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Insiders and outsiders

June 9, 2018

Pentecost 3 – 2018

Mark 3:20-35

Marian Free

In the name of God who does not observe conventional boundaries and who brings the outsider in and challenges the insider to rethink their ideals and their values. Amen.

I don’t need to tell anyone that families are complicated beasts. An ideal family provides nurturing and safe place in which there is a genuine desire that each member is given the space and resources to develop their full potential. The reality however is sometimes very different. Children, and even parents can compete with one another for the limelight. Some parents want to live out their missed opportunities through their children and others want their children to follow in their footsteps. Even though most of us have good intentions, we can unwittingly bring to our relationships our own experience of family and our unmet needs.

Families may not be perfect, but most of us stumble through and our lives are enriched by the relationships and the security that family affords and most of us retain our loyalty to and our love for our families despite their flaws.

In the first century family life was complicated by the cultural norms of honour and shame and of the collective personality. Individualism as we know it did not exist. Society consisted of a web of relationships and individuals existed in relationship only to others – primarily to their extended families. At the same time a person’s honour was their most precious possession and had to be guarded zealously. A man’s reputation (his honour) could be negatively impacted or seriously undermined not only by his deeds but also by the actions of his family (who were seen as extensions of himself). Expectations of family members were much higher a result.

According to today’s gospel Jesus’ behaviour had led his family to believe that: “he had gone out of his mind” . It is not surprising then, that they determined to “restrain him”. The reputation of his brothers, his mother and his sisters and their standing in the community were at stake. We don’t immediately hear how this part of the story works out because Mark interrupts the discussion with a comment from “the scribes who came down from Jerusalem” who, while acknowledging that Jesus was possessed of power to heal, claimed that his power derived from Satan . When Mark returns to the story of Jesus’ family the reader is shocked to hear that Jesus not only ignores their call, but completely dissociates himself from them.

By placing these stories together Mark suggests that Jesus’ family was as misguided as the scribes. They were concerned with superficial issues such as reputation. They misinterpreted his teaching, his healing and the attention of the crowds as madness. The scribes, who were perhaps threatened by Jesus’ popularity, could not believe that God was at work through him (or indeed that God could be at work in the world). They refused to believe that a nobody from Galilee could work miracles that they themselves were unable to perform. They resented the fact that Jesus was liberating the poor and the marginalised from illness and possession.

Jesus pointed out the foolishness of the scribes’ point of view. Satan, he says, simply has no interest in relinquishing his power over individuals and certainly would waste no time in setting them free from the cords that bound them – to do so would only weaken Satan and ultimately destroy him – which would be counter- productive to Satan’s goal of controlling the world!

The actions of both Jesus’ family and the scribes reveal not only their lack of understanding, but that they in fact are in league with Satan. Both have committed the “unforgivable sin” – mistaking God for Satan and by standing in the way of God’s work in the world. They are unable to see God’s compassion and grace being worked out through Jesus – in fact they reject that very possibility. They have confused the divine with its opposite and what is worse, is that both Jesus’ family and the scribes try to stop Jesus – the family by restraining him, the scribes by denouncing him. Their hearts are hardened and their eyes are blinded to the presence of God’s liberating grace. They themselves have not been set free from the powers that bind them (honour in the case of the family, cynicism in the case of the scribes) and they cannot rejoice when others are set free.

That Jesus would reject his family is shocking even now. That he would put his family in the same category as the scribes and even Satan seems utterly outrageous.

Through his teaching and healing ministry, Jesus broke apart the conventional ways of behaving and of seeing the world. He opened up new possibilities for those willing and able to recognise the potential to bring about healing and wholeness for the world. Those who had not as yet identified their own brokenness resisted and condemned him, unable to relinquish their pre-existing points of view (as to how things should be done and who should do them).

Jesus broke down the barriers that separated people from one another and from God. His acts of healing restored them to family and to society, his teaching freed them to experience God’s love and compassion in their lives. Jesus redefined the meaning of family (personal and religious)– insiders became outsiders and outsiders become insiders. Insiders were no longer defined by belief or by blood, but by their relationship to God, their willingness to see God in Jesus and their desire to work with and not against God.

Insiders were (and are) those who are not concerned with reputation or position in the world, who are not rigidly locked into a particular way of seeing things, who do not resent God’s blessings being bestowed on the unlikely and the unworthy and who are not afraid to see God at work in new and unexpected ways.

For different reasons both Jesus’ family and the scribes are determined to stop him and as a result are exposed for whom they really are – people closed to the possibility that God might be at work in the world.

Let us pray that we do not make the same mistake, but remain open, expectant and excited by what God might be yet to do.


Risking it all

June 2, 2018

Pentecost 2– 2018

Mark 2:23- 3:6

Marian Free


In the name of God, who gives us the truth and trusts us to pursue it and not compromise it. Amen.

Those of us who read know that novelists have a gift for building suspense. Detective novels for example, are written in such a way as to totally confuse the reader. Once the crime is committed, there are often there are a number of red herrings that lead the reader to consider most of the characters as potential suspects and to keep them guessing until the very end of the novel when the real culprit and his or her motivation are finally exposed. Romantic novels are also suspenseful. Authors make the reader follow a torturous path of separations and misunderstandings before the two lovers finally admit their love for one another. Every genre of literature – fiction and non-fiction alike – has a particular style or format designed to capture and maintain the attention of the reader.

