Christmas – Shepherds for a change

December 24, 2025

Christmas Eve – 2025

Luke 2:1-14

Marian Free

In the name of God who reveals Godself to the most unlikely, the most uneducated and most despised and who entrusts them with the message of salvation. Amen.

There are so many sub-plots to the Christmas narrative that it is impossible to do justice to all the different elements. 

So where does one start to explore the Christmas narrative –the announcement of Jesus’ birth to Mary or to Joseph, the journey to Bethlehem, the inn keeper who found room, the shepherds, the angels, the magi, the star? We could as some do, let our imaginations go wild and wonder about the reactions of the donkey who carried Mary or animals in the barn where he was born, or we could invent characters like the little drummer boy (What makes anyone think that a sleep deprived mother would be grateful when a young, uninvited guest strikes up a drumbeat in her crowded accommodation?)

This year, I found myself thinking about the shepherds, their place in the story and what they have to tell us.

It is easy to be sentimental about the shepherds, who in our nativity scenes are respectable, if poor men out in the fields protecting their sheep when suddenly they are surprised by not one but a whole host of angels; shepherds who leave everything to race to Bethlehem with white fluffy lambs in the crook of their arms and whose role is to bear witness to Jesus’ birth.

But when we ignore the picture-perfect Christmas cards and pay close attention, we discover that there is much more to the story of the shepherds. The shepherds, whom we are led to believe are and humble, decent men were, in reality, among the most despised people in Jesus’ day. In the ancient Middle East shepherds were usually itinerant workers, moving from place to place in search of work, and taking whatever work they could find. 

Shepherding was not a job of choice. A shepherd was always on the move looking for pasture and a shepherd had to be on guard day and night to protect the sheep from bears, lions, foxes and other threats which might just as well kill a shepherd as a sheep. Shepherds were living and sleeping in the outdoors without proper protection from the elements and were reputed to be thieves, suspected of stealing the sheep they were supposed to protect.  A few, if not all, would take comfort in the bottle to keep them warm at night. 

In short, if you were to draw up a list of people who were worthy to be the first to receive notice of Jesus’ birth, the shepherds would not even make the long list. And yet here they are so they must have something to teach us. When we look at the story with the shepherds in mind we notice a number of things.

First of all, after they overcome their terror, the shepherds believe and respond immediately. There is no hint that they think the angel’s story is too ridiculous to be true. The angel has said that the Saviour, the Christ has been born and so it must be. And, even though the only clue to the baby’s whereabouts is that, like every other baby in Bethlehem, the child will be wrapped in swaddling cloths in a manger, the shepherds leave everything, including their sheep and hurry to Bethlehem to see the child for themselves.

Second, even though the shepherds were usually shunned and ignored, they could not stop themselves from sharing the good news with everyone. This means that, the shepherds, the marginalised and despised, become the first evangelists – the first to share the good news.

Third, the shepherds were so overwhelmed with what they heard and saw that they couldn’t stop praising and glorifying God.

Fourth, the shepherds did not give a moment’s thought as to what might happen to the sheep when they abandoned them to go to Bethlehem – that is they did not look behind them but trusted the sheep to God.

Last, and this is probably Luke’s point, by sending angels to the shepherds, we are shown that God often chooses the least respected, the least equipped, and the least expected to be the first to hear the good news, and that God’s faith in the shepherds was proved right when the excitement and passion of the shepherds gave them credibility which ensured that their message was heard.

It is always tempting for us to believe that the task of evangelism belongs to those who are more articulate, more authoritative, and more attractive than we are. But if God can choose and use those disreputable scoundrels – the shepherds – God can and will choose and use us. And when God does reveal godself to us, the response of the shepherds can be a model for our own reaction. 

Luke tells us that the shepherds are open and receptive to the unexpected presence of the angels, they are not suspicious, butt respond immediately to the angel’s news with joy and enthusiasm, they trust God that what they leave behind will come to no harm, they find the experience of coming face-to-face with God’s messengers so overwhelming that they simply cannot keep the news to themselves and they respond to all that has happened by praising God. 

For us tonight, the story of Christ’s birth lacks the novelty of that first Christmas, but that does not mean that we should not be open and receptive to the possibility of God’s revealing godself to us. When that happens and however that happens, will we be sufficiently open to the possibility that God that we will take heed and respond immediately? Is the good news that brings us here tonight so extraordinary that we. cannot keep it to ourselves? Can we trust God enough to leave the past behind and step into an uncertain future? Do we really believe that God can and will use us to share the story of God’s presence in the world – shepherds and kings, poor and rich, homeless and housed, ignorant and educated?

If we do surely that is certainly cause for praising and glorifying God.

Being good or being godly – Joseph takes Mary as wife

December 20, 2025

Advent 4 – 2025

Matthew 1:18-25

Marian Free

With Joseph and Mary, and all the prophets and saints, may we never fear responding to the call of God, no matter how difficult, or outrageous the call. Amen.

Some of you may remember that on Advent 1 I said that being a Christian is not about being good, but about being in relationship. At the time no one challenged me so I’m thinking that we are all on the same page – that we understand that following Christ is the centre of our faith and that goodness flows from that relationship not the other way around. Goodness on its own does not build ties of loyalty, develop a depth of spirituality, encourage submission to the Creator of the universe, or create an understanding that even though we can never be good enough, we are loved and treasured just as we are. 

My view is this: being good does not in itself distinguish a Christian from a non-Christian. Anyone can be good in the conventional sense – by not breaking laws of the state or of the church, by being kind and thoughtful to others and by observing cultural norms. However, I would claim that goodness and godliness are two different things and that godliness does not always equate with goodness – in fact just the opposite. There will be times when being godly (allowing our lives to reflect the presence of God) may require us to be anything but good in the conventional sense. In fact, godliness may demand only that we ignore the norms of the society in which we live, but that we challenge and even overthrow those norms. 

