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Forgiving as God forgives – uprooting trees and replanting them

October 4, 2025

Pentecost 17 – 2025

Luke 17:1-10

Marian Free

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Increase our faith!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Who is my neighbour?

July 12, 2025

Pentecost 5 – 2025

Luke 10:25-37

Marian Free

In the name of God whose love knows no constraints. Amen.

I don’t know about you, but at the moment I am overwhelmed by the state of the world, and I feel utterly powerless to intervene or to make any difference at all. Gaza, of course, is the most demanding of our attention, but not us let forget Ukraine, South Sudan and all the other nations involved in on-going conflict or civil war. Then there is the changing geopolitical situation and the potential economic consequence of the US tariffs and aid cuts. All over the world innocent people are suffering the effects of climate change and the increasing unpredictability of the weather. Here in Australia the people of Northern Rivers have experienced once in a lifetime flood twice in two years. They barely have time to recover before they have to begin again. (And that in a wealthy first world country. Imagine trying to re-build one’s life and livelihood in a nation without the resources to which we have access.) I find myself paralysed with indecision. What difference can I make? Will my small contributions help at all? 

I’m not even sure how to pray. In the first instance, I do not have the words to use. Secondly, I am not at all sure that my prayers, however fervent, have made a difference.

It is tempting to throw up my hands and leave it all to God. It is equally tempting to narrow my focus, to decide who and what is most deserving of my help or to justify inaction because not being able to do it all I find myself not doing enough.

In order to rationalise my inaction, I find myself thinking about how different the world today is from Jesus’ world and wonder if some of Jesus’ instructions simply don’t translate into the  21st century. In the first century, there was no social service, there were (at least for those of Jesus’ faith) clear guidelines about responsibility for family, for widows and orphans. Smaller communities meant that people were more aware of other people’s business, and they would probably have known the background of the person who begged them for a small coin or two. Without modern forms of communication very few would have known the state of the world beyond their village or region.

In contrast, today in Australia we have social welfare (even if it is inadequate), six-foot fences separate us from our neighbours and in cities that number millions there is a limit to how much we can know about the circumstances of others. The internet and social media mean that we know about disasters all over the world almost as soon as they happen. 

The question: ‘Who is my neighbour?’ is even more pressing than it was two thousand years ago. I see my physical neighbours only when I make an effort or pass them on the street. It is generally impossible to know how I can be a neighbour to them.

Jesus’ answer to the lawyer’s question is important, but so too is the question, and the intent of the one asking. We are told that the lawyer is seeking to justify himself. He knows the answer to his first question “What must I do?” – he is a lawyer after all. He asks the second question because he wants to limit and confine the extent to which he has to follow the law. He wants to narrow down what it means ‘to love his neighbour as himself.’ 

No doubt the lawyer, and no doubt those who have gathered around fully expect Jesus to limit neighbourliness to fellow Jews. After all, they are the chosen.

Jesus however does at least two unexpected things in his story of the man who was a neighbour. Instead of giving a definition of neighbour, Jesus tells a story of neighbourliness. He subverts the expectation that it will be the good, pious Jews on their way to Jerusalem who will offer assistance to the wounded man, and he gives the starring role to a rank outsider, an enemy, a person considered unclean according to Jewish law! The example of neighbourliness is the person least expected.

The Samaritan did not consider political or social implications of helping a Jew, he did not withhold his help because of the deep enmity between his people and theirs, and he did not stop to consider his capacity to help. (What would he do if the inn keeper charged him more than he could afford?)

Jesus doesn’t directly answer the lawyer’s question. He doesn’t say that the Samaritan is the neighbour who should be loved. What Jesus does is to confront the lawyer with what it means to be a neighbour. Using the despised Samaritan as the example, Jesus makes it clear that there are no boundaries to “neighbour”. Shocking as it might be to Jesus’ audience, it is the outsider who demonstrates that being a neighbour doesn’t consider the race, religion, or economic status of the other. 

Love of neighbour cannot be limited or reduced to a simple formula because the definition of ‘neighbour’ has no bounds. God’s love, and therefore our love does not discriminate between worthy and unworthy, insider or outsider, but is extended to all humanity. 

The problems in the world are overwhelming, but we are not to be discouraged. We will do well if remain open-minded and open-hearted, sympathetic towards the suffering of the good, the bad and the deserving and the undeserving, the familiar and the unfamiliar and if we do all we can to alleviate that suffering through direct support, through volunteering, through political and social action and through prayer.

