What does our use of the Bible say about us? Domestic Violence Sunday

May 4, 2026

Easter 5 – 2026

John 14:1-14, 1 Peter 2:11-25

Marian Free

In the name of God whose love for us knows no bounds. Amen.

When I am teaching, I remind my students of the fact that the bible can and has been used to belittle, to abuse and to control rather than to affirm, encourage and liberate.

That is why I find passages as those we read in 1 Peter disturbing. “Slaves, accept the authority of your masters with all deference, not only those who are kind and gentle but also those who are harsh.” This text, like everything in the Old and New Testaments has to be seen in the context of its time, when a slave was considered to be property and that the owner of a slave had power even over their life. What is problematic today – in a world in which you and I find the notion of slavery abhorrent – the implication that those who are vulnerable and powerless should accept abuse, no matter how unjustified. 

Sadly, this and many other passages have, throughout the centuries, been taken out of their original context in scripture and used by the powerful to oppress and restrain the weak and defenceless. Worse, they have been used to suggest that those who resist or rebel are defying the word of God. 

Slavery is not something that enters our day-to-day lives, but there are many other biblical texts which, taken out of their historical and literary context, have been used to justify abuse and coercive behaviour – particularly against women. Texts that suggest women submit to or accept the authority of their husbands and those that demand that children “honour their faither and mother” have been used to disempower women and children and, indirectly, have given some men and some parents latitude to dominate, to control and even to strike those who are dependent on them.  All this is done with impunity – justified by the fact that it is written in scripture and therefore presumably sanctioned by God. 

Even the directive to forgive others has been weaponised, used by some to imply that a “good Christian” will overlook and forgive the bad behaviour of another, often without demanding that the offender take responsibility for his or her actions. Shockingly, violence and coercion (against men, as well as women and children) have been allowed to continue unabated while the person offended against forgives and forgives, believing that this is what is required of them by God. 

Over the centuries many texts have been taken out of context, used in ways in which they were never intended to be used and weaponised against our fellow human beings – even fellow Christians. In the name of the God of love, women, men and children, those of colour, those who identify as LGBTQ+, those who are divorced, those who are differently abled, refugees and others have been made to feel unworthy and unlovable and have been denied the opportunity to fulfill their potential. Hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of people are doubly, even triply or quadruply impacted when scripture is used to criticise, demean, or exclude – think of gay, black women and men or migrants whose faith and culture can be held against them. 

Self-righteous or even well-meaning Christians, who read scripture through their own narrow lens and who presume to know the mind of God condemn those who do not fit a narrowly prescribed criteria to live in ways that are unsatisfactory, unfulfilling or worse to be subject to violence, oppression or coercion.

When texts are taken out of context, they no longer reflect their original intention and fail to acknowledge the overwhelming evidence in both the Old and New Testaments of God’s unconditional love for the least as well as the greatest, and. God’s preference for the poor, the marginalised and oppressed.

Today is Domestic Violence Sunday. Somewhat belatedly the Anglican church has recognised the role that it has played directly or indirectly in allowing domestic violence to go unchecked. Our Diocese among others has committed to Ten Commitments. I suggest that you read them all, but I will share the first three. 1 “Our Church acknowledges and laments the violence which has been suffered by some of our members and repents of the part we have played in allowing an environment where violence went unaddressed.

“2 Our Church leaders commit to ensure conditions that support the prevention of violence, a church culture that promotes equality, and support for those who experience violence. 

3 “Our Church consistently teaches about equality, freedom from violence, respectful relationships and the value of every person. We (all those who teach all ages and stages in our churches) clearly teach and model: that all human beings, both female and male are created equal in the image of God and are precious to God. Therefore the value and dignity of every individual should be upheld by all.”

The second dot point of the third commitment echoes what I have been saying this morning:

3.2 “We acknowledge that the words of Holy Scripture can be misunderstood and

has been distorted to justify domestic and family violence. We work actively to guard against and prevent such distortions .”

So, no matter who you are, if scripture is being used to make you feel anything other than cherished and worthy, remind yourself that it is not about you, but is rather a distortion of scripture. If your faith does not affirm you or allow you to flourish and grow, if you feel that your faith is being used to coerce you into accepting abuse, or into being someone whom you are not, or if it makes you feel undeserving and unworthy, or is preventing you from being you God-given self, or from being fully alive – look again. 

Remember that the God who risked birth, survived human infancy and endured an horrific death, did it all for love. Love that embraces humanity as it is, right here, right now and wishes for all of us to be empowered to reach our potential. Jesus said: “I came that you might have life and have it abundantly.” (John 10:10)

May you know the abundant love of God and have life in abundance.

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Shepherds and gates

April 25, 2026

Sheep at dawn, Bethsaida 2015.

Dry, harsh, landscape, small flock, nomadic shepherd (not in shot)

Easter 4 – 2026

Good Shepherd Sunday John 10:1-10

Marian Free

In the name of God, Source of all being, Eternal Word and Holy Spirit. Amen.

It is fascinating how images can take hold of us even when they bear no relationship to reality. For. example, I often ponder about the biblical image of the shepherd which holds a place in our imaginations that seems to have little resemblance to actual shepherding – either here or in the Middle East. I imagine that most of us picture Jesus as shepherd in the way that he is depicted in religious art rather than from our own experience. The Good Shepherd is clean and neat, the grass in the pictures is a beautiful green and the sheep or lambs are white and fluffy – content to be held in Jesus’ arms or to rest motionless across his shoulders. In reality, shepherds in the Middle East, certainly in Jesus’ time, were considered to be thieves and drunkards –  not respectable members of society and certainly not selfless leaders. Israel is not covered in lush green pasture and sheep in the Middle East are often more like goats in appearance and are certainly not clean, cuddly, white lambs, willing to be held in one’s arms.

