Posts Tagged ‘recognition’

Together on the road

April 25, 2020

Easter 3 – 2020

Luke 24:13-35

Marian Free

In the name of God who walks beside us on the road. Amen.

The story of the road to Emmaus is one of my favourite Easter stories. Luke’s retelling captures my imagination and I feel as if I am walking with Cleopas and his companion (his wife?) trying to work out what had happened over the past few days. Even though I know the end of the story, I am caught up in their grief and confusion, their intrigue as to who the stranger might be and finally in their recognition of Jesus. As Luke tells the story, I am there on the road and at the table. I don’t immediately recognise who it is beside me but on reflection realise that I had known it was Jesus all along.

Cleopas and his companion were not Galileans (as were the twelve) so they had probably not accompanied Jesus to Jerusalem. Their hopes and expectations about Jesus were almost certainly based on their experiences during his week in the city. Along with many others, they would have been caught up in the excitement surrounding Jesus, impressed by his teaching and filled with the hope that he was the one who was to come. Jesus’ crucifixion and death had thrown all this into question, yet it seems that they had not completely lost hope but had waited in Jerusalem to see if he would be raised as he had predicted. (“It has been three days,” Cleopas says.)

Otherwise, why would they have lingered? Emmaus was only a couple of hours walk away and there was no need to remain in the city once the Passover festivities were over. Indeed, it might have been dangerous to stay if they could have been identified as followers of Jesus. Yet, they had remained.

It is clear that they had heard reports that morning, that the tomb had been found empty by the women (something that had been verified by Peter). They may have been reminded, as the women were, that Jesus would rise on the third day. This would explain why they delayed going home, leaving Jerusalem mid-afternoon instead of in the cool of the morning. If Jesus was alive (as the angels had said), surely they would hear of it and be able to see him for themselves. Finally, they can wait no longer and with heavy hearts they begin the journey home.

Even so, they cannot stop thinking about the events of the past few days. As they walk, they are absorbed in conversation, analysing what has happened, trying to make sense of it all and wondering how they could have been so mistaken as to think that this man who was crucified was the one sent by God to save them. It is no wonder that they do not recognise Jesus when he comes alongside them. Presumably they imagine that he is just another pilgrim returning home from the festival and they don’t pay him much attention. They were certainly not expecting to see Jesus. Three days had passed, and he hadn’t been seen alive and, if he was alive, there would have been no reason for them to have expected him to leave Jerusalem at least not without his disciples. What is more, Cleopas and friend may never have seen Jesus without the crowds and may never have had a close enough look to recognise him in the absence of his friends.

Never-the-less, they expect this stranger to be a mind-reader and they jump to the conclusion that if he had been in Jerusalem he must certainly be as concerned about the recent events as they were. Interestingly, though they are surprised at Jesus’ apparent ignorance, they are not at all surprised that he should have such a good grasp of scriptures and that he should be able to explain and to interpret Jesus’ death.

We are not told whether or not Jesus’ words convinced them that the Christ had to die, or whether his explanation provided them any comfort. After all, the stranger had not told them that Jesus was alive only that the Christ had to suffer and then enter his glory. The stranger’s interpretation might have gone some way in explaining the events of the past few days, but it will have told them nothing about the present or the future or the impact that Jesus would have on their lives or on the lives of others who had believed in him. They might have wondered what use was a Christ who died and entered his glory and how was it possible that  such a Christ could change anything and would that Christ make any difference in the long term or would he be, as he seemed, just a moment in history.

Cleopas and friend are still confused when they reach their home, but their sense of hospitality will not allow the stranger to continue his journey in the dark. They invite him to stay with them. At the meal table the stranger “took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them”. In so doing he was repeating the actions of Jesus at the Last Supper when he took bread, blessed and broke it and gave it to the disciples. Only then do the two really see the stranger, and seeing him, recognise him and, recognising him, realise that they knew who he was all along.

In difficult and uncertain times, we too get caught up and become self-absorbed in our own troubles. We try to figure things out for ourselves, wonder what has happened and worry about the future. We can forget that Jesus is always with us, and often, it is only with hindsight that we understand that he has been walking beside us all the way.

It is now a full month since our last service together in the church and we have no idea when the lock-down will end or what the future will look like. As we travel our own paths in these strange times, let us pray that we will be attentive to the presence of Jesus, open to all that this experience has to teach us and eager to share with each other what we have learned when we are together again.

 

Seeing what is in front of us

February 1, 2020

Feast of the Presentation – 2020

Luke 2:22-40

Marian Free

May I speak in the name of God, Earth-maker, Pain-bearer, Life-giver. Amen.

Sacramental worship in first century Palestine was a very different proposition from that in Brisbane today. Whereas we are used to celebrating Holy Communion every week in our Parish Churches, the Hebrews might, if they were able, attend the Temple for major feast days or to observe specific rituals that could only be carried out in the Temple. Passover seems to have been a must for most Israelites, but it is possible that not everyone was able to make these pilgrimages on a yearly basis.