This is no less true of the gospels. We do not know who wrote the gospels and scholars cannot agree as to what genre of literature they belong but it is clear that each gospel has a particular structure and a particular intention – that of supporting the communities who have come to faith in Jesus and of encouraging others to believe in Jesus. The gospels were not written by Jesus’ disciples – uneducated fishermen and tax-collectors, they were written by second or third generation Christians who were compelled to collect the stories of Jesus at a time when the church was separating from the synagogue and developing a life of its own. There was an anxiety that stories that were repeated from memory were in danger of being embellished. The gospel writers wanted to gather Jesus’ teaching and the account of his life before it was altered beyond recognition.

While we do not know the identities of the gospel writers, we can make a number of assumptions based on the gospels themselves. Only about 1% of the people in the first century could read or write, so we know that our authors had some form of education and whether through formal learning or through the absorption the culture of the educated class, our authors had a knowledge of rhetoric and thus were able to construct their accounts of Jesus’ life in a way that was not dry and uninteresting, but which even today is engaging and even suspenseful.

I have said previously that it is generally agreed that the first gospel to be written is that of Mark. Mark’s gospel is more concise and less accurate than that of Matthew and Mark and his use of the Greek language is much less sophisticated. However an examination of his narrative style and his use of literary techniques reveals that the author is a skilled storyteller. As we journey through Mark’s gospel during the remainder of this year some of the skills that he used will be revealed.

Conflict is a key characteristic of Mark’s gospel – conflict with Satan, conflict with the authorities, conflict with his family, conflict with the disciples and in the end conflict with the crowds who have followed him. Mark introduces conflict at the very start of the gospel and arranges the material in such a way that the conflict continues to intensify throughout the gospel until it culminates with Jesus’ death.

After a brief introduction, Mark introduces the conflict with Satan in the wilderness. Then, no sooner has Jesus begun his ministry and chosen the first disciples, than a representative of Satan in the form of a man with an unclean spirit challenges him (as the demons will continue to do in the first part of the gospel). From the beginning of chapter 2 to 3:6, Mark reports a series of “controversy stories” – Jesus is accused of blasphemy, criticised for eating with tax-collectors and sinners, challenged because his disciples do not fast andbecause they pluck grain on the Sabbath and finally he is attacked because he heals on the Sabbath. At the conclusion of this section, the tension has built to such an extend that: “The Pharisees went out and immediately conspired with the Herodians against him, how to destroy him.”

The story has barely begun and already a number of things have become evident: Jesus was engaged in a battle with the forces of evil (who recognised his divinity), he offended the Pharisees by doing things that only God can do (forgiving sins) and by breaking the Sabbath. At the very beginning of Jesus’ ministry Mark hints that the story is going to end badly – Jesus’ enemies will destroy him. A sense of foreboding hangs over Mark’s gospel from the beginning that deepens when Jesus enters Jerusalem and is challenged by the priests.

Jesus does not change his behaviour to accommodate his opponent’s ideas or to quell their fears. He doesn’t compromise his mission for the sake of his own safety or so that he can fit in with those around him. Throughout his mission Jesus manages to cause affront to those who are self-satisfied and to challenge those who keep outdated rules for the sake of keeping rules. The Jesus of Mark’s gospel is confrontational and uncompromising.

Through a focus on conflict, Mark makes it clear that the gospel as he understands it is not about conforming or fitting in, it is about challenging embedded injustice, questioning outdated rules, re-thinking ancient traditions and above all demonstrating compassion for the marginalised and the despised. The Jesus of Mark’s gospel makes it clear that being true to the gospel has the potential to put us at odds with the world around us. Mark doesn’t promise us comfort. His gospel assures us that as Jesus faced conflict, so too will those who follow in his footsteps.

Mark’s gospel challenges us to ask ourselves – How much have we sacrificed in order to fit in with the world around us? Have we compromised the gospel in order to avoid giving offence? When it comes to living out our faith, do we play it safe, or are we prepared to risk all for what we believe to be true, what we believe to be right?

Not an ending – a beginning

March 31, 2018

Easter Day – 2018

Mark 16:1-8

Marian Free

 In the name of God who turns darkness to light, sorrow to joy, death to life. Amen.

 When something significant happens – a natural disaster, a mass shooting, the visit of a member of the royal family – not only does everyone know about the event but nearly everyone has an opinion on the matter. A certain amount of notoriety attaches to those who were close to or involved in the event and at the same time, those who were affected by what has happened need to talk about it because they have been so traumatized by it.

Why then does Mark’s gospel end on a note of silence. The women (who have seen the empty tomb and been told that Jesus has been raised) “went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.” Silence is an inauspicious start for what was to become the Christian faith. Silence is an inappropriate response for something as extraordinary and unexpected as the resurrection. Silence and fear detract from Jesus’ victory over death, and silence defies the young man’s explicit instruction: “go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him, just as he told you.”

