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An Informed Faith

John T Squires

An Informed Faith

Category: An Orderly Account: Gospel of Luke

Words of terror and despair … hope amidst the turmoil (Luke 21)

Words of terror and despair … hope amidst the turmoil (Luke 21)

I preached this sermon, a reflection on the apocalyptic words of Jesus reported in Luke 21, at Dungog Uniting Church on 16 November 2025. 

Conflict. Aggression. Upheaval. Disaster. Destruction. Catastrophe. A cosmic conflagration, as there are “great earthquakes, famines and plagues … dreadful portents and great signs from heaven … on the earth distress among nations confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves”. A time when “people will faint from fear and foreboding of what is coming upon the world, for the powers of the heavens will be shaken”.

If you have a mental image of gentle Jesus, meek and mild, calling the children to sit on his knee, placidly proclaiming the importance of love, healing the sick and blessing the people who listen to his words with awe and respect—then banish this unbiblical image! For the words we have heard today—words of conflict, aggression, upheaval, disaster, destruction, and catastrophe, are the final teachings of Jesus; the last words he offered his disciples in a lengthy, detailed, and deeply disturbing speech that he made in the shadow of the glorious Temple in Jerusalem.

How kind of the lectionary to give us the solid excerpt from this speech, reported in Luke 21, as the last-but-one Gospel passage in this year when Luke’s Gospel has been in our view. Through this year, we have heard of Jesus blessing the poor, healing a crippled woman, telling stories about a Good Samaritan, welcoming outcasts to a banquet table, and the persistent seeking of justice, as well as recruiting a band of willing helpers to disseminate his message, instructing his followers how to pray, and sharing at table with a chief tax collector. All inspiring, encouraging, positive stories, you will agree.

 And yet, today, we hear about deceivers and destroyers, armed troops and prosecuting authorities, upheavals in earthquakes and suffering in famines: quite a contrast, and not what we normally associate with the Galilean preacher, Jesus of Nazareth.

I don’t know if you have seen any episodes of the series being shown on ABC-TV, I Was Actually There. In particular there was an episode about the Black Saturday fires in Victoria in 2009. It put me in mind of the Black Summer fires along the eastern coast in 2019–2020. Living in Canberra during that season, we had a fire that came within 5kms of our house, and we knew people whose memories were jogged of the 2003 fire when whole suburbs of Canberra were incinerated. Two people that we worked closely with had lost their entire house and contents in that fire. From a distance of 5km, the fire seemed threatening enough to us; I can’t imagine what it must be like to see a fierce raging fire come storming along the very street where you live!

Actually, scenes of destruction abound in our news: destruction in the war in The Ukraine, the ravages of genocide in The Gaza Strip, landslides in Nepal and Bangladesh, earthquakes in Afghanistan and Türkiye, cyclones in the Pacific and the Bahamas,  floods in Spain, bushfires in California and Greece, famine and droughts in countries in central Africa and southern America. Watching the news, we can’t avoid regular exposure to such “natural disasters”.

So the words of Jesus, on one level, should be no surprise to us. Has there ever been a time when “disasters” have not been occurring on this planet? 

And yet, the surprise is, that the particular series of disasters that Jesus describes are all associated with the culmination of his ministry, the climax of his message, the pinnacle of his project: “when you see these things taking place, you know that the kingdom of God is near” (Luke 21:31). 

The kingdom of God, which Jesus had preached persistently since emerging out of his 40 days in the wilderness (4:43). The kingdom of God, which he put front-and-centre as the message for his followers to proclaim (9:2; 10:9). The kingdom of God, which he boldly declared to the Pharisees, was “among you” (17:21). It is this kingdom which Jesus boldly declares will come with signs in the heavens, distress on the earth, upheavals in the sea, and great fear in the hearts of people.

Why?

This particular way of speaking and writing is described by scholars in a technical theological term: apocalyptic. That is an ancient Greek word which literally means, “revelation”, “making clear what will happen”, “lifting the lid on what God is planning for us”. God is planning a sequence of cataclysms, disasters, and catastrophes.

Apocalyptic is the essential nature of Jesus’ teachings about “the kingdom of God”. This final speech confirms the thoroughly apocalyptic character of Jesus’ teaching. The parables he tells about that kingdom are apocalyptic, presenting a vision of the promised future that is in view. The call to repent is apocalyptic, in the tradition of the prophets. The demand to live in a way that exemplifies righteous-justice is apocalyptic; it stands firmly in the line of the older prophetic call for repentance and righteous-just living.

In chapter 21 of his Gospel, Luke has drawn his narrative to a climactic moment with the same focussed attention to the vision of God’s kingdom, as was expressed at the start. The beginnings of the birth pangs are pointers to the kingdom that Jesus has always had in view. This call is as demanding and difficult as giving birth can be, Jesus warns. Jesus was, indeed, a prophet of apocalyptic intensity. We should not forget that.

So what do we do with this terrifying language, with the threatening vision that Jesus places before us today? We could put our head in the sane, pretend he really didn’t mean it, and carry on with business as normal. We can hold to the romanticised picture of gentle Jesus, meek and mild, adoring children on his lap, admiring adults by his side.

But that picture is utterly at odds with the passage we have heard today. We need to accept the vision of Jesus, embrace his words, explore what it is that this means, and respond to what he is calling us to do. And his words in this passage are fierce, direct, confronting.

Some want to use these words to read “the signs of the times” and paint a picture of unstoppable decay surrounding us and engulfing us. They want to use these words—misuse these words, I maintain—to threaten us with hellfire and brimstone. “God is coming to get us” they proclaim; “just look at how much of this is happening now”.

But this was not, and is not, the purpose of such language. Tellers of apocalyptic tales have always invited their listeners, living in times of crisis, to suspend disbelief, watch the vision unfolding, hear the angelic interpretation, even undertake the heavenly journey that the author retells; and to do this with expectation and hope. “God will act” is the central message. “Trust in God”.

Apocalyptic is always written in the midst of despair; despair for Israel that had been fuelled by foreign invasion, murder and rape during the pillaging of that invasion, enforced slavery, religious repression, cultural imperialism, and societal oppression, with the loss of much-loved traditional practices and customs, disconnection from the homeland (the place where God resided), and a continuing sense of having been abandoned by God.

In the midst of all of this, apocalyptic texts invite their readers or listeners to have hope: hope that God would act; hope that despair would be dispelled and life would flourish once now; hope that the familiarity of traditions would be reinstated; hope that the evils perpetrated by the invading oppressors would be rectified by acts of divine revenge; hope that life, even in their own time, would be transformed into a realm where righteous-justice was in force, where the evils of lawlessness were dispelled.

All of this, this, it should now be clear, is what Jesus was looking to in his apocalyptic teaching, in his teachings about living with fidelity to the covenant with God, in his invitations to his followers to walk the way he walks, leading to the realm of God’s kingdom. His visions of cataclysmic times, in the apocalyptic speech of Luke 21, provide a hope-filled declaration that, despite the turmoil of the times, God is indeed acting to intervene in events, overturn evil, and institute the righteous-justice of God.

And all of this is intensely contextual, thoroughly political, firmly directed towards the injustices perpetrated under the religious and economic system of the Temple and the cultural and religious oppression of the Roman colonisers. In Mark’s account, Jesus refers to the “birth pangs” that are just beginning (13:8). They herald the coming good times when “the great power and glory” of the Lord is evident (Mark 13:26; Luke 21:26). In Luke’s version, this is the time when “summer is near” (21:30). That is the kingdom of God, in which much fruit is borne (Luke 8:15), much growth occurs (13:19), new life will emerge (9:22; 9:44; 18:33; 20:38); righteous-justice is enacted by God (20:15–17); and love of God and neighbour is practised by those in that kingdom (10:26).

Out of the darkness and despair, the agony of the birthpangs point to the hope of abundance that has been persistently proclaimed by Jesus. And so, we might pray: may that time come, may that kingdom be a reality, even in our time, even in our place; or, as Jesus taught us to pray, in thoroughly apocalyptic terms: “your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth, as in heaven”. And that is a fine way to end the long series of passages from Luke’s Gospel that we have heard throughout this year.

Unknown's avatarAuthor John T SquiresPosted on November 16, 2025Categories An Orderly Account: Gospel of Luke, Scripture and TheologyTags apocalyptic; discipleship, Jesus, Luke, scripture, theology

The end will not follow immediately (Luke 21; Pentecost 23C)

The end will not follow immediately (Luke 21; Pentecost 23C)

At this time of the year, every year, the Revised Common Lectionary offers us passages from the Gospels that are strikingly vivid and dramatic. Each year we end “the church’s year” with an excerpt from the long apocalyptic speech that Jesus delivered to his disciples, some time after they had arrived in the city of Jerusalem. And so, this coming Sunday we will read Luke 21:5–19.

These verses are the first half of a long speech that Jesus gives (reported with slightly different variations in Mark 13, Matt 24, and Luke 21) as his public activities draw to a close. It is a striking speech, with vivid language and dramatic imagery, drawn from the traditions and patterns that are found in the increasingly apocalyptic fervour of prophetic oracles delivered through the history of Israel. The apocalyptic character of the speech means that it certainly makes a mark! 

Indeed, this speech confirms the thoroughly apocalyptic character of the teaching of Jesus, right through the Gospel accounts. His parables about the kingdom are apocalyptic, presenting a vision of God’s promised future. The call to repent is apocalyptic, in the tradition of the prophets. The demand to live in a way that exemplifies righteous-justice stands firmly in the line of the prophetic call. Such repentance and righteous-just living is as demanding and difficult as giving birth can be.

“Apocalyptic” comes directly from the Greek language—the language in which the words of Jesus are first recorded, in the Gospels. It means an uncovering, a revealing, a making clear—in other words, a revelation. In Greek, the title of the book of Revelation is “Apocalypsis”. So an apocalyptic message is one that uncovers or reveals what lies ahead, in the plan of God.

Jesus was, indeed, a prophet of apocalyptic intensity. But how do we make sense of this dramatic language in the context of the post-Enlightenment scientifically-aware world of the 21st century? How do visions of turmoil and warfare, oracles about fiery destruction and fierce retribution, relate to our contemporary world?

One way of understanding this kind of language and these kinds of speeches, whether by Jesus or any number of the prophets, is to claim that these words were spirit-inspired predictions, from long ago, of the turmoil and conflict that was to take place in the future. These words may relate to the times immediately in the future of the writer (in the late 1st century in the case of this Gospel passage). Or they may point forward in time, to events well beyond the time of the reader, even into our own times (that is, the 21st century).

Like the final book in the New Testament, Revelation, this speech of Jesus in Luke 21 has been interpreted by fervent believers throughout the centuries as providing evidence that the end of the world was at hand. “Repent, now” is the message that is proclaimed—repent, before the end comes, and it is too late.

Another line of interpretation holds that this kind of language needs to be understood as inspired scripture, which provides us with clear doctrinal statements about what is called “eschatology” (the study of the end times, the last days). If this were the case, the words of Jesus could be mined as a source for teachings about “the last days”, instructing us so that we are aware and informed. It may not be that we are right in the midst of those “last days”, but we are able to interpret and understand what is happening—to know exactly where we are, now, in the alleged timetable of events leading up to “the last days”.

However, there are difficulties with both lines of interpretation. Neither understanding actually reflects the nature of the literature, nor the purpose for which each of the apocalyptic oracles and speeches were given in their own time. It is important to understand the literary nature of apocalyptic writings, as well as the social-historical context in which such works came into being. The same applies for Luke 21.

There are three key apocalyptic elements that help us to “make sense” of the intensely dramatic, vivid language that Jesus uses. The first is that we need to be clear about the historical context within which this Gospel was written. The author of this work was writing in a context fraught with tension, conflict, and bloodshed. Israel had been under foreign occupation for centuries. From the time that Roman troops had occupied Palestine, in 63 BCE, tension and conflict had grown. 

In the year 66 CE the governor, Florus, demanded money from the Temple treasury in Jerusalem. This was too much for some Jews; hostilities broke out in various places across Palestine. The war which resulted lasted eight years; in 70 CE, the Temple in Jerusalem would be burnt to the ground, and by 74 CE, all active Jewish resistance to the Romans would be quashed.

In this setting, amidst the battles fought in Galilee, Samaria and Judaea, apocalyptic hopes were inflamed. Many of the Jews actively fighting the Romans believed that their actions would help to usher in the long-promised kingdom, in which God would reign over Israel and foreign troops would be banished. Perhaps a significant number of the followers of Jesus also believed that the kingdom of God was drawing near, as Jesus had proclaimed some decades earlier, in the events of their own day.

Should the followers of Jesus, then, join with the rebel groups in rising up against Rome? Was the way to the kingdom to be won through conflict, martyrdom, and military victory? Or was there another way? In this context, one writer chose to answer these questions by writing a whole story in which he remembered what Jesus said about how people were to follow him. We call this work the Gospel of Mark.

Some decades later, it had become clear that this uprising did mark the end of Jewish practices in Jerusalem (the Romans had expelled Jews from the city and renamed it with a Roman name). The Romans had won the war, and their grip on power was unshakeable. (Their Empire would continue to expand for some centuries to come.)

So as Luke writes his account of Jesus, a few decades after Mark, he has to come to grips with the fact that “the end” did not, indeed, come with these events. God did not intervene. Life continued on under Roman rule. So whilst Jesus is remembered for his apocalyptic fervour—Luke maintains the structure and content of the speech found in Mark, with a number of variations—the message of Jesus is put into a different context, with an emphasis on the fact that ongoing faithfulness, and bearing witness to that faith, was to be a key marker. 

Luke, even more than Mark, backs away from having Jesus call for a radical uprising. Luke intensifies the Markan call to discipleship, and throughout this Gospel he provides still more examples that indicate that Jesus is calling for faithful following of the way that leads to the cross. The initial apocalyptic fervour of Jesus is somewhat muted in this later account; but the cost of discipleship and the urgency of the call to follow remains strong.

So, as Jesus is in the forecourt of the magnificent Jerusalem Temple (Luke 21:1, 5), he sets out the way that his disciples should respond. During this apocalyptic discourse, Jesus has indicated that the situation still to come will be one of persecution: “they will arrest you and persecute you” (21:12), there will be betrayal and death (21:16), “you will be hated by all” (21:17), and false preachers will arise (21:8).

In this context, the fundamental act of discipleship will be to bear witness to the way of Jesus: “this will give you an opportunity to testify” (21:13) and “the words and wisdom” for this testimony will be given by Jesus himself (21:15). The role of the disciple will be to remain faithful throughout these trials: “by your endurance you will gain your souls” (21:19). 

The need for such faithfulness is underscored by the closing words of Jesus’ teachings: “be on guard … be alert” (21:34, 36). Jesus had not advocated joining in the armed uprising; he counselled faithful following of his way of service. Luke’s account underlines and emphasises the importance of this response.

In reading apocalyptic material (such as Mark 13 and Luke 21), we also need to consider their typical literary characteristics. There are a number of common features in apocalyptic texts, which are striking in their impact and powerful in their capacity to invite attention. What is central to all apocalyptic writings is a clear portrayal of a stark conflict between good and evil, which often comes to a head in a grand cosmic battle. To put it in populist terms, apocalyptic texts “spin a good yarn”. They use the techniques of dramatic storytelling, or of good action films. They are vivid and compelling accounts.

Jesus is, by and large, adhering to the conventions of the genre, as he presents his graphic portrayal of what lies on store for his followers in this speech, which Mark says was delivered on the Mount of Olives, opposite the Temple (Mark 13:3)—although in Luke’s account, he is still within the Temple itself (Luke 21:1, 4; see also 21:37–38). In making use of this genre, Jesus demonstrates that speaking in apocalyptic terms is actually doing political theology within a specific socio-historical context. This is the third key element in seeking to understand apocalyptic.

Apocalyptic is “political theology” because it explores faith in the context of the realities of life in the polis, the city. It often provides a counter-narrative to the dominant story of the rulers and those in power, exposing the evil of their ways and proposing an alternative world in which righteous-justice will reign supreme.

The people of Israel, even from the time before they were taken into exile, had lived under the shadow of the dominant world power of the time—the Assyrians, who conquered the northern kingdom; then the Babylonians, who took the southern kingdom into exile; then, after a return under the Persians, an apparently more benign power, there came the crushing power of the Macedonian empire as Alexander the Great and his troops swept into the Jewish homeland.

