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An Informed Faith

John T Squires

An Informed Faith

Category: An Orderly Account: Gospel of Luke

Plucking grain, healing, and choosing twelve apostles (Narrative Lectionary for Epiphany 4C; Luke 6:1–16)

Plucking grain, healing, and choosing twelve apostles (Narrative Lectionary for Epiphany 4C; Luke 6:1–16)

Continuing to offer us selections from Luke’s Gospel, this year, the Narrative Lectionary proposes a passage for this coming Sunday containing three distinct events. First, Jesus is engaged by some Pharisees while he “was going through the grainfields” (Luke 6:1–5). Next, after he “entered a synagogue and taught”, he healed “a man  whose right hand was withered” (6:6–11). Then, after spending a night on a mountain in prayer, Jesus “called his disciples and chose twelve of them, whom he also named apostles” (6:12–16). 

Each section contain words which presage significant elements in the time when Jesus was active. The question of the Pharisees, “why are you doing what is not lawful on the sabbath?” (6:2), is later thrown back on the Pharisees and scribes by Jesus in another healing scene (14:3), asked in a way that strongly suggests that what Jesus was doing was, indeed, in accordance with the provisions of Torah. 

Still later, the assembly of “the elders of the people, both chief priests and scribes” accuse Jesus of three breaches of law, as they tell Pilate that he has been “perverting our nation, forbidding us to pay taxes to the emperor, and saying that he himself is the Messiah, a king” (23:2). Three times, Pilate refuses to accept these charges as proven: “I find no basis for an accusation against this man” (23:4); then “I have examined him in your presence and have not found this man guilty of any of your charges against him [and] neither has Herod … he has done nothing to deserve death” (23:14–15); and finally “I have found in him no ground for the sentence of death” (23:22). 

We know, however, that the Pilate created by the writers of the Gospels eventually succumbs to the cries of the crowd; Luke reports that “Pilate gave his verdict that their demand should be granted … he handed Jesus over as they wished” (23:24–25). It’s almost like a counter-Trumpian scenario: we know he is in innocent, but we will backpedal and condemn him anyway. (With Trump, we know he is guilty, but the courts backpedal and dismiss the charges.)

The accusation of being “lawless”—a serious matter for a Torah-abiding Jew, such as Jesus (see my blog on Luke 4)—rears its head again in the sequel to Luke’s Gospel narrative, when one of the followers of Jesus who have all been faithful in their participation in the Temple rituals (Luke 24:53; Acts 2:46; 3:1; 5:42) is accused directly in words reminiscent of those brought against Jesus: “this man never stops saying things against this holy place and the law; for we have heard him say that this Jesus of Nazareth will destroy this place and will change the customs that Moses handed on to us” (6:13–14). Stephen, of course, goes to his death, just as Jesus did.

Following this pattern, later in Acts a crowd of “Jews from Asia” seized Paul in the Jerusalem Temple, who claim “this is the man who is teaching everyone everywhere against our people, our law, and this place; more than that, he has actually brought Greeks into the temple and has defiled this holy place” (Acts 21:28). Paul is subsequently brought before Roman authorities. The tribune in Caesarea referred him to Governor Felix, noting that “he was accused concerning questions of their law, but was charged with nothing deserving death or imprisonment” (23:29).

In Paul’s defence, he affirms “I worship the God of our ancestors, believing everything laid down according to the law or written in the prophets” (24:14), just as in Jerusalem he had maintained “I am a Jew, born in Tarsus in Cilicia, but brought up in this city at the feet of Gamaliel, educated strictly according to our ancestral law, being zealous for God” (22:3). Left in prison for two years, Paul is later brought before Governor Porcius Festus, who travels to Jerusalem to receive a report against Paul from “the chief priests and the leaders of the Jews” (25:2; see earlier 22:30), the same group (albeit of a later generation) which had charged Stephen (6:12; 7:1) and, before him, Jesus (Luke 22:66; 23:13–18).

Festus involves Agrippa and his consort Berenice; between the three of them they agree, “this man is doing nothing to deserve death or imprisonment” (26:31). Yet in a perverse result (once again seemingly counter-Trumpian), Agrippa notes that “this man could have been set free if he had not appealed to the emperor” (26:32).

So there is a strong thread running through the two-volume narrative which Luke has created: accused of breaking the law, Jesus and the leading figures in the movement initiated by him are steadfastly deemed to have been Torah-observant. So the Gospel reading for this Sunday sounds an important theme which receives extensive apologetic treatment in Luke’s narrative.

The theme is developed in the first two sections of the designated passage, where specific instances of “breaking the law” are narrated. In both stories, Jesus is accused of “working on the sabbath”: something that was prohibited in The Ten Words, in the command relating to the seventh day, when “you shall not do any work” (Exod 20:9–10; Duet 5:13–14; see also Lev 23:3; Jer 17:24). 

