Dying to self/rising with Christ

Palm Sunday

Mark 14:1-15:7/ (Philippians 2:5-11)

Marian Free

In the name of God who comes to us as an infant, washes our feet and hangs on a cross. Amen.

At one time scholars believed that before the gospels existed there was a written account of Jesus’ Passion and that the gospels themselves were an extended introduction to that story. This idea is borne out in Mark’s gospel in which the pace changes remarkably from the almost frenzied movement of the first 13 chapters to the more considered, more detailed account of Jesus’ arrest, trial, and crucifixion. (The resurrection barely gets a mention.) Mark devotes two whole chapters of his gospel to the last week of Jesus’ life and only 13 to what preceded that week. 

That the original story of Jesus centred on the Passion (and resurrection) is also attested to in Paul’s letters.  The letters show almost no interest in Jesus’ life. Paul records only one of Jesus’ sayings and none of his teachings, parables, or journeys. He refers to the Last Supper when he needs it to support his argument and he quotes an early creed to defend the resurrection (1 Cor 15:3) but otherwise seems singularly disinterested in details of what Jesus did and what he taught. 

From the beginning of what became the Christian faith, the centre of the story (the event that required the most explanation) was the shocking, violent and totally unexpected death of the one whom many believed was the promised Christ. 

That does not mean that these first believers were not interested in Jesus’ life and teaching, but if Paul’s letters are a reflection of the concerns of the early communities, they tell us that there was more curiosity about the significance of Jesus’ life rather than the details of that life. It appears that there was a greater concern to understand and to teach what the life of Jesus revealed, and what his lived presence had to teach about faithful and holy living. 

The “Christ hymn” in the letter to the Philippians is one such example. It articulates paradox of Jesus’ divinity and humanity and holds up Jesus’ self-emptying as the model for Christian living. The hymn also attests to the contradiction that dying to self is the key to truly finding oneself, that it is through giving everything that we gain everything. 

Jesus’ death challenged everything that the Jews had believed about the Christ, everything that they had believed about God. How was it possible that the all-knowing,  all-powerful creator of the universe could be so vulnerable as to be put to death? How could the Saviour of the world allow himself to be at the mercy of the earthly powers?

Two weeks ago, we saw how John, writing much later, solved the problem. Jesus’ willing submission to the powers of evil and death, denied evil and death their power. The Synoptic gospels focus on Jesus’ foreknowledge, and on the predictions that the Christ must suffer and die and rise again. Paul and the early church, struggle with the fact that Jesus – whom they believed was the Christ – was the reverse of all previous expectations of a Saviour, and that that reversal not only provoked questions about. God (1 Cor 1:18-31), but equally importantly provided the model for Christian living. 

The Christ hymn summarises, Jesus’ self emptying, pointing out that even though Jesus was God, Jesus gave up all the privileges of divinity to share our destiny and that it was Jesus’ self-abnegation (to the point of death) that resulted in his restoration to his rightful place – his true self.

In urging the Philippians to “be of the same mind” as Jesus, Paul uses his own life as an example. Later in this same letter for example, Paul lists everything that he has relinquished as a consequence of coming to know Jesus. He goes as far as to say that he regards all his former sources of pride as rubbish (literally as excrement!). His status at birth, his zeal for his faith, his righteousness according to the law mean nothing in comparison to “the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus” (Phil 3:8). Paul illustrates the reversal that the Christian life entails by describing the contradictions in his own life. He can rejoice in his imprisonment because it has led to the spread of the gospel. He counts his gains (in earthly terms) as loss, allows himself to be given over to death so that the life of Jesus may be made visible through him.

Paul lives out the contradiction that he witnesses in a dying, self-emptying Jesus.  He claims that when he is weak, he is strong; that it is his very weakness that. allows the power of Christ to dwell in him (2 Cor 11:10). It is the willingness to let go of self and its desires and ambitions that makes room for God (Christ, the Spirit) to be present in him.  

Following Jesus’ example, Paul lets go of all those things on which he depended in order to place his life entirely at God’s disposal.

The focus on Jesus’ death and his willingness to die, throws into sharp relief our self-absorption, our desire for recognition, for respectability and for security. It shines a light on our mistaken belief that we can achieve salvation by our own efforts. 

This week as we journey with Jesus from his triumphant entry into Jerusalem to his humiliation on the cross, as silent witnesses to his complete submission to God, may we learn to let go of all those things to which we cling, all those things which we believe give our lives meaning and ourselves value in the eyes of others. May we empty ourselves that we might be filled with God. all those things which separate us from God.

The place of the flesh – Romans 7

Pentecost 6 -2023
Romans 7:14-25
Marian Free

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

In today’s reading from Romans, we hear this heartfelt cry: “Wretched man that I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death?” The text continues: “So then, with my mind I am a slave to the law of God, but with my flesh I am a slave to the law of sin.” These words have led generations of Christians to believe a) that it is impossible to do the right thing and b) that the body/flesh is inherently bad and cannot be controlled. The negative effects of such an understanding are incalculable. The former has created an atmosphere in which faithful Christians are burdened with the feeling that no matter what they do, they will not be able to please God and the latter has led to an attitude that the body is a traitor that has to be subdued, if not punished .