All this aside, images of leaders as a shepherds and of the people as sheep have ancient roots stemming from a pastoral, nomadic culture in which the wealth of anyone individual was dependent on their flock. Protecting one’s flock when always on the move required constant attention and finding adequate pasture was a priority for the health of the sheep. In the Near East in ancient times, a shepherd’s rod and staff were used as symbols of royal authority – a reminder of a leader’s responsibility to protect and to build up their people.

It is not surprising then that this imagery is found throughout the Old Testament. In  Numbers 27:16f Moses addresses God saying: “Let the LORD, the God of the spirits of all flesh, appoint someone over the congregation who shall go out before them and come in before them, who shall lead them out and bring them in, so that the congregation of the LORD may not be like sheep without a shepherd.” Isaiah 40:11 imagines and intimate relationship with God as shepherd: “He will feed his flock like a shepherd; he will gather the lambs in his arms, and carry them in his bosom, and gently lead the mother sheep.”  And of course there is the familiar imagery of Psalm 23. 

The longest reference to shepherds occurs in Ezekiel 34 in which, through the prophet, God assures Israel:” I myself will search for my sheep, and will seek them out. As shepherds seek out their flocks when they are among their scattered sheep, so I will seek out my sheep. I will feed them with good pasture, and the mountain heights of Israel shall be their pasture; there they shall lie down in good grazing land, and they shall feed on rich pasture on the mountains of Israel. I myself will be the shepherd of my sheep.

 The leaders of Israel at this time are not good leaders. “Thus says the Lord GOD: Ah, you shepherds of Israel who have been feeding yourselves! Should not shepherds feed the sheep?  You eat the fat, you clothe yourselves with the wool, you slaughter the fatlings; but you do not feed the sheep. You have not strengthened the weak, you have not healed the sick, you have not bound up the injured, you have not brought back the strayed, you have not sought the lost, but with force and harshness you have ruled them”.  

Ezekiel’s image of the “good shepherd” and his tirade against the “shepherds” of Israel is not too dissimilar to the imagery of John 10.

John 10, like all biblical texts has to be read in its literary context – Jesus’ giving sight to the man born blind. In typical Johannine fashion Jesus’ action is followed by a lengthy discourse or explanation. 

In today’s gospel, Jesus doesn’t directly name the Pharisees as the thieves and bandits who have come before him, but it is clear from the context that he has them in mind as those who do not hear his voice. After all, they do not believe that Jesus gave the man his sight. In fact, they have disparaged the once-blind man and driven him out of the Temple. They refuse to hear the voice of Jesus or see what he is doing.

As with much of John’s gospel, the imagery of chapter 10 is layered and complex, which means we will not find exact parallels with chapter nine. One this is clear – Jesus’ discourse on shepherding is a critique of the Pharisees leadership, their failure to hear his voice, and their assumed role as gatekeepers.  

As shepherds or gatekeepers of the sheep, the Pharisees have made it their business to determine how the people observe law and what they believe and to decide who does and does not belong. Such is their power and influence that even the parents of the man born blind do not have the courage to say that Jesus gave their son his sight for fear that they would be cast out. The Pharisees, believing they know what is best, and resisting any hint of change have taken away the freedom of the people to think for themselves, to act as they think best and their ability to grow and flourish. 

In describing himself as both the gate and the shepherd, Jesus highlights the difference between himself and the Pharisees. While the Pharisees want the people to live within strict boundaries determined by themselves, Jesus wants the sheep to be able to roam freely and to follow him of their own accord. He does not want limit and constrain his followers. His stated goal is for all “to have life and to have it abundantly”.

Throughout the history of the Christian faith (and the world in general) leaders have emerged who believe that they have all the answers – the leaders of the Inquisition, cult leaders and others – who believe that they have the right to impose their will and their way of seeing the world and faith on others. Jesus opens the gate wide, confident that those who have come to know and believe him may come and go but will always make their way home without coercion.

We know that we are following the Good Shepherd because we have been set free to live life to the full.

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The risen Christ beside us on the road – Emmaus and evangelism

April 18, 2026

Easter 3 – 2026

Luke 24:13-35

 Marian Free


In the name of God who meets us where we are and encourages us to go on. Amen.

Of all the resurrection accounts, the story of the road to Emmaus is my favourite. Perhaps this is because it does not rely on trying to imagine the but is grounded in the mundane and ordinary. The encounter between the despondent couple on the road and a complete stranger (who turns out to be Jesus) is so relatable that it is possible to recognise in it our own experience. There have been many times in my own life when through difficult circumstances I have gained new insights – into myself and into the state of the world. More often than not, it has only been after the event, when my eyes have been opened that I have been able to recognise the hand of Jesus in those situations. 

It is because many of us can relate to this story, that it can be a useful model for evangelism – not the kind of evangelism that relies on forcing others to believe what we believe.  The form of evangelism that Jesus models is that which takes place when we walk beside others, listening to and respecting their fears and their confusion and, if appropriate, sharing with them the ways in which our faith helps us through difficult periods in our lives and gives us a different perspective on our trauma or bewilderment. We can share how we knew the presence of a force beyond ourselves (Jesus) when what had made no sense suddenly became clear, when inexplicably we found courage and strength that we did not know we had, or when a sense of despair turned into a feeling of optimism. 

Sharing the account of the resurrection with those who have no faith has become an increasingly difficult task. In a scientific world fewer people have time for miracles and anyway – how does a miracle two thousand years ago make a difference in today’s world?  It seems to me that much more important than the extraordinary event of Jesus coming back to life is his on-going presence in the world today.  A once-off miracle that happened centuries is not enough to persuade people to believe in Jesus. Jesus’ continued presence with us, is another matter altogether. The miracle of Jesus’ resurrection is less that he came back to life and more that he continues to live and that his risen presence is with us even now. That is not something that belongs in the past but is something that we ourselves can and have experienced and it is from our experience that we may be able to help others make sense of the trauma and confusion in their lives.