There are a number of explanations for Mark’s terse and unsatisfactory ending – and I will come to them – but first let me take a step back. Those of you who followed the gospel in the pew bibles will be saying to yourselves: “but the gospel doesn’t end at verse 8.” If you look closely though, you will see that the second half of verse 8 is headed “The Shorter Ending of Mark” and verses 9-20 “The Longer Ending”. The problem is that there are no original copies of the gospels, the earliest manuscripts that we have come from the fourth century and these are copies of copies of copies. Significantly, the oldest copies of Mark end at verse 8, that, plus the fact that this is such a difficult reading has led scholars to believe that the original gospel ended here.

If that is the case, t is not surprising that the later copiests added to Mark’s ending. They would have found the lack of resurrection stories unsatisfactory and they would have wanted to find a way for Mark’s gospel to line up with the other gospels. The longer ending, for example, includes a reference to Jesus’ appearance on the road to Emmaus (Luke) and the commission to proclaim the good news to all the nations (Matthew). It also contains disturbing “proofs of faith” that do not seem to go back to Jesus– “they will pick up snakes in their hands, and if they drink any deadly thing, it will not hurt them.”

So why does the author of Mark leave us hanging? Why are we left with fear and silence rather than victory and joy?

There are a number of suggestions as to why this might be. One is that those for whom the gospel was written already know the ending. They know too that the story does not end with Jesus’ resurrection, but continues in their own lives and through the experience of the gathered community. Jesus’ is alive in their midst, they themselves are the proof enough of the resurrection. The author of Mark knows that the story is far from over. It is possible that he is challenging his community – the believing community to take their place in the story, to move the story forward. In some ways the resurrection is just the beginning of the story. In fact, Mark appears to set us up for an open-ended close from the start:

“The beginning of the Good News of Jesus Christ, Son of God”. The suggestions is that gospel as written is not the whole story rather it sets the scene for a story that is just beginning[1].

Another perspective suggestion is that the women find the tomb empty because Jesus has better things to do. In Mark’s gospel, Jesus doesn’t wait around for the disciples to come and process the resurrection, to chat with him, to eat with him. Jesus gets on with what he has to do and leaves a messenger to remind the disciples (in this case the women) of something that he said while he was still alive – that they were to meet up with him in Galilee where it all began. They are to go back to the beginning, but they go back as people who are profoundly different from the people that they were at the start of their discipleship. Having experienced the ending, the disciples are sent back to the beginning from where they will be able to see the story with fresh eyes. The contradictions and confusion that they experienced during Jesus’ ministry will, hopefully, now make sense to them. With any luck they will now understand that Jesus’ suffering had a purpose and that his vulnerability was in fact a strength[2].

Yet another explanation for the abrupt ending is that while Mark is well aware of the importance of the resurrection for the story and for the disciples, he is equally conscious that the ambiguity that attended Jesus’ ministry will continue in the lives of believers. That is, despite the resurrection, the believing community will experience suffering and rejection. Like Jesus they will be misunderstood and sought out for the wrong reasons.

Then again, Mark might just be chiding the community (through the women) for their lack of faith. Three times Jesus has explicitly predicted his death and resurrection and three times the disciples showed by their response how little they understand. Now, three days after Jesus’ crucifixion, the women come to the tomb expecting to find a body when they had been promised a resurrection. It is possible that Mark is challenging the community for whom he writes to maintain an openness to the possibility that God will do the unexpected so that, unlike the women, they will not be caught by surprised, they will not be traumatized and confounded when God does not meet their expectations and they will trust that God will do what God has promised to do.

Centuries later the ending of Mark’s gospel presents us with a mystery – a mystery with a purpose. It asks us to consider:

Do we understand that we are part of the ongoing story of the gospel?

Are we able to accept and to live with the contradictions of the gospel – that it is in service and through suffering that we draw close to and are formed in the image of God?

Are we aware that as followers of Jesus life will not always be easy and that we can expect the same treatment from our contemporaries as he received from his?

Do we trust that God will do what God has promised to do?

Finally, have we locked God into one version of the story or are we alert, open and expectant – ready for God to do God’s next new thing?

Mark’s gospel does not end tidily because there are no tidy endings. Indeed the story of Jesus has not and will not come to an end.


Christ is risen! He is risen indeed!

[1] David Lose. Working Preacher

[2] Lance Pape, Working Preacher

Life and Death – two sides of one coin

March 31, 2018

For the Good Friday Liturgy, go to that page.

Kahlil Gibran – On Death

You would know the secret of death.

But how shall you find it unless you seek it in the heart of life?

The owl whose night-bound eyes are blind unto the day cannot unveil the mystery of light.

If you would indeed behold the spirit of death, open your heart wide unto the body of life.

For life and death are one, even as the river and sea are one.
In the depth of your hopes and desires lies your silent knowledge of the beyond;

and like seeds dreaming beneath the snow your heart dreams of spring.

Trust the dreams, for in them is hidden the gate to eternity.

For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?

And what is it to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?
Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.

And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.

And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.


It is easy to think that Good Friday is all about dying and indeed we do focus on Jesus’ gruesome death and the events that led up to it. Today is a sombre and sobering day when we are forced to face our own role in the death of Jesus – our daily betrayals, our luke warm faith and our love of all things worldly. It is also the day when we are brought face-to-face with the potential consequences of standing with the oppressed and the marginalised, of challenging unjust structures and of confronting the love of power.