Tellers of apocalyptic tales invited their listeners, living in times of crisis, to suspend disbelief, watch the vision unfolding, hear the angelic interpretation, even undertake the heavenly journey that the author retells; and to do this with expectation and hope. 

Apocalyptic is always written in the midst of despair; despair fuelled by foreign invasion, murder and rape during the pillaging of that invasion, enforced slavery, religious repression, cultural imperialism, and societal oppression, with the loss of much-loved traditional practices and customs, disconnection from the homeland (the place where God resided), and a continuing sense of having been abandoned by God.

In the midst of all of this, apocalyptic texts invite their readers or listeners to have hope: hope that God would act; hope that despair would be dispelled and life would flourish once now; hope that the familiarity of traditions would be reinstated; hope that the evils perpetrated by the invading oppressors would be rectified by acts of divine revenge; hope that life, even in their own time, would be transformed into a realm where righteous-justice was in force, where the evils of lawlessness were dispelled.

There are clear, sharp pointers to the political situation of the time in which many works of apocalyptic are written—from the time of the Seleucid rulers (from the 180s BCE) through to the Roman conquest of Judaea (63 BCE) and on into the period we call the first century CE, when Jesus lived and then the Gospels were written. These works are political.

 

All of this, this, it should now be clear, is what Jesus was looking to in his parables of the kingdom, in his teachings about living with fidelity to the covenant with God, in his invitations to his followers to walk the way he walks, leading to the realm of God’s kingdom. His visions of cataclysmic times, in the apocalyptic speech of Luke 21, provide a hope-filled declaration that, despite the turmoil of the times, God is indeed acting to intervene in events, overturn evil, and institute the righteous-justice of God.

And all of this is intensely contextual, thoroughly political, firmly directed towards the injustices perpetrated under the religious and economic system of the Temple and the cultural and religious oppression of the Roman colonisers. In Mark’s account, Jesus refers to the “birth pangs” that are just beginning (13:8). They herald the coming good times when “the great power and glory” of the Lord is evident (Mark 13:26; Luke 21:26). In Luke’s version, this is the time when “summer is near” (21:30). That is the kingdom of God, in which much fruit is borne (Luke 8:15), much growth occurs (13:19), new life will emerge (9:22; 9:44; 18:33; 20:38); righteous-justice is enacted by God (20:15–17); and love of God and neighbour is practised by those in that kingdom (10:26).

Out of the darkness and despair, the agony of the birthpangs point to the hope of abundance that has been persistently proclaimed by Jesus. And so, we might pray: may that time come, may that kingdom be a reality, even in our time, even in our place; or, as Jesus taught us to pray, in thoroughly apocalyptic terms: “your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth, as in heaven”.

Unknown's avatarAuthor John T SquiresPosted on November 13, 2025Categories An Orderly Account: Gospel of Luke, Scripture and TheologyTags apocalyptic, Jesus, Luke, scripture, theology

Shamelessly persistent: a widow and a judge, the Christians and the system (and Nathan Taylor). A sermon on Luke 18 (for Pentecost 19C).

Shamelessly persistent: a widow and a judge, the Christians and the system (and Nathan Taylor). A sermon on Luke 18 (for Pentecost 19C).

A sermon that I preached at Dungog Uniting Church on Sunday 19 October 2025.

He was the seventh child—seven of ten. That had to be lucky. And all bearing biblical names: Joseph, Sarah, Daniel, Benjamin, Rebekah, Elizabeth, Nathan, Hannah, Mary, and Joshua. Biblical names, reflecting the strong religious convictions of their non-conformist parents, Joshua and Mary.

Young Nathan was born surrounded by promise and hope. What would his life turn out to be? His parents hoped, and prayed.

As a young adult, Nathan Taylor was joined in marriage to Betty Clegg. He had known her all his life. They lived in adjoining houses, in their West Yorkshire village of Almondbury, a few miles to the south-east of Huddersfield. Perhaps Nathan had married up in the world; non-conformist as he was, his marriage was conducted by the vicar, on 15 September 1839, in the Almondbury Parish Church. It seems that the Clegg family were members of the established Church of England.

A son, William, was born that same year, in 1839. (Perhaps he was the reason that Nathan and Elizabeth married?) Then, two years later, a daughter, Mary, was born. The Census for 1841 lists a family comprising Nathan Taylor, 25, Clothier, his wife Elizabeth, 20, and their two children, living in Schofield Lane in the township of Huddersfield. Sadly, William later would die by drowning at the age of 18; and no other trace of Mary can be found beyond this 1841 Census.

A second son, John, was born to Nathan and Betty in Huddersfield in January 1845. He was given the maiden name of his mother, Clegg, for his middle name, and appears in official records as John Clegg Taylor. 

However, within two years, the family, was torn apart. On 6 March 1847, at the age of 33, Nathan Taylor was tried at the York Assizes, on the charge of “Warehouse breaking”. He was sentenced to ten years imprisonment. All the promise of a fine son, that his parents had invested in him, was broken.

Also tried with him that day were John Johnson, 33, and Thomas Waddington, 37, both of whom received the same sentence for their crime of “Robbery in company with violence”. These three men were amongst 302 convicted men who subsequently were transported to the colony of New South Wales on board the ship Adelaide. This was the last of the ships bearing convicts to come to the colony of NSW. Later convicts were sent to Moreton Bay (now Brisbane), and then later to the Swan River (now Perth). But none followed the Adelaide to New South Wales.

Indeed, further investigations reveal that Nathan Taylor had already served time, for an incident of aggravated assault, a couple of years earlier. He was not, by any means, a fine, upstanding, law abiding citizen, it would seem.

So Nathan came to NSW. So, too, did Betty, with sons William and John. They were reunited, and went on to have further five children, three daughters and two sons, who were all born in the Richmond River region in northern New South Wales.

Nathan himself appears to have lived a full life in the Richmond River Region, where he was employed initially as a Labourer. In 1858 he bought land in East Ballina, and in 1862 additional land in Casino. He was appointed as a Foot Constable in the Northern Police District, on 22 November 1858. Police records describe him as 5’8” tall, with light brown hair, brown/grey eyes, and a sallow complexion. He worked as a Constable for six years (Number 782) before resigning on 31 October 1864. 

******

Nathan had come good. From being a criminal, breaking the law, serving time in prison, and being transported to the colonies, he had ended up as an enforcer of that law, a solid, upstanding citizen.

After leaving the police force, Nathan conducted a store and then was licensed as the publican of the “Horse Shoe Inn” in Lismore in the 1870s. He later bought the warehouse  and hotel of Henry Brown, which he kept until his death in 1874. He was a valued citizen of Lismore in his later years.

Nathan Taylor, my great great grandfather, intrigues me. He intrigues me because he was a convict: the sixth one of my ancestors to have been sent to the colonies as convict, as far as I have been able to ascertain thus far—three on my mother’s side, three on my father’s side, although there are still another three ancestors that I haven’t been able to nail down precisely, about whom I suspect they may well have been convicts.

Nathan Taylor intrigues me, also, because he was a Chartist. Nathan Taylor, as well as John Johnson and Thomas Waddington, along with many others on board the ship Adelaide, were Chartists. A whole group of a Chartists had been sentenced to ten years imprisonment, and then sent to the Colony, under special arrangements.

Now, Chartism was a movement in Britain during the period of 1838 to 1857 which was initiated by the promotion of a Peoples Charter in 1838. The Chartists held mass protest meetings and collected petitions which were presented to Parliament. There were protest activities by Chartists in many English cities. It was especially strong in the northern regions of England—precisely where Nathan Taylor was living as a young adult in the 1840s.

The Chartists were seeking a series of reforms to the political system (reforms which were eventually adopted, and which are taken for granted in modern democracies)—the vote for all adult males, the use of a secret ballot, the removal of a requirement for property ownership by Members of Parliament, payment of Members of Parliament, electorates with equal numbers of electors, and annual Parliamentary elections.

The arrangement concerning convicted Chartists was that such men would be sentenced to ten years and then sent to the colonies, and if they exhibited “exemplary” behaviour on the voyage to the south, they would be pardoned on arrival. This appears to have been what was done in relation to Nathan Taylor, for he was promptly pardoned and then his wife and two sons were brought to the colony, under the arrangements made by the Poor Law of the United Kingdom.

There is an annotation in the records of the ship that Betty Taylor and her two sons, William and John, travelled on, that reports “£5.0.0 paid by self and £10.0.0 paid by the Relieving Officers of Huddersfield”. Relieving Officers were appointed under the Poor Law Act of 1834, to oversee the administration of relief to the poor. It appears that the system was such that Elizabeth was able to petition to be reunited with her husband in the Colony.

And so she was. Had she not, I would not be here!

******

The story of Nathan Taylor, Chartist, convict, and copper, and his wife and family, came to my mind as I thought about the Gospel reading we have heard today (Luke 18:1–8). In a sense, the Chartists were very much like the widow in the story which Jesus told. Like her, they were seeking justice. Like her, they were met by indifference, or resistance. Like her, the Chartists pressed, arguing their case, disrupting the society of their day, and even, it is clear, resorting to violence in order to fly their flag and gain wider attention.

And, like the judge in the Gospel parable, eventually the British system relented, and began to adopt a number of the reforms that the Chartists had argued for over the years: the vote for all adult males, the use of a secret ballot, the removal of a requirement for property ownership by Members of Parliament, payment of Members of Parliament, electorates with equal numbers of electors, and annual Parliamentary elections.

If that list sounds familiar, it should—for we, today, have inherited these reforms (and more) in our own Australian parliamentary and legal system—inherited directly from British society. We owe our current democratic system to the agitation, the persistence, of those Chartists.

The parable which Jesus tells, is regularly understood to be a parable about persistence. Don’t give up! Keep on pressing the point! Knock on the door of that judge, and keep knocking, until he rises from his sleep and opens the door to you. Don’t let the authorities ignore you or marginalise you. Make a noise! Rouse the sleepers! Agitate! Work to see your demands brought to fruition!

Now, a standard way of interpreting parables is to allegorise them. That means, drawing clear lines of connection between the characters in the story, and people in real life. Classically, the judge who was being disturbed by the persistent widow, knocking on his door, perhaps crying out in the dead of night, this judge is usually equated with God. The persistent widow, by contrast,  is equated with faithful people, praying to God. 

If that is done, then we are provided a most disturbing picture of God. Do we really see God as unjust, oblivious to the cries of need around him, asleep in bed as the needs of the world grow larger and more pressing? It is not, I would suggest, how people of faith really conceive of God.

What about turning this interpretation on its head? Even though the text suggests that we interpret the judge as a symbol for God, that isn’t the end of the matter. If the text is about prayer, then it is about the two-way interaction that happens when we pray. Prayer is as much about what we say to God, as it is about what God says to us, what we hear when we pray, what is pressed upon us from our close and intimate engagement with our Creator.

So, if we flip things in the parable—what about if we see the judge as a symbol of systems in our human society? Like our systems often become, the judge was inflexible, aloof, resistant to interference, opposed to alteration. And why not see the woman as a picture of God? Persistent, incessant, calling out the injustices of our society, raising a ruckus when things are unfair or inequitable. 

Read like this, the parable is about the way that God continues to press on us, challenging us, confronting us, pushing us to grow in our discipleship and deepen in our faith.

Now, there is one more aspect of this parable that I want to raise before we finish. If we explore the word used to describe the widow in the original Greek of this Gospel, the word that is usually translated as “persistent”, we will find that the original Greek is more accurately rendered as “shameless”. How about that picture of God—the one who is utterly shameless—shamelessly persistent in making demands of us?

In this way of reading the parable, the widow acts in precisely the way that Lady Wisdom is portrayed in Proverbs 8:1-4. She, a female, is on the public arena of ancient Israel: “On the heights, beside the way, at the crossroads she takes her stand; beside the gates in front of the town, at the entrance of the portals she cries out.” These locations were where men were expected to be active, and the gates to the town were the places where men gathered to discuss Torah and determine cases brought to them as judges. 

For a woman to be there, and to be vocally active in such a public way, was a breach of the honour-shame code. Women speaking out in public were acting in a way that challenged the honour of the men who alone “rightly” belonged there. They did not adhere to the posture and action of shame that they were required to demonstrate, as the flip side of honour. They were acting in a way that demonstrated they were shameless.

The widow, pressing the point with the judge, is not only persistent, but—like Lady Wisdom, like God as we listen to and engage with God—utterly shameless. 

*********

So for each one of us, the question stands: how does God call us to account, in the covenant by which we have committed ourselves to God? What knocking do we hear on our doors in the middle of the night? What voice cries out to us, persistently and shamelessly, at all hours of the day?

Where is God challenging us to deeper discipleship in active ways? How is God beckoning us to gracious openness, to offer lavish hospitality, to provide friendship and fellowship to those from outside our indeed circle?

In the Wesleyan tradition, which entered the Uniting Church through the Methodist Church, there is a Covenant Service, which was first used by Charles Wesley in 1755, drawing on a liturgy that is believed to have been created by the 17th century English Puritan, Richard Alleine.

Wesley’s Covenant Prayer includes words which I take as the start of our Prayers of the People for today. 

Let me be exalted for you, 

or brought low for you;

let me be full,

let me be empty,

let me have all things,

let me have nothing:

I freely and wholeheartedly yield all things

to your pleasure and disposal.

See also

Convicted (5): Nathan Taylor

Unknown's avatarAuthor John T SquiresPosted on October 19, 2025Categories An Orderly Account: Gospel of Luke, Scripture and TheologyTags faith, justice, Luke, scripture, theology

Sell your possessions, and give alms (Luke 12; Pentecost 9C)

Sell your possessions, and give alms (Luke 12; Pentecost 9C)

“Sell your possessions, and give alms”. So Jesus instructs his followers, in the midst of a lyrical section of teaching in which he praises the way that God feeds ravens, bedecks lilies in flowery glory, and assures his followers that “it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom” (Luke 12:22–34). This is the passage from Luke’s Gospel—which largely parallels a passage also in Matthew’s Gospel (Matt 6:25–34)—that is proposed by the Revised Common Lectionary for reading in services this coming Sunday.

The passage gives the impression that Jesus was advocating a life of asceticism, marked by poverty, lived in complete dependence on the provisions of God. Indeed, some interpreters have claimed that Jesus was born in poverty, deriving this from the “born in a manger … no room at the inn” element of “the Christmas story” (Luke 2:7), as well as Luke’s later comment that when Mary brought the offering for her purification (Luke 2:22), it was the lesser option prescribed for one who could not afford to offer a sheep (Lev12:8). Further, that he was known as “the carpenter”(Mark 6:3) or as “the carpenter’s son” (Matt 13:55) is seen to be evidence of his lowly status.

More careful analysis, however, indicates that this is too simplistic. British Anglican scholar Ian Paul has posted a detailed consideration of this matter, in which he draws on very helpful research by historians and economists who have turned their attention to the ancient world. (Ian Paul can be aggressively dismissive of arguments that do not align with his clear-cut conservative-evangelical-Anglican perspective, especially when it comes to the debate about sexuality and gender in the. Church of England; but in this post—as in many others on his page—his careful scholarly analysis is most helpful.)

Paul notes what others before have observed—that a tiny minority of people in the Hellenistic world had power and wealth, but a substantial proportion of people were at the other end of the social stratum. At the very bottom, in the most precarious position, were those who were desperately poor: orphans, widows, unskilled workers, beggars, prisoners, and disabled people—perhaps 25 to 30% of the population. Above them were those who were dependent on their labour to meet their day-by-day needs—perhaps 30 to 40% of the population; and then above them, a further 20 to 25% of the population who generally lived just above the minimum level required to sustain a reasonable life: most merchants and traders, skilled artisans, freedpersons (formerly slaves), and families living on larger farms.

This breakdown is based on estimates by biblical scholar Bruce Longenecker in his analysis of social levels in Pauline churches (Remember the Poor, Eerdmans, 2010).  Longenecker in turn draws on the work of historian Peter Oakes, who had undertaken careful analysis of demography and housing in Pompeii (Reading Romans in Pompeii; SPCK, 2009). 

The Gospels provide a number of clues as to where the disciples might have fitted into this schema. The toll collector Matthew (or Levi) was a small business man operating to collect tolls from travellers along the roads (Mark 2:14; Matt 9:9); the four Galilean fisherman ran their own fishing businesses with their “hired men” (Mark 1:20). As for Jesus, Paul observes that “as a tekton, a general builder (Matt 13:55; Mark 6:3) working with stone and wood (though not metal), it is more than likely that Joseph (and therefore Jesus) … was above either 55% or 82% of the population not including slaves, across the Empire as a whole”. 