Paul, who was utterly confident in his salvation, would have been mortified to learn that his words had been so misunderstood, or that members of the Christian community thought that he struggled to do the right thing, or that he rejected his physical self. Even before his encounter with Jesus, Paul was convinced that under the law he was blameless (Phil 3:6)! It is inconceivable that now, having been reconciled with Christ (Rom 5:11), Paul would have an existential crisis about his worth. Paul, who believed that he (and we) was saved by faith, would not be saying towards the end of his life that all his efforts had come to nothing.

Unfortunately, the lectionary does us a disservice in its selection of verses from the letter to the Romans which of all Paul’s letters is the most carefully constructed, would ideally be studied as a whole.

Our reading today is a case in point. It belongs to a section of the letter which begins in chapter 5 and continues through to chapter 8. Chapter 5 begins with the confident claim: “Therefore, since we are justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ,” a sentiment that is echoed at the beginning of chapter 8: “There is therefore now. no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. For the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus has set you free from the law of sin and death” (1,2). Indeed, even in today’s reading we hear Paul’s triumphant cry: “Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!” (7:25). Throughout this section, Paul constantly reminds readers that “while we were enemies, we were reconciled to God through the death of his Son” (5:10) and that “sin will have no more dominion over you” (6:14). Overall, Paul’s message throughout these chapters is a positive message about the consequence of Christ’s obedience for all who have come to faith.

Simply put, in Chapters 5 through 8 Paul is describing the battle between two competing powers or dominions – the power of sin/flesh (which includes law and death) and the power of the spirit (which leads to reconciliation and life). Paul is not speaking of himself or his own personal struggle, but of the order of things in the world – an order brought into being by Adam that Christ has now put to rights through the cross. Here and elsewhere, Paul is not thinking of ‘flesh’ as the physical stuff of which we are made , but as a power that (without Christ) has a hold on us. We choose to be under the dominion of the ‘flesh’ (sin, death and the law) or under the dominion of the ‘spirit’.

In chapter 7 Paul is grappling with the place of the law in the newly emerging faith. The law, he argues here and elsewhere, was a temporary solution to deal with sin, which entered the world through Adam. The law (though holy, just and good) was only ever a temporary solution and even so it was co-opted by sin and death.

The apparent contradiction between wretchedness and triumph that underlie today’s reading, lie in Paul’s use of Greek rhetoric. It is important to note that Paul is not using his own voice here, but, in the manner of an actor, is playing a role. That is to say, the “I” here is not a self-referent, but belongs to a character that Paul has assumed – possibly that of Adam. Adam has been in view from the beginning of this section (5:12) where Paul identifies Adam with sin. In 7:7-12, Paul returns to Adam without specifically naming him. referring to “I once lived apart from the law” can only refer to Adam because, according to our scriptures, only one person lived before the law, and this was the first human, Adam.

As is the case with all of scripture, so too, with Romans 7 – it must be read in the light, not only of its own context, but in the light of scripture as a whole which, as one scholar has said, is God’s love letter to humanity. The God who created us, saw us and said that we were “very good”, the Psalmist praises God saying: “I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made” and, far from rejecting human flesh, God sent his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh” (8:3).

Rejection of the body is rejection of the one who created us. A sense of unworthiness is a failure to grasp that “while we were still sinners, Christ died for us” and that “while we were still weak, Christ died for the ungodly.” There is no expectation here or elsewhere that God demands perfection or that the body is a source of embarrassment and shame. Paul’s victorious cry at the end of chapter 7 and his assertion in chapter 8 that “there is no condemnation for those who are in Christ” places this whole section in a positive light and serves to remind us – not how weak and despised we are – but how much we are loved, and how much God in Christ has done for us.

Michael Gorman, Apostle of the Crucified Lord. Grand Rapids, Michigan: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 2017 has provided the following helpful summary of. Chapters 5 – 8, p 430 (in the second edition).

Text             Narrative Perspective                   Antithesis                     Theme                                  Cross
5:1-11                Overview                         Enemies vs friends      Justification as reconciliation    God’s love                        

5:12-21             Cosmic,                             Adam vs Christ            Free from sin, under grace       Christ’s 

                          or salvation historical                                                                                                   obedience
6:1-7:6               Baptismal                     Slavery to sin                  Dead to sin, alive to God           Christ

                                                                   vs slavery to righteousness                                               crucified
7:7-8:39           Existential                       Flesh vs Spirit             In the Spirit not in the flesh        Believers’          

                                                                                                                                                     death to the old life,       

Breath or fire it is one Spirit

Pentecost – 2023
John 20:19-23
Marian Free

In the name of God who comes to us are we are and reveals Godself as we require. Amen.

If, when you heard this morning’s gospel, you had a sense of déjà vu, you would not have been mistaken. The gospel for the second Sunday of Easter was John 20:19-31 and today we have heard again the first five verses. It seems unnecessary to have the same reading twice in two months, but for the purpose of the lectionary writers, there are at least two different messages in this part of John’s gospel. The first is that of Jesus’ resurrection appearance and, in particular, the absence of Thomas on that occasion. Today, on Pentecost Sunday, our focus is on the gospel account of Jesus’ breathing the Holy Spirit on to his disciples.