It is difficult to know how many towns or villages had synagogues, but from the biblical evidence that Jesus taught in their synagogues and that the early believers came together every week, we can assume that it was the practice (of the men at least) to gather weekly to read from scripture, say or sing the Psalms and to expound on the biblical text. But as there was only one Temple, anything that required the services of a priest took place there, in Jerusalem.

In setting the scene for his gospel, the author of Luke is careful to establish Jesus’ Jewish credentials. This seems strange for a person who was writing for a Gentile audience, but the Roman Empire was suspicious of anything novel, in particular of different belief systems which they regarded as superstitions and as a threat to the Empire. Judaism was accepted and even respected by the Romans because of its long, established history. By making it clear that Jesus was a member of this ancient faith Luke establishes the credibility (and the heritage) of what, to many, appeared to be a new religion.

Luke builds up the picture of Jesus’ Jewish credentials in a number of ways. The parents of John the Baptist (Jesus’ cousin) are described as coming from ancient priestly families and Zechariah is in the Temple offering the sacrifice when an angel announces John’s conception. Mary and Joseph fulfil the obligation under the law to circumcise Jesus on the eighth day. Forty days after Jesus’ birth they make the long journey to Jerusalem to offer a sacrifice to redeem their first-born son and to undergo the rite of purification. Later, when Jesus is twelve years old, the family will return to Jerusalem for the Passover Festival. Five times in today’s the author refers to the law, the basis of the relationship between God and God’s people and Luke’s gospel both begins and ends in the Temple – the centre of the Jewish faith. In other words, the Gentile readers of this account of Jesus’ life (in particular Theophilus) are left in no doubt that this emerging faith has its roots firmly based in Judaism and is in fact nothing new but a continuation of that ancient religion.

In describing the presentation of Jesus in the Temple Luke moves the story forward. He suggests that the time of the prophets has ended. What God has promised to Israel has come to pass. Led by the Spirit, Simeon recognises the child as the Lord’s anointed – the one who will be the instrument of God’s salvation – a light to the Gentiles and the glory of God’s people Israel. Without labouring the point, Luke establishes that God has acted in the world and that going forward, Gentiles as well as Jews will be included in God’s acts of salvation.

Luke has established that this apparently ‘new’ faith has an age-old history. Now he makes it clear that, with the birth of Jesus, the faith is moving from one era into another. It is a continuation of the old while at the same time it is leaving the past behind and forging a new path. John the Baptist provided the bridge between the past and the present. From now on the focus will be on Jesus and God’s actions in the world through him. All this, the reader is led to believe, is completely in accord with God’s plan.

Luke moves the story forward in another way as well. Simeon’s words to Mary give us a foretaste of what it to come. Jesus’ presence will not be welcomed by all. His teachings and actions will be a source of division. People’s reaction to him will reveal where they stand in relation to what God is doing in the world and a once unified faith will be divided to the point of separation.

When I read this account, what strikes me is the wisdom, openness and spirituality of Simeon and Anna and their very different responses to Jesus. Both are near the end of their lives and seem to have led lives of prayer such that their connection to God is strong and their awareness of God’s presence in their lives is real and powerful. Mary and Joseph would have been little different from other parents visiting the Temple that day, that week or that year. They were poor (as is indicated by the sacrifice of a dove not a lamb) and had travelled from an insignificant village in the Gentile region of Galilee.  Yet Simeon, guided by the Spirit, comes into the Temple at the very moment that they do and recognises in Jesus the child whom God had promised he would see. Simeon’s reaction is to take the child and give thanks. Anna appears to be already in the Temple and has presumably seen or heard something. She wastes no time with the child and his parents but exuberantly praises God and announces the presence of the child to everyone who is ‘looking for the redemption of Jerusalem’.

As their lives come to a close, Anna and Simeon demonstrate a depth of faith that enables them to sense what God is up to and to recognise God’s presence in the world. They display an openness to the possibility that God might do the unexpected and they reveal their confidence that God will do what God has promised. May we too live such lives of faith and faithfulness that our relationship with God will make us aware of God’s presence in our lives and in the lives of others and may we live in expectation that God will act in the world.

Seeing and being seen

January 18, 2020

Epiphany 2 – 202

John 1:29-42

 Marian Free

In the name of God who sees who we are and what we can do. Amen.

When I was at school, I found English composition particularly difficult. In fact, the subject as a whole cause me a great deal of anxiety.  Other students seemed to have no trouble writing imaginative compositions, analysing Shakespeare or eloquently expressing what they thought this, or the other poet really meant. I really struggled. I felt that understood poetry in my gut, but I couldn’t get the words onto paper. I’d think that I had a reasonably good idea for a story but would not be able to execute it in the way that I wanted. My teachers were excellent and, for better or worse, a number of lessons have stayed with me. These include don’t start sentences with ‘and’ or with another word with which you’ve begun a previous sentence. In fact, try to use a variety of words to say the same or similar things. As a consequence, from Year 11 until I finished my PhD, Roget’s Thesaurus was my constant writing companion.