For proof of this view, we need look no further than the example of Jesus, but here in the Christmas narrative are the first signs that responding to and following God does not mean following the crowd. In both Matthew and Luke, the Jesus’ story has barely begun when already we are confronted by the fact that through the life, death and resurrection of Jesus God is turning everything upside down. It is no wonder that the ‘good’ people of the day failed to see what was happening and that God was acting in ways that they hadn’t begun to imagine. 

It would appear from the gospels that the leaders of the day had begun to confuse goodness with godliness, observance of rules with relationship. For example, the Pharisees believed that if only they could get the minute details of the law right, they would be put right with God. The priestly class on the other hand appear to have relied on getting the Temple rituals right as a means of getting close to God. Society as a whole seemed to believe that not rocking the boat would enable them to keep on the right side of the Roman oppressors would. 

To be fair – they might have been misguided but they did believe that they had to put themselves right with God and they did it the only way they knew how – obedience to law and proper observance of ritual. The problem was that though they hoped that God would send a Saviour, they believed that it was their actions that would lead God to act, thus demonstrating that they had totally missed the point. Observance of rituals and law were simply evidence that, at least subconsciously, they believed that their own efforts could force God’s hand– that they, not God, were responsible for their own salvation. 

At the heart of John the Baptist’s message is the refrain: “Repent for the Kingdom of God is near”. The Greek word “metanoia” does not mean “to be sorry”, but “to turn.” Both John, then Jesus are calling the people not to be good, but to turn their lives around, to turn towards God, to live lives that demonstrate a relationship with the living God. From the very beginning faith in Jesus was never about being good, but about being godly, about allowing the divine in us to have full reign – which has nothing to do with goodness as it is usually understood.

Take the story of Joseph – whose first reaction is to separate himself from the pregnant Mary. If we forget the sentimentality that presents Joseph as holy and righteous and selfless and take a look at some hard cold facts, we see a different story. 

Joseph is minding his own business when he learns that Mary – his betrothed – is pregnant. He does not know who the father is only that it is not him.  Can you imagine how that news must have hit him? He knows the baby cannot be his, he presumably wonders if he completely misjudged Mary and he almost certainly feels cuckolded. Did Mary tell him or does he know because of the gossip that is swirling around the village? No matter how he responds his reputation has already been ruined. He will have lost face in the eyes of community. Mary’s shame will not only be his shame but will reflect on his whole family. 

Joseph was within his rights to claim compensation, to expose the situation further – even demand the legal consequences – Mary should be stoned to death. He does none of these things but resolves to quietly free Mary of her obligations to him. This will not diminish the shame but will spare Mary the added consequences of her pregnancy. Already Joseph has shown a casual disregard for the law, but when the angel appears his actions become even more radical. In response to God’s call, Joseph ignores his obligations to his church, his community and his family. He agrees to marry Mary and to raise a child who is not his own one consequence of which will be that the child will inherit and Joseph’s line may come to an end. Not only that, his actions mean that he will lose face in the eyes of his community. 

It is easy to read this as a sentimental story about an honourable man protecting his fiancé, but in the cold, hard light of a first century day, Joseph is both defying the law by not allowing Mary to be stoned to death and breaking convention through his decision to marry her regardless of the shame. But, and here’s the point, Joseph is being obedient to God even though obedience to God means disobedience to religious law, cultural norms and familial obligations.

Joseph chooses fidelity to God over observance of human law; he chooses godliness over goodness, so should we no matter the cost or the shame. 

How do we know it’s Jesus?

December 14, 2025

Advent 3 – 2026

Matthew 11:2-11

Marian Free

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

 

Recently I have come to understand the appeal of ‘the rapture’ – the idea that Jesus’ return will be accompanied by angels with trumpets and those who are considered worthy will be swept into heaven while the unworthy will be left to face the utter destruction of the world. It occurs to me that believing in the rapture makes everything so easy. When Jesus returns it will be clear that it really is Jesus – angels, trumpets and the raising of the dead will be obvious to all and are definitely not associated with any other expectation. It will it be impossible to miss the rapture (and Jesus’ return). The other advantage of the rapture is that belief in the rapture is that it has the effect of taking away personal responsibility. Somehow the belief itself  builds up confidence in believers that they are among the ones who will be gathered up because they are among the chosen.

According to this the surprise has been taken away. Jesus’ warning that the day will come as a thief in the night is conveniently ignored. The timing of the rapture can apparently be predicted. Those who believe in the rapture do not have to worry about being prepared, because they have prepared themselves simply by being members of  the believing group. (The fact as recently as this year the prediction failed to come to fruition does not seem to worry adherents, they will happily accept the explanations offered for its failure to materialise.)

Another flaw in this belief is that those who believe in the rapture also seem to think that the rapture will occur in a particular place at a particular time and that believers have to be in that place to be gathered up. This would imply that Jesus’ coming at the end of time will not be a universal, but a very limited event OR that those of us who are not in the in crowd will simply  be left behind.

I’ve been thinking about the rapture, not because some people expected it occur in September this year, but because I’ve also been pondering Jesus’ return – how it will happen and how we will know. It seems to me that if it was difficult for people to recognise Jesus in a tiny nation with a relatively small population how much more difficult will it be today when the population has blown out from 170 – 300 million to around 8.26 billion. How would the word spread? How would we know if it really was Jesus if he appeared in a place a long way distant from where we live to a people with a culture very different from ours? If say, people in Mongolia were convinced that Jesus had come among them, what would they need to do to convince the rest of us to believe them?  Even if Jesus came to a city like Brisbane with a population of nearly 3 million, most of us would only hear rumours that someone amazing was making a difference in the lives of the poor and marginalised. It would be easier not to believe that it was Jesus, easier to believe that those making the claims were simply religious fanatics.