In this increasingly divided and fractious world. Who is my neighbour? might be the question most demanding of an answer.

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Pentecost – not as orphans

June 9, 2025

Pentecost – 2025

John 14:8-27)

Marian Free

In the name of God who inflames, inspires and encourages us. Amen.

Hallelujah! not as orphans,

are we left in sorrow now;

Halleljah! He is near us, 

faith believes nor questions how;

So goes the second verse of the hymn: “Hallelujah! sing to Jesus.” For me, these words bring to mind fond memories of my church-going childhood. I’m not sure why but the words, “not as orphans”, really struck a chord in the young Marian. For some reason the notion of not being abandoned, not being left alone made a powerful impression.  The words had a similar effect to being gathered up in a warm embrace or wrapped in a soft blanket – God might be an amorphous and vague notion, but somehow the fact that God would not leave me orphaned gave God some sort of shape or form. I was also taken with the phrase “faith believes nor questions how.” I’d be quite sure that even then I didn’t think of faith as being blind acceptance of implausible ideas, but, young as I was I had some understanding of faith as mystery.

Of course, I had no idea in my childhood that the hymn writer was quoting the words from John 14 that we heard in this morning’s gospel. “I will not leave you orphaned; I am coming to you” (14:15).

Chapters 14 -17 of John’s gospel are known as Jesus’ farewell speech. Jesus has had what will be his final meal with his disciples, Judas has been sent off to “do what he is going to do” and Jesus has begun to prepare his disciples for his departure. We know that this means his crucifixion, but his disciples are confused and anxious, especially as Jesus continues his pattern of speaking in apparent riddles. “Where I am going you cannot come” (13:33). “I go to prepare a place for you.” “No one comes to the Father except through me.”

At least three key themes run through the Farewell Discourse and in our reading this morning. One is that of love. Jesus gives the disciples a new commandment – to love one another (13:34), those who love Jesus will keep his commandments (14:15),  those who have Jesus’ commandments are those who love him and are loved by the father (14:20) and those who love Jesus will keep his word, the Father will love them and with Jesus, will come and make a home with them (14:23). 

This expressions last draws on another thread – that of the indwelling of the Father and the Son – a mutual indwelling that is extended to each one of us, an indwelling that is supported by and held together through love and which is enhanced by the third member of the Trinity – the Holy Spirit, the third person of the Trinity whom Jesus will send to the disciples (the third theme). 

In the midst of their confusion and grief, Jesus assures the disciples of his ongoing presence with them – the Holy Spirit, the Advocate, the Spirit of truth who, with the Father and the Son will abide in those who love him. 

This concept of mutual indwelling is a very different picture of the Spirit from that presented by Luke in the Book of Acts in which the Spirit rushes upon the disciples from without. The writer of John’s gospel understands the Holy Spirit not so much as an external force that enlivens and empowers, but rather as a deep awareness of the presence of God within and a willingness to allow all one’s own desires and needs to be caught up within the Trinity[1] – God the Trinity in us and we in God. Jesus is one with God and God’s presence is made visible through Jesus, so we, through love, can be absorbed into the divine, and allow the divine in us to shine through us.

As Jesus continues speaking, we learn that the Jesus of John’s gospel is confident that those to whom he is speaking will  be able to let go of their egos and, being free of their egos will be open to the prompting of the Spirit who will remind them of all that Jesus has taught them and who will guide them into all truth (16:12). 

That Jesus’ confidence was misplaced has been demonstrated over and over again throughout the centuries. As the gospel spread and communities of believers formed, so different agendas, priorities and egos began to dominate what became the church. Instead of being one as Jesus prayed (17:22), believers have become fractured and divided into a multitude of communities at least some of whom claim exclusive possession of the truth.  Throughout the centuries the church has become side-tracked; worrying more about right and wrong, who is in and who is out, what is correct worship and what is not. The practice of self-denial has become a practice of going without physical things rather than a practice of denying the self so that the Spirit can direct and control our individual and collective lives. The idealism of John’s Jesus has been buried under human self-interest, a human need to have clear boundaries; rules and regulations rather than to trust in the Holy Spirit to guide us into all truth.

Jesus’ continued presence through the Holy Spirit does ensure that we are not left orphaned, but his hope that we would be one as he and the Father are one, his desire that we should experience the mutual indwelling with himself, the Father and the Spirit remains an unrealised dream.