Every Sunday we have four readings, one of which is always a gospel reading. It is only in John’s gospel that we have an account of the giving of Holy Spirit, so each year, no matter what readings make up our Easter fare, we include a reading from John on the day of Pentecost.

Luke’s dramatic account of the coming of the Holy Spirit is recorded in Acts, not in the gospel. In his account, the one with which we are most familiar, the Holy Spirit appears with a rushing wind and tongues of fire. Because this event occurred on the Day of Pentecost (which we celebrate today) It is easy to think that the Holy Spirit can only be known or experienced in a powerful and emotionally charged way. It is also tempting to believe, because of the sudden and dramatic appearance of the Spirit that, prior to that Pentecost, the Holy Spirit did not exist .

This is simply not true. The Holy Spirit has played a role from the beginning of time and is evident before Pentecost in all the gospel accounts. To give just a few examples: Matthew tells us that Mary was with child through the Holy Spirit. In a quote from the Old Testament Mark informs us that David was inspired by the Holy Spirit. According to Luke an angel informed Zechariah that John the Baptist would be filled with the Holy Spirit and Mary is promised that she will conceive by the Holy Spirit. Luke also tells us that when Elizabeth greeted Mary that she was filled with the Holy Spirit, that Zechariah too was filled with the Holy Spirit and that the Holy Spirit rested on Simeon.

As might be expected the place of the Spirit is different in John’s gospel. According to this author, Jesus and the Holy Spirit cannot co-exist with his disciples. In his farewell speech, Jesus assures the disciples that they will not be left alone and that he will send them the Holy Spirit – Advocate, Comforter and Teacher. Then, when he appears to them on the day of resurrection Jesus breathes on the disciples and says: “Receive the Holy Spirit” – a more intimate and less melodramatic, event than that described by Luke in Acts.

Of course, the Gospels and Acts were written a substantial time after the actual events and the accounts are no doubt coloured by the experiences of the believers in the decades after the first Pentecost. That said, it is quite clear that the Holy Spirit was a significant and dynamic presence in the early church as recorded in the letters of Paul. In Romans Paul assures believers that: “God’s love has been poured into our hearts by the Holy Spirit that has been given to us (5:5)” and 1 Corinthians describes our bodies as “a temple of the Holy Spirit” (6:19). In Paul’s communities the Spirit empowered believers to lead, to teach, to prophecy (as well as to speak in tongues and work miracles, 1 Cor 12) and it is to Paul that we owe the insight that the fruits of the Spirit – those characteristics which will be evidence of the presence of the Spirit within us – are“love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control” (5:22-23).

These varied reports of the Holy Spirit in the lives of the first believers are not intended to confuse or tease us. The different accounts serve an important purpose for those of us who live centuries later. They reveal that there was not one way to receive, to know or to experience the Holy Spirit. Some believers felt a quiet assurance of the Holy Spirit in their lives and others encountered the Spirit through an ecstatic and life-altering event. Some were moved to speak in tongues, some empowered to work miracles, some to share the gospel and some to lead their communities and many no doubt continued to live their lives – lives now enriched and emboldened by the Holy Spirit.

The differing accounts and the differing experiences of the Holy Spirit in the New Testament free us from the misconception that there is only one way to know and only one way to experience the Holy Spirit. We do not (as some people insist) have to speak in tongues to demonstrate the presence of the Spirit within us. If we do not have the power to heal or prophesy, we do not need to feel less than adequate. The Spirit might unsettle us in wind and fire, or gently uphold us as a breath of air. The Spirit might draw from us gifts that we could not have imagined or build on strengths that we already knew that we had. Our experiences of the Holy Spirit will be at least as diverse as those recorded in the New Testament because it is not a matter of one-size-fits-all, but more a matter of God giving to each as each has need, or God empowering us to fulfill the role that God has in mind for us.

You might have had your own ecstatic Pentecost experience, or you might have known the gentle presence of the resurrected Jesus. It does not matter how you know or experience the Spirit, only that you know the Spirit and that you trust the Spirit to empower you and to lead you in the paths that God has established for you.

For whom and for what do you pray? Jesus prays for the disciples

Easter 7 – 2023
John 17:1-11 (12-end)
Marian Free

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

When someone learns that they have a life-threatening disease, not only do they have to come to terms with what it means for themselves, but very often they have the agonizing task of preparing their family, their friends, and even their business partners for life without them. I witnessed something of this when I was in my teens. The father of a friend of mine was diagnosed with leukemia. There were few treatment options at that time, and it was clear he was going to die. Knowing that, this man – we’ll call him Paul – did what he could to prepare his family. He insisted that his wife study law so that she could support the family, and he made a video for each of his children to be played when they turned 21. His advice was good. His wife excelled at law, and the children grew up confident in their father’s love.

I cannot imagine what it would be like to know that one was dying and to know that there was so much more left to do, people who relied on your support, or children who would be left without a parent. It must at least initially, make the knowledge of pending death so much harder to bear.

Jesus had always known that he was to die and, as the time grew closer, he knew only too well that the disciples (his children) were far from ready to continue without him. So, on this his final night, Jesus tried to prepare his disciples for his departure. Their response was anything but reassuring. They responded with bemusement and misunderstanding – “you won’t wash my feet”, “we don’t know where you are going” and so on. Jesus was only too aware that he did not have enough time to ensure that they were ready for him to go. You can almost hear his anguish: “I still have many things to say to you” (16:12).