See https://www.psephizo.com/biblical-studies/was-jesus-actually-born-into-a-poor-family/

So we can see that the teachings of Jesus that instruct his followers on the matter of wealth and possessions are designed to stimulate the consciences of his followers, who were not beggardly poor, to alert them to their responsibilities towards those in the lowest socio-economic levels of society. They are to act towards them remembering that God has long had good news for the the poor and liberty for the oppressed (Isa 61:1–2, quoted at Luke 4:18), knowing that Jesus blesses those who are poor, hungry, and weeping (Luke 6:20–21), and recalling how Mary sang that God has “lifted up the lowly [and] filled the hungry with good things” (Luke 1:52–53), which itself evoked the ancient song of Hannah that God “raises up the poor from the dust [and] lifts the needy from the ash heap” (1 Sam 2:8, repeated at Ps 113:7).

Accordingly, in instructing his followers to give no regard to food and clothing, Jesus is not necessarily saying, “remain in poverty”. Rather, I think he is admonishing them—and us—not to be caught in the perpetual circle of seeking more, to enjoy more. Rather, his message is that, what we have, must be shared; what we gain, we should use judiciously, to help those in greater need than we are. For this is what “the kingdom” is about, surely.

Unknown's avatarAuthor John T SquiresPosted on August 9, 2025August 9, 2025Categories An Orderly Account: Gospel of Luke, Scripture and TheologyTags justice possessions, Luke, poverty, scripture, theology

Good works and acts of charity: a strong, consistent biblical motif (Tabitha, Acts 9)

Good works and acts of charity: a strong, consistent biblical motif (Tabitha, Acts 9)

Tabitha (also known as Dorcas) is an unlikely role model for disciples. There is no record of her preaching the Gospel, or casting out demons; and no direct statement that she was hosting a house church or offering hospitality; although she did make clothing for widows and this could be seen as an act of hospitality, perhaps. Rather, Tabitha is known simply for the fact that she was a disciple who was “devoted to good works and acts of charity” (Acts 9:36, NRSVUE translation).

Quite strikingly, she is a woman who is named (a striking feature, as many women in scripture go unnamed); and we are given her name in two languages, Aramaic and Greek. It is possible that Tabitha is derived from Tsibiah, the name of the mother of King Jehoash (1 Ki 12:1). So Tabitha is worth remembering. Mostly, however, she is remembered for the fact she had fallen ill and had died; when Peter and two other disciples came to Joppa, where she lived, she was brought back to life (9:37, 40–41).

A depiction of Tabitha, from the work of James C. Lewis

Whilst this may mean that Tabitha exemplified the pathway that Jesus trod (into death, then back to life), she is not put forward as an example of that paradigmatic pattern (which Paul, for instance, sees as fundamental; see 1 Cor 15:3–4; Rom 6:3–8, 11; 2 Cor 4:8–11;  Gal 2:19–20; Phil 3:10–11). Why, then, is this story included in Acts? Tabitha is part of a group of stories that form a crucial pivot in the storyline of Acts, from the time of the church in Jerusalem (chs.1—7) to the activity amongst the Gentiles (chs.13 onwards) that begins to spread the good news “to the ends of the earth” (cf. Acts 1:8).

The way that Tabitha is introduced may well serve to point to her ultimate significance in this book which records various incidents because of their foundational importance for Christian faith and life. In the very first verse, Tabitha is praised for “doing good works” and performing “acts of charity”. This is reminiscent of the introductions offered for a number of other characters, all valued for their piety and the good things that they did (not just “what they believed”).

Good works and acts of charity

Elizabeth and Zechariah, at the start of Luke’s Gospel, are described as “righteous before God, living blamelessly according to all the commandments and regulations of the Lord” (Luke 1:6). They did what was considered to be good, performing the acts of charity required by Torah. Simeon is introduced as a man who was “righteous and devout” (Luke 2:25) whilst Anna “never left the temple but worshiped there with fasting and prayer night and day” (Luke 2:37). They too did what is good, as they adhered to Torah. And in Acts, immediately after the story of Tabitha, we meet Cornelius, “a devout man who feared God with all his household; he gave alms generously to the people and prayed constantly to God” (Acts 10:2). Cornelius is yet another example of someone who did good.

So Tabitha “was devoted to good works and acts of charity” (Acts 9:34). Often these terms are viewed through a narrow lens, based on a hardline reading of Paul’s affirmation that “a person is justified not by the works of the law but through faith in Jesus Christ … we [are] justified by faith in Christ, and not by doing the works of the law, because no one will be justified by the works of the law” (Gal 3:26). He offers a similarly strenuous affirmation along these lines at Rom 3:24–25, 28–30, followed by his detailed argument that Abraham was justified by his faith, and not by any “works of the law” (such as circumcision; see Rom 4:1–25). 

This Pauline focus on “faith, not works” generated a negative attitude towards “doing good”. This came to full fruition amongst the Reformers, when they rejected the medieval Roman Catholic system of indulgences (accruing merit in the eyes of God through the support of charitable works, amongst other things) and declared that “doing good” and “charitable works” were of a lesser value than “simply believing” and “having faith in Jesus”. From this perspective, amongst more recent Protestant churches, a healthy disdain for these good deeds has developed. Good works were not “the heart of the Gospel”. Tabitha would hardly be seen by them as a role model for a faithful disciple.

Doing good

Yet “doing good” and performing “charitable deeds” are valued as positive and advocated as necessary by many voices in scripture. Prophets instructed the people of Israel to “learn to do good, seek justice” (Isa 1:17; see also Isa 41:23; Jer 4:22), following the example of the Lord God who does good (Micah 2:7; Zech 8:15). Psalmists sang a refrain to “depart from evil, and do good” (Ps 34:14; 37:27) and to “trust in the Lord and do good” (Ps 37:3), once again following the example set by the Lord God, who is acknowledged in this manner: “you are good and you do good” (Ps 119:68).

Similar advice appears in later Jewish literature. In the story of Tobit, the angel Raphael in the guise of “brother Azariah” instructs Tobit and his son Tobias to “do good and evil will not overtake you” (Tob 12:7), whilst in Ben Sirach Wisdom herself advises, “if you do good, know to whom you do it, and you will be thanked for your good deeds. Do good to the devout, and you will be repaid—if not by them, certainly by the Most High” (Sir 12:1–2). Wisdom also offers advice to “do good to friends before you die, and reach out and give to them as much as you can” (Sir 14:13).

This focus on “doing good” continues throughout Second Temple Judaism. As this period draws to a close, Jesus himself instructs his followers to “love your enemies, do good to those who hate you” (Luke 6:27), reminding them that “if you do good to those who do good to you, what credit is that to you?” (Luke 6:33). He further reinforces these instructions with the words “love your enemies, do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return” (Luke 6:35). 

Jesus extends the image of the tree bearing fruit first spoken by John (Luke 3:8–9) with his teaching that “no good tree bears bad fruit, nor again does a bad tree bear good fruit; for each tree is known by its own fruit”, noting that “the good person out of the good treasure of the heart produces good” (Luke 6:43–45). The commitment to “doing good” which is seen in prophets, psalms, and wisdom writings, is expressly affirmed also by Jesus. 

Furthermore, in Matthew’s Gospel Jesus declares that “not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father in heaven” (Matt 7:21). He tells his disciples they are “the light of the world” and then says, “let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works” (Matt 5:14-16). Later in that Gospel, he makes it clear that those doing this “will of my Father” by performing “good works” are those who feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, welcome strangers, clothe the naked, take care of the sick, and visit those in prison (Matt 25:35–36). 

This, of course, itself draws on the guidance provided by the post-exilic prophet whose words are included in the book of Isaiah, posing the rhetorical question about “the true fast”: does it not include, amongst other things, “to share your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover them, and not to hide yourself from your own kin?” (Isa 58:6–7). And this is how Peter remembers Jesus when he preaches to Gentiles in Caesarea about “how God anointed Jesus of Nazareth with the Holy Spirit and with power; how he went about doing good and healing all who were oppressed by the devil, for God was with him” (Acts 10:38).

Followers of Jesus who wrote letters to encourage and instruct other followers in the next few decades repeat the same instruction: “see that none of you repays evil for evil, but always seek to do good to one another and to all” (1 Thess 5:15); “do not neglect to do good and to share what you have” (Heb 13:16); “let those suffering in accordance with God’s will entrust themselves to a faithful Creator, while continuing to do good” (1 Pet 4:19). 

Even Paul notes that “to those who by patiently doing good seek for glory and honor and immortality, he will give eternal life” (Rom 2:7), while a later writer of the first century CE evoking the authority of Paul includes amongst the requisite qualities of a widow that she is “well attested for her good works, as one who has brought up children, shown hospitality, washed the saints’ feet, helped the afflicted, and devoted herself to doing good in every way” (1 Tim 5:10). Finally, another letter writer concludes that “it is better to suffer for doing good, if suffering should be God’s will, than to suffer for doing evil” (1 Pet 3:17). “Doing good” is a persistent biblical motif.

Acts of charity

Closely related to this is the statement that Tabitha was known as one who performed “acts of charity” (Acts 9:36). This, too, is a strong biblical theme. The word translated by the NRSVUE as “acts of charity” is ἐλεημοσυνῶν (eleēmosunōn), which derives from the root word meaning “to have mercy”—a quality that is advocated for at various places in scripture. In other translations, it is rendered “almsdeeds” (KJV, ASB), “acts of mercy” (WEB), “compassionate acts” (CEB), or “helping the poor” (GNB,  NIV).

Mercy was a quality seen in God by the Israelite prophets. Isaiah declared that “the Lord waits to be gracious to you; therefore he will rise up to show mercy to you, for the Lord is a God of justice; blessed are all those who wait for him” (Isa 30:18). Hosea says that the Lord promises Israel, “I will take you for my wife in righteousness and in justice, in steadfast love, and in mercy” (Hos 2:19). 

Jeremiah tells the returning exiles that God has said, “Is Ephraim my dear son? Is he the child I delight in? As often as I speak against him, I still remember him. Therefore I am deeply moved for him; I will surely have mercy on him” (Jer 31:20). and Habakkuk prays, “in wrath may you remember mercy” (Hab 3:2). And in a recurring song various writers affirm that “the Lord is gracious and merciful” (Joel 2:13; and see Exod 34:6; Num 14:18; Neh 9:17b; Ps 145:8–9; Jonah 4:2; as well as 2 Kings 13:23; 2 Chron 30:9). 

Many psalms contain an indication that God was seen to be merciful (Ps 69:16; 86:15; 103:8; 111:4; 116:5; 119:156; 145:8) and a number of times, the psalmist prays “be merciful to me, O God” (Ps 57:1), “be mindful of your mercy” (Ps 25:6), “do not, O Lord, withhold your mercy from me” (Ps 40:11), or simply “have mercy on me” (Ps 51:1) or “on us” (Ps 123:3). Of course, in Christian tradition, it is the simple prayer, “Lord, have mercy”, that draws on this tradition; and in the original Greek, kyrie eleison, the verb is derived from the same root word found at Acts 9:36 (“acts of charity”, eleēmosunōn).

It is mercy for which the prophets consistently advocated. Zechariah declared that the Lord is instructing Israel, “render true judgments, show kindness and mercy [hesed] to one another; do not oppress the widow, the orphan, the alien, or the poor; and do not devise evil in your hearts against one another” (Zech 7:9–10). Micah asked his potent question, and then answered, “to do justice, to love mercy [hesed] ” (Mic 6:8). Hosea offered this clear summation: “I desire mercy [hesed], not sacrifice” (Hos 6:6).

It is this last saying that Jesus twice quotes (Matt 9:13; 12:7), both times in rabbinic-style disputations with scribes and Pharisees. This usage indicates that he saw this text as a proof text which could be used to conclude such argumentative debates. He continues the prophetic commitment to “doing mercy” in everyday life. In the final amd most aggressive interaction between Jesus and these Torah teachers, he berates them for their skewed priorities, and identifies “justice and mercy and faith” as “the weightier matters of the law” (Matt 23:23).

In the same Gospel of Matthew, Jesus affirms that the merciful are blessed, “for they will receive mercy” (Matt 5:7), and concludes his parable of the unforgiving servant by having the master declare to him, “should you not have had mercy on your fellow slave, as I had mercy on you?” (Matt 18:33). 

Then, in telling a much-loved parable found only in Luke’s Gospel, Jesus responds to the lawyer wondering “who is my neighbour?” by telling a story about a wounded man and three passers-by, and ending with the question, “who do you think was the neighbour?”—to which the lawyer declares, “the one who showed him mercy” (Luke 10:37). Luke, of course, had highlighted the quality of God’s mercy in the songs that appear in the opening chaps of his Gospel (Luke 1:50, 54, 58, 72, 78). 

Finally, James the brother of Jesus offers a succinct summation of the importance of mercy: “mercy triumphs over judgement” (James 2:13), while the short letter of Jude concludes by adjuring those who hear it to “have mercy on some who are wavering … and have mercy on still others with fear” (Jude 22–23). Mercy, as a quality which is evident in the lives of followers of Jesus, continues as a clear theme in the works written by his followers.

However, perhaps the weight of understanding of what “mercy” means as Christians read the New Testament has shifted to a sense of mercy as “loving forgiveness and acceptance”, whether by God or by others, rather than mercy as “acts performed in love to assist people in need”.

Tabitha (or Dorcas)

So, to return to Tabitha (or Dorcas), “the gazelle” (which is what her names means, both in Aramaic and in Greek): she was a disciple who was known for the fact that she was “devoted to good works and acts of charity” (Acts 9:36). She was a faithful, diligent, compassionate person, attending to the scriptural injunction, repeated and reinforced by Jesus, to “do good” and to carry out “acts of charity” in the knowledge that the Lord God “desires mercy, not sacrifice”.

Unknown's avatarAuthor John T SquiresPosted on July 21, 2025July 22, 2025Categories An Orderly Account: Gospel of Luke, Scripture and TheologyTags Acts, good works, Luke, mercy, scripture; theology;, Tabitha

There is need of only one thing. Or, maybe, two. (Luke 10; Pentecost 6C)

There is need of only one thing. Or, maybe, two. (Luke 10; Pentecost 6C)

Boaz made another visit to the 21st century today, all the way from the first century, accompanied by his wife Deborah. They appeared at Dungog Uniting Church, where they engaged in a discussion of what they had heard about the scene in the house of Mary and Martha (that we know about because it is told in Luke 10:38–42). This dialogue was written and presented by the Rev. Elizabeth Raine and the Rev. Dr John Squires.

Boaz and Deborah

*****

Elizabeth begins. This gospel passage about Mary and Martha is very well-known one. It often provokes some strong responses, especially from women who have followed more traditional and domestic lifestyles. Many feel a sneaking sympathy with Martha.

After all, the reading says that Jesus and his disciples went to Martha’s house for a meal. Even if the guests were only Jesus and the twelve apostles, that still makes dinner for 15 people. Dinner for that many is not easy to prepare, especially in a first century kitchen consisting of an open fire, and maybe a small brick oven outside.  And she is doing it by herself. Her sister Mary is sitting on the floor at Jesus’ feet, listening to him. No wonder Martha is upset.

Today we attempt to explore this story as we listen to a dialogue between two dinner guests at the house of Martha and Mary, their neighbours Boaz and Deborah.

**********************

Boaz: I am shocked. Outraged, even. I was expecting a dinner where the men gather, are served by the women, and then sit together discussing learned things, like the Torah. Such a spectacle we saw! Martha should not have allowed it. And that Jesus fellow, what was he thinking? Aiding and abetting the decay of society as we know it. And I thought he was a holy man. Deborah, I trust this has not given you any ideas.

Deborah: Aiding and abetting the decay of society! Boaz, you are just old fashioned. You need to get with the times. I am excited! I am feeling liberated! I am worthy of being taught by the great teacher. How can you think treating women equally is a problem?

Lots of reasons. For example, you know that in the synagogue, “a woman should not be allowed to come forward to read the Torah in public.” (Tosefta Megillah 4.11,226). So this notion of equality is not in accord with our practices and beliefs.

And I thought Mary’s attitude, claiming this equality, was nothing short of rebellious. She will be wanting to learn to read before you know it, and then what? Educated women are a menace. They get above their station in life and then refuse to be submissive. In fact, as Rabbi Eliezer has decreed: “If any man gives his daughter a knowledge of the Law, it is as though he taught her lechery.” (Mishnah, Sotah 3.4)

Well, I thought Mary’s sitting at the feet of Jesus was a wonderful demonstration of how women have the right to be taught.If Jesus had no problem with it, why do you?

