not mentioned but is surely fitting for such an occasion. Jesus’ banquet takes place somewhere desolate, it is not planned, the attendees (ordinary people, who have nothing to offer) have invited themselves, and the food is only that which is available – a paltry two fish and five loaves. Herod’s banquet is overshadowed by Herod’s immoral behaviour, Jesus’ banquet is characterised by his compassion. Jesus responds to the crowd by offering them food, Herod’s response (to the expectation of) his guests is to have John the Baptist beheaded. Herod’s concern was to hold on to his power and to his position at all costs. Jesus was willing to relinquish his own needs to serve the needs of others.

Herod’s hubris, self-centredness and his focus on what he can gain lead to division, brutality, violence. 

Jesus’ humility, his self-effacement and his willingness to put others first create unity, tenderness and peace. 

Herod and Jesus – two different ways. of living and being.

Whose example will we follow? What sort of world do we want to create?

[1] I am grateful to Donahue and Harrington for this insight. Donahue, S.J, John R, and Harrington, Daniel J, S.J. The Gospel of Mark. Collegeville, Minnesota: The Liturgical Press, 2002, 209.

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Jesus’ baptism

January 6, 2024

Baptism of Jesus

Mark 1:4-11 (12-13)

Marian Free

In the name of God who calls us to give of ourselves. Amen.

Mark’s account of Jesus’ baptism is typically bald and lacking in detail. In fact, it raises more questions than it answers. 

For example: Why does Jesus seemingly appear out of nowhere? Why does he seek out John’s baptism? Is Jesus seeking to become a disciple of John? Does he, like John want to be a part of reforming the practice of Judaism? Has Jesus, at this point, any real understanding of who he is, and what his role is to be? 

Given the starkness and brevity of Mark’s introduction, it is no wonder that when Matthew and Luke penned their versions of events they felt a need to fill out the story with accounts of the lead up to Jesus’ birth, the birth itself and subsequent events. Their stories are filled out with genealogies, angels, shepherds, wise ones and so on. In different ways, both build up to the beginning of Jesus’ ministry and in so doing provide the readers with some background as to who this man Jesus might be. By the time we come to Jesus’ baptism in Luke and Matthew we have heard that he is – Emmanuel, Son of David, Son of God, the anointed one, King of the Jews. We know that he is to be called Jesus and that he will save his people from their sins. In other words, by the time Matthew and Luke come to reporting Jesus’ baptism, we already know a great deal about him. 

Mark however has no time for what came before. He is not interested in Jesus’ birth or childhood. He feels no need to establish Jesus’ lineage or miraculous origin. For him the beginning of the good news is not Jesus’ mysterious birth or the missing thirty years of his life, but his bursting on to the scene at the time of his baptism. 

Who Jesus is, and what his purpose in the world is, is announced not by an angel, but by John the Baptist, that wild, strange figure whom we met during Advent. John, so Mark briefly tells us, is the messenger predicted by Isaiah to “prepare the way in the wilderness”. We know little of John apart from what is recorded by gospels[1]. It is possible that he is representative of all those who thought that the present state of religion in Israel was in a dire state. The Pharisees, who sought a solution in the law. The writers of the Dead Sea Scrolls (Essenes) who took themselves into the wilderness on the shores of the Dead Sea and created a society based around ritual cleansing. John the Baptist seems to fit somewhere in the middle – through baptism he encouraged ritual cleansing and he demanded repentance as a means to restore the relationship between Israel and God.

In seeking out John and submitting to John’s baptism Jesus, is at the very least, indicating that he supports John’s preaching and ministry. Indeed, like John, Jesus begins his ministry by calling people to “repent”. The difference is that John demands repentance and points to Jesus and Jesus announces the good news and points to the coming of the kingdom.

None of this however explains why Jesus needs to be baptised for ‘the forgiveness of sins’.  

Was his baptism an affirmation of John, an indication of Jesus’ desire to fully identify with humanity in all its sinfulness, or was it “to fulfill all righteousness” (Mt 3:15)? Whatever the. reason, it is clear that Jesus’ baptism is a watershed moment. Until this point in his life Jesus had lived in obscurity and had done nothing remarkable. From now on he will preach the kingdom, confront the Pharisees, Sadducees, the elders and the scribes, he will challenge practices and teaching that binds rather than liberates and he will bring good news and healing to all those who are marginalised. 