For me this has always been a challenging issue.  We are led to expect that when Jesus comes it will be glaringly obvious – angels and trumpets making the announcement so clear that no one will miss it but is that really how it will be?

In today’s world which is surely as rife with injustice, inequality and conflict as that of the first century there are thousands of good, selfless people, risking their lives and living simply in order to bring healing and hope in places of despair and turmoil. In a time of heightened expectation (or despair) anyone of a number of today’s heroes could be named as (or could claim to be) the one sent by God.

So you see I have a great deal of sympathy for John the Baptist. His successful ministry has brought him into conflict with Herod and he is now in prison – a particularly unpleasant place to be in the first century. He will not have known what the future would bring, but it is not surprising that he is questioning his choices, asking himself if he got it right, if Jesus really was the one who was to come. (After all in his time too there were many ‘messianic’ figures.) John had handed his ministry to Jesus but he is not seeing the dramatic changes he might have expected – the nation as a whole has not turned back to God, the Romans continue their oppressive rule and Jesus is not behaving in a way that will bring about radical change. He must have wondered whether he had got it right.

Jesus’ reply echoes the words of God in the Psalms and in Isaiah, in which God’s promise is that the blind will receive their sight, the lame will walk, the lepers will cleansed, the prisoners set free, the deaf will  hear, and the dead will raised. These subtle signs are evidence of God’s presence on earth but they are signs that we might miss. It is much easier as John’s question attests to look for the more dramatic, earth-shattering signs of disruption and the heavenly signs of angels and trumpets.

If we are to know Jesus at his coming, it is essential that we come to know Jesus now, that we open our hearts and lives to his transforming love, that we seek to understand (and practice in our own lives) his preference for the marginalised, and that we are always on the lookout for signs of his presence among us now. If we are really attuned to him now not only will our lives already be lived as if he were here, but we will not fail to meet him when he returns (in glory or not).

 

Pointing beyond ourselves. Advent 2

December 6, 2025

Advent 2 – 2025

Matthew 3:1-12

Marian Free

In the name of God who calls us to point away from ourselves to God. Amen.

I am the first born in my family, so I have very little experience of what it is to live in someone else’s shadow. No one has ever said to me: “You’re not as clever as or as good as Marian.”  No teacher, guide leader or other adult has ever been able to compare me with a family member who came before me. No one has had unrealistic expectations of me based on what an older sibling achieved before me.  I do know that this is a realty for many younger siblings – always having to live up to some sort of standard set by the eldest, always having their own gifts and talents ignored. It is slightly different if the younger excels more than the elder but differences between siblings tend not to go unnoticed – at least by the siblings themselves.

This week I found myself wondering about John the Baptist, and whether his childhood and youth was overshadowed by that of his cousin, Jesus. John’s calling was predicted before his birth, and it is clear that by the time he was thirty he was living out his vocation and that he had a passion for God that drew a significant following (one sufficiently strong that it continues to this day). It makes you wonder: How did he feel when his younger cousin Jesus came along and started preaching the same message: “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near”? 

If Luke’s account is correct John, even though he was the elder by a few months, must have always been overshadowed by Jesus.  You can imagine some of the conversations when he was growing up: “John, it is true that God has given you a role to play, but your role is to support not to outshine Jesus.” “John, I know that your father prophesied many things about you, but remember your task is to point away from yourself to Jesus. You are to prepare the way, but Jesus will be the way.”  “Yes I know that you and Jesus are the same age that he is allowed to drink, but the angel specifically said that you were not to drink wine or strong drink.”

I wonder if there were times when a teenaged John quietly raged against the expectations that were placed on him – even before he was born. I wonder too, if there weren’t times when he was furious that his younger cousin had so much more freedom, possibly even fewer expectations. Were there moments when John thought that it was simply unfair that Jesus, who didn’t even have his priestly heritage, was chosen for the more important role? Were here times when the idea that he had to serve his younger cousin simply rankled? Later, after John had begun his ministry, fired up with a desire to restore the people to their right relationship with God, calling them to turn their lives around, did he feel just a pang of resentment when Jesus came along to steal his thunder, to draw his disciples away from him and to begin a movement of his own? 

From before his birth John was destined to be the forerunner, to always be in Jesus’ shadow. Our scriptures and religious art smooth over any questions John might have had about the clear distinctions between the two but that is not to say that there were not tensions or misunderstandings. After all, prophet or not, John was a real person with real feelings and almost certainly with real failings. To make him a super human is to do him a disservice. It also diminishes his role as a model and guide to those of us who come after.

That John was very much a human being will be made evident in next week’s gospel when, despite his confidence at Jesus’ baptism, John, now in prison, begins to question whether Jesus really is the one who is to come.

In order for us to identify with John we have to see in him characteristics that we can reasonably emulate. 

Whether or not John felt the imbalance between himself and Jesus, it is clear from our gospel accounts that at least once he had begun his ministry John understood that his vocation was to prepare the way. This he does with such grace. Even as the people, including the church leaders, throng to him he resists creating his own movement but points away from himself to Jesus, with whom, he says he is not worthy to be compared. 

John may well have known his destiny from birth, but as we have the story, he was one of those rare people who was willing to allow himself to diminish so that someone else could flourish, he was able to allow someone else take the credit for the movement he had begun, and to allow that person to take his movement forward and in a different direction.