It is also a day of contradiction – the cross revealing in stark relief the ignorance and foolishness of humankind in regard to all things Godly. We begin to understand that life and death go hand in hand – they are two sides of the one coin. Without life there is no death, without death we do not really know life. Death throws life into perspective, helps us to appreciate the gift that it is, challenges us to value and to use the life that we have, encourages us to make the most of every minute.

Life that acknowledges death tries to make the most of every moment – to grasp with both hands the good and the bad, to embrace the future rather than to hold on to the past, to have half an eye on eternity rather than being bound to this earthly existence.

Life and death are aspects of daily existence. Every moment we can choose life or death – we can choose to behave in ways that are life-enhancing or life destroying. We can choose to hold on to those things that are familiar and comforting but which are stultifying and limiting, or we can let go and embrace a future that is uncertain and full of potential and opportunity.

Do you fear death? Are you afraid of letting go of those things that are familiar and comforting?

As the poem suggests, death and life go hand in hand. Through our daily deaths (to fear, anxiety, greed and hate) we free ourselves to embrace life more fully.

All our little deaths, free us to live more fully, more authentically,













Praying for a miracle

February 3, 2018

Epiphany 5 – 2018

Mark 1:29-39

Marian Free

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Don’t push God away

January 27, 2018

Epiphany 4 – 2018

Mark 1:21-28 (some thoughts)

Marian Free

In the name of God to whom one day we must answer. Amen.

There is a very powerful movie about the civil war in Sierra Leone – Blood Diamond. One of the sub-plots is that of a boy of 10 who is kidnapped by the opposing forces and forced to fight and kill. He like many other young boys is drugged, beaten and forced to carry out all kinds of atrocities. Amazingly, the boy’s family somehow survived the raid on his village and eventually made it to a refugee camp. Although they feared the worst, the family never stopped looking for their son. Even when they had an opportunity to leave the country to be resettled elsewhere they would not be moved determined that they were not going to leave their son behind. By some miracle the Red Cross managed to locate the boy who, by then had escaped (or been freed by) his captors.

The scene in which the father and son are reunited is heart-wrenching. Instead of running into his father’s open arms, the child holds back. He is embarrassed and ashamed. Even though he was forced to fight, in the presence of his father he feels tainted, unworthy. All that he has done, the drug taking, the killing and the cruelty stand between him and his father’s goodness. In the presence of his father, he feels exposed, he sees himself as he believes that any person would see him – an immoral, heartless killer. He is overwhelmed by feelings of shame and guilt. He knows what he has done and he cannot accept that anyone, even his father could overlook such heinous crimes.

So he stands aloof, awkward and embarrassed. It is only when his father steps forward, takes him in his arms and assures him of his love that the child begins to melt, to believe that there might be a future in which the past is left behind. The future may not be easy, the past may be difficult to forget, but the child has taken the first step to wholeness and healing.

“What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are, the Holy One of God.” Like the child in the story, the demons felt exposed under Jesus’ gaze. Somehow, when no one else knows who Jesus is, the demons, recognising Jesus’ pure goodness, know that he is ‘the Holy One of God’. To them this is not a good thing. Of all people Jesus, they knew, could see through them, could see the darkness they inhabited, the evil they had committed and of which they were capable. Like the child, they are uncomfortable. They don’t like to be exposed, they don’t want or need to have their nature or their deeds brought to light. Unlike the child though, the demons are comfortable as they are. While they might find Jesus’ presence uncomfortable and disconcerting, they do not want to be set free, they want to be left to their own devices. Jesus nature is the direct opposite of theirs and makes the contrast between good and evil even more stark. Jesus’ presence is an irritant, a reminder of who and what they are. Because they do not wish to be restored, because they want to remain unchanged and unchallenged they see Jesus, not as a healer, but as one who destroys.

The reaction of the demons poses, I believe, a challenge for us. Are there aspects of our lives of which we are ashamed? Do we have thoughts, attitudes, or behaviors that of which we are ashamed or, at the very least self conscious. Are there times when the generosity, goodness or love of another makes us feel mean or nasty or lacking in love and compassion? Are the times when in the presence of another we feel that the worst of our nature is exposed, revealed for all to see? Are there times when we feel that our very being is under threat because we are challenged to give up anger, resentment or bitterness? If there are times when we feel less than perfect, less than worthy of others’ good opinions: do we cringe with embarrassment? Or do we wish they they (the person who has engendered such feelings) would go away so that we didn’t have to see our weaknesses exposed (even to ourselves)? Do we prefer to be unchanged and unchanging rather than do the hard work or dealing with our failings and being no only a better person but a more productive member of society?

These are important questions because they not only impact on the quantity of our life in this world, but they most certainly impact of our life in the next.

I do not have special insight into the day of judgement. With regard to what happens after death I am as ignorant as the next person. But, I do believe that both in the present and at our death we must answer to God for all that we have done and been in this life. If at the moment of death I must stand in the presence of God and under the scrutiny of God’s gaze, I would like to be prepared. That is, I would like to see myself (now) as God sees me. I would like to trust in God’s unconditional love to the extent that I can allow the real me to be exposed. Having allowed myself to be exposed I hope, with God’s help, to allow myself to be transformed and while I do not for one minute expect that I will achieve any degree of perfection in this life, I hope that between now and then I will trust God enough to have no secrets, that I will know what God will see when we come face-to-face. I will know too, that like the father in ‘Blood Diamond’, that God who sees me with all my flaws will love and welcome me just the same.

