Posts Tagged ‘potential’

Boxed in – Jesus in Nazareth

July 6, 2024

Pentecost 7 – 2024

Mark 6:1-13

Marian Free

In the name of God who always surprises us and who always breaks through our narrow limitations. Amen.

There was a time, not so long ago, when parents of children with Down’s Syndrome were advised to put them in an institution and forget about them. Indeed, such was the case as recently as 1997 when Queenslander Rosanne Stuart gave birth to her daughter Madeline. According to an article in Vogue magazine, “before she could even see her, the baby was whisked away to another room. The doctor told her to leave the baby at the hospital and start over; pointing out the child would never amount to anything and would only mature to the mental age of a seven year old”.[1] Thankfully Rosanne ignored the doctor’s advice, and like many parents of her generation, refused to be bound by societal (and sometimes medical) expectations. She brought up her daughter, Madeline, to believe that she was beautiful and could do anything. Madeline is now an international model (perhaps the first person with Down Syndrome to take to the catwalk). She has participated in New York fashion week and taken to the runway in such places as Paris, London, Runway Dubai and Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week China.

Madeline is just one example of the ways in which the world in general is refusing to be bound by stereotypes, and in which parents are refusing to limit children who do not fit the norm. The examples are too numerous to mention, but one other Australian who has refused to be boxed and limited by labels is Michael Theo.  Michael is the neurodivergent star of the ABC series Austin. He has participated in the TV programme Love on the Spectrum, is an animal rights advocate, podcaster and much more.   

For too long we have classified people according to their looks, their athletic ability, their shape and size, and by whether their body or their mind fits the so-called norm. Society as a whole has refused to recognise that those who do not fit the stereotype might in fact have talents just waiting to be identified and nurtured. Thankfully, in recent decades, we have begun to value people for who they are, rather than try to force them to fit a particular mould. Today we have the Para-Olympics to showcase the talents of those born without limbs, those permanently altered by injury and anyone else who would be disadvantaged by competing against athletes whose bodies fit the norm. We are less and less likely to decide who can represent us – in film, in sport, and in any other endeavour – according to how much like ourselves they are.

Today’s gospel has to do with expectations, about boxing people in so that they fit our image of them. Having wandered around Galilee teaching and healing, Jesus has returned to his home town. On the Sabbath, he teaches in their synagogue. Those who hear him are initially astounded, but immediately they begin to question themselves: “Where did this man get all this? What is this wisdom that has been given to him?” they ask with a certain amount of scepticism.  This is Jesus, they know who he is – one of them.  It seems that they cannot allow Jesus to be anything other than the person whom they believe him to be. They have known Jesus for most, if not all, of his life, and it appears that they simply cannot let go of the image of the Jesus whom they knew before this transformation. He is the child of questionable birth – the child of Mary (not Joseph). He is the young boy who played with their children, the brother of young men whom they know – James and Joses and Judas and Simon. His sisters still live among them – ordinary women living ordinary lives. He is a carpenter, not a prophet or miracle worker.

The people of Nazareth have boxed Jesus in. They can’t imagine that he can really be anyone other than the Jesus they have always known. Their limited imaginations cannot allow for him to have changed so radically – to have become one who is well-versed in scripture and who has power to heal. None of this was evident when he lived among them, or, if it was, they were blind to his potential. Their lack of belief makes it impossible for Jesus to do much for them. They have put up imperviable barriers between themselves and him, that even divinity cannot cross.

The response of the Nazoreans to Jesus is an example of our own response to God. How often do we limit God, Jesus, or the Spirit as a consequence of our expectations being either too grand, or too narrow? How often is God the Trinity prevented from acting in our lives because we are disappointed that the Triune God does not live up to our expectations or because our expectations are simply too low? We, like Jesus’ neighbours have formed an image of God – who God is and what God can do. We expect extraordinary miracles and are disappointed when God acts differently. Alternatively, we expect very little and so give God little opportunity to do anything for us. We hope for grand signs and fail to see the presence of God all around us. We try to define God when God is simply unable to be defined. We box God in, try to make God conform to our idea of God and in so doing miss God’s mystery and grandeur. 

The very nature of God should continually surprise, astound and astonish us. Our relationship with God should be not one of familiarity but one of expectation and uncertainty. God may be present in the ordinary as well as the extraordinary. God may reveal Godself in mighty acts or quiet whispers. God may heal broken bodies, but more often will mend broken souls. God will never, ever be what we perceive God to be, for then God would not be God.