The author of the fourth gospel has no interest in such variety. As I’ve mentioned on previous occasions John is quite sparing in his vocabulary and therefore repetitive. He manages to write entire gospel using only 1,011 words. Words like to know and others like believe, love and light appear again and again in the gospel. Today’s reading from chapter 1 is a case in point. In the first section, John the Baptist says exactly the same phrase twice in succession: “I myself did not know him”. In the second section the word “remain” or “abide” is repeated five times – twice in relation to the Spirit’s remaining on Jesus at his baptism and three times in relation to John’s disciples who want to know where Jesus is remaining, who see where he is remaining and who remain with him for the day.

Given this, it is extraordinary to note the number of different verbs that the author of the fourth gospel uses for ‘to see’ in these fourteen verses. In English the verbs “see”, “look” and “behold” together appear ten times. In Greek five different verbs are used – βλέπω, (to see), ιδέ (look! Pay attention), θέαομαι (to gaze upon, to see with the eyes), οραω, (to see or perceive), and εμβλεπω (to gaze at the face, to consider). These are subtle differences but given the author’s reluctance to employ a vast array of words, one cannot help but wonder if there is some significance in the writer’s choice of these five. Why use five when conceivably one would do?

I want to hazard a guess that the choice of words is not an accident. The verb Θεαομαι is used twice. In the first instance, John sees (with his eyes) the Spirit descend on Jesus. On the second occasion, Jesus turns and gazes on two of John’s disciples who are following him. It is possible that this particular word implies a supernatural or a spiritual ‘seeing’. John sees what no one else sees or has seen – the Spirit of God. Seeing the Spirit of God enables him to recognise Jesus as the Son of God. Later Jesus turns and sees (with his eyes) John’s disciples. He doesn’t ask: “Why are you following me?” but, “What are you looking for?” His question suggests that he has seen that they are following him for a reason, that there is something that they want from him. His seeing is not superficial.  It appears to look into their hearts and to discern their purpose.

Another word, “εμβλεπω” also seems to hold a deeper meaning than is at first obvious. John sees Jesus and announces that he is the “Lamb of God”. He gazes at Jesus, considers who he is before bestowing a title that is unique and has no precedent. John’s is not a casual glance. It is a searching look, one that enables him to discern something about Jesus that no one else has noticed. The same verb is used when Jesus looks at Simon. He gazes on Simon’s face considering who Simon might really be and how he might be identified. Jesus gives Simon the name Cephas or Peter.

What is clear is that these two periscopes are about really seeing and about really being seen. John’s openness to the one who sent him (God) allows him to see the Spirit. Seeing the Spirit enables him to identify Jesus. A careful consideration of Jesus enables him to see and name Jesus as the “Lamb of God”. Jesus likewise sees, knows and names Simon.

Seeing and being seen are integrally related in our faith journey. They are two sides of the one coin. Unless we spend time gazing on God – Creator, Redeemer and Sanctifier – we may not truly see God and we may not recognise God for who God really is. It is impossible to have a real relationship with anyone whom we do not truly see. On the other side of the coin, we can be certain that just as Jesus knew who Simon was and of what he was capable, so God – Father, Son and Spirit – knows exactly who we are and what we can and cannot do. God sees past the image that we present to the world to the person beneath. God sees without judgement let alone condemnation. When Jesus named Simon the Rock, he knew that Simon (or Peter) would waver and fail. He named him anyway.

Seeing and being seen are two sides of the same coin, each equally necessary in this life of faith. Being in relationship requires an openness to God such that we can see God (not our idea of God) in the world around us, in the lives of others and in our own lives. It also means having the courage to accept that (for good and for ill) we are truly seen and known by God.

Both are a terrifying prospect, but they lead to a deep and meaningful relationship that frees us to be ourselves and leads to the peace, joy and fulfillment that only a relationship with God can bring.

One more time

May 4, 2019

Easter 3 – 2019

John 21:1-19 (some thoughts)

Marian Free

In the name of God who reveals godself to us when we least expect it and when we most need it. Amen.

A trip to Israel is amazing. It is a beautiful country steeped in history. There you will come across a Canaanite altar that goes back 3,000 years before Jesus and a horned altar that makes sense of the horned altars of the Old Testament. You will encounter archeological sites that go back at least 1000 years before Jesus’ time and which have been built on over the centuries by different nations and cultures up until the present. The site of Capernaum with its ruins of homes that date from the time of Jesus helps us to put the gospel story into context and the Sea of Galilee is so vast that one can understand why the disciples might have been afraid when tempests arose.

That said, there is much that, for me at least, is a source of irritation or disappointment. I found it impossible to imagine the Israel of Jesus’ day in the towns and tourist sites that capitalize on their place in the gospel story and compete with each other for the tourist dollar. Christian denominations that vied with each other for attention were, for me, a source of deep shame and embarrassment. If visitors to the nation had been less keen to immerse themselves in the story they might ask themselves why both the Anglicans and the Catholics need such large churches in Bethlehem, why they have divided Capernaum into two parts, and why the Church of the Holy Sepulchre is divided between a number of Christian traditions.