Jesus may have sought baptism because he knew his trajectory and the task set before him. Or it may be that Jesus’ baptism confirmed and consolidated what, until that point, he had only suspected – that he was God’s anointed, sent into the world to bring the people back to God, and that he was integrally related, indeed a member of the Trinity.

This knowledge – unveiled by the tearing apart of the heavens, the descent of the Spirit and the voice from heaven (“you are my Son, the Beloved”) – is not a cause for triumphalism. We must read on to understand the impact of these events on Jesus whose response to the divine revelation is revealed as much in Jesus does not do, as it is through what he does do. What Jesus does not do, is to claim his Godly power and authority. What Jesus does not do is to go to the Temple and lord it over the priests and Sadducees. What Jesus does not do is to perform miracles that serve his own purposes. What Jesus does not do is to demand obeisance and subservience.

Instead, Jesus allows the Spirit to drive him into the wilderness where, presumably he confronts the temptation that comes from knowing who he really is. Then, he disappears into the relative anonymity that is Galilee. He chooses, not to go it alone, but to share his gifts and his ministry with others and he uses his authority, not for himself but to ease the burdens of others.

At his baptism, Jesus discovers that he has the world at his feet and  yet, knowing this, Jesus chooses not to lord it over the world, but to put himself at the disposal of the world. 

[1] Mandeans consider themselves disciples of John the Baptist, but so far as I can tell, that is where the connection ends.

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“I am not” John the Baptist gives way to Jesus

December 16, 2023

Advent 3 – 2023

John 1:6-8. 19-28

Marian Free

In the name of God who formed us in the womb and who calls us. Amen.

One of the features of today’s gospel is the dominance of negative expressions.  By that I mean that the two short passages consist primarily of negatives. The reading focuses on the mission of John the Baptist and yet it focuses much more on what John is not, rather than on who and what John is. In the first section, (v8) the narrator informs us that: “John himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light.” In the second part of the reading, John’s responses to the priests and Levites sent from Jerusalem, become more and more clipped[1]. In answer to questions about who he is, John replies: “I am not the Christ, I am not (Elijah), and simply “no” (to the question as to whether he is the prophet.) In Greek and English, John replies with 5 words, 3 words and finally one word. Even the use of language makes the point – he, John is not the one they are looking for. (He will decline and Jesus will increase.)

Of course, I hear you say, that is how it is meant to be. John’s role was to be the forerunner. He knew that he was not the Christ.

For the moment though, I am asking you to put away your tidy preconceptions – that John was Jesus’ cousin, destined to be in Jesus’ shadow, that John’s parents were good and pious Jews of priestly families, that John knew from birth what his role was. This is a view that is supported only by the author of Luke whom it suits to have parallel stories of the two men.

Let’s imagine, as the other gospels do, that John suddenly appears on the scene, driven by the Spirt to call people back to God. In response, he adopts the identity of a prophet (or even of a messiah)[2] and proclaims, “a baptism for the forgiveness of sins”. Whatever drove him into the wilderness, John appears to have picked up on the Zeitgeist of the time – dissatisfaction with Temple worship and with the priests who were puppets of Rome and a longing for Israel to turn to God and to be restored. Certainly, his presence and his message touched a chord, for according to Mark, people from the whole Judean countryside and from Jerusalem made the journey into the wilderness to hear him and be baptised by him. Even the Temple leadership and the Pharisees felt compelled to come and see what he was about, to query whether he might be the expected Christ and even to seek baptism.

This is heady stuff. A lesser person might have allowed such success to go to their head. A lesser person might have thought that the reaction of so many people (Including the religious leaders) was a sign that God had sent him to call people to repentance. A lesser person might have been resentful that Jesus was turning up to steal the limelight to take over the movement that he had so successfully begun. Whatever John’s background or sense of call, he could have made the situation all about him, about his call and his ministry – after all (at this point in time) he had followers and disciples, and Jesus did not. It would have been easy for John to continue with the work that he had begun – turning the hearts of the people towards God.  But John does none of these things. Instead, he points the people (even his own disciples) towards Jesus and allows himself to fade from view. 

In putting himself second, John is not engaging in false modesty or cynical self-abasement. He is not suffering from a lack of confidence or a damaged ego. Rather, by refusing to allow personal ambition and pride to drive him, John is able to be his God-given self and to fulfill the role to which God had appointed him. John could genuinely rejoice in and support the ministry of Jesus, because he was secure in the knowledge of himself – his role, his gifts, and abilities. He did not need to compete with Jesus or to be anything or anyone other than who he knew himself to be. 