Look, I am not saying that SOME learning for women might not be a bad thing. But with a household to run, there are other duties that need to be done. How is learning going to help Mary prepare a big dinner? You musthave heard the murmurings of the disciples. They were not impressed by Mary’s action.

Well, I don’t think it is any business of the disciples, or ours, or anyone else’s if Mary wished to learn from Jesus.

Martha had a problem with it. I heard her ask Jesus to tell Mary to help her. Martha knows what the true role of women should be. The true role of women is doing the kind of things that, I understand, some people have called ‘domestic duties’.

Domestic duties ??!!??

Yes, you know what our scrolls tell us: “She seeks wool and flax, and works with willing hands. She rises while it is still night and provides food for her household and tasks for her servant-girls … She puts her hands to the distaff, and her hands hold the spindle.” (Proverbs 31)

Yes, yes, yes…I know all of that. But what did Jesus say when she sat at his feet, expecting to be taught by him? You seem to be skipping over that bit.

Listen, Deborah, we are talking about The Law here. We are talking about the whole stability of society. If you do not want to show appropriate regard for The Law, then what are you regarding?

How can you condone an action which is clearly in breach of the very respect and honour that the Law requires we show it? How can a woman, sitting at the feet of a teacher of the law, be showing respect and honour? She should have been in the kitchen, with Martha!

Well, I believe that Jesus was very clear that Mary, by sitting at his feet and learning, had chosen the good part, and it would not be taken from her.

And Martha, her elder sister, made it clear that she had chosen the lazy path, and was not fulfilling her duties. How was dinner going to get on the table if we all sat about distracted by Jesus’ teaching? How can you be so sure that Mary was doing the right thing? 

Well, it is true that Martha is very generous with her hospitality – nothing but the best is laid before Jesus and his followers. I agree that this is an important part of our traditions, to be generous in any hospitality to our guests.

And why couldn’t the male disciples take a turn in the kitchen? Why couldn’t they contribute to the generous hospitality of the occasion? Why must women always serve? Isn’t it time Peter swept the floor and Thomas did the dishes? Or James and John stirred the soup and served the bread?

What nonsense! Men serving women, indeed!! You sound just like that Rabbi Hillel with your liberal notions.

Wait a minute: Jesus serves men and women and feedsthem. Look at his recent actions. Apparently he managed to feed a whole crowd, men, woman and children recently with only five loaves and two fish. And the male disciples cleaned up afterwards. So where does that leave your argument?

Surely this is an exaggeration. I am sure women did most of the serving and tidying up. After all, I heard that they followed Jesus around and ministered to him out of their own resources. This clearly included the cooking and cleaning.

Really, you are most frustrating. There are precedents in our faith, you know, for women leaders and prophets. Look at Deborah the judge. Or Huldah, the prophet. Or what about the mother of Jesus himself? I heard she said….

Oh, you make it all sound very normal indeed, for women to be spouting revolutionary leadership talk. But just think about the way Mary went about it. Sitting with the men. Sitting on the floor at the feet of a man. This isn’t customary. And in public like that! Shocking!!

Well, I suppose it wasn’t the best image she might have presented of herself. I was a little taken aback myself to see her sitting at the feet of a man who wasn’t related to her. In some ways, it could be seen as shameful.

But still – why must it be so? Why can’t the sexes be equals?

Well, they just aren’t. What about how Jesus spoke to Martha? Surely this was harsh. She must have been very hurt.

Yes, I can see that. Here was Martha, wanting to provide the best dinner, and Mary as her sister should have helped. She did have some obligation to attend to the guests.

Yes. “Martha, Martha, you are distracted with too much serving”, he said. Or something like that. Well, of course she was, getting a dinner for all those people. What did he expect?

It may not have been meant unkindly. Jesus doesn’t need to defend traditional roles of women. There are plenty of people, just like you to do that. But he does need to defend our right to learn, to be disciples, to be on the same level as the men.

Mary’s right to learn is precisely what Jesus is protecting by refusing to send her into the kitchen. Jesus will not let dinner take that good thing away from Mary. What justice would there be if he did?

And what if Martha has wanted to sit by Jesus, too? Where is the fairness for Martha here? Then what have happened to dinner?

Well, I suppose there is that. But perhaps our real problem is that we are trying to put the two sisters and the two things they are doing in a stark contrast. We see one who puts aside her distractions to listen to Jesus, and we see another who worries herself to distraction with trying to make dinner for all of them.

Mary and Martha are sisters, not enemies. They complement each other. Why, one could even argue that they are two parts of a legitimate whole that includes them both.

Hmmmmm, I am not sure what you mean. I know they are sisters, but I am missing your point…

Let me put it another way. Martha engaged herself in the necessary task of serving others. Mary sat at Jesus’ feet, in the necessary task of spiritual and faithful learning. And both of them surely did each thing out of love for Jesus.

That is a very good point. I am thinking that l would have to say both learning and serving are necessary to be a righteous and holy person.

I don’t think the only lesson here is about traditional duty versus anew feminist wave. Surely the two sisters represent together who we should be as people. Listening to Jesus is not opposed to serving Jesus. Jesus didn’t tell Martha she was doing the wrong thing. He said Mary has chosen the more needful thing at that point. Surely it was Martha’s anxiety he was criticising, not her service. We all needed to eat.

But I thought this complimentary togetherness was not about a single person, but about society, male and female, we have different roles which complement each other. So I don’t have to wash the dishes to be whole anymore than you have to learn to read the Torah.

Nonsense. How many men in our scripture offer hospitality? Look at Abraham. And what about when David seeks food for the troops? He asks Nabal, not his wife – though she was the one who showed sense when she took the food to David. I mean, really. Are you honestly trying to tell me that if you as a man did nothing but contemplate the Law, with no other activity, you would be a happy, content person? If we did one thing constantly at the expense of the other, we would be far from well-rounded people.

Well, I know we need both hospitality and learning. No argument there.

And I hope you noticed the word that Jesus used to describe Martha’s serving. He said Martha was performing a “diakonia”, and I understand this is an important word Jesus uses to describe his disciples. Jesus was surely suggesting that her hospitality was a ministry, that it was something sacred.

Perhaps part of the genius of Jesus is that he can hold this stuff together himself. He reminds those serving to be attentive and not distracted. He reminds those who listen carefully to his words about the necessity of service.

*****

Back to the present … Elizabeth resumes as the *preacher* for the day.

I am going to ask you a question. Don’t think about it too much. When you look for a role model in this story as to how you express yourfaith, who do you pick? Martha or Mary? Which one do you act like most of the time and is the same one you chose? What does that say to you?

Many, many people see their faith in practical terms— making tea, organising social afternoons, looking after people’s material needs and so on. Across the world churches would not function without those who are busy with the activities that go towards keeping a building open, running programmes, and maintaining the life of the church asa visible entity in the eyes of the membership and the community.

There is no question that the gift of hospitality is as important as the gift of learning. There is also no question that Mary’s action would still be the more unusual one. Did Jesus know this? Do those of us serving perhaps need to be reminded of the grounding provided by being attentive to spiritual needs?

With all the challenges that we face in today’s world, we can’t lose sight of the need for God’s people to make time to grow their own personal faith in a way that works for them. We know from research that this is what unchurched people seek when they come through our doors.

What will they find? Mary or Martha? Or will they find both, well-rounded disciples ready to share the love of God with all?

See also

https://johntsquires.com/2019/07/15/listening-and-learning-at-the-feet-of-jesus-luke-10/
Unknown's avatarAuthor John T SquiresPosted on July 20, 2025July 18, 2025Categories An Orderly Account: Gospel of LukeTags scripture; theology; Luke; discipleship; womenLeave a comment on There is need of only one thing. Or, maybe, two. (Luke 10; Pentecost 6C)

Magic in Samaria: Simon and the Samaritans (Acts 8)

Magic in Samaria: Simon and the Samaritans (Acts 8)

Chapter 8 of Acts provides a critical pivot in the overarching narrative of Acts. After the death of Stephen, a severe persecution breaks out in Jerusalem (8:1–3); as a consequence, “those who were scattered went from place to place, proclaiming the word” (8:4). Thus begins the “turn to the Gentiles”, a series of events in chs.8—12 that reorients the focus away from the community of followers of Jesus gathered in Jerusalem (chs.1—7), towards the activity of Paul and his companions as they preach the good news amongst the Gentiles (chs.13—28). 

This turn involves not only events in Samaria, but also the commission that Saul receives as he travels to Damascus (ch.9) and the twofold visions to Peter and Cornelius (ch.10) which, when Peter reports this to the church in Jerusalem (ch.11) lays the foundation for widespread acceptance of the mission to the Gentiles (ch.15).

This “turn to the Gentiles” begins with an account of the activity of Philip (8:5–24). What he does in Samaria begins the fulfilment of the second stage of Jesus’ programmatic statement (1:8). After Philip enters the city of Samaria (8:5) he preaches “the Messiah” (8:5), a message already announced by Peter and John in Jerusalem (2:36; 3:20; 5:42). His activity is characterised by signs (8:6), just as both the apostles (2:43; 4:30; 5:12) and Stephen (6:8) had done.

Philip casts out unclean spirits (8:7), as did Peter (5:16), and heals the paralysed and lame (8:7), as did Peter (3:1–10, a lame man; 9:32–35, a paralysed man) and, indeed, Jesus (Luke 5:18, a paralysed man; 7:22, the lame). As a result, Philip brings “much joy” to the city’s inhabitants (8:8), producing in the northern area the emotions previously experienced by the Jerusalemites to the south (3:11; 4:33). There is a consistency running in the storyline: just as God guided the apostles in Jerusalem, so God guides Philip in Samaria.

But the first specific incident involving Philip that is narrated in this chapter (8:9–13) introduces a new element, as we hear about an encounter with Simon, who was endowed with a special power. The people of the city are amazed at the magical powers of Simon (8:9, 11), to the extent that they have named him “Simon the Great” (8:10).

Simon the Samaritan, magician supreme

Simon of Samaria was presumably an adherent of the religion established by Moses; the Samaritans believed that they held the true interpretation of scripture (indeed, that they had the original version of the Torah); they had their own Temple for centuries and their own priesthood; and they boasted that they had remained faithful to the Law of Moses over the centuries whilst those southerners in Judah (where another Temple was located) had deviated from the faith. Indeed, in Hebrew (where only consonants were written), SMR, the basis for SaMaRia, could also provide the root for SoMeRim, the “keepers of the traditions”. They knew the Law and kept it faithfully.

Assuming that this Simon was such a Samaritan, we find that he also is a magician! He would presumably have practised some means of divination, perhaps chanting incantations and offering prayers on behalf of those who approached him. He might also have performed healings on people who came with such a request. And the fact that he was known as “great” would surely indicate that he had a measure of success in this enterprise. Although perhaps Luke is making a neat play on the fact that Simon, known as μέγαν (megan, great) performed feats of μαγεύων (mageuōn, magic).

Simon the Samaritan encounters Philip

“Magic” aspects were part of life for people in the Hellenistic world. “Magicians” who “divined the will of the gods” were everywhere to be found. However, Luke’s view of magicians is made clearest some chapters later in his portrayal of the Cyprian magician Elymas, whom Barnabas and Saul encounter, condemn, and curse (13:6–12). Elymas the magician is “a Jewish false prophet” (13:6) whom Paul slanders as “you son of the devil, you enemy of all righteousness, full of all deceit and villainy” amd asks him, “will you not stop making crooked the straight paths of the Lord?” (13:10). In this way, Luke makes his view clear: magicians are in thrall to the one whose power has, in fact, been defeated (Luke 10:18).

Simon in later church tradition

In later centuries, Simon became identified as the founder of a significant branch of Gnostic Christianity. Justin Martyr says that he came from the village of Gita in Samaria, and that “through the arts of the demons who worked in him, did mighty works of magic in [the] imperial city of Rome and was thought to be a god” (Justin, 1 Apology 1.26.1-3).

In his detailed discussion of a number of heresies that he had identified, the 2nd century apologist and bishop of Lyons, Irenaeus of Smyrna, devotes significant space to “Simon the Samaritan”, of whom, he reports, the Caesar had erected a statue in Rome. He notes that, in adherence to the developing Gnostic understanding of a divine entity standing over and above the Demiurge (the creator God of the Old Testament), Simon declared that “it was himself who appeared among the Jews as the Son, but descended in Samaria as the Father, while he came to other nations in the character of the Holy Spirit”.  As we don’t have any writings by Simon himself, we have only Irenaeus’s claims about his teaching.

Nevertheless, Irenaeus maintains that Simon “represented himself, in a word, as being the loftiest of all powers, that is, the Being who is the Father over all, and he allowed himself to be called by whatsoever title men were pleased to address him” (Irenaeus, Against Heresies 1.23).

Representations of Justin and Irenaeus (top),
Origen and Eusebius (bottom)

Another apologist, writing in the early 3rd century, Origen of Alexandria, mentions Simon in the course of his lengthy refutation of the views of Celsus, a Greek philosopher active around eight decades before Origen wrote. He notes that “Simon freed his disciples from the danger of death, which the Christians were taught to prefer, by teaching them to regard idolatry as a matter of indifference” (Origen, Against Celsus 6.11). 

Then, in his fourth century CE Church History, Eusebius of Caesarea references both Irenaeus and Origen, describing Simon as “a mighty antagonist of the great, inspired apostles of our Saviour”, in sway to “the father of wickedness”, who became “the father of all heresy” insofar as he established a school that promulgated his views even into Rome. Eusebius includes a fanciful scene in Rome, where Peter, “clad in divine armour like a noble commander of God”, confronted Simon so that “the power of Simon was immediately quenched and destroyed, together with the man himself” (Eusebius, Church History 2.13–15). 

Much of this later patristic representation of Simon and his school derives from Luke’s account in Acts, where Simon is acclaimed as “the power of God that is called Great” (8:10). The fathers have elaborated, expanded, and speculated in grand fashion!

Yet the question is already present in Luke’s narrative: could the power exercised by Simon the Great be the same power which energised the apostles (3:12–13; 4:7–10), just as it had energised Jesus (2:22; Luke 5:17)? The answer (no) is implicit in the account of Philip’s conversion of Simon; the one who was acting as if he did possess such power is actually made to be subservient to the true power of God. 

A community of faith in Samaria

In bringing Simon to the point of baptism, Philip offers the same message as Jesus; he preaches “the sovereignty of God” (8:12, usually translated as “the kingdom of God”), which was the central message of Jesus (1:3; Luke 4:43; 6:20; etc.).

Furthermore, Philip performs “signs and great miracles” (8:13), as did “Jesus of Nazareth, a man attested to you by God with deeds of power, wonders, and signs that God did through him among you” (as Peter had described him on the day of Pentecost, 2:22). Philip is modelling his words and his deeds on the one whom he follows as “Lord and Messiah” (as Peter also had declared, 2:36).

The specific miracles performed by Philip in 8:7 are akin to miracles of Jesus, who casts out unclean spirits (Luke 4:33–37; 7:21; 9:37–43) and heals the paralysed and lame (Luke 5:17–26; 7:22). The people respond by being baptised (8:12), paralleling what had taken place earlier in Jerusalem after Peter’s first public speech (“those who welcomed his message were baptized, and that day about three thousand persons were added”, 2:41). 

So Simon becomes a member of the community through baptism (8:13); he joins those who heard Philip and watched what he had done, “and were baptized, both men and women” (8:12). Now a community of Samaritans exists in continuity with the Jewish community in Jerusalem.

Apostolic approval of Philip’s actions

All that remains, it seems, is some form of apostolic approval to be given  to the new community. So the Samaritans—who have already “received the word of God” (8:14)—now “receive the holy spirit” through the laying on of hands by the apostles (8:15–18), prefiguring the subsequent laying-on of hands on Saul (9:12, 17; and 13:3, with Barnabas). The spirit has guided the community in Jerusalem (2:4; 4:31; 6:3, 5, 10; 7:55); now guidance by the spirit is experienced by the community in Samaria.

Although the gift of the spirit (8:17) is here separate from baptism (8:12), as also in Ephesus (19:1–7), Luke does not intend this pattern to be read as prescriptive for all situations, as other accounts of baptisms indicate (Peter, at Pentecost, 2:38-41; Peter, in Caesarea with Cornelius and his household, 10:44–48; Paul, in Ephesus, 19:1–7). Rather, the emphasis is on continuity with the Jerusalem experience: the apostles validate the Samaritans’ experience by means of the holy spirit.