On a lighter note, seeing a place at first hand had the tendency to burst the bubble of my imagination. Sites that loomed large in the gospel story did not have quite the same impact in reality. The Mount of the Transfiguration turned out to be a geological feature that I would have would called a hill; and the cliff that Jesus was ‘pushed’ to in Luke’s gospel was so far from Nazareth that it was hard to believe that even a huge crowd would have persisted in pushing Jesus over such a large distance.

What really surprised me and shattered my image of the story, were the fish. At the kibbutz by the Sea of Galilee we were served ‘St Peter’s fish’, which I took to be the fish of the miraculous haul recorded in both Luke and John. These fish (at least those cooked for lunch) were small – about fifteen cm long with very little flesh. It was hard to imagine even 153 of these fish being sufficient to make a net impossible to haul in as today’s gospel suggests and hard to imagine how many would be required to stretch to the nets to breaking point (Luke 5:6). But, as my grandmother used to say: “Why spoil the story for the sake of a little exaggeration?”

Why indeed? Whether here in John (after the resurrection) or in Luke (in connection with the calling of the disciples) the story is not so much about the fish as it is about recognition. In Luke’s telling of the story, the disciples have been fishing all night without success. When Jesus comes down to the shore they have left their boats and are cleaning their nets. Seeing the empty boat, Jesus asks Simon to put out from the shore so that he can more easily teach the crowds who have been pressing in on him. It is only when he has finished teaching that he tells the fishermen to try one more time which they do. This time the nets are so full they threaten to sink the boats. At this point Peter falls to his knees before Jesus and says: “Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man.”

As a result of the miraculous catch, Simon recognizes Jesus as Lord and, in the presence of Jesus’ goodness, becomes only too aware of his own sinfulness. The story of the fish is not just a miracle but it is an entry point to the story of Simon’s identification of Jesus’ true nature.

John places the account of the miraculous haul at the very end of his gospel, but here too recognition is the central point. A group of despondent disciples tire of sitting around and decide to go fishing. All night they fish with no success. In the morning a ‘stranger’ on the beach urges them to put down their nets one more time. This time there are so many fish that they cannot haul in the net. Then John identifies the stranger as the risen Jesus and Peter, (despite the fact that he had denied and abandoned Jesus), is sufficiently excited to see Jesus and sufficiently confident that Jesus will not reject him that he leaps out of the boat in order to be the first to reach him.

Whether it is recognition of the divinity of the earthly Jesus or the reality of the risen Jesus, it is success after a night of struggle, a surprise catch after fruitless effort, that opens the disciples’ eyes to the divine presence that has urged them to give it one more try.

When we are tempted to give up, when the night is too long or the task seemingly impossible, we can remember the catch of fish, believe in the risen Christ, give it one more try, and discover that Jesus was there all the time.

One more time

May 4, 2019

Easter 3 – 2019

John 21:1-19 (some thoughts)

Marian Free

In the name of God who reveals godself to us when we least expect it and when we most need it. Amen.

A trip to Israel is amazing. It is a beautiful country steeped in history. There you will come across a Canaanite altar that goes back 3,000 years before Jesus and a horned altar that makes sense of the horned altars of the Old Testament. You will encounter archeological sites that go back at least 1000 years before Jesus’ time and which have been built on over the centuries by different nations and cultures up until the present. The site of Capernaum with its ruins of homes that date from the time of Jesus helps us to put the gospel story into context and the Sea of Galilee is so vast that one can understand why the disciples might have been afraid when tempests arose.

That said, there is much that, for me at least, is a source of irritation or disappointment. I found it impossible to imagine the Israel of Jesus’ day in the towns and tourist sites that capitalize on their place in the gospel story and compete with each other for the tourist dollar. Christian denominations that vied with each other for attention were, for me, a source of deep shame and embarrassment. If visitors to the nation had been less keen to immerse themselves in the story they might ask themselves why both the Anglicans and the Catholics need such large churches in Bethlehem, why they have divided Capernaum into two parts, and why the Church of the Holy Sepulchre is divided between a number of Christian traditions.

On a lighter note, seeing a place at first hand had the tendency to burst the bubble of my imagination. Sites that loomed large in the gospel story did not have quite the same impact in reality. The Mount of the Transfiguration turned out to be a geological feature that I would have would called a hill; and the cliff that Jesus was ‘pushed’ to in Luke’s gospel was so far from Nazareth that it was hard to believe that even a huge crowd would have persisted in pushing Jesus over such a large distance.

What really surprised me and shattered my image of the story, were the fish. At the kibbutz by the Sea of Galilee we were served ‘St Peter’s fish’, which I took to be the fish of the miraculous haul recorded in both Luke and John. These fish (at least those cooked for lunch) were small – about fifteen cm long with very little flesh. It was hard to imagine even 153 of these fish being sufficient to make a net impossible to haul in as today’s gospel suggests and hard to imagine how many would be required to stretch to the nets to breaking point (Luke 5:6). But, as my grandmother used to say: “Why spoil the story for the sake of a little exaggeration?”