[1] Of course, “Trinity” is not John’s language, but our attempt to explain the indwelling of Father, Son and Spirit.

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If Friday is “Good” do we need the resurrection?

March 30, 2024

Easter Day – 2024

Matthew 28:1-18

Marian Free

In the name of God, who in Jesus shows us how to be truly free – of our fears, our anxieties and our insecurities. Amen.

Christ is risen!

He is risen indeed!

If Friday is Good, if on the cross Jesus defeated evil and death and deprived them of their power why did he need to rise? What can the resurrection do that the cross has not done?  

If you have been a part of our liturgical celebrations over the past few days, you will know that they are of one piece. During the Last Supper, Jesus turned convention on its head and demonstrated that there was another way to do things. He showed that powerlessness was not weakness, that service was not enslavement and that death, and the powers of this world were not to be feared.

On the cross, Jesus exposed the ineffectiveness of worldly power and authority. By submitting to a wrongful arrest, false accusations and an unjust punishment, Jesus denied them their ability to coerce and deprived them of their ability to force him to their will. By refusing to fear death, Jesus rendered death incapable of exerting power over him.

But there was still more to do. If Jesus’ death on the cross signalled the defeat of evil and death, then the resurrection provided proof positive that the refusal to engage with the powers of this world renders them impotent, and that when we hold fast to the values of the kingdom, instead of being seduced by the false values of this world we open the doorway to a different ending to the story,  a story in which evil and death do not have the final say and do not determine our response to life’s circumstances. Jesus’ resurrection is evidence that in the final analysis love will triumph over hatred, that vulnerability freely chosen is stronger than force, that meeting violence with non-violence strips violence of its power and that true freedom is won when one seeks not one’s own well-being but the well-being of all people.

Conversely, the resurrection demonstrates the futility of using force to kill love, the foolishness of using the law to suppress goodness, and the uselessness of relying on oppression to quench the thirst for freedom or the desire for justice. The resurrection makes it clear that ultimately love cannot be extinguished, that freedom will not be denied and that in the end good will triumph over evil. 

Jesus’ resurrection is proof positive that we can choose not to be consumed by worldly values, a desire for wealth and power, the need for external recognition or the protection of our personal safety and comfort. Jesus’ resurrection informs that we, and therefore the world, will only be truly free when we, like Jesus, refuse to be bound and limited by hatred, greed, bitterness, resentment, anger and unhealthy relationships. Jesus’ resurrection is a reminder that if we resist the urge for external affirmation or gratification and if we rise above the pettiness of human existence then we, like Jesus, will be truly free and the powers of this world will have no power over us. We with him will be raised from the sordidness of competition, ambition and desire, freed to be truly ourselves – created in the image of God.

The resurrection means that we are:

free to truly live – unconstrained by all those things that bind and limit;

free to embrace our own divinity – unfettered by those things that threaten to overwhelm our true nature;

free to step into the future – released from all those things that would threaten to hold us to the past; and

free to love selflessly and unconditionally – unencumbered by all those things that separate us from each other.

Friday is Good, because death and sin are defeated and the resurrection is proof that the only power they have over us is the power that we give them. 

So let us claim the victory of the cross and live in the power of the resurrection.

Christ is risen!

He is risen indeed!

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Jesus’ coming – joyful anticipation or fearful expectation?

December 2, 2023

Advent 1 – 2023

Mark 13:24-37

(Is 64:1-9, Ps 80:1-7, 17-19, 1 Cor 1:1-9)

In the name of God, whose coming we celebrate with joy and whose return we anticipate with trepidation. Amen.

Though it is hard to avoid the fact that the rest of the world is already celebrating Christmas, I continue to love the season of Advent. For me it represents a time of quiet anticipation – a time to focus on the real meaning of Christmas – the gentle in-breaking into our world of God’s chosen one, the vulnerability of God in the infant Jesus, and the courage of Mary and Joseph. It is, for me, a time of wonder and joy, as I ponder the gradual unfolding of the story.