Negatively, this gift of the spirit provokes the envy of Simon, whose baptism (8:13) has not removed his desire for power. Simon requests authority to perform the same powerful act as the apostles (8:19). Peter’s rebuke accuses Simon of seeking to purchase the gift of God (8:20) and places him in the same category as Ananias and Sapphira, since his heart is “not straight before God” (8:21). 

The same type of conflict that has been evidenced in Jerusalem is now found in Samaria; once more, language about God is used to define the preferred option and to validate the actions of the community leaders. This conflict is resolved, neither by imprisonment nor by martyrdom, but through means already evidenced in Jerusalem: Peter commands Simon to repent, and Simon offers a petitionary prayer to the Lord for forgiveness (8:22; cf. 2:39, 3:19, 5:31). 

This initial Samaritan passage then concludes with a summary description (8:25) of the testimony to “the word of the Lord” undertaken by the apostles as they preach throughout Samaria.

See also

Magic in the Hellenistic world and in Judaism of the time
The Samaritans

as well as

Edging away from the centre (Acts 8; Easter 5B)
What happened after Philip met the Ethiopian? (Acts 8; Easter 5B)

Unknown's avatarAuthor John T SquiresPosted on July 16, 2025July 16, 2025Categories An Orderly Account: Gospel of Luke, Scripture and TheologyTags magic, Philip, Samaria, scripture; theology; Acts, Simon

Magic in the Hellenistic world and in Judaism of the time

Magic in the Hellenistic world and in Judaism of the time

The New Testament was written in a context where “magic” and “divination” were regular aspects of daily religious life. Belief in an array of deities in an otherworldly realm was complemented by the understanding that it was possible to communicate with such entities—that is, to “divine the will of the gods”—and also to change or modify human behaviour in ways that related to what was learnt through such divination—that is, to perform “magic” through a variety of means.

There is evidence aplenty for this in the New Testament itself. The Gospels report, not only that Jesus communicated with God through prayer, in acts of “divining the will” of his heavenly Father, but also that he performed acts of healing and exorcism which changed the life of individual people, actions which many would have regarded as “magic”. There are also accounts of people who encountered God in dreams or through the visitation of angels; they also were engaging in “divination”.

Such “divination” continues in Luke’s second volume, Acts, recounting the formation and development of communities following “the good news about Jesus” which engaged in “divination” (in prayer and worship) and practised “magic” (through healings and exorcisms). Paul’s letters also give some indication of his abilities in this regard.

The New Testament thus attests to the widespread belief that it was possible, both to contact the divine realm and have communications from them, and to interfere in human behaviour through means generally regarded as “magical”.

In what follows, I draw particularly on the research of my wife, Elizabeth Raine, into the Hebrew Scriptures, the Greek magical papyri, and the practices of ancient magicians, and on my own research from some time ago into “divination” and oracles in the Hellenistic world.

The spread of “magic” in the Hellenistic world

The Greco-Roman world was full of “magic”. In the Encyclopedia of Religion and Society (1998), William Swatos and Peter Kivisto define magic as “any attempt to control the environment or the self by means that are either untested or untestable, such as charms or spells”. This is a somewhat modernist definition, driven by the scepticism of post-Enlightenment rationalism. In the ancient world, magic was a widely-accepted phenomenon.

There is plentiful evidence from ancient Greece, Rome, and Egypt about the practice of magic, from amulets and inscriptions that provide formulas to invoke deities, prayers to offer for health, safety, and all manner of needs, oracle sites where people could go to seek answers from the gods to their various petitions, travelling soothsayers who would provide “words from the gods” (for a price), blessings to be prayed for people and household, and curses to be said over enemies. 

A page of a magical papyrus

In the hellenised world after Alexander the Great, Greek was the common language of trade and commerce—but also of religion. Many Greek papyri documents that survive (the so-called Greek magical papyri) as well as various manuscripts attest to the various techniques employed by magicians and healers. Touch was often employed by such people, along with the utterance strange words from foreign languages, or indeed simply gibberish words, and ecstatic states, as the means of effecting healings in others. Multiple names were employed for addressing the deities (many made up names, or taken from tongues foreign to the speaker).

(You can read some examples at https://hermetic.com/pgm/index and explore a technical academic analysis of these papyri at https://archive.org/details/TheGreekMagicalPapyriInTranslation/page/n9/mode/2up)

Evidence from many archaeological sites today shows that right across the ancient Mediterranean world there were amulets which were used also for “magical” purposes. These amulets most often were used for “apotropaic” purposes—that is, to protect the wearer by warding off evil forces. Many were engraved with the text of a spell to be chanted, or with an image of a deity to whom the petition in the spell might be offered.

Examples of amulets used for “magical” purposes
in the Hellenistic period

During the Hellenistic period, there were a number of oracular sites to which people could travel, to place their requests before the deity or deities in focus at those sites. Delphi was the best-known of these places, where the Pythia, the priestess of Apollo, could be consulted. At Dodona, it was Zeus Naios who was able to be petitioned; other sites of significance included Cumae, near Rome, where the Sibyl offered prophetic words; Olympia, to consult Zeus; Paphos, where the oracle of Aphrodite was located; and countless other sites of local significance. There were also travelling soothsayers who, for a price, would read entrails or produce oracular sayings relating to the person asking.

At Epidauros in Greece, a major Asclepion provided facilities where supplicants could bring offerings to Asclepius, the god of healing; then sleep in a sleeping chamber, hoping to dream, so that the god could speak directly to the supplicant. A complex system of offerings was overseen by a large staff of priests; the whole complex was quite an enterprise! Undergirding it was the form belief that, once appropriate steps had been taken, the god would be contacted and would communicate with the person seeking their healing.

Divination (“divining the will of the gods”)  was practised in so many ways that the Roman statesman and philosopher Marcus Tullius Cicero wrote a comprehensive two-volume textbook On Divination in which he treated the various means of divination that were used at the time. In this book, Cicero engages in a philosophical debate with his brother, Quintus.

He allows Quintus to set forth his sympathetic appreciation of a range of methods of divination—auguries, auspices, astrology, lots, dreams, and various species of omens and prodigies—before he then offers his own “scientific” disputation with many of them, drawing particularly on the philosophical critique put forth by his contemporary, the philosopher Cratippus of Pergamon. Philosophical scepticism about magic existed alongside of popular adulation of the craft. 

Jewish attitudes towards magicians

Passages in Hebrew Scripture forbid magic. In Leviticus, one commandment is quite clear when it states: “Do not turn to mediums or wizards; do not seek them out, to be defiled by them: I am the LORD your God” (Lev 19:31). Sure enough, in a story told in 1 Samuel, we learn that “Saul had expelled the mediums and the wizards from the land” (1 Sam 28:3)—only to learn a little later that when he saw the massed army of the Philistines, Saul had lamented that he had no means of divination as to what would transpire, “not by dreams, or by Urim, or by prophets” (1 Sam 28:6). So he instructed his servants to find him “a woman who is a medium, so that I may go to her and inquire of her” (1 Sam 28:7). 


Excerpt of The Shade of Samuel Invoked by Saul (1857)
painted by Nikiforovich Dmitry Martynov

The servants told him “there is a medium at Endor”, so he disguised himself and went to her by night—but she sees through his disguise and also sees “a divine being coming up out of the ground” who had the appearance of “an old man … wrapped in a robe” (1 Sam 28:8–14). Saul immediately recognised this figure as the prophet Samuel, who had died back in ch.25. Saul consults Samuel and learns of his fate (1 Sam 28:15–19). And so “the witch of Endor” (as she is popularly known) proves to be of value.

In the long speech attributed to Moses in Deuteronomy, we find the command, “no one shall be found among you who makes a son or daughter pass through fire, or who practices divination, or is a soothsayer, or an augur, or a sorcerer, or one who casts spells, or who consults ghosts or spirits, or who seeks oracles from the dead” (Deut 18:10–11). Then follows a note that “although these nations that you are about to dispossess do give heed to soothsayers and diviners, as for you, the Lord your God does not permit you to do so” (Deut 18:14). That’s pretty clear!

Nevertheless, there is evidence in Hebrew Scripture that “magic” was known, tolerated, even practised within Israelite society. Narrative texts purporting to tell of older stories presumably reflect the customs and practices of the time when they were compiled (perhaps during and after the Exile). Was it “magic” at Horeb, immediately after Moses was called to his role by the Lord God, when Moses threw his staff onto the ground, and it became a serpent; and then he seized its tail, and it became once more a staff (Exod 4:1–5)?

A depiction of Moses and the brazen serpent (Num 21)

Was it “magic” at Rephidim, in a confrontation with the Amalekites, “whenever Moses held up his hand, Israel prevailed; and whenever he lowered his hand, Amalek prevailed” (Exod 17:8-13)? or in the wilderness near Moab, when Moses made a bronze serpent to heal the sick people (Num 21:4-8)? It would seem that what was a “miracle” for some would be perceived as “magic” by others.

In addition, perhaps “magic” is in evidence right within the Torah, in the provisions included in Numbers relating to “a man’s wife [who] goes astray and is unfaithful to him”. The process presumably includes a “magical” component, when the priest makes the woman drink “the water of bitterness”, made from holy water and “some of the dust that is on the floor of the tabernacle” (Num 5:16–18, 24). This seems suspiciously like a magical potion being concocted and consumed.

In later centuries, both papyri and amulets exist to attest to the presence of “magical” practices amongst Jewish people. Most of this specific evidence comes from the 3rd and 4th centuries CE, however. However, in terms of the first century, there are references to the existence of Jewish magicians in Philo, Josephus, Tobit, Jubilees, and 1 Enoch. 

In the late 1st century CE, Flavius Josephus wrote that “God gave him [Solomon] knowledge of the art that is used against daemons, in order to heal and benefit men” (Antiquities of the Jews 8.45). Perhaps this appreciation of magic had also been also evident when “Solomon”, the alleged author of the late 1st century BCE work the Wisdom of Solomon, states that God gave him knowledge of “the powers of spirits and the thoughts of human beings, the varieties of plants and the virtues of roots”. He declares that “I learned both what is secret and what is manifest, for wisdom, the fashioner of all things, taught me” (Wisd Sol 7:21–22).

Later developments in Judaism (the Kabbalah) and on into Freemasonry envisage Solomon as not only instructed by Wisdom, but also as a practitioner of “magic”. The Key of Magic of Rabbi Solomon, for instance, is an 18th-century CE manuscript that remarkably claims to be a work by King Solomon!

King Solomon, author and practitioner of “magic”?

In later rabbinic literature, there are many references to witchcraft. In the Sayings of the Fathers, “Hillel used to say, the more women, the more witchcraft” (Pirke Avoth 2:7). This typically patriarchal—misogynistic view is balanced, nevertheless, by the reality that the various rabbinic texts that refer to magic indicate that there were as many—if not more—men who practised this craft, than women!

In the Talmud, another sage named Abaye is said to have declared “the laws of sorcery are like the laws of Shabbat, in that there are three categories” (Sanh. 67b). (The three categories are forbidden in Torah; forbidden in the later law articulated by the rabbis; and permitted.) Indeed, in the later rabbinic period, there are two works entirely devoted to witchcraft (The Sword of Moses and The Book of Secrets). And much of the content relates to male practitioners—although these men weren’t specifically accused of witchcraft, as the women were!

For a fascinating exploration of magic in rabbinic texts, see “do you believe in magic?” by Rabbi Danya Ruttenberg, at https://www.lifeisasacredtext.com/witchcraft/

*****

This discussion of magic and divination forms an important context for our reading of the New Testament texts that relate to magicians: Simon Magus in Samaria (Acts 8), Bar-Jesus (Elymas) on the island of Cyprus (Acts 13), and the “magicians” in Ephesus whose books were burnt (Acts 19).

Luke notes that, in a Ephesus, “God did extraordinary miracles through Paul, so that when the handkerchiefs or aprons that had touched his skin were brought to the sick, their diseases left them, and the evil spirits came out of them” (Acts 19:11). Again, what was deemed to be a miracle to those who believed, may well be seen as “magic” to others. Likewise, Paul’s resistance to the poison of the viper which attached to his arm on Malta—“he shook off the creature into the fire and suffered no harm”—results in the inhabitants declaring that “he was a god” (Acts 28:1–6). Miracle? or magic?

Finally, our understanding of “magic” might also relate to the story of the “wise ones” (magi) who “read the stars” and travelled to see the infant Jesus (Matt 2)—-and, indeed, to the “magical” elements in the healings performed by the adult Jesus of Nazareth (Mark 7, Mark 10, John 9). Was he yet another first century miracle-worker who practised “magic” like other healers?

See more on Simon of Samaria and magic at

Magic in Samaria: Simon and the Samaritans (Acts 8)

See more on Jesus and magic at

In the most unlikely way … touching the untouchable (John 9; Lent 4A)
Unknown's avatarAuthor John T SquiresPosted on July 15, 2025July 16, 2025Categories An Orderly Account: Gospel of Luke, Scripture and TheologyTags Acts, divination, magic, Philip, Samaria, scripture, theology

The Lord opened her heart to listen eagerly to what was said by Paul (Easter 5C; Acts 16)

The Lord opened her heart to listen eagerly to what was said by Paul (Easter 5C; Acts 16)

Two weeks ago we heard Luke’s account of the speech that Peter gave to the church, gathered in Jerusalem, about the moment when the Spirit fell upon the Gentile household of Cornelius and the conclusion that he drew, that “God has given even to the Gentiles the repentance that leads to life” (Acts 11:1–18).

Then, last Sunday, we heard a portion of Luke’s narrative from later in the book, which takes place soon after Paul and Barnabas had travelled to Jerusalem to report to a later gathering about their activity about “all the signs and wonders that God had done through them among the Gentiles” (Acts 15:1–21). 

This Sunday’s passage (16:9–15) begins in Troas. Paul, Silas, and Timothy had travelled through Asia Minor (16:1–5), bringing to the assemblies they visit the decree of the Jerusalem council (16:4). As they went through the region of Phrygia and Galatia, they hear an instruction not to speak in the southern region of Asia from the holy spirit (16:6). Then they are forbidden by “the spirit of Jesus” to head north and enter Bithynia (16:7), so they go to Troas, where a vision is seen in the night with a petition to “come across into Macedonia” (16:9). 

Luke is keen for those who read his work and hear it read to understand that Paul, Silas, and Timothy are guided by the spirit, seeing visions sent by God. These are common occurrences in Acts. The move into Macedonia is supported with the succinct statement that “God has called us to preach the good news to them” (16:10). It is completely consistent with “the plan and purpose of God” that the apostles have consistently been declaring (see 2:23; 4:28; 5:29, 38–39; 10:42). See

Accepting, or rejecting, the purpose of God (Narrative Lectionary for Epiphany 6C; Luke 7)

This statement (16:10) begins the first of the so-called ‘we-sections’ of Acts, which are narrated in the first person plural. Three of these are but brief notes concerning journeys (from Troas to Philippi, 16:10–17; from Troas to Miletus, 20:5–15; from Miletus to Jerusalem, 21:1–18). Each of these passages contain lists of the places visited and the means of travel (16:11–12; 20:5–6,13–15; 21:1–3,7–8,15) and small vignettes concerning one incident that took place on the journey (16:13–15; 20:7-12; 21:4–6, 10– 14).

The fourth ‘we-section’ encompasses the extensive series of journeys by which Paul travels from Caesarea to Rome (27:1-28:16). It includes mention of places and means of travel, as well as a number of particular incidents.

Scholarly opinion over the historical value of the ‘we sections’ is divided. Some have argued that there is evidence for an ancient literary convention, by which an author can alternate third person (“he”, “they”) and first person (“I”, “we”) narratives. In this view, Luke makes use of the first person narrative to strengthen the sense of unity felt between author and audience, and the characters in the events narrated. 

However, others have criticised this claim and argued that the use of “we” indicates that these passages, at least, must go back to an eyewitness. The likelihood of ever being able to prove that the author of Acts was himself present with Paul in these journeys is low; at best, we might conclude that Luke had available to him a very brief source which may possibly have had its origins amongst Paul’s fellow travellers. (See also 20:5).

As the group crosses over into Macedonia, an ancient province of Greece which had been the dominant political power four centuries earlier, they arrive in Philippi (16:11–40), a city founded by Philip of Macedonia in 356 BCE, taken under Roman rule in 167 BCE, and declared a Roman colony (as Luke accurately notes, 16:12) in 31 BCE.