More than that, John’s willingness to let go and to allow Jesus to continue, makes John, not only the forerunner of the Christ, but the first to model what it means to die to self in order to live to God. John’s life and ministry shows that it is not only possible, but necessary to submit one’s own desires, ambitions to the will of God, that it is not only possible but necessary, to measure one’s achievements by kingdom values, not earthly values, and that it is not only possible, but necessary, to shed our self-identity, in order that God may be fully formed in us.  

John was able to give way to Christ because he had already surrendered his life to God. 

As we come to the end of this Advent season, may we surrender our earthly desires, so that we may seek only the joy and peace that comes from the presence of God in our lives, may we examine our lives, and empty ourselves of anything that prevents Christ from being born in us and may we let go of our need to be in control so that the Spirit might lead us wherever she wants us to go. 

[1] Frederick Dale Bruner, quoted in the Advent resources provided by the Centre for Excellence in Preaching.

[2] Jesus was far from the only messianic figure in first century Palestine.

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Voices in the wilderness – John the Baptist

December 9, 2023

Advent 2 – 2023

Mark 1:1-8

Marian Free

In the name of God Earth-maker, Pain-bearer, Life-giver. Amen.

Most of us associate wilderness with the season of Lent and Jesus’ forty days in the wilderness, but here, on the second Sunday of Advent, Mark’s gospel compels us to face the wilderness in this season of preparation for Christmas.  John the Baptist, dressed in camel skin and eating locusts and honey, has chosen the wilderness, as they place to which he will draw people to face their past (confess their sins) and to embrace their future (look for the one more powerful than he). 

John is a bridge between the world of the prophets and the coming of Christ. He represents an era that is coming to an end and points forward to an era that is about to begin. As such John’s voice in the wilderness is a potent reminder that Advent is not only a wilderness time, it is also an in-between time – the time between what was and what will be, between what is and the potential of what might come. Advent wilderness provides time for reflection. It is an in-between time in which we can ask ourselves what got us to where we are? And how can we move on from here? 

In the language of the gospel, we are being provoked to prepare a way for the Lord and to do that by confessing our sins (past faults) and seeking John’s baptism (being made ready for the coming of Jesus).  

As we come to the end of 2023 and stand on the threshold of 2024, we face a world that is so much bleaker than it was twelve months ago. The war in Ukraine continues to drag on with its loss of life and the destruction of families, homes, and lives. Awful as that it is, it is now overshadowed by the conflict in Israel/Palestine – the horrendous acts of October 7 and the ongoing devastation of Gaza and its populations. In another part of the world, we face the possibility of war between Brazil and Venezuela. The daily news reminds us of the social collapse of Haiti, warns of the increasing instability that threatens Myanmar and, in many places in the world, the growing intolerance of and hostility towards, those who are in any way different from a perceived norm (European, white, Christian)[1].

Throughout the world there are millions of displaced or stateless persons who are struggling to survive and thousands who have lost their lives trying to escape situations that have left them totally without hope. In addition, our generation are witness to the ever-widening gap between rich and poor.

Here, at home – in one of the world’s richest nations – the increased cost of living is sending many people to the brink, there are an increasing number of people (including families) who are impacted by the housing crisis, and we seem to be unable to prevent the over representation of indigenous people in our criminal justice system.

At the end of 2023, the voices of those in the wilderness threaten to deafen us –

  • The children caught up in events not of their own making, traumatized by war, separated from their families, 
  • the parents who cannot keep their children safe, who cannot feed or house them, or offer them a future,
  • the civilians caught in a conflict not of their making, who have lost homes, livelihoods, loved ones,
  • the refugees and the stateless who have nowhere to call home,
  • the migrants, the LGBTQIA+ community and all who are vilified and marginalised because they are different,
  • and the many others whose voices are drowned out by the volume of need, or whose voices are silenced by our indifference.