Our task is to suspend our need to understand, to categorise, and to define, and to retain a joyful openness to God’s presence such that when God catches us by surprise, instead of saying: “That can’t be God,”  we will be able to say wholeheartedly:  “Ah, yes, there God is.”


[1] https://www.vogue.com.au/fashion/news/meet-australian-madeline-stuart-the-worlds-first-professional-model-with-down-syndrome/news-story/c90e9224d9586e7840362a9ea0a4bf8a

Change and disruption

November 13, 2021

 

Pentecost 25 – 2021

Mark 13:1-11

Marian Free

 

In the name of the God of our past, present and future. Amen.

Given that that the Bible was written by men in a patriarchal world, a world in which men and women had clearly defined roles and in which pregnancy and childbirth would have been entirely the province of women, it is extraordinary that there are more than a few occasions on which images of pregnancy, childbirth and mothering are used for God and for the journey of faith. Sometimes they are used to describe God’s intimate love and care. They evoke God’s promises – the barren woman will bear seven-fold (Is 54), God’s love – I took them up in my arms (Hos 11), God’s comfort – as a mother comforts her child, God’s compassion – can a mother forget her nursing child and God’s protection – I will be as a bear robbed of her cubs (2 Sam 17).

 

At other times, as today, the pain and the violence of childbirth is used to bring to mind the trauma and disruption that can precede change. This is exemplified in the Song of Hannah (echoed in the Song of Mary) that speaks of upheaval – the bows of the mighty are broken, the powerful are brought down, the poor are raised from the dust and the lowly are lifted up.

 

In our scene from this morning’s gospel the disciples were no doubt expecting Jesus to join them in their admiration of the Temple – after all it was the centre of their faith, the place in which sacrifices were offered to God and to which faithful Jews came for the major festivals of their faith. They must have been completely taken aback by Jesus’ response that not one stone would remain upon another. It would have been completely impossible for them to imagine that within decades of Jesus’ death a new expression of their ancient faith would have been brought to birth and that many of the things that they now considered sacred would not only have been destroyed but would have lost their meaning. How could they conceive that the anointed one, the one for whom they had waited for so long would be the cause of a deep rupture between all that they had known and the future that he was initiating?

 

 

Many of us like the disciples resist change. When everything is going smoothly it is difficult to imagine that there can be any benefit in letting of of the comfortable and familiar. Worse, as our reading suggests, change can be violent and destructive and there are times when the old must be destroyed to allow room for the new to emerge. It can be difficult to see new possibilities while the old structures and the old ways of doing things remain in place and it is often only with hindsight that we can see the benefits that accrued from what had appeared to be a catastrophic event. (Who, for example, would have imagined that a rag-tag bunch of foolish and non-comprehending disciples would have transformed not only their faith, but the whole world along with it? Who could have predicted that anything good could have come out of a pandemic? Yet a bunch of uneducated men and women spread the gospel to the world. And the pandemic has shown us how we can connect without being face-to-face.)

Today’s gospel is a timely reminder that nothing lasts for ever and that even the greatest of edifices can fall. It is also a caution against holding too tightly to the past and of failing to be open to the opportunities offered by the future. 

We are, all of us, on the threshold of change, myself to a future that is not yet fleshed out and you to the adventure of a new period of ministry. It will not be the sort of catastrophic change that our gospel refers to and it will be experienced differently by all of us. At the same time, the future is full of potential and I am confident that any trepidation that we might feel will be more than balanced by a sense of anticipation and excitement as to what that future might hold.

You will have forgotten the disruption that occurred when I (the first woman to have the cure of this Parish) burst on the scene and I am certain that you now take for granted the many changes that have occurred over the last 14 years. There will be a great many things that you will remember as always having been here, or always having been done in a particular way. That will not be true. This is not the Parish I came to 14 years ago. Stalwarts have gone to God and many new faces have joined us. New groups have formed and some have fallen by the wayside. There have been subtle changes to the way we do liturgy and there have been numerous physical changes to both the church and grounds and now we take it for granted that this is how it should be.

That doesn’t mean that this is how it should stay. In the past few weeks, I have become increasingly convinced that the Holy Spirit is present in the timing of this handover, that this is absolutely the right time for another person to take the Parish on the next stage of your journey and that God has wonderful things in store for all of us.

We, like the disciples, are on a journey of discovery, always on the move, always trying to be open to the Spirit and the will of God. No one knows where the road will take us, but we continually leave the past and present behind us to step out in faith, following Jesus, confident that we will  be asked to do more than we are capable of and that we will never be abandoned to face the journey alone.