Mark 1:21-28

They went to Capernaum; and when the sabbath came, he entered the synagogue and taught. 22 They were astounded at his teaching, for he taught them as one having authority, and not as the scribes. 23 Just then there was in their synagogue a man with an unclean spirit, 24 and he cried out, “What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are, the Holy One of God.” 25 But Jesus rebuked him, saying, “Be silent, and come out of him!” 26 And the unclean spirit, convulsing him and crying with a loud voice, came out of him. 27 They were all amazed, and they kept on asking one another, “What is this? A new teaching—with authority! He commands even the unclean spirits, and they obey him.” 28 At once his fame began to spread throughout the surrounding region of Galilee.

Mark 1:21-28

The demons cannot bear the scrutiny of Jesus’ gaze. We all have to stand in the presence of God. It is important to be prepared, to see ourselves as God sees us, to trust that God’s love is such that however unjustified that love will not be withdrawn, to be ourselves and allow ourselves to be transformed.

(Thoughts to be published in full when internet allows)


Free to follow

January 20, 2018

Epiphany 3 – 2018
Mark 1:14-20
Marian Free

In the name of God who redeems and liberates us, but who always allows us to chose our own way. Amen.

I don’t need to tell you that by their very nature cults are insidious, abusive, controlling and soul destroying. In most cases they are established by individuals who are seeking to somehow empower or prove themselves by gaining control over others, usually under the guise of having some deep wisdom or spirituality to impart. Followers are often drawn in by a leader’s charisma or their own insecurities. These insecurities are then played upon to the extent that the followers will do whatever the leader suggests – abuse their children, engage in sexual acts with minors, murder the innocent or take their own life. Once they have fully embraced the “values” of the cult, members will try to convince others to join the group – the group grows and the cycle continues.

The Moonies for example, seem to target the lonely and the vulnerable (often young people traveling alone) and then use forms of mind-control (lack of sleep, suggestion, manipulation, drugs) to convince them that the cult has the answers to all life’s problems. They make it clear that if a member questions the teaching or the methods used to persuade others to belong that their own salvation is at risk.

It can become very hard to leave a cult. Those who have previously subscribed to the teaching can find it extremely hard to admit that they were wrong. If they leave the group they will almost certainly lose contact with their families and their friends. They will hav no form of social support and very likely, as a result of their time out of the world, will have no means of economic support. In some instances cult members are become so convinced of the rightness of the cult, or made to feel that outside the cult they are damned that no amount of rational argument will persuade them that they are better out than in.

In Australia, the cult known simply as The Family administered LSD in its purest form to teenagers in order both to subdue them and also to gain information from them that made it easy to manipulate them. It also allowed cult leaders to bend the youngsters to their will. With the collusion of doctors, nurses, social workers and lawyers, its founder Anne Hamilton-Byrne was able to “adopt” new born children and to whisk them away from hospitals without going through the proper channels. These children grew up believing that Anne was their biological mother.

What was it that made educated, professionals follow? What was it about Anne and her husband that led such people to behave in ways that were not only illegal, but that were also contrary to the ideals and codes of their professions? What hold did Anne have over educated professionals that they could justify to themselves their collusion in child abduction and in the shocking abuse of the children in their care?

What is it that makes people follow? What draws them to a particular person or set of beliefs? What leads them to forsake the norms of their society, to abandon friends and family and to accept as normal behaviors that are controlling and abusive? I’ll leave the psychologists to answer that.

It is interesting to note just how different Jesus’ approach is to that of those who establish cults. To begin with, Jesus has no intention of forming a cult (or even a sect within Judaism). Jesus’ goal is to proclaim the good news, to announce the Kingdom of God and to encourage people to ‘repent’ (turn their lives around). Jesus does not target the vulnerable, the lonely or the distressed. In fact the opposite is the case. Those whom he heals are free to continue living as they have before. (Neither the Syrophonecian woman nor the Roman centurion are urged to convert though both were in a very distressed state when they sought Jesus help.) Jesus doesn’t need followers to affirm him, to enrich him or to cover up his insecurities. Jesus’ goal is to empower and enrich others, to enable them to live life to the full. Jesus is confident enough and secure enough in his own person that he doesn’t need to resort to manipulation or subterfuge to gather followers or to subject them to his will.

Today’s version of the calling of the first disciples is quite different from that of John’s gospel that we heard last week. The call of the fishermen is the one with which we are more familiar. There was something about Jesus. Whether you take today’s account or John’s account, Jesus appears to have been able to inspire and energize others, to draw them out of themselves to their true calling. Without any attempt to pressure, without resorting to making them feel guilty, Jesus inspires Peter and Andrew, James and John to leave everything and join him in his task. Rather than take anything from them Jesus, as we shall learn, empowers his followers to do what he does. Instead of taking all the glory and power for himself Jesus shares not only his ministry, but with it the ability to teach, to heal, to cast out demons.