So it is that I am often taken aback by the violence and threat that lie in the gospel set for today, the first Sunday of Advent. We find no quiet waiting in Mark 13. There is no sense of hopeful expectancy. Instead, we are presented with a picture of God’s sudden and terrible explosion into the world.  An eruption that is accompanied by the destruction not only of the earth, but of the cosmos. The sun will be darkened, and the stars will fall from heaven. Without any warning all of the powers of heaven will be shaken. Keep awake, we are warned – for you do not know when the time will come: “in the evening, or at midnight, or at cockcrow or at dawn.” There is no room here for peaceful contemplation on the birth of Christ. Instead, we are placed on edge, forced in a state of constant alertness in which we worry about what it means to keep awake. We are left wondering if we have to live in a state of constant vigilance (never truly living in the present) – always looking over our shoulder for God to surprise us, always straining ahead, always worrying about our every action just in case God should burst in and find us wanting?  

Of course, it would be utterly exhausting live in a state of constant anxiety, to be always on the lookout for something negative to happen, always terrified that we would be caught out. So – what to do? What are we to make of the warnings in Mark’s gospel and how do they inform our observation of the season of Advent?

The answer lies, I believe exactly in the tension – the tension between the unobtrusiveness of Jesus’ first coming and the unmistakable disruption of his coming again; the tension between Christ’s coming as an infant and Christ’s coming again as judge of all; the tension between the powerlessness of the baby and the ultimate power of the Creator of the Universe. Advent –  with its focus on beginnings and endings – highlights the tension between the God who loved us enough to become one of us and the God who will one day ask us to give an account for our lives, the tension between trusting in God’s mercy and not taking it for granted, the tension between knowing God’s love and not taking advantage of that love and the tension between knowing that though our salvation has been won, we still have a responsibility for our salvation..

Advent provides us with a time to look back and to look forward, a time to remember all that God has done for us and a time to ask ourselves what our response to God’s love has been and whether or not we would be pleased to see God now. 

The warning to ‘keep awake’ is not so much to keep us in a state of hypervigilance, but rather a timely reminder that we should not get too comfortable, not to fall into complacency. It is a warning against the assumption that a happy ending awaits us all, just because God has entered into history. 

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Learning to live in this in between time, coping with the tension between God’s breaking into the world, and God’s breaking the world apart, teaches us to live with uncertainty, with the “not-knowing” – not knowing the mind of God, not knowing when Christ will return, not knowing exactly how we measure up. Living with the tension between the times keeps us open to what God has to say to us in the present and what God might be doing in our lives right now. In this in-between time, expecting God to appear at any moment, keeps us alert and expectant, enabling us to see the ways in which God is always breaking into the present. Keeping awake ensures that we do not miss any opportunity and ensures that we are prepared for anything that God might reveal or that God might do.

In two thousand years, the sky hasn’t fallen in, the cosmos hasn’t been dramatically. It is difficult to believe in the second coming, to maintain the sense of urgency that pervades this morning’s gospel and yet, we need the message of Mark 13 even more than the church for whom it was written. 

At this time of year, it is easy to get caught up in the sentimentality of Christmas – the stars and angels, the shepherds and wise ones, the hope, joy, comfort and promise of the visible signs of God’s love. The evangelist knew only too well how easy it is to get comfortable, to see the return of Christ as a distant, even unlikely possibility. He knew too, that his own generation had been caught by surprise, had failed to see in the infant in a manger and in itinerant preacher, the one sent by God to save the world. So, with words of dire warning, Mark urges his readers not to get too comfortable, not to assume that because Jesus had not returned that they could start to relax, but to so order their lives that Christ could come at any time and we would be ready.

In this season as we prepare for both our Christian and our secular Christmas, let us be filled with joyful anticipation as we await the birth of Christ and some trepidation, as we expect his coming again.

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God’s home in us – John 14:15-21

May 13, 2023

Easter 6 – 2023
John 14:15-21
Marian Free

In the name of God who has made God’s home with us. Amen.

Our neighbour, Norma was a thoughtful, generous person. Whenever she came to visit, she would bring something. I remember that my mother used to feel awkward about this because the usual response would be to give something in return. In normal circumstances, one would simply take a cake or flowers or chocolate when next visiting Norma. The problem was that my mother instinctively knew that such a gesture would cause embarrassment. Norma gave because she wanted to give. Our job was to be gracious in our acceptance of that gift – even if our automatic response was to give something back.

Receiving unexpected or undeserved gifts can make us feel uncomfortable or obligated because we live in a that operates on an economy of exchange. If you have something that I would like then, in order to get it, I must give something in return. If you would like to receive respect, you must behave in such a way as to earn that respect. If we want to advance in our careers, we have to ensure that we gain the necessary qualifications, get the requisite experience and so on. In other words, in this life, we learn that nothing is free.