John, as we meet him in scriptures, models what it is to be people who point the way to God and who draw others into faithful relationship with Jesus. He models what it is to proclaim the one who has come and is coming. He encourages us to prepare the way for God – smoothing away the difficulties that prevent people from engaging with the faith and removing the obstacles of bad theology and bad behaviour that turns good people away. He reminds us that if others take the credit for the ground work we have done, we are to rejoice that someone has come to faith and not be resentful that we have not received praise for simply doing what we are called to do. He shows us that instead of drawing attention to our own talents and abilities, we are to encourage and build up others so that they might discover and develop their own gifts and abilities. 

In Advent we the church proclaim the coming of Jesus. May we with John, point away from ourselves so that others might see Jesus, enable others to develop and flourish (even at our own expense) and rejoice when seeds that we have sown take root and grow under someone else’s watchful eye. 

Preparing the way, is never about us but always about the one who is to come.

Be prepared – Advent 1

November 29, 2025

Advent 1 – 2026

Matthew 24:26-44

Marian Free

In the name of God who always is, Christ who came and who is to come, and the Holy Spirit who enlivens and encourages. Amen.

Advent is one of my favourite times of the year.  Though I have never been particularly efficient at opening Advent Calendars, the sense of anticipation that such calendars engender remains with me to this day.  Calendar or not, every day of Advent brings me closer to the great mystery of the Incarnation – the coming of Emmanuel, God with us. 

Sadly, I have long since given up my habit of separating Advent and Christmas, of keeping the two seasons distinct in my practice and in my mind. The commercial world which fills our stores with Christmas decorations and gifts from September, and which removes all signs of Christmas on Boxing Day makes putting up a tree on Christmas Eve and waiting till January 6 to take it down feel a little bit hollow. Even singing carols on the first Sunday after Christmas can seem somewhat strange when you know that the rest of the world is already preparing for Easter!

Many years ago, I made the decision to stop resisting the tide of change. I no longer try to hold on to traditions that are meaningless to the rest of the world. Nor do I get frustrated that an increasingly secular world has no idea about what Christmas means and that the commercial world has capitalized on the Twelve Days of Christmas by putting them before and not after Christmas. The world may change but nothing can diminish my sense of anticipation and joy as Advent approaches, and I enter once again into the sense of wonder at the birth of Jesus, the mystery of God’s vulnerability and the astounding reality of God’s becoming one of us. 

Given that Christmas celebrates God’s quiet and gentle entry into the world it seems odd that our church year begins and ends with gospel readings that appear to be a series of threats – threats of destructive forces, lawlessness, and. persecution, threats of judgement, of the impending end of the world, and threats that God will catch us unprepared as a thief during the night. We are warned, as we are today, to “keep awake” so that we can catch the thief and not be surprised. These are hardly messages that are designed to fill us with joy and excitement, but rather with terror. They seem designed to keep us on our toes, with one eye watching our back and the other scanning the horizon for danger. The message seems to be: “Be afraid, be very afraid.” Be afraid if not of judgement, but of those terrible events which will precede Jesus’ coming again.

During Advent, these messages are thankfully paired with messages of hope and renewal from the prophets, such as that from Isaiah this morning. God’s coming is associated with putting things straight. This can look like judgement and terror especially to those who resist or deny God, but the prophets assure us that God’s coming is primarily to put the world to right, to bring peace where there is no peace, to make the desert bloom, to give sight to blind, healing to the sick and release to the prisoner and to draw all people to walk in the light of the Lord. In other words, God’s coming will restore the world to that which God intended from the beginning.

What then do we make of the dire warnings that begin at the start of this chapter and which, to be honest, populate the pages of the prophets? 

Themes of destruction and restoration usually arise at times when the nation of Israel is feeling particularly vulnerable and oppressed, or when the people have wandered so far from the faith that it seems that the only possible solution is to begin with a clean slate. This was almost certainly how many people in Palestine at the time of Jesus. It must have seemed that the only way Israel could be restored would be by a dramatic intervention of God who would destroy the forces of Rome, purify Temple practices and bring about healing and peace.  

In reality, as we know, this was not how God responded. 

Today’s gospel is part of Jesus’ response to a question about the signs that will indicate that the end is near. Jesus uses language familiar to the disciples to insist that it is impossible to read the signs. Turmoil in the world is not a sign that God is near, but sign that humanity is flawed and that we live on a fragile planet. Jesus warns that those who want signs are looking for the wrong thing, are asking the wrong question. That they have to ask already indicates their failure to understand. Certainly, they want to be ready, but on their terms. By asking for signs, they reveal that they want to be able to spread out their preparations, they want to be in control. After all this time with Jesus, they have failed to understand that discipleship means giving their lives completely to God, submitting entirely to God’s will and absolutely trusting God with their future. In other words, ceding all control to God.

Scenes of chaos and destruction, images of thieves who catch a home-owner unprepared are a reminder that planning such as the disciples envisage is impossible. No one can go without sleep forever. 

The only plan is to be ready NOW – to admit that our future is in God’s hands, to surrender our lives to God in the present, to trust that whatever life throws at us, God will be with us; and to know in our hearts that if God/Jesus were suddenly to come among us we would not need to be afraid because our hearts would already be God’s, we would already be confident of God’s unconditional love and we would not hide in fear but welcome God with open arms. 

Being ready, being watchful is not the same as being afraid. Being prepared doesn’t mean planning, it means being ready now – knowing that we already beloved, just as we are. It means waiting and watching with quiet anticipation for that time when God will come and when all things including ourselves will be gathered into God’s kingdom.

God has given Godself to us. This Advent let us make sure. That we have given ourselves to God.

Christ the King?