 

May God bless us all in whatever lies ahead.

 

 

 

“Yes” to God

August 17, 2013

Pentecost 13 (Mary, Mother of our Lord)

Luke 2:1-7

Marian Free

May our “yes” to God, be a source of transformation for ourselves and in turn, for the world. Amen.

It must be absolutely amazing to see the desert in bloom after the rain, or Lake Eyre teeming with bird and fish life when the waters from the north fill it to the brim. To watch the dry and barren earth respond to the rain, slowly turn green and then to blossom with flowers of all different shapes, sizes and colours must be truly magical. Our spring is not as spectacular as that of cooler climes, but it is still possible to discern the changes and to observe new shoots, on trees like the frangipani as the bare winter branches respond to warmth and light. In temperate climates of course, the change is more dramatic – trees that are bare and apparently lifeless, spring into leaf, then bud and flower and sometimes even fruit. Snow covered ground parts to allow the spear-like leaves of snowdrops, daffodils and jonquils to push through, dotting the white with green until the flowers of yellow and white provide carpets of colour on a background of green grass. Nature simply opens itself to the changes in light, water and warmth and wonders result.

A pervasive image associated with God’s (positive) relationship with Israel is that of fertility  (even fecundity). The nation without God is described as barren and desolate, but its return to God will be so life-giving, that it will be like the desert blooming. The message that the prophets proclaim in many and varied ways, is that existence without God is dry, bleak and empty, but that with God, life is rich, fruitful and full. God’s love is bountiful, extravagant and limitless, for with God there are no half measures, God gives everything that he has and God gives without restraint. The Old Testament prophets insist that in order to receive that love and the abundance that God offers, Israel needs only to give up its striving for independence and to accept God’s sovereignty instead of going its own way, serving other “gods” and resisting the God of their forebears.

God’s loving goodness, while a powerful force for change, simply cannot break through a wall of resistance and stubbornness. Love needs a welcome before it can make itself at home and effect the transformation promised by the prophets.

And so it is we come to Mary who, at the turn of the eras, opened herself – heart, mind and body – to the presence of God in her life.  Mary who, despite her youth, instinctively knew that no matter the risks and the potential costs, life with God would still be infinitely better and richer than life without God. Mary, whose “yes” to God two thousand years ago, is an exemplar for our own “yes” today. Mary, whose ready submission to God’s will is a model for the surrender of our own lives to God. Mary, whose acceptance of God’s life within her, succeeded in giving God a body in which to be physically present in the world and which in turn succeeded in bringing salvation to every nation.

Beginning with nothing but Mary’s welcoming heart, God burst forth into life, taking the world by surprise and opening up new possibilities for relationship with God. What Mary illustrates and Jesus demonstrates, is that a life completely given over to God is not a life of servitude that is limited and constrained, but rather a life of freedom, fulfillment and satisfaction. What they teach us is that surrendering our all, leads not to the loss of our selves, but rather to the discovery of our true selves, the self made in the image of God, free from the impurities of our frail human existence and enlivened by the Spirit. When we give our wholehearted “yes” to God, God makes a home with us. When we give ourselves fully to God we are not thereby condemned to a life of dry, dull compliance but to a life filled with abundant joy, extravagant love and endless possibility, a life in which we are liberated to reach our full potential.

If we have not yet experienced that fullness of life that results from God’s presence in us, it may be that, unlike Mary, we are still holding something back. If we have not experienced God’s profligate love, it is perhaps because we are insisting on holding on to our independence, resisting giving our all or unwilling just yet to allow God to fully inhabit us.

God asks to come in, but will not force himself on us. It remains our choice to welcome God or not, our choice to align our lives with God, our choice to participate in God’s future hopes for ourselves and for the world.

When Mary offered God a home and opened her heart to God, she risked everything – her relationship with Joseph, her reputation and even her life. At the time, she could have had no real idea of how her life would pan out, no concept of the joy and the pain that would ensue, no inkling of the significance of her action for the future of the entire world, but, confident of God’s goodness and grace, Mary said “yes” and as a result the possibilities for the whole of humanity were expanded and enhanced.

If Mary’s “yes” made such a difference to the history of the world, who knows what our “yes” to God – collective or individual – might mean. If we have the courage to wholeheartedly say “yes” to God, the desert might bloom, injustice cease, poverty come to an end and peace reign on earth. Just one word from us might make all the difference.