The group proceeds, in typical fashion, to find a place of worship on the sabbath (16:13)—not, as expected, a synagogue (see 13:5), but “a place of prayer” (16:13) for some women. (That the place of prayer was, in fact, a synagogue, is argued by a number of scholars. One scholar, Matson, describes the house church in Philippi as “a subversive contrast society”.)

One of this number, Lydia, is singled out for attention. Lydia is a godfearer (16:14), as was Cornelius (10:2) and probably the Ethiopian (8:27); what will occur here will place Lydia in a paradigmatic position akin to that occupied by Cornelius. Lydia is the first individual convert identified once Paul, Silas and Timothy, under divine guidance, have crossed over into Macedonia (16:6–10). 

So Lydia presents a paradigm for the process of conversion and leadership; as the first convert in Europe, she models a faithful response to the message of Paul. Indeed, what takes place in this scene is directly interpreted as an act of God, for “the Lord opened her heart” (16:14) to listen eagerly to Paul’s words. The “opening of her heart” (16:14) echoes the discoveries made by the archetypal disciples on the walk to Emmaus (Luke 24:31,32) and by the larger group of followers gathered in Jerusalem later that day (24:45). Her “eager listening” (16:14) repeats the response evoked by Philip in Samaria (8:6).

Lydia is judged as being “faithful to the Lord” and, with her household, is baptised (16:15), in accord with the programmatic declaration of Peter’s Pentecost exhortation (2:38–39). The baptism of her household follows the pattern already seen in Caesarea (10:24–48; 11:13–16) and foreshadows a pattern which will be repeated soon in Philippi (16:31-33), and subsequently in Corinth (18:8).

Her belief leads to the offer of hospitality (16:15), as was also the case with the Gentiles in Caesarea (10:48); this same pattern follows in the story of the conversion of the Philippian gaoler and his household (16:34). Belief, baptism and table fellowship have also been linked in the accounts of the conversion of Saul (9:18-19), Cornelius and his household (10:24-48) and the events on Pentecost in Jerusalem (2:41-47). Lydia’s role as a patroness echoes that of Mary, the mother of John Mark, in Jerusalem (12:12) and prefigures that of Priscilla (with Aquila, 18:13). She is a striking figure in the overall narrative of Acts.

*****

Some of this material is from my commentary on “The Acts of the Apostles” in the Eerdmans Commentary on the Bible (ed. J.D.G. Dunn and John Rogerson; Eerdmans, 2003). I have also explored the theme of the plan of God at greater depth in my doctoral research, which was published in 1993 by Cambridge University Press as The plan of God in Luke-Acts (SNTSM 76).

On Lydia, see also 

Lydia, Dorcas, and Phoebe: three significant strategic leaders in the early church
Unknown's avatarAuthor John T SquiresPosted on May 20, 2025May 20, 2025Categories An Orderly Account: Gospel of Luke, Paul, Scripture and TheologyTags Acts, Luke, Lydia, Paul, Philippi, scripture, theology

The whole assembly kept silence, and listened (Narrative Lectionary for Easter  5; Acts 15)

The whole assembly kept silence, and listened (Narrative Lectionary for Easter  5; Acts 15)

This coming Sunday, the Narrative Lectionary presents us with another passage from Acts as the primary reading: the count of the council in Jerusalem (Acts 15:1–18). There had already been a significant meeting held earlier in Jerusalem, which is reported in Acts 11; on that occasion, Peter convinces “the apostles and the believers who were in Judea” about what had occurred when “the Gentiles had accepted the word of God” (11:1).

Although the meeting had begun with a difference of opinion, by the end those gathered were praising God, saying that “God has given even to the Gentiles the repentance that leads to life” (11:18).

On a later occasion in Jerusalem, the presenting issue as Luke reports it is the requirement that converts had to be “circumcised according to the custom of Moses” in order to be saved (15:1). In one of his early letters, Paul offers a report of this meeting (Gal 2:1–10) which differs significantly from Luke’s account in overall tenor and in specific details. Whilst Paul presents himself as exhibiting great persuasive power in what he portrays as a strongly polemical debate, Luke emphasises the irenic nature of the meeting and focuses more on the contributions made by the Jerusalem leaders, Peter and James. 

Raising the issue of circumcision leads to “not a little dispute and discussion” between Barnabas and Paul, in company with others of their group, and some Judean believers (15:2). In their opening report to the meeting, Paul and Barnabas summarise their activities as being “what God did with them” (15:4; cf. 14:27). This reflects the Lukan understanding of how the divine will guides the events reported in Acts; see

Accepting, or rejecting, the purpose of God (Narrative Lectionary for Epiphany 6C; Luke 7)

Some Pharisaic believers present at the council provide a different perspective on the divine will. The sympathetic attitude of Pharisees towards the messianists is critical on two occasions in forensic settings (5:34-39; 23:9), so Luke sees no conflict in the idea that some Pharisees had joined the messianic community in Jerusalem. 

Since the assertion of the Pharisaic believers, that “it is necessary to circumcise them” (15:5), is grounded in scripture (Gen 17:1–14,21–27), it appears plausible that this necessity is the divine will. However, Luke’s report of the debate in this council shows that this is not the case. Three speeches are reported, each of which draws on earlier events to rebut the claim advanced by these Pharisaic members.

Peter’s speech (15:7–11) interprets what Paul and Barnabas have done in the light of Peter’s experience in Caesarea. He uses the established Lukan pattern of interpreting what has occurred by reference to God’s actions, when he explains that “God chose through my mouth for the Gentiles to hear the word of the good news and to believe” (15:7). Peter offers a summary of the events already reported in detail at 10:1–48. In this context, such language about God serves to reinforce the validity of the activities of Paul and Barnabas, and to rebut the claims advanced by the Pharisaic members. 

This sense is strengthened by the repetition of familiar language about God in the remainder of the speech: “God who knows all hearts” (15:8, cf. 1:24) “gave the holy spirit” (15:8, cf. 10:44-46; 11:17) in a way which exactly parallels “them” with “us” (15:8, cf. 10:47; 11:15,17) and thus “did not distinguish between us and them” (15:9, cf. 11:12). To question this understanding of events would be to tempt God (15:10) and thus to encounter the fate imposed on Ananias and Sapphira (5:9). 

Peter concludes by urging acceptance of what Paul and Barnabas have done, since those Jews who believe have received salvation “in the same way as them” (Gentile believers)—that is, “through the grace of the Lord Jesus” (15:11).

In this way, he argues that the “God who is not partial” (10:34–35) has clearly been at work both in events in Caesarea, which Peter experienced, and in the activity of Paul and Barnabas throughout Asia Minor. The assemblies they established are inclusive; Gentiles belong in them just as much as Jews.

The second speech is reported only as a condensed summary of what Barnabas and Paul reply (15:12). This restates their earlier report of “what God did with them” (15:4) and applies that understanding to the signs and wonders which were performed through them among the Gentiles throughout Asia Minor (15:12). Their speech strengthens the argument for inclusive assemblies, for just as God enabled signs amongst Jews (5:12), so too are signs given amongst Gentiles (15:12).

James’ speech (15:13–21) comes next, and proves to be decisive. This demonstrates the prominence of James, the brother of Jesus, in the Jewish community of believers in Jerusalem. He begins by supporting Peter’s explanation through the use, yet again, of language about God.

For a start, the claim of James that “God visited” (15:14; NRSV “God looked favourably”) evokes the blessing of Zecharaiah (“blessed be the Lord God of Israel, for he has looked favorably on his people and redeemed them”; Luke 1:68).

James makes the suggestion that by incorporating “a people (laos) from the Gentiles” (15:14), God has brought about “redemption for his people” (Luke 1:68). Careful readers of Luke’s work would know that, in scripture, the term laos has often referred to Israel (Exod 6:7; Deut 4:20,34; 14:2; 26:18–19; 32:9), but the incorporation of the Gentiles into this people now reflects the promise of Zech 2:14–15: “Many nations shall join themselves to the Lord on that day, and shall be my people”.

 James then provides further scriptural validation of the inclusion of Gentiles within the messianist assemblies (15:15–18). He cites the agreement of a compilation of scriptural texts (Jer 12:15; Amos 9:11–12; Isa 45:21) which depicts the way that “all the nations … will seek out the Lord”. He affirms that this process is one which “the Lord … has been making known from long ago” (15:18, cf. 15:8). Like the prophetic quotation by Peter at 2:16–21, this prophetic citation is strategically placed to interpret the ensuing narrative about the mission that Paul and others are undertaking.

The selection proposed by the Narrative Lectionary concludes with the speech of James (15:13–18), but Luke’s account continues with some important elements. First, James indicates, “I have reached the decision” that will be crucial in bringing the council to agreement (15:19). He argues that “those among the Gentiles who turn to God” (15:19; cf. 14:15) should not be troubled, and he proposes a compromise position (15:20) with a limited number of prescriptions, each of which has a clear scriptural basis. That was acceptable to the Jews for whom scripture was important; that ought also to have been acceptable to Gentiles who recognised the high moral standards of the new movement.

The prescriptions include: No idol food: Exod 34:11–17; Lev 17:8–9. No sexual immorality: Lev 18:6–29. No strangled animals: Exod 22:31; Lev 17:10–16, equating “what is torn”, 17:15, with “something strangled”. No blood: Gen 9:4; Deut 12:15–16,23–25; cf. Lev 17:11,15.

Luke’s portrayal of James indicates his prominent role amongst the leaders of the assembly, since what James decides (15:19–20) is adopted unchanged by the council (15:28–29). This Lukan view of the authority of James is reinforced later in his account; when Paul returns to Jerusalem, he will report directly to James (21:17–19). Indeed, the Jerusalem community accepts the four requirements without dissent (21:25).

Thus, Luke’s report of these council debates reaffirms the understanding already developed in the narrative of 13:4-14:27, namely, that Paul and Barnabas engage in activities amongst the Gentiles in accord with the divine will. The logical consequence of this perspective is thus worked out in the council’s letter to the assemblies (15:22-29), which is to be distributed amongst the “believers who are from the Gentiles” in assemblies in Antioch and Syria and Cilicia by four chosen delegates: Judas, Silas, Paul and Barnabas (15:22–23). 

The letter asserts that it has been worked out by the council and the holy spirit (15:28), thus placing this decision within the stream of events which have been guided and shaped by God. The inclusion of Gentiles within the Jewish messianic assemblies is validated directly by God. The letter is well received in Antioch, where the assembly rejoices (15:31; see 13:48) and receives it as an exhortation (15:31; see 13:15). Paul and Barnabas continue on their way, “teaching and proclaiming the good news” (15:35). All is well that ends well (at least, to this point).

Some of this material is from my commentary on “The Acts of the Apostles” in the Eerdmans Commentary on the Bible (ed. J.D.G. Dunn and John Rogerson; Eerdmans, 2003) 

 

Unknown's avatarAuthor John T SquiresPosted on May 12, 2025May 12, 2025Categories An Orderly Account: Gospel of Luke, Scripture and TheologyTags Acts, council, Gentiles, Jerusalem, Paul, scripture, theology

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The Book of Origins

  • Leaving Luke . . . Meeting Matthew
  • Matthew: tax collector, disciple, apostle, evangelist—and “scribe trained for the kingdom”? (Matt 9; Pentecost 2A)
  • For our instruction … that we might have hope (Rom 15, Isa 11, Matt 3; Advent 2A)
  • The origins of Jesus in the book of origins: Matthew 1 (Advent Year A)
  • Now the birth of Jesus the Messiah took place in this way (Matthew 1; Advent 4A)
  • Descended from David according to the flesh (Rom 1; Advent 4A)
  • A young woman? A virgin? Pregnant? About to give birth? (Isa 7:14 in Matt 1:23; Advent 4A)
  • More on Mary (from the Protoevangelium of James)
  • Tales from the Magi (the Revelation of the Magi)
  • Herod waiting, Herod watching, Herod grasping, holding power (Matt 2; Christmas 1A)
  • Herod was infuriated, and he sent and killed all the children (Matt 2; Christmas 1A)
  • Repentance for the kingdom (Matt 4; Epiphany 3A)
  • Proclaiming the good news of the kingdom (Matt 4; Epiphany 3A)
  • Teaching in “their synagogues” (Matt 4; Epiphany 3A)
  • Teaching the disciples (Matt 5; Epiphany 4A)
  • Blessed are you: the Beatitudes of Matthew 5 (Epiphany 4A)
  • An excess of righteous-justice (Matt 5; Epiphany 5A)
  • You have heard it said … but I say to you … (Matt 5; Epiphany 6A)
  • The missing parts of the Sermon on the Mount (Matt 6 and 7; Epiphany Year A)
  • Our Father in heaven: a pattern for prayer (Luke 11, Matt 6) part III
  • Our Father in heaven: a pattern for prayer (Luke 11, Matt 6) part II
  • Our Father in heaven: a pattern for prayer (Luke 11, Matt 6) part I
  • “Go nowhere among the Gentiles” (Matt 10:5): the mission of Jesus in the book of origins (Pentecost 3A)
  • “Even the hairs of your head are all counted.” (Matt 10:30; Pentecost 4A)
  • Come to me, take my yoke, I will give you rest (Matt 11; Pentecost 6A)
  • Parables: the craft of storytelling in the book of origins (Matt 13; Pentecost 7A)
  • The righteous-justice of God, a gift to all humanity (Romans; Year A)
  • Let anyone with ears, hear! (Matt 13; Pentecost 8A)
  • Chopping and changing: what the lectionary does to the parables of Matthew (Pentecost 7–9A)
  • Nothing but five loaves and two fish (Matt 14; Pentecost 10A)
  • Liminal experiences and thin places (Matt 14; Pentecost 11A)
  • It’s all in the geography. Jesus, the Canaanite woman, and border restrictions (Matt 15; Pentecost 12A)
  • A rock, some keys, and a binding: clues to the identity of Jesus (Matt 16; Pentecost 13A)
  • An invitation that you just cannot … accept! (Pentecost 19A)
  • Towards Palm Sunday (Matt 21): Passover and politics
  • Towards Palm Sunday (Matt 21): Riding on a donkey (or two) as the crowd shouts ‘Hosanna’
  • Towards Palm Sunday (Matt 21): Waving branches, spreading cloaks
  • Towards Palm Sunday (Matt 21): Acclaiming the king, anticipating the kingdom
  • Producing the fruits of the kingdom (Matt 21; Pentecost 19A)
  • Darkness, weeping, and gnashing of teeth: the scene of judgement (Matt 22; Pentecost 20A)
  • The greatest and first commandment … and a second, like it (Matt 22)
  • On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets (Matt 22; Pentecost 22A)
  • Sitting on the seat of Moses, teaching the Law—but “they do not practice what they teach” (Matt 23; Pentecost 23A)
  • Discipleship in an apocalyptic framework (Matt 23–25; Pentecost 23–26A)
  • A final parable from the book of origins: on sheep and goats, on judgement and righteous-justice (Matt 25; Pentecost 26A)
  • Scripture debate and disputation in the wilderness (Matt 4; Lent 1A)
  • Testing (not temptation) in the wilderness (Matt 4; Lent 1A)
  • Practising righteous-justice: alms, prayer, and fasting (Ash Wednesday)
  • Forcing scripture to support doctrine: texts for Trinity Sunday (2 Cor 13, Matt 28; Trinity A)