An economy of exchange encourages us to place value on things, on people and on relationships; to determine the worth of a person or an object. It creates a dualistic outlook in which people and things are divided into good and bad, worthy, and unworthy, people who can benefit us and people who cannot. Not only that, it creates an atmosphere in which we tend to strive for approval, for success and for financial gain. An economy of exchange leads to a culture of competition. We determine our own value by measuring ourselves against others. It ill-equips us for living in the kingdom of God.

When we live in a competitive, dualistic world, our tendency is to internalize the values that we see in the world. As a consequence we live with a divided self. In other words, we separate ourselves into good or bad, loveable or unlovable, holy or profane with all the negative consequences that that entails. A divided self is always aware of its shortcomings and it always comparing itself with, measuring itself against others in order to feel better about itself. A person who doesn’t accept themselves as a whole, complete, loveable person never feels truly worthy, is always striving to be what they are not, and always striving to please an apparently unsatisfied God.

There are so many difficulties with this. A dualist worldview reveals a belief that God’s love must be earned, a conviction that God’s creation (ourselves) is unpleasing to God and that is that there are parts of ourselves/others/this world that do not belong to God or are not part of God’s creative plan. Worse, this attitude leads us to search scripture to find a measuring stick, a way to judge ourselves and others. The creation story exposes this approach as flawed and invalid. It is we who measure ourselves – not God. To give just two examples: according to the first chapter of Genesis, God created everything and saw that it was good and if that were not enough, the Incarnation is proof positive that God rather than reject our humanity (which is good) God fully embraces it for Godself. In becoming human, God became part of God’s creation and in so doing, God revealed that God affirms creation in its entirety.

Last week, I quoted Meister Eckhart: “God asks only that you get out of God’s way and let God be God in you.” This week I am reminded of a statement by a Japanese scholar whose name is sadly lost to me, she wrote: “I found God in myself and loved her fiercely.”

This morning’s gospel speaks powerfully to the presence of God (Father, Son, and Spirit) within each one of us. “The Spirit of truth abides in you.” “We (Jesus and the Father) will come to you and make our home with you.” God’s presence within us should be assurance enough that we are worthy. God’s presence in us makes a nonsense of a divided self. God is either at home in all of us, or God is not in us at all.

What is more, we don’t have to behave in a particular way or think certain things before God makes God’s home in us. God’s presence in us relies solely on love – our love for God. We don’t have to to be better, be more spiritual, do more good works before God (Father, Son and Spirit) make their home in us. Jesus does not say: not “keep my commandments and I will come and live with you but: “if you love me you will keep my word.” Love comes first. Love always comes first. Keeping the commandments is a consequence of love (not a precondition for love), a consequence of God’s having first made a home with us.

If God has made a home with us, who are we to think that we are not worthy? In the end, our relationship with ourselves and others directly impinges on our relationship with God. If we reject those parts of ourselves that we do not like, if we split ourselves in two – the ‘good’ and the ‘bad’ what does that say about our understanding of God’s presence in us?

Immediately prior to this week’s gospel, Jesus has reassured the disciples that they do not need to worry about the way, because he is: “the way, the truth and the life.” Now he expands on that. Not only is he the way, but having made his home in us, he can direct us in the way.

All we need to do is search deep within ourselves to find the God within, and having found God to trust God and, trusting God, allow God to lead us flawed and imperfect though we may be.

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Jesus kneels at our feet

April 5, 2023

Maundy Thursday – 2023
John 13:1-17, 31b-35
Marian Free

In the name of the God who kneels at our feet. Amen.

Different religious orders have different ways of reading scriptures. A characteristic of Ignatian Spirituality is an invitation to enter into the events of Jesus’ life – to envisage the scene – the sights, the smells, and the people – to notice what Jesus says and does, and, when you are familiar with the setting, to take on the role of one of the characters or of an imagined observer. If for example, you were reading Luke’s account of Jesus’ birth, you might imagine yourself as a maid from the inn who has brought something into the stable. As a bystander, you would notice the acrid smell of the animals, feel the straw scratching your arms and legs, and notice how exhausted Mary and Joseph are. You might even hear Mary’s cries as she gives birth and the first cry of the infant Jesus.

Tonight, I’d like you to enter the scene of Jesus’ last supper. Imagine that you have a place at the table. You are relaxed and comfortable and among people whom you have come to know and trust.