In today’s gospel, John the Baptist represents all these voices in the wilderness, voices calling us to pay attention and to recognise the injustice and trauma in the world and hear the cries of the suffering and the dispossessed, voices that demand that we confess our failure to act and commit to turning our lives around. Above all, John’s voice in the wilderness challenges us to soften our hearts so that we might be ready to see in the infant Jesus the one who has come to bring good news to the poor, to proclaim release to the captives, recovery of sight to the blind, and to let the oppressed go free, and, having seen,  be ready and be willing to join him in the task of transforming the world. The voices in the wilderness demand that we prepare a way, that we make room in our hearts for the Christ-child to take up residence. The voices in the wilderness insist that we see the face of Christ in the traumatized, the marginalised, the lost, the homeless and the imprisoned.

The Psalmist says: “Righteousness will go before him and make a path for his steps” (Ps 85:1).  John makes it clear that we are responsible for that path, for the righteousness that goes before the Lord.

This Advent, may voices in the wilderness find in us a willing listener, an open heart, and a desire to make a difference (if only in our small corner of the world).

[1] In Europe that is.

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God in the small things

December 17, 2022

Advent 3 – 2022
Matthew 11:2-11 (some belated thoughts)
Marian Free

What no eye has seen nor ear heard, the Lord has prepared for those who love him. Amen.

Even though none of us can predict the future, we all have certain expectations. Some expectations are realistic – the sun will rise tomorrow, we will get older rather than younger, we will continue to love our children. Much, however, is beyond our control. We cannot know with any certainty what tomorrow will bring – whether we will still have a job, whether our health will hold, what the weather will do. Even so, because it is difficult to live with uncertainty we make plans, we assume that things will stay the same and that we will be able to determine our futures. For many of us, things work out – if not exactly as expected. We finish our education, get a job, form a relationship, and are generally satisfied with our lot. Others, for reasons that are not always within their control, reach a certain age and find themselves wondering what went wrong, why their life hasn’t worked out as they thought it would. In the worst-case scenarios, some wonder if they have wasted their lives, or if fate has been against them.

This seems to be the situation in which John the Baptist. now finds himself. Having started out confident that he knew what the future held, he now finds himself languishing in prison, wondering if he was right when, certain that God’s promised one would come, he had announced that Jesus was the one. Now he is not so sure. His expectations (whatever they were), have not been met. The Roman oppressors have not been overthrown, the Temple practices are still corrupt and the difference between rich and poor remains the same. Has his life been wasted? Should he have taken a different turn? Did he mistake his role, his place in God’s plan?

Whatever was going on in John’s mind, it is clear that he needed some reassurance, some certainty that he had been on the right track. He sends his disciples to Jesus. to ask whether he really is the one who is to come, or should they be looking for another?

Jesus’ response is interesting. Instead of answering John’s disciples directly, he tells them to look around themselves and to notice that the blind have received their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised and the poor have good news brought to them. In other words, Jesus points out to John that there are signs that God is active in the world in ways that God had not been active before. The signs are subtle to be sure, but they are obvious to anyone who looks carefully. God (through Jesus) is not upending the world, overthrowing the oppressors, demanding complete and total obedience from God’s followers. God is making the sorts of changes in peoples’ lives that allow them to live well under any external circumstances. Jesus is making people whole. He is not filling them with rage and encouraging them to use violence to overthrow the Romans – that would be only a temporary solution. The blind would still be blind, the lepers unclean. People would still be unsatisfied with their lot.

Jesus brings wholeness – not revolution. John’s fiery proclamation was to turn people’s hearts towards God, to enable them to be receptive to the one whom God sent, to be willing to submit themselves to God’s will, rather than to long for God to radically change the world.

We are not told John’s reaction to Jesus’ response, but there is of course a lesson for us in this gospel.

In a world beset by war and terror, the effects of climate change, corruption and inequity, it can be difficult to see the evidence that God is active in the world. We, like John, can be filled with despair and wonder if we have it right. At such times we, like John need to be reminded that God is not to be found in the dramatic, that God does not take sides (which might make things worse rather than better), and that humankind has not, as a whole, turned to God. Jesus wants us to see that none of that means that God is absent from the world or from our lives. God can be found in everyday miracles – new shoots after a fire, a child’s smile, the goodness of strangers, the sacrificial acts of aid workers and more especially in the birth of a child – who contrary to all expectations will change the world.

–>

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Proclaiming Welcome

December 2, 2022

Advent 2 – 2022
Matthew 3:1-12
Marian Free

In the name of God whose children we all are. Amen.