Rather than focusing on himself and placing himself at the centre of his movement, Jesus always and continuously points away from himself towards God.

It is true that many have used Jesus and his teaching to engender guilt, to manipulate others and to subject them to their will, but the true Jesus, the one whom we see in today’s gospel, has no need of coercion, does not seek power over others and nor does he induce feelings of worthlessness. The true Jesus recognises the strengths and weaknesses of his disciples, accepts them for who they are and frees them to be his voice in the world. The true Jesus knows us, accepts us and uses us to be his presence in the world.

Knowing our past

October 28, 2017

Pentecost 21 2017

Reformation Sunday

Marian Free

In the name of God, who remains constant and unchanging despite changes and turmoil in the world. Amen.

Today the Lutheran Church and many other churches throughout the world are celebrating Reformation Sunday. This marks the closest Sunday to October 31, the date on which Luther nailed his 95 Theses to the door of the Castle Church in Wittenberg. While this is a particularly significant date for Lutherans, it is important for us to remember that our own church was formed in the turmoil of the Reformation and the political and religious agendas that were swirling around at that time.

The church of the early 16th century was very different from the church of today. The Mass was said in Latin and the Bible translated into Latin – a language that only the educated could understand. Ceremony and sacraments threatened to override the place of scripture and many intellectuals expressed dissatisfaction with the corruption of the clergy and the doctrine of the church. The saints were worshipped as intermediaries between God and humanity and there was a steady stream of pilgrims to religious shrines and a healthy trade in relics. Priests were poorly educated, often corrupt and/or absent from their parishes and they and the church was losing the confidence of the populace.

For a number of reasons an anti-papal sentiment has been growing in England from the 1300s: the pope was based in France (England’s traditional enemy); the Inquisition and its attack on the Templars had caused disquiet in England where the order was held in some regard; the heavy taxes imposed by the pope funded military and political objectives that were contrary to those of England and, to add insult to injury, sometimes the pope appointed Italians clerics to English Parishes. So great was the resistance to the interference by the papacy that long before Henry thought of marry no Anne, at least 5 Acts of Parliament were introduced to curb its power.

On a political and intellectual front, these were times of great upheaval. The Medieval Age was coming to an end and Europe as a whole was in a state of flux. Nationalism was on the rise and the Holy Roman Empire existed in name only. It was not only in England that there was resentment against the heavy taxation imposed by the papacy. Nation states across Europe were dismayed that their wealth was going elsewhere. The rise of humanism was one aspect of the intellectual change that was sweeping the world. Among other things, humanism approached the bible from an intellectual point of view and humanists sought to discover and translate the original Greek and Hebrew texts. This along with the emphasis on individual thought inspired by the Renaissance, allowed the bible to be brought into questioned in a way that it hadn’t been.

As early as 1328, people like Wyclif had railed against corruption in the church, the wealth of the monasteries and the fact that there were two rival popes. His critique of the church included criticism of its doctrines including that of Transubstantiation. Wycliffe translated the Bible into English. This meant that it could be easily read by lay people. The development of the printing press meant that new ideas spread rapidly and the laity became better educated and able to think for themselves.

In 1517, Luther’s 95 Theses captured this spirit of the age and led to a variety of movements that challenged the authority of the pope, emphasised the authority of scripture and embraced the role of grace (not works) in salvation.

Henry XIII was born in this time of great turmoil and change. He was aware of what was happening in Germany and elsewhere, but had no sympathy for the Reformers. In fact, he was so little convinced by Luther’s political and religious ideas that he wrote a stinging attack on Luther’s view of the sacraments. Such was the conservatism of Henry’s view that the Pope bestowed on him the title “Defender of the Faith”.

Henry was a gifted scholar, sportsman, musician, poet and a devoted Christian, but he was egocentric and determined to have his own way. He was able to develop arguments to defend his point of view and thereby to salve any qualms of conscience he might have. Henry had received special dispensation from the Pope to marry his older brother’s wife. When that marriage failed to produce a living heir, Henry began to ask himself whether God was punishing him for his unorthodox marriage. Well before he fell in love with Anne, he was seeking ways to annul his marriage to Katharine.

Nullify was often a formality for the wealthy and influential but, because Henry had received special dispensation to marry Katharine, the matter was more complex than it might otherwise have been. Add to this that Katharine’s nephew was the King of France and the pope’s host, it is easy to see why the Pope was unable to come to a quick decision. Tiring of the prevarication and desperate to have an heir, Henry took things into his own hands. By nefarious means he deposed Cardinal Wolsey who was been negotiating with the pope then made the clergy carry the guilt for accepting Wolsey’s leadership. They could escape punishment for this trumped up crime if they accepted Henry as ‘Protector and Supreme Head of the English Church and clergy’. This was a step too far, but a compromise was reached. Having cowed the clergy, Henry the played on the anti-clerical sentiment in Parliament to legitimately sever England from Rome and to make himself the Supreme Head of the Church in England. A few more Acts of Parliament ensured that he was able to divorce Katharine and marry Anne.