An Orderly Account: Luke and Acts

  • “An orderly account”: a quick guide to Luke and Acts
  • Costly discipleship, according to Luke
  • Did Luke write the first “orderly account” about Jesus?
  • With one eye looking back, the other looking forward: turning to Luke’s Gospel I (Year C)
  • Leaving out key moments, so they can appear later in the story: turning to Luke’s Gospel III (Year C)
  • “A light for the Gentiles, salvation to the ends of the earth”: turning to Luke’s Gospel II (Year C)
  • The scriptural resonances in the Annunciation (Luke 1; Advent 4B)
  • Magnificat: the God of Mary (Luke 1) is the God of Hannah (1 Sam 2) (Advent 4C)
  • “To give knowledge of salvation”: Luke’s portrayal of John the baptiser (Luke 3; Advent 2C)
  • On angels and virgins at Christmastime (Luke 2; Christmas Day B)
  • A light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your people Israel (Luke 2; Christmas 1B)
  • John the baptiser’s call for ethical, faithful living (Luke 3; Advent 3C)
  • A Testing Time: forty days in the wilderness (Luke 4)
  • Sacred place and sacred scripture: forty days in the wilderness (2)
  • Scripture fulfilled in your hearing (Luke 4:16-30; Epiphany 3C, 4C)
  • Jesus and conventional Jewish piety (Luke 4:16; Epiphany 3C)
  • Jesus, scripture and experience (Luke 4:17, 21; Epiphany 3C)
  • The holistic spirit-inspired mission of Jesus (Luke 4:18–19; Epiphany 3C)
  • Jesus, the widow of Sidon and the soldier of Syria: representatives of the community of faith (Luke 4:25–27; Epiphany 4C)
  • Two prophets of Israel, the widow of Sidon and the soldier of Syria: an inclusive community of Jews and Gentiles (Luke 4:25–27; Epiphany 4C)
  • Leave everything, follow Jesus (Luke 5:1-11; Epiphany 5C)
  • On a level place, with a great crowd (Luke 6; Epiphany 6C)
  • Blessed are you … poor, hungry, weeping … (Luke 6; Epiphany
  • The plain, the synagogue, and the village (Luke 6, 4 and 1; Epiphany 6C)
  • Bless—Love—Forgive—and more. The teachings of Jesus (Luke 6; Epiphany 6C, 7C)
  • The beloved physician, the lover of God, and loving our enemies (Luke 6; Epiphany 7C)
  • Perfect, or merciful? The challenge Jesus poses (Matt 5, Epiphany 7A; Luke 6, Epiphany 7C)
  • Jesus and his followers at table in Luke’s “orderly account”
  • Before Transfiguration Sunday, the stories of the dying slave and the grieving widow (Luke 7; Epiphany 9C; Proper 4C)
  • What have you to do with me, Jesus? (Luke 8; Pentecost 2C)
  • Bringing his ‘exodos’ to fulfilment (Luke 9; Transfiguration C)
  • Setting his face to go to Jerusalem (Luke 9:51, 13:33, 17:11, 19:11; Lent 2C)
  • Through Samaria, heading to Jerusalem (Luke 9; Pentecost 3C)
  • Sent out in Samaria, proclaiming the kingdom (Luke 10; Pentecost 4C)
  • Listening and learning at the feet of Jesus (Luke 10; Pentecost 6C)
  • Mary and Martha: models of women following and learning from Jesus (Luke 10; Pentecost 6C)
  • There is need of only one thing. Or, maybe, two. (Luke 10; Pentecost 6C)
  • Where have all the women gone? Women in the movement initiated by Jesus (Luke 10; Pentecost 6C)
  • On earth, as in heaven: the key to The Lord’s Prayer (Luke 11; Pentecost 7C)
  • Sins or trespasses? Trial or temptation? Thine or yours? The prayer that Jesus taught (Luke 11; Pentecost 8C)
  • “Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also” (Luke 12; Pentecost 8C)
  • Coming to grips with the judgement of God (Luke 12 and Isaiah 5; Pentecost 10C)
  • She stood up straight and they were put to shame (Luke 13; Pentecost 11C)
  • Jerusalem, Jerusalem: holy city, holy calling (Luke 13; Lent 2C)
  • Disturbing discipleship: exploring the teachings of Jesus in Luke 14 (Pentecost 12C to 13C)
  • Disreputable outsiders invited inside: parables in Luke 14 (Pentecost 12C, 13C)
  • The discomfort of ambiguity (Luke 15; Lent 4C)
  • Human sinfulness and divine grace (Jeremiah 4; Luke 15; 1 Timothy 1; Pentecost 14C)
  • Shrewd? dishonest? manipulative? or contributing to the common good? (Luke 16; Pentecost 15C)
  • Lazarus and the rich man (Luke 16; Pentecost 16C)
  • Faith the size of a mustard seed (Luke 17; Pentecost 17C)
  • Was none of them found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner? (Luke 17; Pentecost 18C)
  • Unjust judge, shameless widow (Luke 18; Pentecost 19C)
  • In defence of the Pharisees: on humility and righteousness (Luke 18; Pentecost 20C)
  • Zacchæus: patron saint of change and transition (Luke 19; Pentecost 21C)
  • “When these things begin to take place … your redemption is drawing near” (Luke 21; Advent 1C)
  • “Be alert at all times, praying that you may have the strength … to stand before the Son of Man” (Luke 21; Advent 1C)
  • Look up to the sky? Look down to your feet! (Luke 20; Pentecost 22C)
  • Don’t take it at face value: on former things and new things
  • Don’t take it at face value: on what lies behind and what lies ahead (Lent 2C)
  • The death, resurrection and ascension of Jesus in Luke’s “orderly account”
  • What do you see? What do you hear? (Luke 19; Palm Sunday C)
  • Holy Week: the week leading up to Easter
  • Sacrificial death and liberating life: at the heart of Easter
  • Ministry and Mission in the midst of change and transition (Luke 21:13; Pentecost 23C)
  • Easter in Christian tradition and its relation to Jewish tradition
  • A time in-between the times, a space in no-space.
  • The tomb is empty. He is not here. He is risen. (Luke 24; Easter Sunday)
  • He Is Not Here Day
  • Discovering new futures … letting go of the old
  • The moment of recognition: walking … talking … listening … understanding … (Luke 24; Easter evening; Easter 3A)
  • Ten things about Pentecost (Acts 2)
  • The cross-cultural nature of the early Jesus movement
  • From Learners to Leaders: deepening discipleship in Luke’s “orderly account”
  • Constantly devoting themselves to prayer (Acts 1; Easter 7A)
  • You will be my witnesses (Acts 1; Easter 7A)
  • Judas: reconsidering his part in the Easter story (Acts 1; Easter 7B)
  • Pentecost, the Spirit, and the people of God (Acts 2; Pentecost B)
  • What God did through him: Peter’s testimony to Jesus (Acts 2; Easter 2A)
  • What God did through him: proclaiming faith in the public square (Acts 2; Easter 2A)
  • Repent and be baptised: Peter’s Pentecost proclamation (Acts 2; Easter 3A)
  • The church in Acts: Times of refreshing (Acts 3; Easter 3B)
  • Boldly proclaiming “no other name” (Acts 4; Easter 4 B)
  • The church in Acts: Unity, testimony, and grace (Acts 4; Easter 2B)
  • We must obey God rather than human authority (Acts 5; Easter 2C)
  • Edging away from the centre (Acts 8; Easter 5B)
  • What happened after Philip met the Ethiopian? (Acts 8; Easter 5B)
  • The calling of Saul and the turn to the Gentiles: modelling the missional imperative (Acts 8—12; Easter 3C)
  • People of ‘The Way’ (Acts 9; Easter 3C)
  • You will be told what you are to do (Acts 9; Easter 3C)
  • Resurrection life, economic responsibility, and inclusive hospitality: markers of the Gospel (Acts 9)
  • Another resurrection! (Acts 9; Easter 4C)
  • Even to the Gentiles! (Acts 10; Easter 6B)
  • Even to the Gentiles (Acts 11; Easter 5C)
  • On literary devices and narrative development (Acts 16; Easter 7C)
  • The unknown God, your own poets, and the man God chose: Paul on the Areopagus (Acts 17; Easter 6A)
  • Paul, Demetrius and Damaris: an encounter in Athens (Acts 17:16-17,22–34)
  • Lydia, Dorcas, and Phoebe: three significant strategic leaders in the early church
  • An Affirmation for Our Times
  • I make prayers on your behalf (Letters to Luke #1; Year C)
  • I rejoice in the gift of writing (Letters to Luke #2; Year C)
  • How exciting it was! (Letters to Luke #3; Year C)
  • I write briefly (Letters to Luke #4; Year C)
  • I am happy to report that we have held another reading (Letters to Luke #5; Year C)
  • I was astonished to receive your brief note (Letters to Luke #6; Year C)
  • Leaving Luke . . . Meeting Matthew

Scripture and Theology

  • The Word of God, Scripture, and Jesus Christ
  • Marrying same-gender people: a biblical rationale
  • Discernment
  • Interpreting the creeds “in a later age”
  • Affirming the Teachings of Jesus
  • To articulate faith contextually
  • Let your gentleness be known to everyone
  • What can we know about the birth of Jesus?
  • “An orderly account”: a quick guide to Luke and Acts
  • Costly discipleship, according to Luke
  • In the wake of the verdict about Pell …
  • Another Time, Another Place: towards an Australian Church
  • Holy Week: the week leading up to Easter
  • Sacrificial death and liberating life: at the heart of Easter
  • The death, resurrection and ascension of Jesus in Luke’s “orderly account”
  • Easter in Christian tradition and its relation to Jewish tradition
  • The cross-cultural nature of the early Jesus movement
  • Jesus and his followers at table in Luke’s “orderly account”
  • Once again: affirming our diversity, celebrating joyous marriages
  • Ten things about Pentecost (Acts 2)
  • The Paraclete in John’s Gospel: exploring the array of translation options (John 14, 15, 16)
  • “Do you believe in the Triune God?”
  • The DNA of the UCA (part I)
  • The DNA of the UCA (part II)
  • Harness the passion, but restrain the rhetoric. Musing on the role model which Paul offers in Galatians.
  • Providing for the exercise by men and women of the gifts God bestows upon them: lay people presiding at the sacraments in the Uniting Church
  • Freedom and unity: themes in Galatians
  • Australian Religious Leaders support renewable energy
  • Human sexuality and the Bible
  • Dividing the unity, splintering the connections: more ACC agitation
  • Giving Voice, Telling Truth, Talking Treaty: NAIDOC 2019
  • Advocacy and Climate Change, Growth and Formation, Treaty with First Peoples: Synod 2019
  • Climate Change: a central concern in contemporary ministry
  • On earth, as in heaven: the key to The Lord’s Prayer (Luke 11; Pentecost 7C)
  • Ramping up the rhetoric, generating guilt and provoking panic: the failed strategy of conservatives in the UCA (part I)
  • Ramping up the rhetoric, generating guilt and provoking panic: the failed strategy of conservatives in the UCA (part II)
  • Ramping up the rhetoric, generating guilt and provoking panic: the failed strategy of conservatives in the UCA (part III)
  • International Day of the World’s Indigenous Peoples
  • In the wake of the verdict (and appeal decision) relating to Pell …
  • Where will we find hope? When will we see justice?
  • Supporting the Climate Strike
  • Gracious openness and active discipleship as key characteristics of church membership
  • Please Leave ?? No — Please Stay !!
  • Stones singing and rivers vibrating … a liturgy for Holy Communion
  • Faith in Action: a religious response to the Climate Emergency (Part One)
  • Faith in Action: a religious response to the Climate Emergency (Part Two)
  • Faith in Action: a religious response to the Climate Emergency (Part Three)
  • Celebrating Transitions: into a strange and graceful ease … (part one)
  • Celebrating Transitions: into a strange and graceful ease … (part two)
  • We wait, and hope, and grieve, anticipating …
  • On the move. A reflection on Christmas.
  • Reflecting on faith amidst the firestorms
  • This is the world we live in, this is the Gospel we believe in
  • Giving up? Or going deep? The opportunity of Lent
  • Passing the peace, sharing the elements, greeting the minister
  • When you come together … reflections on community in the midst of a pandemic
  • Holy Week: a week set apart, in a time set apart.
  • It was on that night that everything came to a head. Maundy Thursday Reflections.
  • Sacrificial Death: to give his life. Good Friday Reflections
  • Liminal Space: waiting and not knowing. Holy Saturday Reflections
  • Liberating Life: a new way of being. Easter Sunday Reflections
  • It’s been just over a month—but there have been lots of learnings!
  • Not this year. So what about next year?
  • The times, they are are a-changin’.
  • When we come together (2) … values and principles in the midst of a pandemic
  • It’s been two months under restrictions—what will our future look like? (1)
  • It’s been two months under restrictions—what will our future look like? (2)
  • Saying sorry, seeking justice, walking together, working for reconciliation
  • Worship like the first Christians. What will our future look like? (3)
  • Pentecost: the spirit is for anyone, for everyone.
  • Racism and Reconciliation
  • Paul’s vision of “One in Christ Jesus” (Gal 3:28) and the Uniting Church
  • In memory of James Dunn (1939–2020)
  • Black Lives Matter. Now—and Then.
  • Hiroshima and Nagasaki (1945), and the commitment to seek peace (2020)
  • Sexuality and Gender Identity Conversion Practices Bill: A Christian Perspective
  • Always Was, Always Will Be. #NAIDOC2020
  • The Lectionary: ordering the liberty of the preacher
  • Women in the New Testament (1): the positive practices of Jesus and the early church
  • Women in the New Testament (2): six problem passages
  • Reflections on a significant anniversary
  • What do we know about who wrote the New Testament Gospels? (1)
  • What do we know about who wrote the New Testament Gospels? (2)
  • What do we know about who wrote the letters attributed to Paul? (3)
  • What do we know about who wrote the letters in the name of the apostles? (4)
  • Revelation: a complex and intricate world of heavenly beings and exotic creatures
  • Why the Christmas story is not history (1): the “nativity scene” and the Gospels
  • Why “the Christmas story” is not history (2): Luke 1-2 and Matthew 1-2
  • Advent Greetings from Canberra Region Presbytery
  • Honours. Honestly?
  • Celebrations in Canberra (in the Uniting Church Presbytery)
  • Enough is Enough!
  • Earth Day 2021
  • From BC (Before COVID) to AD (After the Disruption)
  • The identity of the Uniting Church
  • #IBelieveHer: hearing the voice of women (Easter Day; John 20)
  • An Affirmation for Our Times
  • The missional opportunity of Trinity Sunday
  • The Murugappans of Biloela
  • World Refugee Day 2021: “when I was a stranger, you welcomed me”
  • The climate is changing; the planet is suffering; humanity is challenged.
  • 20 years on, and the shame continues: the Palapa, the Tampa, and “children overboard”
  • Rosh Hashanah: Jewish New Year
  • Remembering John Shelby Spong (1931–2021)
  • International Day of Indigenous Peoples
  • A Safe Place for Rainbow Christians
  • Working with First Peoples and advocating for them
  • Jesus, growing, learning: a review of ‘What Jesus Learned from Women’
  • “The exercise by men and women of the gifts God bestows upon them”: celebrating women in leadership in the Uniting Church
  • On vaccinations, restrictions, and fundamentalism
  • We are buying more debt, pain, and death: a case against nuclear-powered submarines
  • World Rivers Day (27 September)
  • Affirming and inclusive passages from scripture
  • The challenge of COVID-19 to Social Ethics as we know them
  • Mental Health Day, 10 October
  • The shame continues: SIEV X after 20 years
  • What does it mean to be Protestant in the Contemporary World?
  • Eye of the Heart Enlightened: words for the opening of the Parliamentary Year (2023)
  • Saltiness restored: the need for innovation. An Ordination Celebration.
  • God of all the tribes and nations
  • A Day of Mourning, ahead of Invasion Day (26 January)

Life during COVID 19

  • Passing the peace, sharing the elements, greeting the minister
  • When you come together … reflections on community in the midst of a pandemic
  • Pastoral Letter to Canberra Region Presbytery on COVID-19 pandemic
  • Pastoral Letter to the Canberra Region Presbytery of the Uniting Church in Australia. 31 March 2020
  • Liminal Space: waiting and not knowing. Holy Saturday Reflections
  • It’s been just over a month—but there have been lots of learnings!
  • Not this year. So what about next year?
  • The times, they are are a-changin’.
  • When we come together (2) … values and principles in the midst of a pandemic
  • It’s been two months under restrictions—what will our future look like? (1)
  • It’s been two months under restrictions—what will our future look like? (2)
  • Worship like the first Christians. What will our future look like? (3)
  • Pastoral Letter to Canberra Region Presbytery: June 2020
  • “Greet one another” (2 Cor 13). But no holy kissing. And no joyful singing. (Trinity Sunday A)
  • Going “back” to church—what will our future look like? (4)
  • When you come together (3) … wait for one another (1 Cor 11)
  • Minimising risks in the ongoing reality of COVID-19
  • Pastoral Letter to Canberra Region Presbytery—September 2020
  • Reimagining—the spirit of our times
  • Coping in the aftermath of COVID-19: a global perspective, a local response
  • From BC (Before COVID) to AD (After the Disruption)
  • Values and Principles in the context of a pandemic (revisited)