November 22, 2025

The Reign of Christ -2025

Luke 21:33-43

Marian Free

 

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

I have to admit that I approach the Feast of Christ the King with mixed feelings. In fact, you will notice the contradiction between this sermon and my choice of hymns! I am not immune to the sense of jubilation, of victory even, as we celebrate Christ’s exaltation in glory to the right hand of God. The Feast of Christ the King is a fitting end to the Church year, the culmination of the Jesus’ story, a reminder of Christ’s triumph over the forces of evil and a recognition of his power and authority as king and judge.

 It was in part to reassert the authority of Jesus (in contrast to that of worldly powers) that Pope Leo XI introduced this Feast Day in 1925 – the last of the Feast Days to be added to the church calendar.  The then Pope was concerned about the increased secularism and nationalism that followed the First World War. His solution was to remind Catholic Christians of Jesus’ authority over all creation. He also wanted to drive home the point that while earthly governments come and go, Christ the King rules forever – one power to rule all powers.

 My ambivalence concerning this feast is the danger of it being taken to represent triumphalism and authoritarianism both of which are hinted at in another name for today’s Feast – The Solemnity of our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe. Indeed, the encyclical which announced the Feast states that: One person of the Trinity unites himself to human nature and reigns over all creation as the Incarnate Son of God. “From this it follows not only that Christ is to be adored by angels and men, but that to him as man angels and men are subject, and must recognise his empire; by reason of the hypostatic union Christ has power over all creatures” (Quas primas, 13).

Such language causes me considerable disquiet. Empire, rule, and subjection are the language of colonialism, not of the kingdom of God that was revealed in the gospels. In fact, the language of the gospels (and the Pauline correspondence) subverts rather than adopts the language of Empire.

 As I came to today’s sermon I realised that the idea of Jesus’ kingship barely rates a mention in the gospels. There are only two occasions on which Jesus is named as King by his own people (or by the gospel writers).  The first occurs in Matthew’s account of the visit of the magi and in Luke’s gospel, Jesus is greeted as King when he enters Jerusalem. Otherwise, the question of whether or not Jesus is king occurs only in the Passion narrative in which Pilate asks Jesus if he is “the King of the Jews” and when he writes “King of the Jews” on the inscription above Jesus’ cross. Many other titles are used for Jesus, but I won’t go into them here except to mention that God addresses Jesus as “beloved Son” and Jesus most commonly refers to himself as the Son of Man.  So, the idea of Jesus as king or as a ruler of nations (let alone a ruler of his followers) does not come from the gospels except indirectly.

 The kingdom of God or heaven is a more common theme in the gospels and could imply kingship, but even this expression is fraught with difficulty and scholars cannot say exactly what it means. It seems to refer to an ideal situation in which God reigns over all, but whether it refers to a future or present kingdom, an earthly or a heavenly kingdom is unclear. A number of other terms seem to refer to what is essentially the same thing: Paradise and kingdom are used interchangeably in today’s gospel, God is in heaven and it is possible that resurrection and eternal life refer to a place where God is. In any case the meaning of all these terms seem to be fluid and inconsistent and some could refer to an earth which looks like heaven and some seem to refer specifically to heaven.

 So I ask, as did Pilate: Is Jesus the king of the Jews? His contemporaries did not treat Jesus like a king, and Jesus certainly did not behave like a king, nor did he expect to be treated in the way in which a king might expect to be treated. If fact, as I thought about today’s feast, I became unsure as to whether I thought of the earthly or even the heavenly Jesus as king.

 In Jesus’ life and teaching there is no evidence of triumphalism or of authority, no assertion of power or domination, and no attempt to draw attention to himself. In many ways Jesus seems determined to go under the radar – exercising his ministry among those least likely to elevate him, among those least able to give him a sense of power, and among those who are in no position to confer status on him. Jesus did not impose himself on anyone, he made very few demands, refused to enforce laws and, rather than lord it over others, chose to be their servant.

 Jesus’ style of leadership is the antithesis of everything that we associate with kingship.  It is a leadership based on service, self-negation and the encouragement of and the building up of others. It is never about claiming power, but always about empowering others.

 As we celebrate today, let us not lose sight of the tension that is at the heart of the gospel and of the Reign of Christ – that God, creator and ruler of the universe chose to abandon heaven for the humiliation and vulnerability of human existence – not as an all-powerful King, but as an infant, not as the leader of an army, but as a nurturer of the outsider, not as a High Priest but as someone who lived an ordinary life in submission to God. Jesus proclaimed an upside down kingdom, one governed by love not force, one which valued those who had little or nothing to offer and one in which there are no distinctions, no hierarchies and in which those who serve are greater than those who lead. 

 May we like Christ build a kingdom in which all are welcomed, all are valued and in which no one lords it over another.

God is in the here and now

November 15, 2025

Pentecost 22 – 2025

Luke 21:5-19

Marian Free

In the name of God in whose hands are all things. Amen.

We live in particularly unsettled times. It is impossible to be unaware of the fragility of social structures, of national borders and of infrastructure. In some places democracy appears to be under threat; wars in the Ukraine, the Sudan and elsewhere threaten to change the shape of the world and typhoons, hurricanes and earthquakes reveal the vulnerability of our built structures.

For those of us who have lived through at time of relative of security, peace and prosperity  the current state of the world can feel destabilizing and disturbing. We just don’t know how to plan ahead.

Jesus’ disciples knew what it was to live in uncertain times. Most of them lived a hand to mouth existence. Except for a brief period under the Maccabees their country had been under foreign domination for centuries. At this point in the first century Galilee was ruled by a cruel and capricious Herod and the marginally more benign Pilate ruled in Judah. Everything that could be taxed was taxed and punishment for unrest was swift and violent. Their ability to make plans for the future was severely limited.