Jesus’ conversation with the couple on the road to Emmaus, provides us with some insights as to how we might go about this.

Luke is recounting an event that occurred three days after Jesus’ death, on the day that news of his resurrection had begun to circulate. The couple on the road, Cleopas (and his wife) had left Jerusalem. They were filled with despondency, fear and despair. Nothing had turned out the way they had expected. They had thought that Jesus, “a mighty prophet” was the one who “was to save Israel”. Instead, their own priests and the leaders of Israel had handed him over to death and now their own lives might be in danger. Despite Jesus’ predictions and despite the reports from the women that Jesus had risen from the dead, the couple would not allow their hopes to be raised. Rumours of Jesus’ resurrection were not enough to help them understand the traumatic events. Fear and confusion had replaced hope and expectation.

The couple were so absorbed with their own troubles that they didn’t even recognise Jesus when he drew alongside them. And Jesus doesn’t thrust himself on them, he doesn’t say: “look foolish people, it’s me, just believe!” Instead, Jesus engages them conversation. He listens with respects their doubts and honours their questions. Using the language and stories with which they are familiar, he tries to provide them with another lens through which to view the events of the past few days. He explains their own traditions and scriptures, and he helps them to make sense of, and to come to terms with the events which have forced them to leave Jerusalem. At no point does he try to diminish the trauma they have experienced, nor does he tell them that they if they have faith everything will work out. Jesus simply provides a listening ear and places the death of Jesus, (his death), in its broader, historical perspective. In so doing, he helps them to see the events differently, gives them hope and helps them to find a way to move forward. 

It is only after the event, after they have recognised Jesus in the breaking of the bread, and after Jesus has vanished from their presence that they realise that along the way “their hearts had been burning within them.” The “stranger’s” understanding and his ability to help them place Jesus’ death in a broader framework has not only helped them come to a new understanding but has enabled them to recognise that it was Jesus himself who brought them through their trauma and confusion to a place of hope and comprehension. 

 “Evangelism” need not be simply a retelling of the story of Jesus and expecting listeners to believe in an historical person and events of millennia past. The story of the couple on the road to Emmaus reveals that sharing the gospel is as much about presence as it is about recounting historical “facts” and miracles. 

The risen Jesus can be made known when we stand alongside others in their times of grief, confusion and hopelessness. The risen Jesus can be made known when we listen, without judgement, to the anguish, disappointment and fears of others. As those who know that God can form the universe from nothing, wring victory from defeat and bring the dead to life, we can help others to see the world through a different lens – one that doesn’t give despair the upper hand, that doesn’t allow trauma to have the final word and that doesn’t give death the final victory. When hopelessness gives way to hope, confusion to understanding and grief to joy, maybe they too will “feel their hearts burn within them” and come to know the risen Christ.

Christ is risen! Alleluia! He is risen indeed! Alleluia!

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Binding and loosing, forgiving and not forgiving

April 11, 2026

Easter 2 – 2026

John 20:19-31

 Marian Free

In the name of God our protector, Jesus our liberator and the Holy Spirit our enlivener. Amen.

There is so much to consider in this morning’s passage – the obvious fear of the disciples, the sudden appearance of Jesus, the absence of Thomas, the giving of the Holy Spirit and the forgiving or not forgiving of sins. This morning I’d like to focus on the last of these. 

First, a quick word about Thomas and the Holy Spirit. Even though nowhere in the text is Thomas called the doubter, this is the way which we have chosen to remember him. It is hardly fair. Thomas was not alone in his inability to believe without seeing, indeed even with seeing. According to Matthew there were some among the eleven who, despite having seen the risen Jesus, still doubted (28:16,17). Furthermore, according to John, the disciples already knew that Jesus had risen. Mary Magdalene had told them, and they had refused to believe her. Instead of rejoicing and seeking out the risen Jesus, they were locked away in fear. In failing to accept the word of the other disciples, Thomas is only responding in the same way that the other disciples responded to Mary’s news. 

Second, in this passage, we are told that Jesus breathes the Holy Spirit on the disciples. This is a far cry from the Acts account of the dramatic events of the Jewish Festival of Pentecost. John’s version of receiving the spirit is very different. Jesus simply breathes the Holy Spirit on the disciples. Clearly something life-changing did happen on the day of Pentecost, but the Holy Spirit was not a new phenomenon, he/she had co-existed with God and with Jesus from before the beginning of time. 

This morning as I’ve said, I’d like to focus on the much-misinterpreted phrase that accompanies Jesus’ giving of the Holy Spirit. Jesus says: “Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.”  

This post-resurrection gift has often been misunderstood, and sometimes misused to reinforce the authority the church, to maintain control. These words can used to strike the fear of hell into those who are judged to have committed an unforgivable sin and in turn used to vilify and exclude those who don’t or who can’t conform to a certain way of being or behaving. Misunderstood, this gift can be taken to mean that the church, or individual members thereof, know the mind of God and therefore know what cannot be forgiven for eternity. 

John is not the first evangelist to use the expression or at least a similar expression. According to Matthew, when Jesus gives Peter the keys to the kingdom he says: “I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven, and whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven” (16:19). Later, the exact same commission is given to all the disciples: “Truly I tell you, whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven” (18:18).

These are weighty words, and if misinterpreted, allow people who are so inclined to exert enormous power over the vulnerable. 

In order to understand Jesus’ meaning here it is essential to consider its first century context.