I am currently in the UK. One of the advantages of being in another country is that you can see how the other half lives – at least to some extent. It is difficult to really get a sense of how people are coping with the increased cost of living but easy to observe that on the whole people here have decided to live with COVID. What is most obvious to me is the differences in the Anglican Church. On the one hand the church in this nation is struggling to live with difference (particularly in relation to the ordination of women). On the other hand, the churches which I have attended and visited openly proclaim a greater degree of inclusivity than I am used to.

In a prominent place near the entrance of many churches is a statement something like this (taken from the website of the church in Whythenshawe):

We believe in inclusive Church – church which does not discriminate, on any level, on grounds of economic power, gender, mental health, physical ability, race or sexuality. We believe in Church which welcomes and serves all people in the name of Jesus Christ; which is scripturally faithful; which seeks to proclaim the Gospel afresh for each generation; and which, in the power of the Holy Spirit, allows all people to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Jesus Christ.

It is not that I have not worshipped and served in churches that hold and live out such values, but there are few churches in my experience that are as explicit and open – declaring as this does, that there is no cause whatsoever to exclude anyone from the compass of God’s love.

The notion that God’s love was limited to a specific race and within that race to those who observed particular codes of behaviour, extends into the Old Testament. It is based on the idea that God chose Abraham and Abraham’s descendants to be God’s people. This notion was reinforced when the people called out of Egypt were named as God’s children, given their own unique law and forbidden to intermarry with those of a different nationality and god. The Temple, when it was built made it clear that there were some who were ‘in’ and others who were ‘out. There was a separate court for the Gentiles who were excluded from the inner court. A desire to further demonstrate difference and to maintain purity and proper observance of the law lies behind the apparent rigidity of the Pharisees.

Indeed it is easy to read the history of Israel as a story of maintaining racial and religious purity and of the Israelites setting themselves apart from the world as God’s chosen people. That would, however be to miss all the clues the point to an inclusive God. Naaman the Syrian is healed (if indirectly) by the prophet Elisha, Ruth (a Gentile) becomes the forbear of Jesus, God spares the Gentile city of Nineveh, Cyrus (the King of Persia) is called God’s anointed or Messiah and the prophets proclaim a time when the Gentiles will stream into Jerusalem to worship in the Temple. In other words, the exclusivity that is often associated with the people of Israel is not truly representative of the Old Testament accounts.

The New Testament further brings into the foreground the inclusivity of God’s love. We observe this in Jesus’ determination to eat with sinners and prostitutes, his inclusion of women among his followers and supporters, his refusal to deny healing to Gentiles, his encounters with the people of Samaria and his use of the Samaritan as an example of love of neighbour. While it was not without its difficulties, the early church quickly recognised that Gentiles, as well as Jews, were coming to faith in Jesus and that any community that formed in Jesus’ name would need to find a way to accommodate both groups.

Interestingly the message of inclusivity is proclaimed from the very start. As John proclaims the coming of one who is more powerful than he is, so he indirectly declares the inclusive nature of the God who has sent him and who will send the ‘more powerful one.” A message that could be seen to be directed exclusively to the people of Israel is actually a declaration of inclusivity and an omen of what is to come. To those who would hold themselves apart from others, who would claim that they have the characteristics (birth and behaviour) that qualifies them to be children of God – the Sadducees and the Pharisees – John says: “Do not presume to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our ancestor’; for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham.”

“God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham.” Here, even before the ministry of Jesus has begun, his forerunner is warning those who by ritual or law have set themselves apart
from those who are different that the God whom they claim to worship is not a God who sets boundaries, but a God whose love is capable of embracing all and that it is God, not they who decides who belongs and who does not. John is making it clear that depending on race or on adherence to codes of behaviour or liturgical observances is not a guarantee of belonging. Belonging is a matter of ‘repenting’ of turning towards God – and that this is something that anyone, of any background, race, class, gender or sexuality can do.

For a great many of us, it is self-evident that God’s love does not exclude anyone whose seeks to be loved, but perhaps that needs to be made more explicit on our doors, on our websites and in our welcome. As we announce the advent of Jesus, let us commit ourselves to making it abundantly clear that God’s love embraces all and that all are welcome.

Advent 2 – 2022

Matthew 3:1-12

Marian Free

 

In the name of God whose children we all are. Amen.