However, a blanket prohibition like this needed some nuancing. What about “working” to prepare food and drink on the sabbath? What about “working” to attend to the animals kept on the farm on the sabbath? What about “working” to save a life on the sabbath? Commonsense would indicate that certain exemptions were necessary.

Of course, ongoing rabbinic discussion did canvass precisely that: just what were the acceptable exceptions and what were not. We have access to these originally oral discussions through the written text of the Mishnah, a third century CE collection of rabbinic discussions of Torah. In the second Division, Moed, “festivals” are considered, and the first of these is Shabbat, discussing who is “liable” and who is “exempt” in a whole range of situations. It is this written discussion which best informs the stories told in in Luke 6—even given that Luke wrote in the late C1st, while the Mishnah is an early C3rd document (which lays claim to providing accounts of earlier oral discussions). 

In terms of the first issue—plucking grains of head on the sabbath—the debate is conducted with reference to relevant scripture texts. The primary text, as,we have noted, is “do no work on the sabbath”. However, Hebrew Scripture does contain indications of ways to moderate that commandment: in particular, the plucking of grain to assuage hunger was permitted (Deut 23:25).

When the disciples plucked the grain on the Sabbath, technically they were harvesting food and then processing it (rubbing it in their hands to create a floury substance). Now one part of scripture seems absolute on this matter: “Six days you shall work, but on the seventh day you shall rest; even in plowing time and in harvest time you shall rest” (Exod 34:21). The expectation was that people would prepare for Sabbath meals before the time of rest began on sundown on Friday (see Exod 16:23–26).

However, Jesus—like the Pharisees—does not simply let things rest there. It is not a matter of “this is what the text says; that settles it”. No; Jesus—like the Pharisees—makes use of the time-honoured debating technique of midrash to offer a different way of considering the issue, to propose a different line of interpretation. 

We should note that Jesus does not criticise the law as such, but rather the Pharisees’ interpretation of it. He offers a different interpretation, drawing on another part of scripture—a story involving David from the narrative section of Hebrew Bible (1 Sam 21). In doing this, Jesus demonstrates the midrash technique so often used by Pharisees and, later, rabbis. Jesus uses this story to demonstrate that in some instances, circumstances can override the foundational law. 

David breached the law by requesting, and receiving, from the priest Ahimelech some of the “holy bread” which was reserved for use only in the sanctuary. (In telling this story, Luke eliminates an error made in the early version found in Mark, where the high priest was mis-identified as Abiathar; see Luke 6:4 and cf. Mark 2:26.) The conclusion is an application of analogy (another method used by a Pharisees and rabbis): just as David was permitted to eat what was not lawful because of his great hunger, so Jesus was permitted to heal on the day when this normally was prohibited. That is, the circumstances justified the action. 

We should note that Jesus, here, does not speak against the commandment itself (do not work on the sabbath). Rather, he shows how the application of a fundamental principle can be modified if there are circumstances that justify this. And that justification is provided by drawing from elsewhere in scripture to support the exemption.

We know from the later rabbinic literature that even amongst themselves, the Pharisees rarely agreed on the interpretation of any Law — many alternative interpretations exist in Mishnah, Tosefta, and Talmuds, for each of the commandments being discussed. In particular the Rabbinic schools of Hillel and Shammai were famous for their disagreements; far too often they offered different interpretations of the same law.

It’s a common Christian misconception that Jesus’ interpretations of the law are always new and very different from any Jewish interpretation. This is simply not the case. In this debate with some Pharisees, Jesus draws a conclusion that is often seen to be revolutionary. However, a number of rabbis, using Hebrew bible parallels (cf. Exodus 23:12; Deuteronomy 5:14) also stressed that the sabbath was for people as well as for their refreshment after labouring. One saying found in the Rabbinic writings (Mekilta on Exod, 31:14; b. Yoma 85b) declares that “the sabbath is handed over to you, not you to it”.

The principle can then be applied to the scene that follows, when in an unidentified synagogue on “another sabbath”, Jesus encounters the man with a withered hand. He heals him, again infuriating the scribes and the Pharisees who were watching on, waiting to trap him (Luke 6:6–11). After healing the man, Jesus quotes a principle—the priority of not doing harm, of saving life—demonstrating that human need can override the foundational principle of “no work on the sabbath” (6:9). Torah always needs to be explored and interpreted. Jesus does just that.

Unknown's avatarAuthor John T SquiresPosted on January 27, 2025Categories An Orderly Account: Gospel of Luke, Scripture and TheologyTags Hebrew Scripture, interpretation, Luke, sabbath, scripture, theology, Torah

The heaven was opened, the Spirit descended (Luke 3; The Baptism of Jesus, Epiphany 1C)

The heaven was opened, the Spirit descended (Luke 3; The Baptism of Jesus, Epiphany 1C)

This coming Sunday, the lectionary offers Luke’s account of that striking moment when Jesus of Nazareth was declared to be the beloved Son, anointed by the Spirit, and equipped for his role of proclaiming the kingdom of God (Luke 3:1–22). This particular Sunday, the first after the celebration of the Epiphany (on 6 January), is always designated as the day to celebrate The Baptism of Jesus, and therefore for those who have been baptised to remember the significance of their own baptism.