In the ancient Jewish world, these or similar words were technical, legal expressions. To bind meant to restrict, to confine or to forbid. To loose meant to permit, or to relax existing rules. The expression gave the people the right to legislate and to make (and unmake) rules and norms[1] – in much the same way that we give our legislators the authority to make and to change laws. In the first century, it was primarily the Pharisees – those concerned with the law – to whom this instruction applied. In practical terms it meant that the Pharisees were empowered to interpret the scripture and to determine what it meant in their context. In real terms, what this meant was twofold. First, it recognised that there were (and are) laws appropriate for a particular time and place which have outgrown their usefulness. Second, it acknowledged that there might be times when new legislation was required to meet the changing needs of society. In the religious context, any changes, of course, had to be compatible with scripture.

Jesus himself modelled this practice when he redefined the meaning of the Sabbath. He recognised that a law which had been intended to provide relief and rest, had instead become a burden, that it was binding not liberating the poor. Jesus knew that God-given laws were intended to liberate and protect, not to restrict or to harm and that sometimes it was necessary to let them go or to reframe them. His teaching against divorce for example was a radical departure from the law of the day. Jesus’ teaching against divorce corrected a permissiveness that had meant that, without cause, men could simply discard women who relied on them for security and support. 

John, for reasons unknown has changed the language of this phrase to the forgiveness of sins, but the meaning is essentially the same – sin being the breaking of the law. Even though it implies that sins might not be forgiven, Jesus is relying on the disciple’s remembering his own propensity to forgive – even those who admitted wrong-doing.

The church, at least in certain times in its history, has taken the charge of binding and loosing very seriously. A century and a half ago, after much debate, the church in England conceded that slavery, while accepted and even condoned within the pages of scripture, was not in fact consistent with the scriptures’ insistence on the dignity of all who are created in the image of God. Last century, the Anglican church made life-changing decisions about divorce (despite Jesus’ injunction against divorce) having recognised that the injunction not to divorce condemned men and women to a lifetime of unhappiness, or worse, to a lifetime of abuse.

Binding and loosing law and/or sin, is not a mandate to hold on fiercely to outdated regulations and to harmful practices, or to impose draconian practices on the faithful, nor is it a license to libertinism. Rather it is God’s gracious recognition that little holds true forever and that rules and regulations are intended to liberate and protect, not to imprison and make vulnerable.

It is a huge responsibility, let us hope and pray that we will use it well and for the benefit of all.

[1] https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&source=web&rct=j&opi=89978449&url=https://www.youtube.com/watch%3Fv%3D6S_3DyzhUX4&ved=2ahUKEwjRlrDV0OSTAxVy1jgGHcoVFyAQ3aoNegQIVRAL&usg=AOvVaw0lWmMEk7s8j1tB9fQh_Vy8

A second, less frequent use, is the power to exclude or include. 

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Celebrating when there seems to be nothing to celebrate – Easter 2026

April 4, 2026

Easter Day – 2026

Matthew 28:1-10

Marian Free

In the name of God who wrought the universe from nothing, who brought life from death, and who, in Jesus, gives hope to all who suffer and are filled with despair. Amen.

I have to confess that I have never felt less like preaching on Easter Day. Easter this year does not feel triumphant or jubilant. The new life wrought from death by Jesus is barely visible in a world torn apart by conflict and marred by poverty. We will go home this morning to news of an escalation of the war in the Middle East or to reports of new lows perpetrated in the war in Ukraine. It is impossible for us to ignore the fact that throughout the world literally millions of people have been displaced from their homes or to close our eyes to the fact that families who were already struggling with the high cost of living are now facing increased petrol costs and who have no idea where it all will end. 

In the face of all that and more it is difficult to sound a note of victory, to celebrate new life, a new beginning. Indeed, such triumphalism would seem like a slap in the face to all those who this morning have woken not to joy or even to hope, but to despair, grief or terror or to all three together. Proclaiming the victory of Easter in today’s context today would feel like an affront to those who, years after war has ended, or natural disaster has come and gone still have not been able to rebuild their lives. 

And yet we (or at least humanity) have been here before, not once, not twice, but again and again and again as humankind demonstrates its propensity for violence, greed, injustice and indifference to the needs of others. We have been here before and have found reasons to celebrate.

We have been here before.

In the last century alone humanity has witnessed not one but two world wars, in which approximately 90 million people died and in which many millions more were permanently injured or displaced. In the last twenty years we have witnessed a tsunami which wiped the lives of nearly 230,000 people, and floods and other disasters which have destroyed the homes, communities and livelihoods of hundreds of thousands of people; and we have stood by helplessly as civil war and climate change wreaks havoc in the lives of many and still we believe and still we hope because Jesus has risen from the dead.

We have been here many, many times before. We will be here again and still we have found reasons to celebrate.

Today and every day we have reasons to celebrate, not because we have woken to a world restored and renewed but because we have woken to be reminded once again that there is always hope, because Jesus’ resurrection assures us that death does not have the final word, that sorrow and grief and pain can be transformed and that God, has not abandoned us, but in the risen Christ is alive and at work in the world.

It is important to recognise that Jesus’ resurrection was not some magical, instant, romantic fix. God didn’t simply wave a wand and make everything new, put an end to all conflict and pain. Jesus’ victory over death came at an enormous cost not least to Jesus himself. For there would have been no resurrection if there had not first been a crucifixion. Before Jesus could be restored to life he had to die. Before Jesus could die, he first had to experience life, to surrender his divine status and be fully immersed in the human condition – not the condition of the rich, the comfortable and the powerful, but the condition of the poor, the oppressed and the powerless. Before Jesus could be crucified he had to suffer betrayal and humiliation, and then to endure flogging, nailing, jeering and ultimately suffocation. Before Jesus could rise he had to truly die and to be sealed in a tomb. 