Without warning, Jesus gets up, takes off his robes and wraps a towel around him. You are surprised, shocked even, not to mention a little embarrassed for him. THEN, he kneels at your feet!

This is awkward – your host and teacher on the ground before you.

But it is about to get even worse. As you squirm, Jesus reaches for a bowl of water and begins to wash your feet. This is highly irregular. Only a servant would wash someone’s feet and then when you arrived at a home – not in the middle of a meal.

Never-the-less, Jesus gently takes one foot and then another, gently places them in the water, carefully and tenderly rubbing the dust from the soles of your feet, from between your toes. Then, one at a time, he takes your feet from the bowl and caresses them gently with the towel, before placing them back on the floor and moving to the person sitting beside you.

Can you picture it, Jesus kneeling at your feet, holding your feet in his hands? Can you imagine anything so intimate? His hair falling on your feet – you could bend down and brush his head with your lips. Can you feel the love flowing from him to you – love that doesn’t judge, love that makes no demands but only wants you to know that you are loved?

“Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart from this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end” (Jn 13:1,2).

This scene encapsulates the gospel as much as does the cross. On this night, the night Jesus knows will be his last, Jesus doesn’t remonstrate. Instead, he shows his love in an unequivocal way. Knowing what Judas is about to hand him over, Jesus kneels before him and washes his feet. Knowing that Peter will deny him, Jesus takes Peter’s feet in his hands and washes them. Understanding that his disciples will not have the courage to stand by him, Jesus kneels before them all and washes their feet.

This is how Jesus loves the flawed, the faithless, and the turncoat. It is how Jesus loves us.

Love is at the heart of the gospel.

Jesus kneels at our feet, vulnerable and exposed and we know then, if we did not know before, that we can do nothing to deserve that love and that there is nothing that we need to do. Jesus is already there on his knees before us.

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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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Is being right what is important?

May 28, 2022

Easter 7 – 2022
John 17:20-26
Marian Free

In the name of God who dwells in us and promises to be with us always. Amen.

During the week I saw a cartoon drawn by someone who goes under the name The Naked Pastor. You may know the writer. This particular cartoon features a number of people holding placards that read: “I believe I am right.” They are marching forwards as if they are part of a protest march and, as they march, they trample over Jesus whose own placard: “I believe in love” lies on the ground beside him.

In the light of the recent General Synod meeting and of the deep divisions within the Anglican Church of Australia, this cartoon captures something of the current zeitgeist and gives us pause for thought. In particular it challenges us to ask – are we marching holding the placards that state our particular view of the Christian faith or are we trying to hold back the tide with placards that read: “I believe in love”?

Who and what is being trampled as we busy ourselves arguing about interpretations of scripture or heatedly defending one or other particular viewpoint? Are our views on same sex marriage, our position on the doctrine of atonement at the centre of the Anglican version of the Christian faith, or is our relationship with God and with one another sets us apart?

As I have said before, today’s reading from John’s gospel can (and has) been used as a tool of abuse. That is there are those who use it to argue that unity is paramount and that therefore anyone who holds differing views from themselves should abandon their positions and capitulate to the opposing position.

“That you may be one as the Father and I are one” is indeed a call for unity, but what sort of unity is Jesus urging?

Our scriptures, written by men who were culturally bound and who were writing for a particular time and place are not consistent and nor are they always helpful when it comes to finding common ground with regard to what we believe or how we interpret the word of God.

Most Christians would recoil at the God-authorised acts of genocide recorded in the books of Numbers and Deuteronomy and very few today would practice polygamy or use the bible to justify slavery. In the New Testament, not only do we have a variety of accounts of the early church (Paul’s letters and the Book of Acts), but we have four gospels each of which present Jesus’ life and teachings in different ways. To give just two examples. There are numerous differences in the retelling of the parable of the talents/pounds in Matthew and Luke (Mt 25:14-30, Lk 19:11-27). The most startling of these is the degree of violence in Luke’s version of the parable in which the king says: “as for these enemies of mine who did not want me to be king over them—bring them here and slaughter them in my presence.” In another parable – that of the wedding banquet, the situation is reversed (Mt 22:1-10, Lk 14:15-24) and it is in Matthew’s gospel that: “the king was enraged and sent his troops, destroyed those murderers, and burned their city.” Fortunately, there do not appear to be Anglicans (of any persuasion) who take seriously the suggestion that those who displease, offend or hurt us should be utterly destroyed or indeed that God is condoning such violence.