In England then, the immediate cause behind the break with the Roman Catholic Church was political rather than religious, it was Henry’s son Edward under the tutelage of Archbishop Cranmer who really implemented the Reformation in England. Under Henry the doctrine of the church remained unchanged and the worship of the church was as it had always been. Towards the end of his life, Henry produced a number of Articles of Religion that quashed any hopes that he might have supported the European Reformation. He did encourage the translation of the Bible into English and insist that a Bible in Latin and English be provided in every Parish.

Knowing our history can be unsettling. It is important to remember that the church is a human institution, vulnerable to the pressures and influences of the times. The church that we hold so dear was born in a time of political, religious and intellectual turmoil and change and over nearly five hundred years it has remained largely unaffected by world affairs. We should not be too surprised if once again, buffeted by movements in the social, intellectual and political world around us and captive to the whims of strong and unyielding egos, the church is caught up once again in revolution and change. Whatever happens in the church and in the world, we can be sure of one thing – God will remain unchanged and unchanging and our faith is certain and secure.

Bound to the past or liberated to embrace the future?

September 16, 2017

Pentecost 15 – 2017

Matthew 18:21-35

Marian Free


In the name of God whose power to forgive knows no limits. Amen.


There are many powerful stories of forgiveness. A couple of weeks ago I came across this, a true story, told by Richard Rohr remembering his mother’s last hours[1].

He writes:

She was lingering on the threshold, and for several days she had been talking about “a mesh” she couldn’t get through.

I was sitting by her bed, telling her how much I would miss her. She said she wanted to hear that from my father, whom we always called “Daddy.” Of course, Daddy had been telling her that for weeks.

So Daddy came over and effusively told her, “Oh, I’m going to miss ya.”

She replied, “I don’t believe it.”

I couldn’t believe my ears! I said, “Mother, you’re a few hours from death. You can’t say that!”

She persisted: “I don’t believe it.”

Daddy redoubled his efforts: “I ask your forgiveness for all the times I’ve hurt you in our fifty-four years of marriage, and I forgive you for all the times you’ve hurt me.”

I said, “Mother, isn’t that beautiful? Now say that back to Daddy.” And suddenly she clammed up. She didn’t want to say it.

I said, “Mother, you’re soon going to be before God. You don’t want to come before God without forgiving everybody.”

She said, “I forgive everybody.”

I said, “But do you forgive Daddy?” and she became silent again.

Then Daddy jumped in and said, “Honey, I never fooled around with any other women.”

We all knew that. She even said, “Well I know that, I know that.”

My siblings and I still don’t know how Daddy had hurt Mother. But any married person knows there are many little ways a couple can hurt one another over fifty-four years.

Then I said, “Mother, let’s try this. Put one hand on your heart, and I’m going to pray that your heart gets real soft.” I placed one of my hands on hers, over her heart, and held her other hand and started kissing it.

After about a minute she said, very faintly, “That melts me.”


“When you kiss my hand like that, now I’ve got to do it.” After a pause, she continued: “I’m a stubborn woman. All of my life I’ve been a stubborn woman.”

“Well, Mother, we all knew that,” I said. “Now look at Daddy and you tell him.”

So she looked over and she didn’t call him “Daddy,” as she usually did. She spoke to him by name: “Rich, I forgive you.”

I prompted her again: “Mother, the other half—I ask for your forgiveness.”

She started breathing heavily and rapidly. Then she summoned her energy and said, “Rich, I ask your forgiveness.” A few more moments of labored breathing, and she said, “That’s it, that’s it. That’s what I had to do.”

I said to her, “Mother, do you think that was the mesh?”

She replied, “It’s gone! The mesh is gone! And, God, I pray that I mean this forgiveness from my heart.”

Then she said, referring to my two sisters and my sister-in-law, “Tell the girls to do this early and not to wait ‘til now. They’ll understand a woman’s heart and the way a man can hurt a woman.”

Mother was so happy then, and fully ready for death.”


That’s a long story, but it is not uncommon. I have heard many stories of people whose last hours (or last years) and have been dominated by unresolved issues, often an inability to forgive or an unwillingness to let go.

The inability to forgive is at the centre of today’s gospel. The servant who has been forgiven the huge debt seems unable to believe his luck. He just can’t understand that the king would wipe his slate clean and not demand any recompense. There must be a catch. It is either that, or the servant has got it into his head that he had somehow done something to deserve the king’s action. His heart has not been touched by the king’s overwhelming generosity. He remains fearful and anxious that he has lost control. He takes out his anxiety on the second slave thus (in his own mind) regaining control of his life.

The parable ends with the servant’s being thrown into prison, but the reality is that he is already imprisoned by his lack of understanding and his unwillingness and inability to accept the love and goodness that has been offered to him.

The story and the parable provide stark reminders of how easy it is to hold on to our own sense self-righteousness in the face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary; of our need to be in control instead of trusting that God will make everything right in the end. We hang on to hurts (perceived and real) and fail to see that our small-mindedness, our bitterness and our failure to forgive is as great a sin if not worse than any harm done to us or any offense that we experience. We make up our own minds about our own righteousness in comparison with others instead of allowing God to measure the state of our hearts. The result of such is a narrow, resentful and self-absorbed life that is never able to be truly open, truly free and truly generous. We are as Rohr says: “Frozen in the past.”