The world looked much the same that first Easter Day as it had on all the days that came before it. The poor were still poor, the embattled were still embattled, the defeated were still defeated. The world looked the same and yet nothing would be the same again. Jesus’ resurrection demonstrated beyond doubt that death is not the end – the dead do not remain dead. Jesus’ resurrection showed the world that love can conquer hate, good can defeat evil, and that the best of humanity will ultimately triumph over the worst. Jesus’ resurrection reminds us that even in the worst of circumstance there is always room for hope. Because Jesus rose from the dead we can be sure that a new day will dawn and the world will be restored. We can believe that there will come a time when all suffering will cease, when the bombs will stop falling, when the rich will no longer hoard their wealth, when the hungry will be full, when creation will be restored and the world will be whole once more. 

The resurrection may not have changed the world, but it should and must change us, so that through us the forces of death will not be able to rob people of dignity, identity and hope and that through us and in us life (not death) will have the final word.

In the words of one of our post communion prayers, let us pray:

Father of all, we give you thanks and praise, that when we were still far off you met us in your Son and brought us home. Dying and living, he declared your love, gave us grace, and opened the gate of glory. May we who share Christ’s body live his risen life; we who drink his cup bring life to others; we whom the Spirit lights give light to the world. Keep us in this hope that we have grasped; so we and all your children shall be free, and the whole earth live to praise your Name; through Christ our Lord. Amen.

Christ is risen. Alleluia. He is risen indeed. Alleluia.

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The power of the powerless

April 3, 2026

Good Friday – 2026

Marian Free

In the name of God who gave his back to the whip and his hands to the cross. 

Amen.

At a prayer service in the Pentagon on March 25, United State Defence Secretary Pete Hegseth prayed for American servicemen attacking Iran: “Let every round find its mark against the enemies of righteousness and our great nation, give them wisdom in every decision, endurance for the trial ahead, unbreakable unity, and overwhelming violence of action against those who deserve no mercy.” He also called on God to: “break the teeth of the ungodly” and concluded: “We ask these things with bold confidence in the mighty and powerful name of Jesus Christ, King over all kings.”

“Overwhelming violence, break the teeth of the ungodly.” It is difficult to reconcile these words and this image of Christ with the one whom we acknowledge today – a crucified Savior who lived and died as one who resisted the temptation to defeat evil with evil, to fight fire with fire, or to defeat hate with hate. The same Jesus who said: “You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’  But I say to you, Do not resist an evildoer. But if anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn the other also’” (Matthew 5:38,39).

This does not mean that Jesus was weak, submissive and ineffective, that he allowed himself to be treated as a doormat or that when necessary he didn’t call out evil. When the moment called for it, Jesus spoke out against those things that he perceived were wrong with his world and his church. He called out the hypocrisy among the leaders of the church, he refused to be bound by laws and conventions that excluded and condemned those who did not meet the exacting standards of his faith, and he ignored laws and conventions that would have prevented him from mixing with sinners, tax-collectors, prostitutes and yes even women. He told stories about the first being last and the last being first.

Interestingly, what Jesus did not do was challenge the Empire, he did not raise and train an army, he did not claim the power and authority to rule, he did not impose his will on anyone and he never, ever used his being god to get him out of a tight spot or to strike his enemies down (not even to escape death).

There is so much grief and pain in the world today. The balance of power is shifting and there is more uncertainty than many of us have known in our lifetime. It is tempting to think that the problems that face us can be solved by force, by imposing our will on those who obstruct us, by attacking those who threaten us, or by reinforcing our own security at the expense of others.

Jesus showed a different way – resisting silently and patiently, confident that God would have the final word. In so doing Jesus revealed a different sort of power, a inner strength that cannot be cowed, intimidated or destroyed by threats or cruelty; a power that enables him to stay true to himself and to his values even in the presence of death.

In a world filled with violence and fear, and with the lust for power and resources, may we follow a crucified Saviour, holding fast to Jesus’ teaching and example, resisting  silently, bravely, patiently, confident that these days will end and that we will emerge out on other side showing, as Jesus did, that we cannot be held prisoner to violence, oppression, injustice and greed and that the kingdom will be built on love, freedom, justice and the equal sharing of resources.

Jesus held firm to what he believed to be right and paid the ultimate price, may his example show us how to live, even when the world is shifting beneath our feet and when we want to fight to hold on to what we. have known and loved.

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God who kneels at our feet.

April 2, 2026

Maundy Thursday –  2026

Marian Free

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

In 1994 the movie, The Madness of King George III was released. I’m not sure how much of it is true, but I was particularly struck by the fact that, in the film, the King’s loyal servants – men who indulged him when his fits of madness struck – were dismissed from the court when the King became well. When the King was afflicted, these men had been the King’s constant companions, often woken in the middle of the night to romp in the gardens playing childish games with the king. They saw him at his weakest and yet continued to serve him. It seemed to me that the King might have rewarded their non-judgmental faithfulness and discretion. Instead, he effectively punished them.  Having had his mind and his dignity restored, the King (or the King’s court) obviously felt that any reminder of his aberrant behaviour would reflect badly on him. The King could not afford to have daily reminders of his vulnerability and his incapacity, so his servants expelled from the court.

True or not, that is an extreme example of the delicate nature of human relationships, of the fine balance that is often held between those with wealth and authority and those without, those with influence and those without. The respective positions of each have to be appreciated not only to enable the smooth running of society, of a business or even of a family, but also to ensure that neither party be too familiar or, conversely, too disrespectful. Today’s society, especially that in Australia, is more egalitarian, but it is still possible to overstep the mark in certain situations or to cause offense. A CEO may be so relaxed with his or her staff that it becomes awkward if he/she needs to pull them into line if needed. Conversely, a staff member might become so familiar with the CEO that they run the risk of being disrespectful.  