One point of stability and confidence was the Temple. The Temple, built as it was on the Temple Mount was a magnificent and imposing building. Constructed in 516 BCE to replace the original that had been destroyed by the Babylonians, the Temple had been significantly enhanced by Herod the Great (the father of the current Herod) and was known as Herod’s Temple. For Herod it was a symbol of power and might and control and for the Jews it was a symbol of God’s presence in their midst, a holy place in which the ancient rituals of sacrifice and atonement could be carried out, a place of prayer, a meeting place and a place in which even the Gentiles could worship the God of the Jews. Above all, it was a reminder of the universal nature of God, a sign of solidity, strength and endurance.

The Temple dominated the city of Jerusalem, it would have been almost impossible to imagine that it could be razed to the ground.  

Yet, on overhearing people marvel at the Temple Jesus warns that: “the days will come when not one stone will be left upon another; all will be thrown down.” And in response to the disciples’ question: “When will this be?” Jesus doesn’t answer their questions but continues with a number of seemingly unrelated warnings – about false teachers, wars, insurrections, earthquakes, famines and plagues,  betrayals and persecution.

This section of the gospel is usually referred to as the “little apocalypse”, a litany of what might be expected at the end of time. It is possible that is reflecting  a commonly held view that things are so bad that God will surely intervene and bring the world as it is to an end. If so, he is helping his disciples to make sense of the chaos that they see around them and assuring them that a) they will survive if they hold fast and b) that God will ultimately have the upper hand.

Equally possible is that Jesus, recognising the anxiety of his disciples, is warning them that the future is unpredictable and that God doesn’t work to a time line. Jesus is encouraging the disciples not to waste time by focusing on what might or might not happen but instead to live in the present and to take things as they come, knowing that God will equip them to cope with whatever comes their way – be it political upheaval, natural disaster or persecution. Jesus is reminding the disciples  that they cannot and should not try to second guess God, that they should try to trust that God has things in hand and that the future will unfold in God’s own time.

Jesus is reminding his disciples that life is precarious and the world is unpredictable and that they shouldn’t allow themselves to be caught up wondering what will happen and when. Rather they should concentrate on what they can and cannot do in the present. They should learn to place their trust only in God, because God is the only constant  – not political systems, not buildings and certainly not the natural environment.  Living in the present and leaving the future to God is the only way to cope with uncertainty. Trying to take control is futile. Worrying about the future and trying to create systems and structures that will cushion us from the visiccitudes of existence, keeps us in stasis and prevents us from experiencing life with its joys as well as its sorrows. Obsessing about how one might face a situation (a situation that may not arise) prevents us from seeing and grasping how God is acting right here right now.

Jesus advice is as relevant now as it was two thousand years ago. In uncertain times, he says, we must avoid the temptation to trust in those who make false promises that all will be well. When we are are tempted to read the signs of the times, we must remember that there will always be wars, insurrections and natural disasters and that they are not accurate indications that the end is near, but simply a reflection of the nature of humanity and of the instability of the planet. If we are tempted to see the hand of God behind the awful events in our lives and in the world Jesus reminds us of our limited understanding and asks that we leave the ordering of events to God.

The disciples want Jesus to tell them what the future will hold. Jesus’ response is to tell them not to waste time worrying about the future, not to build up barriers the hope that they can protect themselves from hurt and from harm, but rather to embrace the present with all it difficulties and complexities and to trust in God to give them the confidence to accept what is, the courage to persevere and the words to say.

No one knows what the future will hold so let us trust God in the present rather than placing our hope in an unknown future and being paralyzed by unnecessary fear.

 

 

 

Model of first century Jerusalem

A matter of life or death. Willingness to change and be changed

November 9, 2025

Pentecost 21 – 2025

Luke 20:27-40

Marian Free

 

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

There are many who tend to think of the tenets of faith as fixed and unchanging that God is one thing and one alone, yet experience shows us that nothing could be further from the truth. Apart from anything else,  God is beyond our comprehension we, and we as mere humans, are always grasping for understanding, we are only ever ‘seeing through a mirror dimly’ (to quote the Apostle Paul). God is both known and unknown and our scriptures, our traditions and our dogmas are simply human attempts to put into words and actions the revelations about God that have been made manifest or experienced since the beginning of time. What this means is that over time changes, subtle and not so subtle, come about as believers form new insights, as scientists broaden our horizons, or as the faith moves into and learns from or adapts to new situations.

We should not be surprised that this is the case, for we are followers of that great disrupter Jesus who challenged cherished traditions, confronted outmoded regulations and who insisted that sinners (even Samaritans) be included in God’s kingdom. We are followers of Jesus, Jesus the change-maker who so offended the religious establishment of his day that they put him to death rather than change their fixed ideas about God and faith.

Christianity itself did not emerge from a monolithic, stable belief system. The Old Testament demonstrates that there were changes over time as the people responded to the prompting of the Holy Spirit – through direct communication, through the prophets and through changes in circumstance.

A clear example of this willingness to accept and adopt new insights is demonstrated by the development of a belief in angels and a belief in the resurrection of the dead. Up until the time of the exile in Babylon, neither of these formed a part of the Jewish faith. Prior to the exile for example, it was believed that a person went to Sheol after death, to “a land of deep gloom and darkness” according to Job (10:21). It was thought that all humanity (good and bad alike) would end up in that dark and joyless place in which, the Psalmist tells us, there is no memory of God (6:5). In Babylon, the exiles were exposed to a belief in life after death, a belief which many embraced and incorporated into their ancient faith. Likewise with angels. Winged creatures had no place in the earliest forms of Judaism. Messengers from God, intermediaries between God and humanity, such as those who visited Abraham took the form of people.  It is only after the return from exile that angels find their way into our ancient texts.  Decades of living among the Babylonians saw the absorption of Babylonian ideas into the Jewish faith.