The First Peoples of Australia

  • The sovereignty of the First Peoples of Australia
  • Affirming the Sovereignty of First Peoples: undoing the Doctrine of Discovery
  • On Covenant, Reconciliation, and Sovereignty
  • Learning of the land (1): Eora, Biripi, Whadjuk Noongar
  • Learning of the land (2): Ngunnawal, Namadgi and Ngarigo
  • The profound effect of invasion and colonisation
  • “Endeavour by every possible means … to conciliate their affections”
  • “We never saw one inch of cultivated land in the whole country”
  • “They stood like Statues, without motion, but grinn’d like so many Monkies.”
  • “Resembling the park lands [of a] gentleman’s residence in England”
  • On Remembering: Cook and Flinders (and Trim), Bungaree and Yemmerrawanne
  • “They are to be hanged up on trees … to strike the survivors with the greater terror.”
  • So, change the date—to what?
  • Learning of the land (3): Tuggeranong, Queanbeyan, and other Canberra place names
  • Learning from the land (4): Naiame’s Nghunnhu—fishtraps at Brewarrina
  • We are sorry, we recognise your rights, we seek to be reconciled
  • Reconciliation on the land of Australia: learning from the past
  • Reconciliation on the land of Australia: Bennelong and Yemmerrawanne
  • Reconciliation on the land of Australia: Bungaree and Mahroot
  • Reconciliation on the land of Australia: Cora Gooseberry and Biddy Giles
  • Reconciliation on the land of Australia: “these are my people … this is my land”.
  • Reconciliation on the land of Australia: living together with respect
  • Dark deeds in a sunny land: the exposé offered by John B. Gribble
  • This is the proper way: no climbing
  • “They appear’d to be of a very dark or black colour”. Cook, HMS Endeavour, and the Yuin people and country.
  • “Three canoes lay upon the beach—the worst I think I ever saw.” James Cook at Botany Bay, 29 April 1770
  • Saying sorry, seeking justice, walking together, working for reconciliation
  • Racism and Reconciliation
  • “We weigh’d and run into the Harbour”. Cook, the Endeavour, and the Guugu Yimithirr
  • Black Lives Matter. Now—and Then.
  • James Cook, the Endeavour, twelve turtles and the Guugu Yimithirr (3)
  • James Cook: Captain? Discoverer? Invader? Coloniser? Cook, the Endeavour, and Possession Island.
  • Always Was, Always Will Be. #NAIDOC2020
  • Invasion and colonisation, Joshua 3 and contemporary Australia (Pentecost 23A)
  • This whispering in our hearts: potent stories from Henry Reynolds
  • A vision, a Congress, and a struggle for justice
  • What’s in a name? Reconciliation ruminations
  • NAIDOC WEEK 2021
  • Heal Country: the heart of the Gospel (for NAIDOC WEEK 2021)
  • The Spirit was already in the land. Looking back on NAIDOC WEEK (2017–2021)
  • Working with First Peoples and advocating for them
  • World Rivers Day (27 September)
  • Eye of the Heart Enlightened: words for the opening of the Parliamentary Year (2023)
  • God of all the tribes and nations
  • A Day of Mourning, ahead of Invasion Day (26 January)

Paul

  • The calling of Saul and the turn to the Gentiles: modelling the missional imperative (Acts 8—12; Easter 3C)
  • The unknown God, your own poets, and the man God chose: Paul on the Areopagus (Acts 17; Easter 6A)
  • Freedom and unity: themes in Galatians
  • Paul’s vision of “One in Christ Jesus” (Gal 3:28) and the Uniting Church
  • Descended from David according to the flesh (Rom 1; Advent 4A)
  • Reckoning what is right (Romans 4; Lent 2A) part one
  • Reckoning what is right (Romans 4; Lent 2A) part two
  • Original Sin? or Innate Goodness? (Genesis 2, Romans 5; Lent 1A)
  • We have obtained access to this grace (Romans 5, Pentecost 3A)
  • Dead to sin and alive to God (Romans 6; Pentecost 4A)
  • The best theology is contextual: learning from Paul’s letter to the Romans (Year A)
  • The righteous-justice of God, a gift to all humanity (Romans; Year A)
  • Paul and the Law, sin and the self (Rom 7; Pentecost 6A)
  • Paul, the law of the Spirit, and life in the Spirit (Rom 8; Pentecost 7A)
  • Paul, the spirit of adoption, and the “Abba, Father” prayer (Rom 8; Pentecost 8A)
  • Sighs too deep for words: Spirit and Scripture in Romans (Rom 8; Pentecost 9A)
  • Praying to be cursed: Paul, the passionate partisan for the cause (Rom 9:3; Pentecost 10A)
  • A deeper understanding of God, through dialogue with “the other” (Romans 10; Pentecost 11A)
  • God has not rejected his people. All Israel will be saved. (Rom 11; Pentecost 12A)
  • The rhetoric of the cross (1 Cor 1; Epiphany 3A)
  • The paradox of “the word of the cross” in Corinth (1 Cor 1; Epiphany 4A)
  • Who has known the mind of the Lord? (1 Cor 2; Epiphany 5A)
  • “We do not lose hope” (2 Corinthians; Pentecost 3B—6B)
  • For our instruction … that we might have hope (Rom 15, Isa 11, Matt 3; Advent 2A)
  • When you come together (3) … wait for one another (1 Cor 11)
  • A new creation: the promise articulated by Paul (2 Cor 5; Pentecost 6B)
  • “Greet one another” (2 Cor 13). But no holy kissing. And no joyful singing. (Trinity Sunday A)
  • Paul the travelling philosopher (1 Thessalonians; Pentecost 21–25A)
  • The sincerest form of flattery? Or a later, imperfect imitation? (2 Thessalonians; Pentecost 21C to 23C)
  • To the saints [not just in Ephesus] who are faithful (Ephesians 1; Pentecost 7B)
  • Declare boldly the gospel of peace, put on the armour of God (Ephesians 6; Pentecost 13B)
  • To the saints [not just in Ephesus] who are faithful (Ephesians 1; Pentecost 7B)
  • Making (some) sense of the death of Jesus (Colossians 2; Pentecost 7C)
  • No longer as a slave: Paul, to Philemon, about Onesimus (Pentecost 13C)
  • An example to those who come to believe (1 Timothy 1; Pentecost 14C)
  • Human sinfulness and divine grace (Jeremiah 4; Luke 15; 1 Timothy 1; Pentecost 14C)
  • A ransom for all: a formulaic claim (1 Tim 2; Pentecost 15C)
  • On godliness, dignity, and purity: the life of faith in 1 Timothy (Epiphany 16C)
  • In the name of the apostle … (2 Timothy, Pentecost 17B to 21B)
  • Rightly explaining the word of truth (2 Tim 2:15; Pentecost 18C)
  • Guard the good treasure entrusted to you (2 Tim 1; Pentecost 17C)
  • What does it mean to say that the Bible is inspired? (2 Tim 3:16; Pentecost 19C)
  • On care for orphans and widows (James 1; Pentecost 14B)
  • Fulfilling the Law (James 2; Pentecost 16B)
  • Wisdom from ages past for the present times (Leviticus, Jesus, James, and Paul) (Pentecost 15B, 23B)
  • The wisdom from above (James 3; Pentecost 18B)
  • The ‘word of exhortation’ that exults Jesus as superior (Hebrews 1; Pentecost 20B)
  • A great high priest who “has passed through the heavens” (Hebrews 4; Pentecost 23B)
  • A priest forever, “after the order of Melchizedek” (Hebrews 5; Pentecost 21B)
  • The perfect high priest who mediates “a better covenant” (Hebrews 9; Pentecost 23B)
  • The superior high priest who provides “the better sacrifices” (Hebrews 9; Pentecost 24B)
  • The assurance of hope in “the word of exhortation” (Hebrews 10: Pentecost 25B)
  • Strangers and foreigners on the earth (Hebrews 11; Pentecost 9C)
  • Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith (Hebrews 11–12; Pentecost 10C)
  • Jesus, justice, and joy (Hebrews 12; Pentecost 11C)
  • I will not be afraid; what can anyone do to me? (Hebrews 13; Pentecost 12C)
  • A new birth into a living hope (1 Peter 1; Easter 2A)
  • The living and enduring word of God (1 Peter 1; Easter 3A)
  • ‘Christ died for us’: reflections on sacrifice and atonement
  • Christ suffered for you, leaving you an example (1 Peter 2; Easter 4A)
  • On suffering as a virtue (1 Peter 3; Easter 6A)
  • The spirit of glory is resting on you (1 Peter 4–5; Easter 7A)

The Beginning of the Good News: Mark

  • The Lectionary: ordering the liberty of the preacher
  • Forty days, led by the Spirit: Jesus in the wilderness (Mark 1; Lent 1B)
  • The kingdom is at hand; so follow me. The Gospel according to Mark (Year B)
  • The more powerful one who is coming (Mark 1; Advent 2B)
  • The whole city? (Mark 1; Year B). Let’s take that with a grain of salt
  • “Let’s get down to business”: beginning the story of Jesus (Mark 1; Epiphany 3B)
  • Textual interplay: stories of Jesus in Mark 1 and the prophets of Israel (Year B)
  • 1: Where has Mark gone ?
  • 2 Mark: collector of stories, author of the passion narrative
  • 3 Mark: placing suffering and death at the heart of the Gospel
  • 4 The structure of the passion narrative in Mark
  • Reading the crucifixion as a scene of public shaming
  • In his house, out of his mind (Mark 3; Pentecost 2B)
  • The kingdom, God’s justice, an invitation to all (Mark 4; Pentecost 3B)
  • Mark: a Gospel full of questions (Mark 4; Pentecost 4B)
  • On ‘twelve’ in the stories of the bleeding woman and the dying child (Mark 5; Pentecost 5B)
  • On not stereotyping Judaism when reading the Gospels (Mark 5; Pentecost 5B)
  • Just sandals and a staff—and only one tunic (Mark 6; Pentecost 6B)
  • Shake off the dust that is on your feet (Mark 6; Pentecost 6B)
  • What’s in, and what’s out (Mark 6; Pentecost 8B)
  • Stretching the boundaries of the people of God (Mark 7; Pentecost 15B, 16B)
  • Wash your hands (Mark 7; Pentecost 14B)
  • On Jesus and Justa, Tyre and Decapolis (Mark 7; Pentecost 16B)
  • Disturbance, disruption, and destabilising words (Mark 8; Lent 2B)
  • Transfigured lives—in the here and now (Mark 9 and 1 Kings 2; Epiphany 6B)
  • The paradoxes of discipleship (Mark 8; Pentecost 17B)
  • Giving priority to “one of these little ones” (Mark 9; Pentecost 19B)
  • Boundary lines and the kingdom of God (Mark 9–10; Pentecost 18B to 20B)
  • Not to be served, but to serve: the model provided by Jesus (Mark 10; Pentecost 21B)
  • A ransom for many: a hint of atonement theology? (Mark 10; Pentecost 21B)
  • Seeing and believing as Jesus passes by (Mark 10; Pentecost 22B)
  • Love God, love neighbour: prioritising the Law (Mark 12; Pentecost 23B)
  • Love with all that you are—heart and soul, completely and entirely (Deut 6 in Mark 12; Pentecost 23B)
  • Jesus, the widow, and the two small coins (Mark 12; Pentecost 24B)
  • The beginnings of the birth pangs (Mark 13; Pentecost 25B)
  • Towards the Coming (Mark 13; Advent 1B)

The Book of Signs

  • In the beginning … the Prologue and the book of signs (John 1; Christmas 2B)
  • Living our faith in the realities of our own times … hearing the message of “the book of signs”
  • John (the baptizer) and Jesus (the anointed) in the book of signs (the Gospel of John; Epiphany 2A)
  • Righteous anger and zealous piety: the incident in the Temple (John 2; Lent 3B)
  • Raise up a (new) temple: Jesus and “the Jews” in the fourth Gospel (John 2; Lent 3B)
  • The serpent in the wilderness (John 3, Num 21; Lent 4B)
  • The complex and rich world of scriptural imagery in ‘the book of signs’ (John 3; Lent 4B)
  • The Pharisee of Jerusalem and the woman of Samaria (John 3 and 4; Lent 2–3A)
  • “How can anyone be born after having grown old?” The questions of Nicodemus (John 3; Lent 2A)
  • On the Pharisees: “to help the people to understand the Law”
  • From the woman at the well to a Byzantine saint: John 4, St Photini, and the path to enlightenment (Lent 3A)
  • A well, two mountains, and five husbands (John 4; Lent 3A)
  • Speaking out for equality: a sermon for Lent 3A
  • Misunderstanding Jesus: “they came to make him a king” (John 6; Pentecost 9B)
  • Claims about the Christ: affirming the centrality of Jesus (John 6; Pentecost 9B—13B)
  • In the most unlikely company: confessing faith in Jesus (John 9; Lent 4A)
  • In the most unlikely way … touching the untouchable (John 9; Lent 4A)
  • We do not know how it is that he now sees (John 9; Lent 4A)
  • Perception is everything: a sermon on John 9 (Lent 4A)
  • I am the gate for the sheep (John 10; Easter 4A)
  • The Father and I are one (John 10; Easter 4C)
  • Reading scripture with attention to its context (John 11, Year A)
  • Flesh and bones, spirit and life (Ezek 37, Psalm 130, Rom 8, John 11, Lent 5A)
  • Holding out for hope in the midst of turmoil (John 11; Lent 5A)
  • Yes, Lord, I believe—even in the midst of all of this! (John 11; Lent 5A)
  • We wish to see Jesus (John 12; Lent 5B)
  • Love one another: by this everyone will know (John 13; Easter 5C)
  • “I am the way” (John 14): from elitist exclusivism to gracious friendship? (Easter 5A)
  • The Paraclete in John’s Gospel: exploring the array of translation options (John 14, 15, 16)
  • Father, Son, and Disciples (I): the *real* trinity in John’s Gospel (John 17; Easter 7A,B,C)
  • Father, Son, and Disciples (II): the *real* trinity in John’s Gospel (John 17; Easter 7A,B,C)
  • #IBelieveHer: hearing the voice of women (Easter Day; John 20)
  • In defence of Thomas: a doubting sceptic? or a passionate firebrand? (Easter Sunday)
  • Hands and fingers: the work of God (John 20; Easter 2A)
  • The third time that Jesus appeared to the disciples (John 21; Easter 3C)
  • Back to the lake, back to fishing: a late resurrection story (John 21; Easter 3C)
  • “See what love the Father has given us”: the nature of 1 John (1 John 3; Easter 3B)
  • “We know love by this, that he laid down his life for us” (1 John 3; Easter 4B)
  • “In this is love: that God sent his son” (1 John 4; Easter 5B)
  • “The one who believes that Jesus is the Son of God” (1 John 5; Easter 6B)
  • Images drawn from the past, looking to the future, as a message for the present (Revelation; Easter, Year C)
  • “Worthy is the lamb that was slaughtered”: a paradoxical vision (Rev 5; Easter 3C)
  • With regard to Revelation … and the “great multitude that no one could count” in Rev 7 (Easter 4C)
  • With regard to Revelation … and the “great multitude that no one could count” in Rev 7 (Easter 4C)
  • A new heaven and a new earth … musing on Revelation 21 (Easter 5C, 6C)
  • I will offer a sacrifice and call on the name of the Lord (Psalm 116; Easter 3A)

The Basis of Union

  • What I really like about the Basis of Union
  • What is missing from the Basis of Union?
  • Alongside the Basis of Union, there was the Statement to the Nation
  • Fresh words and deeds
  • The Word of God, Scripture, and Jesus Christ
  • The sovereignty of the First Peoples of Australia
  • Affirming the Sovereignty of First Peoples: undoing the Doctrine of Discovery
  • On Covenant, Reconciliation, and Sovereignty
  • Forty four years on …

Marriage and the Uniting Church

  • Marrying same-gender people: a biblical rationale
  • A diversity of religious beliefs and ethical understandings
  • Marriage and the matter of being vital to the life of the church
  • Seven Affirmations
  • Recognising Pain, Working for Reconciliation
  • The “additional marriage liturgy” for Uniting Churches
  • An Explainer, in nine easy steps
  • Marriage of same gender people: a gift to the whole Church
  • Let your gentleness be known to everyone
  • The Uniting Church is not a political democracy
  • So, what just happened? (An Explainer, Updated)
  • A Prayer for the Uniting Church in Australia
  • “When you suffer, the whole body of Christ suffers”
  • Affirmations we can make together
  • Once again: affirming our diversity, celebrating joyous marriages

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