In the first century, as in some places today, roles were clearly defined and everyone knew their place and how to interact with diverse members of society. The culture of honour and shame ensured that every citizen knew just how far they could and could not go with another member of society – whether they ranked higher or lower than themselves.

This is what makes the story of the footwashing so confronting. As he has many times before, Jesus defied convention, and in so doing he risked causing discomfort and/or offense to everyone present. Everyone at the table knew that it was the role of a slave to perform the servile task of washing the feet of guests.  No one thought twice about a slave demeaning himself to kneel at the feet of visitor and to wash the dirt from their feet and to dry them. However grateful and polite the recipient was, they would have understood that this was the role of the slave, and they would not have offered to swap roles, nor would they have insulted the slave by being effusively grateful. The last thing on their mind would have been to offer to wash the feet of the slave in return.

Jesus, who refused to be bound by social norms effectively does just that. To be sure his disciples are not his slaves but the disciples, by choosing to follow him, have accepted him as their leader, their master, as someone whose place on the social ladder was different from their own.  So it is perhaps not surprising that Peter’s reaction is to refuse.  Perhaps what is more surprising is that the other disciples do not refuse! 

Over and over again, we have seen how Jesus confronts the norms of his society, how he overturns the expected roles and absolutely refuses to be bound be convention – and how that causes confusion and offense. We saw this when he insisted that John baptise him – “the one who is less powerful baptising the one who is more powerful” – a reversal of roles that Jesus does not properly explain. We saw this again when Jesus failed to castigate the woman who touched him in the crowd. We saw it yet again when he allowed a woman off the street (or Mary of Bethany) to anoint him with extravagant oil. And we see it one last time, when Jesus kneels and washes the feet of the disciples.

In a stratified and divided world, a world governed by conventions that confined and limited people of differing classes, occupations and genders. In a world in which power was protected by law and by force, Jesus demonstrated an entirely different way of being. Through his teaching and his actions, Jesus showed that vulnerability is not weakness, that one can give away one’s authority and yet not lose it, one can allow for expressions of intimacy and yet still hold the respect of one’s companions. 

We may want an authoritarian, judgement, distant God, but what we have is a humble, vulnerable, intimate God who will not judge even those who betray him. That God kneels at our feet, are we willing to let him wash them?

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Two donkeys? A donkey and a colt? Palm Sunday 2026

March 28, 2026

Palm Sunday – 2026

Matthew 26:14-27:66 (21:1-11)

Marian Free

In the name of God whom we label and misunderstand at our peril. Amen.

On this day, we have a surfeit of readings as we combine a Litany of the Palms with a reading of the passion – almost two chapters of Matthew’s gospel.  This was not the tradition of my childhood, when Passion Sunday (the fifth Sunday of Lent) marked the beginning of Passiontide and Palm Sunday (the sixth Sunday) focussed solely on Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem. It is only in more recent decades, that the church reverted to an ancient tradition in which the Passion was read on the Sunday before Easter, as something of an “overture” to the events of Holy Week[1] and as a way of tempering the elation associated with Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem with the shadow of the cross. 

My habit on Palm Sunday is to preach on Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem, in part because the Passion reading itself brings us down to earth and reminds us that the excitement of the crowd was short lived, and in part because we will hear the story all over again on Good Friday.

We are led to believe that Jesus riding a donkey into Jerusalem is a sign of humility, but in fact, Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem is quite deliberate. It is staged if you like. Jesus doesn’t walk with the crowds of pilgrims as would be expected. Instead, he rides a “borrowed” donkey, the owner of which appears to have no say in the matter. Jesus has simply sent two disciples into a village (unnamed) telling them to: “Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately you will find a donkey tied, and a colt with her; untie them and bring them to me. If anyone says anything to you, just say this, ‘The Lord needs them.’ And he will send them immediately.” The owner is expected to make no objection.

Then there is the matter of the donkey and the colt. Why both? and why/how would Jesus have managed to sit astride both together? Matthew’s text is quite clear – “the disciples brought the donkey and the colt, and put their cloaks on them, and he sat on them.” (Mt 21:6) According to Matthew Jesus sat on both animals, animals which were presumably of different heights, and which may well have walked at two different speeds, after all one is a colt that may never have been ridden before. It would have been extremely awkward, not only for Jesus, but surely for the animals as well.  

Of the four gospels, only Matthew has two animals. Mark and Luke have only a colt and John has a young donkey. Given the awkwardness of the situation this has to be a deliberate addition by Matthew. Yet, this is probably not an example of Matthew’s propensity to double up (two demoniacs, two blind men) but something else entirely. There is a reason why Matthew doesn’t follow Mark but adds a second beast of burden. 

I have been puzzled less by the fact that there are two animals, and more by the fact that Jesus rides them both. It was therefore with some relief that I read Catherine Sider Hamilton[2] this week. Like me, she finds the image of Jesus riding on them to be “impossible, even ridiculous.” The text in Zechariah, which is often read as part of the Litany of the Palms reads: “behold your king comes to you, humble and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey” (Zech 9:9) and it is often assumed that this quote is behind Matthew’s doubling up, but it is clear from the text that there is only one animal in Zechariah[3].  

A key characteristic of Matthew’s gospel is his determination to demonstrate Jesus’ fulfilment of Old Testament texts. It should come as no surprise then, that in this instance, Matthew wants to make it absolutely clear that Jesus is the promised king (messiah). To do this Matthew takes us all the way back to God’s promises to the patriarchs – Genesis 49:10-11. In these verses, Jacob blesses his eldest son, Judah saying in part: “The sceptre shall not depart from Judah,” Jacob says. “Tying his foal to the vine and the colt of his donkey to the choice vine, he washes his garments in wine …” As Hamilton points out, the Genesis text refers to two animals in a text which promises that the sceptre (rule) will never pass from Judah. By the first century this text was an important part of the messianic expectation. There would always be a king of the tribe of Judah – David was of the line of Judah, and the messiah was to be of the line of David.