Still Jesus tries. His farewell speech (which takes up 5 chapters of the gospel) is an attempt to form the disciples into a community and to model what leadership would look like in that community. (It is worth reading John 13-17 in one sitting.) Among other things, Jesus gives the disciples a new commandment (love one another) and assures them that not only will they not be left alone, but that he will send the Holy Spirit who will teach them all that he does not have time to teach them. More than that, he himself and God (the whole Trinity) will live in them. And even as Jesus warns them that the world will be hostile to them, he promises that their joy will be complete.

In the short space between dinner and his arrest, Jesus has tried to prepare the disciples in every possible way for life without him, but still, it is clear that he is anxious about leaving them. The disciples seem to be so confused. They are so vulnerable, so exposed – if the authorities are going to kill Jesus, there is no guarantee that they will not come for the disciples as well. In response, Jesus does the only thing he can do – he prays. He pours out his soul to God, sharing with God his anxiety for his disciples and pleading with God that God will do what he can no longer do – bind the disciples in love and protect them from a hostile world .

This prayer is very different from the prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane – recorded by the other Gospel writers. In the Synoptics, Jesus moves away from the disciples to pray alone, to wrestle with God and to ask that the cup be taken from him. The disciples fall asleep and so are not privy to Jesus’ anguish or to his words. In John’s account, Jesus prays not for himself, but for the disciples. He doesn’t question his fate but asks only that God will do what God has promised to do – glorify him. According to John, Jesus doesn’t take himself apart to pray – the disciples (and by extension) ourselves – both see and hear Jesus’ outpouring of prayer. They, and we, are witnesses to this most intimate moment between Jesus and his Father. We see Jesus at what is perhaps his most vulnerable. He might be ready to face the cross alone, but abandoning his disciples is another thing altogether.

Unfortunately, our lectionary reading only gives us the beginning of his prayer, but the prayer – which continues to the end of the chapter – should be read in one piece. It is the most selfless, most all-embracing, and most forward-looking prayer. He prays not for himself only that his death will lead to his glorification (which is the purpose for which he was sent, and which will lead to the glorification of the Father). He prays primarily for his disciples and more than that he prays for all who will come to faith through them. In other words, he prays for his children, his children’s children and for every generation yet to come. Jesus’ prayer is an outpouring of concern for the world – that it might know God, and knowing God, might be united in love.

We who are witnesses to this prayer have been shown not only Jesus’ fears, but indirectly we have been shown how to pray. We are to pray that God’s presence might be known through all the world, and we are to pour out our hearts in anguish over the state of the world – hoping against hope that the world will be united in love, yearning for a time when there will be an end to the war in Ukraine (and all other wars and conflicts that tear lives apart), pleading that the vulnerable might be protected, the hungry fed, the oppressed liberated, and all the children have a place to sleep. With Jesus, we through prayer, fulfill the command to love – metaphorically laying down our lives for others, putting aside (at least for a time) our self-interest and our fears, thinking only of the needs of others and trusting God to do what needs to be done.

For whom do you pray and what do you most desire?

Jesus kneels at our feet

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Love is at the heart of the gospel.

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

What’s in a name

Epiphany 2 – 2023
John 1:29-42
Marian Free

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

At the beginning of my ministry, I was based in a small country town. Even though it was close to a major city and not far from the capital, there were many in the town who had lived there all their lives. They had been to school together and had worked together in the nearby railway workshops. They were so familiar with each other that they knew each other by names that they had been given based on physical or personal characteristics. When I met with families to plan the funeral of their father, I would begin by asking them to tell me about him – his childhood, his family life, his work life and so on. Then, in order to put together an order of service, I would ask for more specific details such as full name and date of birth. At this point I was often interrupted as someone would say: “No one will know who you are talking about if you call him “Robert, John, Peter” or whatever his name was. I quickly learnt to ask how they would like their father referred to, and after the first formal reference to the deceased. I would make sure that for the rest of the service I would use the name by which he was known, not the name given him at birth. It was an important lesson as many people are known, not by their given name but by a term of affection, by their nickname or by their middle name.

Names are important, they are how others identify us and very often, they are how we come to identify ourselves.

In today’s gospel (which bridges last week’s reference to Jesus’ baptism and next week’s account of Jesus’ calling the four fishermen) includes four names for Jesus – Lamb of God, Son of God, Rabbi and Messiah (which means anointed). In the same reading Simon is given a new name Cephas (in Aramaic), Petros (in Greek) which means ‘rock’. Simon’s change of name tells us something about the way in which Jesus sees him. Apparently, despite all his wavering and his final denial of Jesus, Jesus can see in Peter something firm and solid – reliable even.

That is clear enough, but how are we to account for the number of (unrelated) names that are applied to Jesus? The four mentioned here are only a few of those that we encounter in the first chapter of John’s gospel. Others are Word, light, life, the one about whom Moses in the law and the prophets spoke, the one who is coming after me, the one who ranks ahead of me, Jesus, son of Joseph of Nazareth and Son of Man. It seems that not one word or phrase is sufficient to capture all that Jesus is and all that he signifies. There were so many expectations of one who would save Israel, so many hopes that God would send someone to redeem the people that it was difficult for Jesus’ contemporaries to decide which of these categories best suited the man whom they were sure was the one. Which of the ancient prophecies did Jesus fulfill? Which of the recent hopes did Jesus live up to?