Why indeed? Whether here in John (after the resurrection) or in Luke (in connection with the calling of the disciples) the story is not so much about the fish as it is about recognition. In Luke’s telling of the story, the disciples have been fishing all night without success. When Jesus comes down to the shore they have left their boats and are cleaning their nets. Seeing the empty boat, Jesus asks Simon to put out from the shore so that he can more easily teach the crowds who have been pressing in on him. It is only when he has finished teaching that he tells the fishermen to try one more time which they do. This time the nets are so full they threaten to sink the boats. At this point Peter falls to his knees before Jesus and says: “Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man.”

As a result of the miraculous catch, Simon recognizes Jesus as Lord and, in the presence of Jesus’ goodness, becomes only too aware of his own sinfulness. The story of the fish is not just a miracle but it is an entry point to the story of Simon’s identification of Jesus’ true nature.

John places the account of the miraculous haul at the very end of his gospel, but here too recognition is the central point. A group of despondent disciples tire of sitting around and decide to go fishing. All night they fish with no success. In the morning a ‘stranger’ on the beach urges them to put down their nets one more time. This time there are so many fish that they cannot haul in the net. Then John identifies the stranger as the risen Jesus and Peter, (despite the fact that he had denied and abandoned Jesus), is sufficiently excited to see Jesus and sufficiently confident that Jesus will not reject him that he leaps out of the boat in order to be the first to reach him.

Whether it is recognition of the divinity of the earthly Jesus or the reality of the risen Jesus, it is success after a night of struggle, a surprise catch after fruitless effort, that opens the disciples’ eyes to the divine presence that has urged them to give it one more try.

When we are tempted to give up, when the night is too long or the task seemingly impossible, we can remember the catch of fish, believe in the risen Christ, give it one more try, and discover that Jesus was there all the time.

Known and loved

March 30, 2019

Lent 4 – 2019

Luke 15:1-3,11b-32

Marian Free

In the name of God, whose love for us is not determined by what we do or don’t do, but is freely poured out on us all. Amen.

There is a wonderful movie based on the book The Joy Luck Club. The novel follows the lives of four Chinese women who, for quite different reasons, have fled China and found themselves in the United States. There they all marry and have children and form a strong familial bond such that their children could be cousins. We witness the children growing up and the competition between the mothers as the children excel at chess, at the piano, at school and then in the work place. On the whole, the off spring are noisy and self confident high achievers. One, June, does not fit the mould. At ‘family’ gatherings she stays in the background. June doesn’t want to compete with her cousins, she lacks their confidence and selfishness and is always putting the others before herself. At family gatherings it is June who takes the smallest portion of a choice dish and it is she who is to be found helping out with the cleaning up while the other cousins are chatting among themselves.

One evening June, who has made the choice to help her mother rather than sit with her cousins, bristles with resentment (at least as much as someone as sweet as June, can bristle). Even though she willingly helps out, on this particular evening she feels taken for granted. She complains to her mother who responds: “I see you. I see you taking the worst piece of crab when your cousins take the best. I see you looking after your aunties. I see you helping out. I see you.” “I see you.”

June had thought that her actions went unnoticed and that her mother preferred her more confident, higher achieving ‘cousins’, but all along her mother knew her and saw her. June’s quiet help had not gone unnoticed. Her gentle and unobtrusive presence was seen and valued. Knowing this is enough for June. Until now June hadn’t needed or sought reward for her behaviour, but this evening she want to know that she was not unappreciated or invisible. Her mother’s affirmation is sufficient reassurance. She knows that she doesn’t have to compete with her cousins. She understands that she is valued for who she is and that is enough.

I don’t know anyone who does not identify with the older son in today’s parable. Whether it is because we ourselves are an older sibling or whether our sense of justice is deeply offended at the father’s inexplicable generosity towards the son who squandered his inheritance we all sympathize with the older brother who is hurt and angry. After all, we think, he is the good son. He hasn’t rocked the boat. He has quietly, willingly and diligently done all that was expected of him. Why should the younger brother be rewarded and the older son ignored?

We feel this way because we fail to see is that like June, until now the older brother has not felt that he was missing out, or if he did, he had not talked it over with his father. He has simply, and presumably happily, been doing what was expected of him. He has been the dutiful son. He hasn’t sought a reward for doing what was right but, seeing the father’s generosity towards his brother, he becomes aware that he could have had more. Perhaps like June, he had always wanted some reassurance that his conforming to social norms was valued and that his work was not unseen. Or perhaps all along he has been desperate for his father to acknowledge and reward his good behaviour. He may even have been going above and beyond what was expected in a misguided attempt to earn his father’s respect. His resentment, hitherto unnamed and perhaps unrecognized comes bubbling to the surface when his brother- the one who has disgraced himself and brought shame to his family – appears to be being rewarded not for good behaviour, but for bad behaviour. He, the older brother, is the one who should have been rewarded. He is the one to whom the father should have paid some attention. His is the hard work that should have been recognized.