By including both the donkey and the colt, Matthew weaves the text from Genesis together with the text from Zechariah. The promised King arrives in Jerusalem riding a donkey and a colt. By combining the two texts Matthew makes it clear that the promised king announced by Zechariah, is in fact the messianic king – descended from David of the tribe of Judah. Indeed, it would appear that the crowd have made the connection because in Matthew (and only in Matthew) they greet Jesus as the Son of David .

This, the most Jewish of the gospels reaches back into the scriptures, to make it clear that Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem demonstrates that – whatever was to follow and no matter how unlikely the events of the Passion – Jesus was the one promised by God.

Ironically though, the crowds fail to fully see the significance of their declaration of Jesus as Son of David. Instead of proclaiming him as king they simply declare him to be: “the prophet, Jesus from Nazareth.” It is presumably this failure to recognise Jesus for who he really was that allowed them to turn their backs on him and to call for his death within a week.

With the benefit of hindsight we know who Jesus is or do we? May this Holy Week be for all of us a time for reflection and re-examination, a time to let go of our preconceptions and to open our hearts and minds that we might more fully know Jesus the Christ, so that we might share in his sufferings and participate in his glory.

[1] It is difficult to find a simple explanation of the traditions, but you might like to read further here: https://liturgy.co.nz/why-read-the-passion-on-palm-sunday

[2] https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/sunday-of-the-passion-palm-sunday/commentary-on-matthew-2711-54-7

[3] The doubling up is as Hamilton points out an example of Hebrew parallelism something that Matthew, given his familiarity with the Jewish text, would have known.

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Life from death creating something from nothing

March 21, 2026

Lent 5 – 2026

John 11:1-45

Marian Free

In the name of God who from nothing brought all things into being. Amen.

If asked, many of us would say that the fourth gospel is our favourite. The mystical nature of the gospel seems to draw us in and transform us. Yet even though we are aware that this is the most spiritual of the gospels we are not immune from the temptation to take the gospel literally and in so doing to miss the symbolism that makes John’s gospel so mysterious. 

The author of the fourth gospel does not simply report events but makes meaning out of them. For example, when Nicodemus visits Jesus, the author uses imagery of night/dark verses day/light to highlight not only to Nicodemus perceived need for secrecy, but also to allude both to Nicodemus’ failure to understand what Jesus is saying and his refusal (at this point in time) to believe in Jesus. When John tells us that Jesus opens the eyes of the man born blind, the language of seeing and not seeing exposes the “blindness” of the Pharisees. When Jesus feeds the 5,000, John’s focus is not so much on the miracle of the multiplication of the loaves, but on what it means for Jesus to be the bread from heaven. 

This is a gospel that needs to be mined for its deeper meaning – a meaning that is obscured – at least to Jesus’ opponents and dialogue partners. The Jesus of the fourth gospel speaks in riddles.  In the case of would-be followers, the riddles are intended to make his dialogue partners think and to change their way of thinking. So in this gospel Jesus tells Nicodemus that he must be born from above. (Nicodemus doesn’t understand but does engage in conversation.) Jesus tells the woman at the well that he can give her living water.  She is confused but engages Jesus in debate and comes to faith. The blind man receives the ability to see, but also the inner sight which enables him to recognise who Jesus is when no one else has the courage to admit to the possibility that Jesus has been sent by God.

Some see and believe, some see and come to a partial understanding, but the Pharisees are both blind and deaf to Jesus’ presence. They refuse to “see” the miracle of sight. They refuse to grasp what Jesus’ actions and words say about who he is. The Pharisees close themselves off both from miracle and teaching. Instead of trying to understand, they confront Jesus and challenge both his actions and his teaching. Claiming superior knowledge and wisdom they seem to be convinced that there is only one way to see the world and only one way to relate to God – their way. The symbolism and deeper meaning behind Jesus’ actions is completely lost on them.  

John’s gospel records only seven miracles, each more dramatic than the last. Water is turned into wine, the son of a royal official is healed, a lame man walks, bread is multiplied, Jesus walks on water, and a blind man sees. Today we encounter the last, the climactic miracle – the raising of Lazarus.

Like so many of the stories John records, this too is filled with riddles. Lazarus’ sisters send a message to let Jesus know that their brother (Jesus’ friend) is unwell. There is only one reason to tell Jesus and that is that the sisters fear that Lazarus will not recover. However, instead of making his way to Bethany at once, Jesus delays for two days saying: “This illness does not lead to death; rather it is for God’s glory, so that the Son of God may be glorified through it.” The problem is, Lazarus does die. 

We are not told how Jesus finds out about the death of Lazarus (maybe he simply intuits it). Regardless, it appears that when Jesus finally makes up his mind to go to Bethany (which is only two miles away from Jerusalem where Jesus’ life is in danger), Lazarus is already dead. Jesus speaks in riddles telling the disciples that Lazarus is asleep before finally telling them plainly, “Lazarus is dead. For your sake I am glad I was not there, so that you may believe. But let us go to him.”

This account is puzzling on so many levels. It is possible to read in such a way as to conclude that Jesus deliberately delays his journey so that Lazarus will die, that Jesus plans the death of Lazarus so that he can reveal his most powerful party trick, one that will ensure his disciples will believe. “This illness is for God’s glory.” “I am glad I was not there, so that you may believe.”

Just as last week we saw that we would be mistaken to attribute to God  a kind of callous disregard that makes unborn children blind just so that Jesus can give them (or one of them) sight, so it is a mistake to conclude that Jesus allows Lazarus to die just so that Jesus can demonstrate that he has the power to bring someone back from the dead. What sort of capricious God would deliberately deprive someone of life in order to show people just what God can do? What sort of cruel and arrogant God would cause Mary and Martha so much grief just to show how powerful God is? Certainly not the God who would take on human form and share human existence. Not the God who, in Jesus would allow himself to be nailed to a cross.