The problem for us all these centuries later is to try to come to grips with terminology which in the first century may not even have had the same meaning that it had in the times of the prophets. So many influences had entered Jewish thought in the intervening years, so much life experience had impacted on the ways in which the Pentateuch and the prophets were written.

It is left for modern scholars to discern what might be meant when expressions such as “Lamb of God” are used for Jesus, or when Jesus takes upon himself the title “Son of Man”.

Names are both descriptive and determinative, both flattering and derogatory. They try to capture the essence of a person, but they can also define a person such that they unable to be seen in any other way. Jesus as “Lamb of God” can be seen as the sacrificial lamb, the Servant of Isaiah. Jesus “Son of David” creates a more militaristic image. Jesus Son of Joseph of Nazareth (carpenter’s son) is familial – and is not a term that earns Jesus respect.

For this reason, names/labels can be divisive.

How we see/name Jesus matters. How we name Jesus will determine how we live out our faith. The name/s that we give Jesus will provide the lens through which others will see him.

What are the expressions that you use when thinking about/addressing Jesus (biblical and other)? What do those words mean to you? Do they make you feel comfortable or do they challenge you? Are you so used to naming Jesus in one particular way, that you have forgotten that words cannot contain him? This week, as we stand on the threshold of exploring Jesus’ ministry through the eyes of Matthew, try to think of all the names you use for Jesus (and the names that you do not use). Try to use some new and unfamiliar names – Lover, Pain-bearer, Friend – how do they change/expand the way you think of Jesus? How do they change your relationship with him?

Lamb of God, Son of God, Rabbi, Messiah, Word, light, life, the one about whom Moses in the law and the prophets spoke, the one who is coming after me, the one who ranks ahead of me, Jesus, son of Joseph of Nazareth, Son of Man – all of these and yet none of these truly captures who Jesus is. Let us not mistake the power of naming and limit Jesus to the confines of human understanding.

Moving Mountains

Advent 2 – 2021
Luke 3:1-6
Marian Free

In the name of God who has come and will come. Amen.

The home in which I grew up was not grand. It was one of four or five built by a developer on what had been a city council dump (and before that a swamp). The nearby houses were basically of the same design with only slight changes to make them appear different. Though the house was quite ordinary, it was ours. When I was quite young there were many occasions on which my parents would invite guests for afternoon tea. What marked out these days for me was not so much the visitors, but the preparation. Together we tidied the bedrooms, cleaned the bathroom, put out a nice hand towel and arranged biscuits on our best plates. I took it for granted that this was the way in which guests were treated and have (mostly) maintained the practice in my own life.

There are two ways of interpreting this behaviour. One is that it reflects a sense of pride, a desire to present oneself in the best light. Another way is to see it as a sign of respect for the one who is coming, the host making an effort so that the guest feels valued and welcomed. I would not want my friends to think that they mean so little to me that I have not gone to any effort in preparation for their visit, nor do I wish to entertain them surrounded by the detritus of my life – physical, emotional or spiritual.

Our Gospel today is all about preparation.

John the Baptist, Jesus’ forerunner, proclaimed a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. Using language taken from the book of Isaiah he was, according to Luke, “a voice crying out in the wilderness, prepare the way of the Lord, make straight his paths.”

It is important to note the distinction between the agendas of Isaiah and John. Though John uses the words of Isaiah he is speaking into an entirely different situation. Isaiah is addressing the Judeans in exile in Babylon announcing that a path will be made in the desert to smooth their journey home. Just as God led the people through the desert to the promised land, so now, Isaiah says, God will create a smooth path from one place to another. The earth will experience a radical upheaval – the flattening of mountains and the raising of valleys – such that every barrier between Persia and Judea is removed.

John, taking the words of Isaiah, puts them to a different use. His insistence on repentance and forgiveness suggests that it is the Judeans, not God, who need to clear a path and that it is God, not the Judeans who will use it. John insists that making a path will require changes to the lives of individuals that are every bit as dramatic as the earth moving changes described by Isaiah. The upheaval that John depicts will take place in the human heart as those who seek John’s baptism reassess who and what they are and as they endeavour to remove every obstacle that prevents God from being an integral part of their lives. As the penitents reassess who and what they are they may find that they need to make changes that are every bit as earth-shattering as the removal of mountains and the building up of valleys as they remove every obstacle that prevents God’s being an integral part of their lives.

Preparing our hearts for God’s coming is not unlike the preparation of one’s home for a guest. Each of us will need to have a good hard look at ourselves so that we can clear out the debris from our lives and do a deep clean of all the dark and hidden places of our hearts. We will have to make an honest assessment of the state of our lives and to ask ourselves what it is that stands between ourselves and God and what must we do to break down the barriers we have created.

Scripture reminds us – sometimes in terrifying terms – that God could come at any time, ‘like a thief in the night’. The implication of these warnings is that we should exist in a constant state of readiness.