Sadly, like June, the older son hasn’t understood his father’s love for him. Like June he has failed to identify his need for affirmation and he is mistaken in his father’s regard for him. He has not been taken for granted. His readiness to do what was required has not been ignored. If only he knew it he already has everything that belongs to the father. If only he realised that father has not asked or expected him to make sacrifices or to go without. Quite unnecessarily, the older son has made a martyr of himself. He did not accept that his father’s love and regard were freely given and now, when he sees what he could have had, he seethes with resentment. His relationship with his father was based on the false understanding that his father’s love needed to be earned. This is why he simply cannot understand that his father could welcome back his brother without exacting some retribution or imposing some punishment. He has so misunderstood his father’s regard for him that no amount of pleading will get him to go inside to the party – further demonstrating his lack of comprehension of the nature of father’s love.

So – if you identify with the older son ask yourself this – are you doing things you would rather not do because you think you need to? Are you being a martyr in the secret hope that you will be rewarded? Do you have it in your head that you/we need to earn God’s love or approval? Is your relationship with God such that you do not yet understand that God is always reaching out to you and constantly inviting you to the party?

None of us are perfect, yet here we all are – being held and loved by God.

If we resent God’s generosity towards those we consider to be less deserving perhaps it is because we do not yet know and value God generosity towards and love for us.

How is your relationship with Jesus?

March 24, 2018

Palm Sunday – 2018

Mark 14:1 – 15:27

Marian Free

In the name of God who asks us to retain an openness to the world around us so that we don’t mistake Jesus for a trouble-maker and miss him altogether. Amen.

We interrupt this bulletin to bring you some breaking news. Police have called for back up to quell a potential riot in the small regional town of Woiwoorung. Crowds from all over the region have descended on the town for the annual music festival. The usual levels of excitement and anticipation are threatening to spill over into mob behavior with the arrival in town of one Jesse Bunda. Jesse, a young indigenous woman, is well-known to police. She is a controversial figure who has been attracting crowds wherever she goes. Jesse has been spreading the message that the regional authorities are inefficient and corrupt. She has been suggesting that those who live beyond the town have the power to take things into their own hands to create better lives for themselves.

Some people are drawn to her and almost as many are disturbed by her presence, her actions and her words. The authorities in particular are wishing that she simply would fade away. As we speak, the police have the situation in hand, but they are worried that there might be a stand-off between Jesse’s supporters and those who see themselves as the brunt of her criticism.

At this moment the streets of Woiwoorung are continuing to fill with people. They are spilling out of their homes and businesses, from the pubs, the shops and the school just to catch a glimpse of the person who is causing such a stir. There is so much excitement in the usually quiet town that people are climbing on to cars and the backs of trucks. They are calling out, waving clothes and branches – doing whatever they can to catch Jesse’s attention. The populace is wondering whether Jesse will dare to speak here – here in front of the authorities of whom she has been so critical. Until now the influential people of the town have, of course, known about Jesse and what she has been doing, but they had thought of her as a harmless eccentric whose influence would die out as quickly as it had grown. They were completely unprepared for today’s reaction.

Our reporters on the ground tell us that it is almost impossible for the local police to see what is going on. At any moment things might turn ugly especially if those who support the status quo decide to take on those who are challenging it.

Keep watching as we bring you the latest developments.

It is easy for us, from the perspective of our comfortable, middle-class Anglicanism, to think of Jesus as a benign and comforting figure, to forget that in his day he was difficult, confrontational and divisive. As much as there were people who welcomed him and his message, there were those who viewed him with anxiety and suspicion – even with alarm. Almost from the start of his ministry Jesus angered and offended the leaders of his day – the Pharisees, the scribes and the priests. Jesus blatantly broke the Sabbath law and presumed to forgive sins – something that was God’s prerogative. He called the Pharisees hypocrites and told parables that implied that the authorities were greedy and corrupt. And the people he mixed with – well no decent, law-abiding person would have been seen dead with them, let alone have eaten with them or, worse still, included them among their companions. Those in authority could have been forgiven for thinking that he was inciting insurrection – after all the crowds seemed to hang on his every word and at any moment they could have turned against them. Jesus was provocative, disruptive and troublesome. No wonder that those charged with keeping the peace wanted to subdue and restrain him. No wonder they wanted to get rid of him.

From time to time I find myself asking: “If Jesus were among us today, would I recognise him (or her)? Would I find Jesus challenging and disturbing or comforting and reassuring? Would I try to protect the status quo or would I join Jesus in challenging structures and norms that had become unwieldy and unhelpful? Would I have the courage to own up to and let go of my hypocrisy?” The answer is, “I don’t know.” I can only hope that I have not created a Jesus who makes feel comfortable and secure and that I am able to retain an openness to who Jesus might have been and who Jesus might be if he were to appear in front of me today.