Change as we know is not always universally embraced. Some cling on to the old ideas, confident that faith is static and fixed. So the idea of a resurrection of the dead was not universally accepted which explains the debate in this morning’s gospel. In the first century there were many different expressions of Judaism – different attitudes to the purity regulations, to the Temple and to a belief in the resurrection. The Pharisees, lay men who preferenced the law over ritual, believed in the resurrection. Sadducees, priests who preferenced ritual over law did not. Both groups in their different ways tried to catch Jesus on the practice of the law or the interpretation of the scriptures primarily so that they could discredit him before the people and in so doing diminish Jesus’ influence and the threat he posed to their influence over the people.

Today it is the turn of the Sadducees to try to trick Jesus. Referring to the law of Moses, they are confident that they can expose the folly of a belief in the resurrection of the dead. Jesus, however, is not is easily trapped and he in turn reveals the narrowness and foolishness of the thinking of the Sadducees. Resurrection life Jesus points out, is not a replication of our earthly existence but something different altogether.

Though they had different ideas about the resurrection of the dead, the Sadducees, the Pharisees thought that they had God and faith and the law worked out. They knew or thought they knew what God wanted and lived their lives accordingly. Jesus, with his new and different teaching, his willingness to break the law and his refusal to conform unsettled their sense of complacency and security. In the end, they felt that it was only by destroying him that they could find peace.

Over the centuries the church has made the same mistakes as their forbears- setting in stone, things that were never intended to be immutable. Yet, at the same time the church has demonstrated a willingness to re-examine ancient practices and beliefs and to acknowledge that at times we have got it wrong and that at times we have caused more harm than good – the endorsement of slavery being the most obvious example. The world and the church is in a constant state of flux. If we are not to become self satisfied and complacent like the Pharisees and the Sadducees, if we are to avoid the trap of believing that we know all there is to know and if we are ready to acknowledge that we do not have the mind of God, we have to develop a a sense of curios expectancy, remain prayerfully open to the movement of the Holy Spirit and examine new ideas thoughtfully and prayerfully rather than fearfully and timidly.

We have to find the courage to admit, as Paul did that our knowledge can only ever be partial because a God that can be fully known is no god and the opposite of faith is certainty. (God is God of the living not do the dead.)

May we have the courage to listen for the voice of the Holy Spirit, be responsive to the winds of change and humbly acknowledge that God, as God, can never be defined or confined by the limits of our minds.

 

 

 

 

 

 

One with All the Saints

November 1, 2025

All Saints/All Souls – 2025

Luke 6:20-31

Marian Free

In the name of God without beginning or end, and in whose love we are united through love with all who have gone before us and with all who will come after. Amen.

I love this quote from Linda Hogan:

“Walking, I am listening to a deeper way. Suddenly all my ancestors are behind me. Be still, they say. Watch and listen. You are the result of the love of thousands.” (Dwellings)

Hogan reminds us that we are the result of all those who have come before us, those to whom we are related by blood, those whose lives have impacted upon our families in the past and in the present and those whose roles in history have shaped who we have become. We are never alone, but part of a great tapestry of saints and sinners.

Coming as they do on the heels of each other, the Feasts of All Saints and All Souls make me aware of how intimately we are connected with those who have gone before us. Threads of love, community and tradition, even our DNA bind us to past generations and, long after we are gone will link us to those who come after.

Our introduction to confession today quotes from the Book of Hebrews (12:1): “We are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses.” Our faith in the resurrection assures us that those who have preceded us are not gone forever but are in some way transformed, such that they live on.  We experience their presence through the warmth of the love they shared with us, through the impact they had on our lives and on the lives of those around us, through the memories of their place in our lives, through their heroic acts or through their acts of faithful living.

Within our Christian tradition, we are joined to all the Biblical figures that make up our scriptures.  We are inspired by their courage and heroism and shocked (yet strangely comforted) by their missteps and by their blatant failings.  Figures like Sarah and Abraham, Moses and Deborah, Isaiah and Huldah, Elizabeth and Zechariah, Joseph and Mary are as real to us as if they were here  present. Their stories have been told and retold in such a way that these and the many other people who populate our Bible are as vivid and vibrant in our imaginations as if they had never left us. When we need courage to step out in faith, we can look to Sarah who, without question, followed Abraham as he answered the call of a God whom he did not know. When faced with insurmountable odds, we can look to the boy David who knew that defeating the giant Goliath was not impossible.

We identify with the child Samuel who did not recognise the voice of God calling him in the night and we can wonder at the influence of Deborah – the only woman to be the judge of Israel. Mary’ surprise and timidity assure us that being in the presence of God is truly awesome and Peter’s impetuous ignorance reminds us that it’s OK to be truly human.

Though these characters lived centuries, even millennia ago, they seem to walk beside us as friends and guides, as people whose lives can inform our own, whose fears mirror our fears and whose courage spurs us on. They are so familiar that at times we find ourselves in conversation  –  “What would you have done Peter?” “Mary of Bethany, we’re you afraid of the backlash when you anointed Jesus’ feet?” “Paul, if only I had one fraction of your passion!”

“We are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses.” The story doesn’t end with the final words of the Book of Revelation. Throughout the centuries there have been thousands whose light has shone a little brighter, whose courage has been more costly or whose teaching has been so wise that we have given them a special place in our hearts and our histories – Joan of Arc, Francis of Assisi, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Mother Teresa and so many more – speak to us through the ages, reminding us of the costs and the rewards of following Jesus and urging us to try just a little bit more, to be braver, to be kinder, to confront injustice and to alleviate the suffering of the poor.