Of course, none of us can really live like that, constantly on the edge, perpetually in a state of anxiety as to whether or not we have not left a stone unturned or failed to remove a bend in the road.

This perhaps is why the church in her wisdom has given us Advent, a time to reflect on our lives once again and to consider our state of readiness for God’s coming, a time to remove any impediments that prevent us from being completely open, exposed and vulnerable, a time to be honest about our short-comings and to seek God’s forgiveness. Like the housekeeper who allows their home to return to normal when the guests have gone, so we too may slip into our old habits once Christmas has passed. Hopefully though, throughout Advent our lives will have been changed – if only a little – and we won’t completely slip back into our old ways. The time we spend in preparation will make us more ready to welcome God than we were before Advent began and will mean that next Advent we can continue the process of smoothing out the way for God.

The good news is that it is not all turmoil and destruction. Every Advent we look back to Jesus’ coming as well as forward to his coming again. Through the Incarnation we have already experienced the presence of God among us and in Jesus we have been shown that God does not stand apart but is ready and willing to enter fully into the messiness of our existence. God in Jesus is content to sit down amid the clutter of our lives and to relate to us just as we are not as we could be. This and every Advent, it is important that we hold the tension between God with us, and God who is coming so that we can be comforted and disquieted in equal measure, knowing that God loves us as we are and challenges us to become who we can be.

What is truth?

Christ the King – 2021
John 18:33b-37
Marian Free

In the name of God who alone is the source of all truth. Amen.

Over the last decade or so, and especially over the last two years, truth has become a casualty to political ambition and to conspiracy theories. Through the internet and social media, more information is available to us than ever before. So too is misinformation. There are many who maliciously or otherwise seek to have control over the popular narrative and there are many thousands who choose to believe what to some of us seem to be the most spurious of claims. Those who believe these “untruths” are sometimes uneducated, but often they are anxious and afraid, and they may feel as though they have no control over their lives. By attaching themselves to an alternate view of the world these people feel as though they have some control of the narrative as opposed to being controlled by it. Such people will not be convinced by argument or debate. They need us to hear their fears and to recognise their sense of powerlessness.

Today’s gospel is all about power and about alternate truth. The narrative that Jesus’ weaves throughout his debate with Pilate is in distinct contradiction to the popular storyline. Pilate exerts the power that has been bestowed on him by Rome and which is expected of him by the Jewish leaders. He must defend his right to rule and protect his leadership from external threats. Jesus demonstrates strength in weakness, leadership through service, honour through apparent dishonour and life through death.

Only in the gospel of John do we find this extraordinary dialogue between Jesus and Pilate – the clash between two sources of authority – that of Rome and that of God. It is the night of Jesus’ arrest. He has been questioned by Annas and then by Caiaphas before being taken to Pilate who tries to shift the responsibility back to the leaders of the Jews. They in turn claim that it is his role to judge because under Roman law, they cannot put Jesus to death. In fact, the charge is presumably insurrection or treason (not a matter of Jewish law) which is why Jesus is brought to Pilate and why Pilate asks: “Are you the King of the Jews?”

In some ways this is a strange question. Jesus is quite clearly no threat to the might of Rome. He has no army and no weapons. There is nothing about his appearance that suggests royalty and, most telling of all, the Jewish leaders clearly do not recognise him as their king. Yet, as the dialogue continues, it becomes clear that the trump card that the Jewish leaders will play is that Jesus has claimed to be a king (19:12) – (even though this cannot be argued by John’s narrative.)

Interestingly, Jesus does here what he does so well. He turns the table on Pilate, questioning whether Pilate has come to his own conclusion or whether he is just repeating what others have told him. Pilate seems to be at a loss as to how to comprehend Jesus’ approach. In particular he cannot understand why Jesus will not defend himself. His understanding of power and of truth is based on the culture of his day, the culture of the Roman Empire. Pilate’s hold on power is precarious it depends entirely on the whims the Emperor. Worse, to some extent, his power is also dependent on the Jewish leaders – his ability to control them and their ability to manage their own people. In and of himself he has no power or authority.

Jesus’ trial exposes Pilate’s reliance on external forces. Indeed, during the course of the trial, Jesus points out the unpalatable truth – “you would have no power over me unless it had been given you from above.”

On the other hand, Jesus owes nothing to earthly patronage nor to any external influence. Unlike Pilate he is not obliged to demonstrate loyalty to the Emperor, he owes nothing to anyone or anything. Unlike worldly powers, he does not need to rule the world or use force to exercise control, nor does he need to enslave people to ensure that they bend to his will. He does not need followers who will defend him at any cost. Jesus’ authority lies within, it permeates his very being, emanating from the presence of God in him, in his self-assurance, his confidence in his role and his willingness to be the means through which God reveals the truth to the world.

As recent events have revealed, authority and truth go together. The party that can convince the most people that they are the holders of truth (or who can force their truth on others) will be the party that is able to exercise power.

What Jesus does in today’s gospel is to subvert the nature of truth and therefore of authority for (according to John’s gospel) it is in truth that the nature of Jesus’ authority lies. Jesus speaks the truth, and he is the truth, believers will know the truth and the truth will set them free. Jesus redefines the nature of truth. Truth is not, he suggests. something external and verifiable in the normal sense, rather it is the truth that lies at the centre of all things, the truth that flows from God – that is God. Truth is the reality of God as revealed in Jesus.