The raising of Lazarus is not a simple miracle story revealing what God can and cannot do (after all God doesn’t raise all people from the dead or give sight to every person born blind). We have to be careful not to take Jesus’ language too literally for to do so causes a great deal of damage to the image of God and leads us to miss the deeper meaning of what is going on here. 

As with so many of the Johannine accounts of Jesus’ life it is the symbolism that is important. The raising of Lazarus is a reminder to those who might need it that God can bring life from death (whatever that looks like). God can transform life-denying circumstances into life-giving circumstances. God can wring things that are from things that are not. When we are locked in a tomb of grief or despair or when it seems that health or security or joy are beyond our reach, the raising of Lazarus, the giving of life to dead bones (Ezekiel 37) are a reason for hope an encouragement to hold on when holding on seems impossible.

Faith doesn’t protect us from suffering, but God does not capriciously inflict suffering on anyone. Faith is an anchor in the storm, a hope for the future and a confidence that whether we live or die, we are God’s.

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Opening our eyes to possibility

March 17, 2026

Lent 5 – 2026

John 9:1-41

Marian Free

In the name of God Source of all Being, Living Word, Giver of Life. Amen.

“Who sinned? This man or his parents?” In the face of inexplicable or unbearable loss it is easy to come up with trite, seemingly pious explanations. (“They are in a better place.” “God must have wanted another angel.”) In our effort to make sense of the senseless, we attribute to God characteristics that have little to do with God and more to do with our own need to understand. In so doing, we not only trivialise the pain and the grief of another, we also diminish and trivialise God. 

When someone dies after a long and painful struggle, it might be appropriate to express the view that they are now at peace or with God, but when a young person is tragically killed in an accident or slowly dies from cancer, it is tempting, but irrational to attribute to God a reason for the death, or to try to minimize the pain. To assume that God allows a person to die because heaven does not yet have enough angels is a gross presumption that we know what God needs – or even to assume God has needs. 

Human life is precarious and what happens to one or another person is often completely random – natural disaster, reckless driving, genetics – are all things which (with the possible exception of the last) cannot be predicted or protected against. God certainly doesn’t visit suffering on the unsuspecting for some bizarre self-seeking motive.

The question of human suffering, especially in relation to accidents of birth, was a matter of concern to people who did not have our medical knowledge. Why someone might give birth to a child with epilepsy, or a child without sight, and another might not was a complete mystery to our forebears. In the absence of understanding people looked for someone to blame. God was not exempt from this desire to attribute a cause for suffering. Indeed, a refrain that runs through the Old Testament is that “the iniquity of the fathers will be visited on the children.” In their their original context these words referred specifically to the consequences that idolatry and the disobedience of the whole nation would have on future generations. In fact, sin generally referred to the nation and their propensity to abandon God. It did not refer to individual wrongdoing.

In today’s account of the man born blind, Jesus points out that there is a flaw in the kind of thinking that blames a parent, or grandparent for the suffering of a descendant (no matter how distant). God does not and will not inflict suffering on the innocent as a consequence of the actions of the guilty. 

Unfortunately, Jesus does not go on to undo the false thinking that has grown up around unexplained suffering and inexplicable impairment. Having dismissed the misconception, Jesus goes on to attribute an alternative meaning to the man’s blindness. He suggests that in this instance the man’s condition of blindness provides an opportunity, not only for Jesus to give the man the gift of sight, but also for him to reflect on what it means to be blind and what it is to really see[1]. To really see Jesus claims, would be to know that he was sent by God and that all that he says and does comes from God.

Jesus’ healing of the blind man is disruptive on many levels. As a consequence of receiving his sight, the life of the blind man and his family is irrevocably changed. The man has to decide what to do with his sight. He only knows what it is to beg and to be dependent on others. What can he do now? He has no skills, but presumably he cannot continue to beg. His family have to adjust to living with someone who no longer needs the sort of support the man has needed his whole life. Hopefully a family’s love will find a way to rejoice and move forward, even so the future is unknown and will have to be navigated in a new way. 

If the family are confused, the Pharisees are more so. Not only are they confused, but they are also threatened. who have more to lose. Who is this man who heals on the Sabbath, who doesn’t follow the rules, and who gains the attention and loyalty of the crowds? They do all they can do discredit Jesus, and to dissuade the crowds from taking him seriously. 

As we have seen throughout the gospel, the Pharisees simply cannot allow their imaginations to be stretched. They have found a way to limit and contain their relationship with God. They have made it manageable. If Jesus is who he says he is, then what becomes of the structures and rules that they have built up? What happens to all their preconceptions about God and about the Messiah? Unlike the man born blind, they simply cannot allow a crack to form in their carefully constructed system of belief. Jesus does not fit their preconceived image, so he cannot possibly be who he claims to be. 

In the face of such dissonance, the refuse to allow their eyes (minds) to be opened, and they hold even more firmly to their cherished beliefs.

The account of the man born blind is more about understanding who Jesus is, than it is about the miracle of sight, more about seeing with our hearts than with our eyes. It challenges us to ask what cherished beliefs and practices have we allowed to come between ourselves and God? What beliefs and practices have we set in stone as if we already know all there is to know about God? What is it about God that makes us so uncomfortable that we have blinded ourselves to the possibility that God is more than we can ever know and will reveal more than we are ready for?

If God were to open our eyes, would we be grateful or terrified?

[1] It is a mistake to assume that God made the man blind just so that Jesus would have an entry point for his discussion, for that would not move the debate any further forward.

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