The main point of the parable is not that we will be punished if we fail to forgive, but that if we cannot forgive, our lives are already impoverished. If we cannot forgive, we reveal that we simply do not appreciate how much God has already forgiven us, how little we deserve that unreserved (and undemanding) forgiveness and how much more God will forgive us.

If God can forgive us, broken, flawed and undeserving as we are, surely we can extend that to others who are equally broken, equally flawed and equally undeserving.

We forgive, not because we are afraid of hell. We forgive because we recognise our own imperfections and are overwhelmed by the fact that God is able to overlook them. We forgive because holding on to grudges only makes us bitter and warped, mean and hard. We forgive so that the past does not hold us in its grip and we forgive so that we are free to embrace the future in this world and the next.

[1] (Meditation for August 27, 2017)

A relationship that endures

May 13, 2017

Easter 5 – 2017

John 14:1-14

Marian Free

In the name of God in whom and with whom we abide both now and for eternity. Amen.

Some images stay with you forever don’t they? One that comes back to me from time to time is that of the actor Kris Marshall curled up in a baby’s cot sound asleep. Now Kris must be about six-foot tall so it is hard to believe that his character fit in the cot, let alone fell asleep, but it was a convincing enough image. The scene I am referring to comes from a British sitcom, My Family about the family of Ben Harper a dentist who is married to Susan who is a control freak who can’t cook. They have three children: dopey Nick (played by Kris Marshal), shallow Janey and clever Michael. Nick has no sense of direction and no career path. Janey is at University but is more interested in boys than study and Michael, who is much younger, is at school and is the intellectual of the family.

In the programme that I am recalling, Nick has moved out of home and Susan and Ben have been fighting over who will use his room and for what. Before they come to any agreement (which was unlikely anyway) Janey announces that she is pregnant.

From Susan’s point of view it is quite clear that now there is no question – Nick’s room must be turned into a nursery. Nick is devastated by the news. The room that he has decorated to his bizarre taste represents more than just a physical space. It’s black painted walls, black furniture and bedding are all a part of his identity. As long as the bedroom remained his bedroom there was a place for him to come home to. Irrationally, he feels that a part of his life is being taken away from him. All the warmth, security and sense of belonging that he associates with that room will disappear if it is redecorated and given over to someone else. Despite his protests, Susan is unmoved. The black paint is stripped, the black furniture removed and the black bedclothes are sent away. Susan spends the day happily painting and Ben spends the day struggling to assemble the flat pack cot.

The next morning, when Susan comes in to admire her handiwork and to complete the redecoration there, curled up in the cot, is Nick – making one final claim on his space and his place in the family. I suspect that it is because he seems so vulnerable that the image has stayed in my mind for so long.

For those who are lucky enough to have a room of their own, it can take on a special significance – it can be a place to escape to, a place in which to express oneself without fear of criticism or a place in which, surrounded by things a person loves, a place of safety.

It is no wonder that John 14 is such a popular reading and that it is the reading chosen more often than not for a funeral. “In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places” or as it was once translated “in my Father’s house there are many rooms.” For those of us who have had happy homes, this image appeals to our comfortable memories and provides assurance for the future and for those for whom home has never been a happy place, it is an image that holds the promise of a home that is warm, safe and secure.

The first century was vastly different from the modern world. Most families lived in one or two room homes. A room of one’s own was a luxury that only the very rich could afford. Jesus’ followers would never have known what it was to have a space that was one’s very own so it is striking that Jesus should use this image to describe the heavenly realm as a house.

Chapter 14 begins what we call Jesus’ farewell speech. In the previous chapter John describes Jesus’ last supper with the disciples. Jesus has washed the disciples’ feet, announced that one of the assembled few will betray him and Judas has gone out into the night. No doubt the disciples were already feeling a little confused and uncertain when Jesus announced not only that he was going away, but also that the disciples would not be able to go where he was going. Their relationship with Jesus has provided a sense of security and a feeling of belonging. Now this has been placed at risk. Jesus is going somewhere and they will not be able to follow.

It is little wonder that Jesus seeks to reassure the disciples that they still have a place with him: “I go to prepare a place for you,” he says. Their sense of belonging and their feelings of warmth and security are dependent, not on bricks and mortar, but on the relationship that they have with Jesus, a relationship that will not be broken or changed by his going away.

One of the dominant themes of John’s gospel is that of dwelling or remaining or abiding. The Greek word μενω (remain, dwell, abide) occurs 40 times. Jesus abides in the Father and the Father abides in the Son. Jesus says to his disciples: “abide in me as I abide in you”. In this gospel dwelling or abiding doesn’t refer to a physical space, but rather to a relationship that is so intimate and so intense that it can only be described as mutual indwelling. It is a relationship that is so close and so personal that Jesus can claim that to see him is to see God. The relationship is so intense that one cannot be separated or distinguished from the other. This is the relationship that Jesus offers to the disciples – they are to be one with him as he is one with God. They need not fear his going away because what unites them transcends time and space and knows no separation either now or in the future.

It is easy to imagine, like Nick, that our security is dependent on a particular space or a particular group of people. Jesus challenges us to see beyond the purely material to the spiritual and to find there a sense of wholeness, meaning and well-being that is not reliant on the things of this world and which endures for all eternity.


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