It is in truth that the nature of Jesus authority lies. Pilate cannot possibly understand this. Truth to him is flexible and is determined by the might of Rome which decides who should live and who should die, who should have power and who should be denied power. Truth is the world as he knows it with the Emperor at the helm. This is the truth that he is charged to uphold at any cost.
Jesus speaks and reveals a different truth, and he does so not by claiming or defending his authority, but rather by ceding his authority to that of God.

We will discover the truth by relinquishing our quest for power, our need to be in control and our desire to have ownership of the truth, and by surrendering ourselves, body, mind, and soul to God.

Sacrifice or example – the widow’s mite

Pentecost 24 – 2021
Mark 12:38-44
Marian Free

In the name of God who asks only that we love, with heart, soul, mind and strength. Amen.

Some time ago one of my friends read a book titled The Five Languages of Love. She found it utterly enlightening and somewhat liberating. She was frustrated that her husband, on his day off, would mow the lawn because she thought that if he loved her, he would want to spend the day doing things with her. What she hadn’t understood was that in his mind, mowing the lawn was his way of showing his love for her. Love is complex and sometimes complicated. Neediness or possessiveness are sometimes confused as love with devasting effects. On the other hand, selflessness may not be an expression of a healthy relationship. Love is best when it is freely given, out of a strong sense of self.

This morning’s gospel is one with which we are all very familiar. The widow and her two small coins make a good Sunday school lesson and provide excellent material for a sermon on stewardship. However, as we have been observing over the past few weeks, taking a superficial view of any one gospel story is to miss its real meaning. In this case the generosity of the widow is important, but the context of this account reveals that there is a lot more going on in today’s reading than a story of a widow giving two small coins to the Temple treasury.

A clue to deeper meaning of the story lies in the verses that immediately precede Jesus’ observation about the widow’s behaviour. Here, Jesus has launched an apparently unprovoked attack on the arrogance, social ambition, and avarice of scribes who abuse the poor – specifically the widows for whom they had a special duty of care and who were particularly vulnerable. “Beware of the (attention seeking) scribes,” Jesus says, “they are not who they appear to be.” It is specifically these scribes whom Jesus is condemning. A little earlier Jesus had cause to compliment another scribe with whom he had been engaged in debate as to which commandment was the greatest. Jesus’ asserted that the first commandment was: “‘Hear, O Israel: the Lord our God, the Lord is one; you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.’” To which the scribe responded: “You are right, Teacher; you have truly said that ‘he is one, and besides him there is no other’; and ‘to love him with all the heart, and with all the understanding, and with all the strength,’ is much more important than all whole burnt offerings and sacrifices.” Jesus commends and affirms this scribe and tells him that he is not far from the kingdom of God.

There are scribes and there are scribes and apparently not all scribes are deserving of censure. The shallowness and worldliness of the status-seeking scribes is vastly different from the sincerity and wisdom of the questioning scribe who understood that love of God is the heart of the law and that that love is all-consuming; a love that demands all of one’s being, not just a part of it; a love that cannot be represented by the superficial offering of sacrifices in the Temple or by making a show with long prayers. Jesus’ scathing attack on the posturing of the scribes who devour the houses of widows (instead of providing for them as is demanded in the law) is brought into sharp relief by the widow who contributes her two small coins to the treasury.

Given the context, and the juxtaposition between the scribe who recognises love of God as the most important and those who seek status and recognition, it is possible to argue that the account of the widow is less about her self-sacrifice and more about her loving God with heart, soul, mind and strength. That this might be the case is supported by the Greek text. In the NRSV, the version of the Bible that we are use, we read that the woman gave “all that she had to live on”. This phrase translates the Greek word “βιος” or life (think biology). In other words, it is probably more accurate to say that, “she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, her whole life.”

When we make this pericope only about the widow’s sacrifice, we risk adding insult to injury by further disempowering her. Jesus makes it clear that she is in very straightened circumstances – a situation that may well have been caused by self-seeking scribes who had taken payment for legal services (though that was forbidden), or who had mismanaged her estate or who had taken advantage of her situation in other ways. Despite this it seems, the widow is still her own person, a person of faith and integrity, a person in control of her own destiny who can choose to give her whole life and who understands (as did the scribe who engaged Jesus in debate), that love of God – with heart, soul, mind and strength – the giving of one’s whole self, is of much greater value than any amount of “burnt offerings and sacrifices.”

The widow’s self-giving came from the heart and stood in stark contrast with the scribes whose focus was on appearances and with the wealthy who gave to the Temple what they could easily afford. Jesus’ compares the widow’s behaviour with that of the wealthy and of the scribes not to diminish or pity her nor to draw attention to her poverty, but to lift her up as an example of faith and faithfulness, as a model of one who knows exactly what it is to keep the first commandment and who does so willingly and whole-heartedly.

We are all called to love God with heart, soul, mind, and strength. Nothing less will do.

Let the past inform the present and future

NAIDOC WEEK – 2021 (Pentecost 7)
Mark 6:14-29
Marian Free
In the name of God who created humankind in God’s own image and who cherishes each one of us as children of God. Amen.