I am currently in the UK. One of the advantages of being in another country is that you can see how the other half lives – at least to some extent. It is difficult to really get a sense of how people are coping with the increased cost of living but easy to observe that on the whole people here have decided to live with COVID. What is most obvious to me is the differences in the Anglican Church. On the one hand the church in this nation is struggling to live with difference (particularly in relation to the ordination of women). On the other hand, the churches which I have attended and visited openly proclaim a greater degree of inclusivity than I am used to.

 

In a prominent place near the entrance of many churches is a statement something like this (taken from the website of the church in Whythenshawe):

 

We believe in inclusive Church – church which does not discriminate, on any level, on grounds of economic power, gender, mental health, physical ability, race or sexuality. We believe in Church which welcomes and serves all people in the name of Jesus Christ; which is scripturally faithful; which seeks to proclaim the Gospel afresh for each generation; and which, in the power of the Holy Spirit, allows all people to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Jesus Christ.

 

It is not that I have not worshipped and served in churches that hold and live out such values, but there are few churches in my experience that are as explicit and open – declaring as this does, that there is no cause whatsoever to exclude anyone from the compass of  God’s love.

 

The notion that God’s love was limited to a specific race and within that race to those who observed particular codes of behaviour, extends into the Old Testament. It is based on the idea that God chose Abraham and Abraham’s descendants to be God’s people. This notion was reinforced when the people called out of Egypt were named as God’s children, given their own unique law and forbidden to intermarry with those of a different nationality and god. The Temple, when it was built made it clear that there were some who were ‘in’ and others who were ‘out. There was a separate court for the Gentiles who were excluded from the inner court. A desire to further demonstrate difference and to maintain purity and proper observance of the law lies behind the apparent rigidity of the Pharisees.

 

Indeed it is easy to read the history of Israel as a story of maintaining racial and religious purity and of the Israelites setting themselves apart from the world as God’s chosen people. That would, however be to miss all the clues the point to an inclusive God. Naaman the Syrian is healed (if indirectly)  by the prophet Elisha, Ruth (a Gentile) becomes the forbear of Jesus, God spares the Gentile city of Nineveh,  Cyrus (the King of Persia) is called God’s anointed or Messiah and the  prophets proclaim a time when the Gentiles will stream into Jerusalem to worship in the Temple. In other words, the exclusivity that is often associated with the people of Israel is not truly representative of the Old Testament accounts.

 

The New Testament further brings into the foreground the inclusivity of God’s love. We observe this in Jesus’ determination to eat with sinners and prostitutes, his inclusion of women among his followers and supporters, his refusal to deny healing to Gentiles, his encounters with the people of Samaria and his use of the Samaritan as an example of love of neighbour. While it was not without its difficulties, the early church quickly recognised that Gentiles, as well as Jews, were coming to faith in Jesus and that any community that formed in Jesus’ name would need to find a way to accommodate both groups.

 

Interestingly the message of inclusivity is proclaimed from the very start. As John proclaims the coming of one who is more powerful than he is, so he indirectly declares the inclusive nature of the God who has sent him and who will send the ‘more powerful one.” A message that could be seen to be directed exclusively to the people of Israel is actually a declaration of inclusivity and an omen of what is to come. To those who would hold themselves apart from others, who would claim that they have the characteristics (birth and behaviour) that qualifies them to be children of God – the Sadducees and the Pharisees – John says: “Do not presume to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our ancestor’; for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham.

“God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham.” Here, even before the ministry of Jesus has begun, his forerunner is warning those who by ritual or law have set themselves apart from those who are different that the God whom they claim to worship is not a God who sets boundaries, but a God whose love is capable of embracing all and that it is God, not they who decides who belongs and who does not. John is making it clear that depending on race or on adherence to codes of behaviour or liturgical observances is not a guarantee of belonging. Belonging is a matter of ‘repenting’ of turning towards God – and that this is something that anyone, of any background, race, class, gender or sexuality can do.

 

For a great many of us, it is self-evident that God’s love does not exclude anyone whose seeks to be loved, but perhaps that needs to be made more explicit on our doors, on our websites and in our welcome. As we announce the advent of Jesus, let us commit ourselves to making it abundantly clear that God’s love embraces all and that all are welcome.

For a great many of us, it is self-evident that God’s love does not exclude anyone whose seeks to be loved, but perhaps that needs to be made more explicit on our doors, on our websites and in our welcome. As we announce the advent of Jesus, let us commit ourselves to making it abundantly clear that God’s love embraces all and that all are welcome.

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