We should never be so comfortable in our faith that we do not allow our ideas to be challenged. We should never be so complacent that we allow ourselves to think that we know all there is to know and we should never simply assume that we alone are on the side of right.

Two thousand years ago, those who thought they knew who and what to expect called for Jesus to be put to death. Let us hope that we do not make the same mistake.

How is your relationship with Jesus? Would you know Jesus if he were right in front of you?

 

 

 

 

 

 

Martha’s problem- too busy, or too unhappy?

July 16, 2016

Pentecost 9

Luke 10: 38-40

Marian Free

 

In the name of God who values and delights in each of us in our own way and desires that we are true to ourselves. Amen.

We all hate martyrs don’t we? By this I don’t mean that we hate those who are martyrs in the true sense of the word – those who have given their lives for their faith, the Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the Oscar Romeros and so on. People such as they rightfully command our attention and our admiration. No I mean the martyrs who are martyrs of their own making. Those who demand that we notice how busy, how put upon, in short how “good” they are. I mean those who take on things that they would rather not and then whine and moan that no one helps them or that no one recognises how much they are doing/how much they have to do. Such people have no joy in the task in which they are engaged and very often suck the life out of those around them. The reasons for their taking on more than they really want to could be the result of any number of things. They might think that they will receive recognition and thanks, a sense of importance in the eyes of other for doing something no one else seems to want to do. Sadly, because they take no delight in what they are doing, the effect of their overwork is the opposite of that they had hoped for. Instead of being commended, they are seen as kill-joys at worst and attentions seekers at best.

The interpretation of the Mary/Martha narrative with which I grew up and one that has haunted more than a generation of happily busy women, suggests that because Jesus commends Mary and censures Martha, that he values contemplation more than work. How often have you heard someone (usually a woman) say rather guiltily, ‘I’m only a Martha’ as they uncomplainingly pour yet another cup of tea at a Parish function. This view has been very damaging to many women in the church who are left feeling that their contribution is somehow lacking because it is not spiritual enough. At the same time their contribution has been undervalued, because making jams for the church fete and ensuring that churches and halls are kept clean has not been seen as the real work of the church[1].

A better way to view the story is to see it as an illustration of need for balance in our lives, to understand that it teaches that our times of busyness will be more fruitful and less stressful if they are sustained by prayer, and that a healthy spiritual life is one in which time is spent with God informs and guides what we do, so that what we do is not banal and empty, but infused with the presence of God. Martha and Mary are opposites who demonstrates that action and contemplation are both necessary for a life lived in the presence of God.

A feminist view of this account identifies the fact that Luke effectively silences both women. Martha is censured for feeling burdened and Mary’s silence is commended. Neither woman is given a voice, which is interesting given that in John’s gospel both women play prominent roles in the community.

Then there is, to me, the most compelling interpretation. It is not that Martha is too busy or that Martha is not holy enough. Jesus problem is that she is not happy enough.

Jesus has apparently dropped in on the pair unexpectedly. Hospitality was an important cultural norm. The women would be expected to provide Jesus with food and shelter. That didn’t mean providing a feast, it simply meant sharing what they had. Why then is Martha so upset, what are the “many tasks” that are driving her to distraction? We can only guess that Martha is not so much focused on making Jesus at home, but on impressing him with her culinary and housekeeping skills.

Martha appears to be doing more than is required. The problem is not what she is doing, but that she is getting no pleasure from her endeavours. She has taken on too much and no one seems to have noticed or if they have, they don’t care! it appears that what Martha wants, is not just to ensure that Jesus is fed and comfortable, but for Jesus to appreciate her efforts, to commend what she is doing and to confirm what she believes – that it is she, not Mary, who is doing what is necessary.

Martha does not have the insight to recognise that both she and Mary have a choice as to how they exercise hospitality. Mary has chosen to listen to Jesus first and to worry about other details later. Martha has given other things priority and now that those things have overwhelmed her, she looking for someone to blame for her distress and is wanting to draw Mary into the maelstrom of her distress.

It is important to recognise that there is nothing wrong with being busy If no one did anything the world would grind to a stop. So the issue here is not that Martha is working rather than listening, but that what she does is driven by a sense of self-importance or a desire for recognition.

Jesus’ interaction with the two sisters is a reminder that there is not a tension between prayer and work or that one is superior to the other. Both are necessary and it is our task to find the balance that works best for us. Underlying the narrative is the reminder that our faith is intended to be a source of freedom, peace and joy. Faith is not, and was never intended to be a burden, a struggle or an imposition.

Martha’s unhappiness stemmed from a belief that she needed to earn Jesus’ recognition and regard. Mary’s better part is not so much that she prays rather than works, but that in contrast to Martha she knows without needing to be told, just how much she is loved and just how little she had to do (has to do) to warrant that love.

[1] This despite the fact that many Australian churches have been built on the sales at church fetes and many continue to rely on cake stalls for their survival.

 

Seeing only what we want to see

October 24, 2015

Pentecost 22

Mark 10:46-52

Marian Free

In the name of God who opens the eyes of those who are willing to see. Amen.