The history of St Augustine’s church Restless Hearts which is in the process of being published, begins: “Sometimes it is so hard to believe how close we are, even today, to penal stations and missionary priests, Aboriginal skirmishes and interminable journeys on horseback through unchartered eucalypt forest.” It was as recently as 1823 that Thomas Pamphlett, along with three other ticket-of-leave men set out to cut cedar in Illawarra. They were caught in a storm which blew them north where they were wrecked on Moreton Island. As the book continues: “After various hardships, mitigated by help from Aboriginals, the emancipists crossed to the mainland, and, believing themselves to be south of Sydney they sought a northward route homewards. Aboriginals again helped them with food and directions, and they soon chanced upon a large river (the Brisbane). Too wide to cross, they followed its banks upwards almost to the present site of Goodna, and finding a canoe, they crossed the stream and returned along the opposite bank, again living with Aboriginals for some weeks”.

Soon after, a settlement began at Eagle Farm and in 1829 and a Patrick Logan established a farm with maize, potatoes and some cattle (on what is now the Royal Queensland Golf Club). Eagle Farm was also the site of a Women’s Prison which, as it was built on swamp land and therefore and ideal breeding spot for malaria bearing mosquitoes’. Despite this the site remained until the penal colony was closed in 1842.

Charles Fraser, the Colonial Botanist from 1821 to 1831, visited the Moreton Bay settlement in 1828. He ‘found a native cemetery represented by hollow logs filled with the bones of blacks (sic) of all sizes at the mouth of Breakfast Creek.’ Initially the new settlers and the indigenous Australians, lived together – if somewhat uncomfortably. A penal surgeon noted in 1836 that: “in the first years of the penal settlement there was a substantial population of local Aborigines in the area, their numbers depending on the season.” He also wrote of the long road between Brisbane and Eagle Farm passing through ‘the fishing ground of a tribe of aboriginal natives; at seasons of the year they are very dangerous and troublesome.’

It was when the Women’s Prison closed and the land was opened up to white settlers who used it for mixed farming – citrus fruit, dairying, cattle-grazing and small crops – that it became harder for the original inhabitants to live side-by-side with the newcomers. Tensions arose over the use of land. The destruction of crops was followed by attacks on the local indigenous by the colonists. Yet, as late as 1848, a Charles Phillips arrived in Hamilton as a small boy. He recalls that he was friendly with the Aborigines, ‘especially the Bribie Island tribe which frequented the Hamilton and Eagle Farm areas and had their camps there.’

Despite Phillip’s positive memories, tensions continued as Hendricksen notes: “between 1856 and 1867, there was continual harassment and counter-harassment, raids and robberies by Aboriginal groups, and punitive attacks by settlers including the burning of camping grounds. Such was the sense of injustice felt by the original inhabitants that Dalinkua – an Aboriginal leader and delegate – published his ‘indictments’, in the Moreton Bay Courier in 1858/9. He wrote:
“That indictment, which we are forced to bring against our white brothers … we charge them with having disregarded the command of the Great Father, and being unfaithful to the trust reposed in them; insomuch as they leave us and our people, whom they find stripped of land where our fathers hunted on, and driven off naked and wounded, diseased and destitute, to pine away and perish; while their government, like the priest in the parable, passes us by on one side, and their church, Levite-like, passes us on the other, neither of them taking any notice of our utter helplessness! Leaving us, perhaps, until some good Samaritan, of another creed and another nation, pass this way, and supply us with what is needful, both for this life and that which is to come …. But, surely, our white brothers, in their wisdom, could devise means whereby our wants could be met …. …. Christians, you are here in this land by the inscrutable Providence of God! Have you brought your religion with you? Is not its precept ‘Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself?’ If so, ‘Love worketh no ill to his neighbour, therefore love is the fulfilling of the law.’ Governed by this law you can no longer disregard the well-being of your fellow creatures. Your brotherhood must develop itself more, if ye belong to Him who does not wish that any of His ‘little ones’ perish.’”

Evidently, the church was present in the colony almost from its inception. As early as 1838 Anglican services were held in the area by The Rev’d Handt (a Lutheran!) and in May 1896 the first St Augustine’s Church in Hamilton was dedicated – only 73 years after Pamphlett found himself here and only 38 years after Dalinkua published his indictments. Though to us, it might feel like the distance past, in historical terms, colonisation of this area is recent history. The change in the landscape, its population and its use has been extraordinary in that time. Our indigenous brothers and sisters carry inter-generational trauma of all that has happened in the past two hundred years of white settlement of Moreton Bay – dispossession, massacres, stolen wages and decimation as a result of smallpox and other diseases introduced by white settlers; not to mention alcoholism, child removal.

As the note in the Pew Bulletin says, NAIDOC week invites us to embrace First Nations’ cultural knowledge and understanding of Country as part of Australia’s national heritage and equally respect the culture and values of Aboriginal peoples and Torres Strait Islanders as they do the cultures and values of all Australians. We can begin by trying to learn the rich history of the first peoples of the land on which we stand and endeavouring to reconnect with our brothers and sisters whose forbears walked this country for countless generations before us. May the indictments of Dalinkua not be applied to us.