We can agree then that wholesale slaughter is not an appropriate Christian response to provocation (unless of course it is in defence of the defenceless). Where we cannot seem to agree relates to the matter of love – in particular whom God loves and from whom God’s love is withheld. Nor can we agree on the limits of love – does love mean loving a person as they as, or loving them only if they conform to those boundaries that have been set around God’s love?

In today’s gospel Jesus prays: “That they may be one as you and I are one.” In order to grasp the meaning of Jesus’ prayer, we have to remember when and to whom Jesus was speaking – or perhaps more importantly – to whom Jesus was not speaking. Jesus was not speaking to the institutional church of his day, nor was he speaking to any one of the sub-groups that existed that within the Judaism of his day. He was speaking to his inner circle of friends with whom he had shared his fears and his hopes and on whom – in just a short while – he would breathe his spirit. Likewise, Jesus is not speaking to the institution of the church today – a church with set formularies and codes of behaviour. At the time at which Jesus was speaking, and even at the time the gospel when was being written, there was no such thing as church – just a smallish group of people who had hoisted their petard to Jesus’ teaching.

Jesus’ prayer does not envisage a structure with rules and restrictions but rather a group of people who, having been touched by his teaching, would seek to replicate the union between himself and the Father, who would open their lives to the indwelling of God and Jesus, and who will endeavour to form relationships with each other that mirror that indwelling.

If we see/hear Jesus’ prayer in that light, we will come to see that seeking unity with God takes precedence over all other aspects of our faith lives and we will come to understand that details such as whom we do or do not marry are trivial in the overall scheme of things. In an ideal world, prioritising union with God would ensure that everything else would fall into its proper place. If we learnt to put love first, we might learn to be less worried about everything else. If we, and all our fellow Christians were less concerned with what we believed and more concerned with loving our brothers and sisters in Christ, the union that we seek with God would be the unity that we would have with one another.

We will not be one, until we, like Jesus are one with the Father. What are we prepared to do to make that happen?

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Love without question

April 14, 2022

Maundy Thursday – 2022
John 13:1-the 17, 31b-35
Marian Free

In the name of God whose heedless, extravagant love draws us to love extravagantly, heedlessly. Amen.

“Jesus got up from the table, took off his outer robe, and tied a towel around himself. Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet and to wipe them with the towel that was tied around him.” Sound familiar? Or perhaps you have never made the link. Just six days ago (Johanine time) Jesus was at a dinner party with his friends when Mary got up from the table and took a pound of pure nard, anointed Jesus’ feet and wiped them with her hair. Loving farewell actions – Mary apparently preparing Jesus for his burial and Jesus preparing the disciples for his departure.

On this night, we focus on Jesus’ actions, but it is important to remember that they were pre-figured by those of Mary. Mary’s action was extravagant, dramatic (wiping Jesus’ feet with her hair!), generous and almost certainly impetuous. In contrast, Jesus’ action appears to be considered and careful. Neither actor seemed at all concerned by how others might react to their actions – actions which contravened the cultural norms of the time. Neither seemed to give a moment’s thought to the offense that they might cause and the censure that they might receive. They were in the moment, totally heedless of the consequences for themselves. Perhaps the presence of death moves them to do what they otherwise might not have done.

Love (extravagant in Mary’s case, absolutely unconditional in Jesus’ case) determines their behaviour. It matters not to Mary that she should not touch Jesus, or that wiping his feet with her hair is something so intimate and sexual that (even today) is quite beyond the bounds of proper behaviour. If she anything does go through her mind it might be: “Let them think of me what they will!”

We already know that Jesus doesn’t care about the social norms of his day. After all he has spoken to a woman from Samaria, a woman rejected by her own society and he has taken refreshment from her hand. He has healed on the Sabbath Day and he has allowed Mary to touch him in the most familiar and public way. If he thinks anything at all it is likely to be that living out God’s will and demonstrating God’s unconditional love overrides any concern about what people might think of him.

Jesus takes on the role a servant and washes the feet of all the disciples, even those of Judas who would hand him over, Peter who would deny him and the others who would abandon him. In so doing he provides a model for all who would claim to follow him. We are to love – heedlessly, extravagantly, selflessly, with no thought for the cost, no consideration of what others might think of us and no judgement about the frailties and faults of the other.

If only we could love as Jesus’ loved, if only we could love as God loves, the world would be healed.

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