It is true that many of us, indeed from time to time – all of us – see only what we want to see. This is true in relation to so many things – individual and corporate. Parents sometimes are unable to see their children’s shortcomings. Spouses are often able to turn a blind eye to their partners’ misdemeanors – adultery, corruption, and even criminal behaviour. Whole populations want to believe that their governments will not mislead them and will do what it best for the nation as a whole – even in the face of information to the contrary. The gullible and not so gullible find themselves wanting to own products that advertisers tell them are absolutely essential to our well-being or our life-style – this despite the fact we know full well that we are being manipulated.

Sometimes this sort of blindness is so firmly entrenched that nothing short of a major catastrophe can shake us into opening our eyes to reality. Conversely, sometimes reality is so disturbing and hurtful, that blindness – however unreal – is preferable to seeing and accepting the truth.

In fact, on occasions the truth makes us so uncomfortable that we seek to silence or even to destroy those who expose it. John the Baptist lost his head because he dared to name Herod’s adultery for what it was. Those who saw through Hitler were sent to death camps. Nelson Mandela and others who identified the evils apartheid were jailed for decades. Journalist Steve Biko was tortured and killed by a government that needed to silence opposition.

The truth can be dangerous. It can be so disturbing and confronting that many prefer to ignore it finding it simpler remain in ignorance. There are many who would rather not acknowledge that governments can and do act immorally and dishonestly. They close their eyes to the truth and dismiss the critics by labeling them troublemakers or dissidents.

By and large we prefer the status quo. We don’t like our comfortable lives or strongly held ideals challenged or confronted. It is easier not to rock the boat, sometimes in the face of very strong evidence that the boat is corrupt or dangerously compromised.

One of the themes running through Mark’s gospel is that of a refusal or a failure to see. Members of the religious establishment suffer from a form of blindness that leads them to dismiss this unknown, uncomfortable person from Galilee. They do not like this man who challenges what they do and what they represent. It is impossible for them to conceive that such an unlikely person might be the one promised by God and because they do not understand him, they try to silence Jesus by plotting to kill him. Even the disciples are blinded to the reality of who and what Jesus is. They simply cannot accept that Jesus will be rejected, will suffer and will die. They can only envisage a future in which Jesus will triumph. When Jesus predicts his suffering and humiliation, his disciples retreat to what they think they know. They try to silence Jesus by rebuking him or by changing the subject to something that makes them feel more comfortable.

Neither group is able to see beyond their expectations or prejudices. Neither the disciples nor the authorities can accept the apparent contradiction – either that the Christ should suffer, or that such an ordinary person could be the one sent by God.

There are however, some who are able to recognise Jesus for who he is – the demons and those who are on the outside. The demons are able to identify Jesus because he challenges their authority. He presents a threat. Jesus is able to reduce their power to nothing which enables them to discern that he is a representative of good and therefore of God. On the other hand those who are on the outside of Jewish society have no preconceptions that might blind them to Jesus’ true nature. Such people have no idea how a Christ or Son of God should behave or should present himself. This allows them to see Jesus for who he is and not for who they think he should be. So it is that at the moment of Jesus’ death, when it appears that he has utterly failed, when all his followers have deserted him, when he has been publicly humiliated and shamed, it the centurion – a Roman, a gentile, an outsider who declares: “Truly this man was God’s Son” (15:39).

Bartimaeus is another outsider who, despite his blindness, instinctively knows who Jesus is. Sitting by the road he calls out not once, but twice: “Son of David, have mercy!” The crowds react by trying to silence him. What he is saying is reckless and dangerous – to identify Jesus as the Son of David is to invite trouble, to threaten tenuous peace that exists between the Hebrews and the Romans. At the same time it is disturbing that someone such as Bartimaeus identifies Jesus as the Son of David, despite the fact that Jesus bears no resemblance to a King like David.

Bartimaeus is undeterred. He speaks what he knows and is rewarded by Jesus’ response. Even though he is blind, his openness and clear-sightedness enables him to see what others cannot see.

It is easy to make the mistake of believing that we see clearly, that we know all there is to know about God. We can convince ourselves that what we have learnt in the past is sufficient for the present and for the future and we can allow our faith to be reduced to well-worn formulas, easily remembered doctrines and simple to follow rules. We can find it tempting to silence or ignore the voices that challenge our world-view or suggest that we may be wrong.

If Jesus showed us anything, it was this – that faith can and will take us out of our comfort zone, and in directions that we cannot imagine. Jesus’ own experience show us that he journey of faith can be perilous and dangerous, it can expose us to ridicule and misunderstanding and it can force us to see the world around us in new and different ways. Jesus didn’t promise us that following him would be easy, instead he told us that it would lead to the cross.

If we silence the voices that disturb or challenge us, we risk the spiritual blindness that led Jesus’ contemporaries to misunderstand, to reject and destroy him and we lose the opportunity to grow and develop and to come to a fuller understanding of ourselves, of others and ultimately of God.