In our faith communities too the presence of those who have preceded us lingers on in the stories we tell of the past, the traditions we maintain in the present and even in the buildings which they strove so hard to provide. The faithful prayers which sustained them and our community continue exert an influence on our present.

All Saints is not a feast that celebrates those long dead, but a festival that rejoices in the unbroken ties that bind us  together, that recognises all those who continue to walk beside us and who unite with us in a great chain of witnesses. As we celebrate All Souls, we recall the ties of love and the bonds of memory that ensure that we are never separated from those who have gone before us.

This weekend as we celebrate All Hallow’s Eve, All Saints and All Souls Days we give thanks for all those whose lives and witness have contributed to our own lives and faith and to the life of the Church of which we are a part. In our turn we pray that we may  allow ourselves to be woven into the fabric of the faith such that we too become part of this wonderful ongoing story of God’s relationship with God’s people – a story that has no beginning and no end.

 

Giving it all away – what must I do to inherit the kingdom?

October 25, 2025

Pentecost 20 – 2025

Luke 18:15-30

Marian Free

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

The Gospel of Luke differs from Mark and Matthew in a number of significant ways. Among other things, Luke demonstrates a particular interest in the Holy Spirit and in prayer – Jesus is often to be found praying in this gospel. Another way in which Luke differs from Mark and Matthew – one which is evident in today’s gospel – is wealth: its power to seduce and its false assurance of security.

Some parables are found only in Luke and some of these specifically target the wealthy. The parable of the barn builder exposes the folly of holding on to excess wealth. You will remember that after a particularly good harvest, a rich man thinks that he will store up his wealth for himself and will “eat, drink and be merry.”  That very night he dies. His wealth has not been able to protect him, nor has he benefitted from it.

In the parable of the rich man and Lazarus, the rich man is convinced that he is justly rich and that Lazarus deservedly poor. Even though Lazarus lies at his door, the rich man does nothing to alleviate his hunger. Finally, the rich man dies and finds himself in Hades, looking up at Lazarus who is in the arms of Abraham. The chasm that divided them in life has been reversed in death and it is too late now to change anything. In life the rich man’s wealth might have given him all that he needed, in death no amount of wealth will serve to quench his thirst.

That said, Luke doesn’t seem to have a problem with wealth per se, but with a person’s attitude to it. As best we can tell, Theophilus was an educated, and possibly comfortably well-off Greek and the parable of the steward who makes provision for his future supports the view that Luke doesn’t advocate that to follow Christ all of us need to give everything away.

In Luke’s mind, the problem with wealth is at least three-fold. In the first instance, Luke can see that wealth often gives to those who have it a sense of entitlement and that this has the potential to blind the rich to the suffering of others. Secondly, Luke understands that those who possess wealth tend to become dependent on their standard of living and unwilling to make do with less. They do all that they can to preserve their wealth because they don’t want to experience the sacrifices endured by poor.  Thirdly, Luke observes that wealth has the ability to seduce the one who possesses it such that he or she can believe that enough money and sufficient possessions will be able to protect them from the vicissitudes of life. Those who are rich are tempted to place their trust in their possessions rather than in God.

Unlike the barn-builder and the rich man who ignores Lazarus, the certain ruler in today’s gospel is a real person, a man who, as his query implies, is seeking to faithfully practice his beliefs. It is possible that his query is sincere. He seems to have a sense that something is missing, that despite his observance of the rules, something is not quite right.

It is equally possible that he is trying to justify or reassure himself – after all the language he uses – that of inheritance – suggests a degree of entitlement.  

Jesus’ response is to tell the ruler to obey just five of the commandments which, in and of itself, should tell us something. Intriguingly, Jesus omits reference to the two commandments that elsewhere he insists are the most important – love of God and love of neighbour. Instead, he refers to the commandments that flow from those two: “you shall not commit adultery; you shall not murder; you shall not steal; you shall not bear false witness; honour your father and mother.” Why these five? My best guess is that Jesus has already discerned the problem – the ruler is good at obeying the law, but not so good at trusting God. Of all the commandments, these five are the easiest, they are those that even non-believers can subscribe to. What is more is that these five are measurable, evidence based. The ruler can (as can we), hand on heart say: I have never committed adultery, I have never murdered anyone, I do not steal or lie, and I give my parents the honour due to them. I obey the law in every respect.

More difficult to keep, and almost impossible to measure, are the two great commandments: to love God with all one’s heart and all one’s mind and all one’s soul, and one’s neighbour as oneself – to put all one’s trust in God and to live in such a way that one’s life benefits rather than harms another.

Jesus’ radical solution to the ruler’s problem is twofold. First, that he should sell all that he has and give the proceeds to the poor.  Second, that he follow Jesus. Only in this way, Jesus claims, will the ruler find the peace he is seeking and the treasure that is above all his worldly goods. Only by selling all that he has and giving it away will he be able to demonstrate his love for his neighbour. Only by following Jesus will he be able to demonstrate that he loves God with his whole being and trusts God with his life.

In this dialogue Jesus is directly responding to the ruler’s question. The answer for the ruler is clear.

As for us, it is only by listening to and responding to Jesus that we will fully understand what is demanded of us. In the meantime it is clear that belonging to the kingdom does not mean blindly following a set of  rules that anyone can follow but rather that belonging to the kingdom means aligning ourselves body,  mind and soul to the one God who created heaven and earth, who sent Jesus to redeem a sinful humanity and who continues to guide and strengthen us through the Holy Spirit. And if that means giving up all that we have then that is what it takes.