The moment of his baptism appears to be a turning point for Jesus. He was already, we must presume, a person of faith. We know that Jesus was raised as a good Jew. We can hypothesise much about his upbringing and faith. There is evidence from the Gospel,accounts of his adult years that he knew the daily prayer of the Jews, the Shema (“Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God is One”).

Jesus also knew the major annual festivals of his people: Passover, Harvest (later called Pentecost) and Tabernacles. He attended the synagogue each Sabbath, where he watched the scrolls containing the Hebrew scriptures unrolled, before they were read (in Hebrew, the sacred language) and explained (in Aramaic, the language of the common Jewish folk). Jesus, like all his fellow–Jews, believed that his God, Yahweh, was the one true God. He followed the traditional practices of worship and studied the scriptures under the guidance of the scribes in his synagogue.

At a mature age (by tradition, in his early 30’s), Jesus made his way south towards Jerusalem, into the desert regions, along with other Jews of the day. Beside the Jordan River he listened to the preaching of a strange figure—a desert-dwelling apocalyptic prophet named John (Luke 3:1–18). Perhaps he and already encountered John, heard his message, and been inspired by his focus on the need for repentance. At least in terms of how the Gospel writers portray things from many decades later, this moment beside the Jordan River appears to have been a pivotal moment for the pious Jewish man from Nazareth. His encounter with John deepens his faith and sharpens his commitment.

John’s was proclaiming “a baptism of repentance (Luke 3:3), urging people to “bear fruits worthy of repentance” (3:8). This call to repent was the traditional prophetic message, calling for teshuva (Hebrew; in Greek, metanoia). These words are usually translated into English as “repentance” (see Isa 1:27; Jer 8:4–7, 9:4–5, 34:15; Ezek 14:6, 18:30; Zech 1:1–6). Indeed, so many of the oracles included in both major and minor prophets provide extended diatribes against the sinfulness of Israel and call for a return to the ways of righteousness that are set out in the convening with the Lord. When prophets called for teshuva, metanoia, repentance, they were seeking a striking and thoroughgoing change of mind, a reversal of thinking and acting, a 180 degree turnaround, amongst the people. This is what metanoia means.

Accompanying this, however, was a very distinctive action that John the desert dweller performed, of immersing people into the river (Luke 3:21). Our Bibles translate this as “baptising”, but it was actually a wholesale dunking right down deep into the waters of the river.

Our refined ecclesial terminology of “baptism” is often associated, in the popular mind, with cute babies in beautiful christening gowns surrounded by adoring grandparents, aunties and uncles. This leads us far away from the stark realities of the act: being pushed down deep into the river, being completely surrounded by the waters, before emerging saturated and maybe gasping for air.

Such a dramatic dunking was designed to signify the cleansing of the repentant person. Repentance and baptism were necessary for the ushering in of the reign of God, according to John. Jesus appears to have accepted this point of view; it is most likely that his baptism was an intense religious experience for him. He underwent a whole scale change of mind, a reorientation towards the mission that was thrust upon him.

Certainly, the way that the experience is presented by Luke (and also in the other canonical Gospels) presents Jesus as being singled out by God for a special role. There are multiple signs on the short account of this moment (Luke 3:21–22).

FIrst, we note that Luke observes that “the heaven was opened” (4:21a). In Mark’s earlier account, there was a dramatic pairing of the “breaking apart” of the heavens, mirrored in the water of the river, which parts “as he was coming up out of the water” (Mark 1:10). The breaking of the heavens perhaps echoes the cry of the prophet of old: “O that you would tear open the heavens and come down, so that the mountains would quake at your presence … to make your name known to your adversaries, so that the nations might tremble at your presence!” (Isa 64:1). Luke, however, has softened the language about the heaven and removed reference to the waters, downplaying the dramatic impact of the story as Mark tells it.

Then, Luke reports, “the Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form like a dove” (Luke 3:22). The imagery is telling. A dove, of course,  appeared at a key moment early in the biblical narrative: as the waters of the Great Flood recede (Gen 8:6–12); but the association of the dove with the Spirit (a commonplace in our thinking today, surely) is not actually made anywhere in scripture before this moment. The dove which appears seems, to Jesus, to come from beyond rest on him, in the way that the prophet declares that “the spirit of the Lord God is upon me” (Isa 61:1). The dove brings a signal from the sky—from the Lord God, perhaps?

A third signal comes through “a voice from heaven” (Luke 3:22). This is a common note regarding the hearing of the divine voice. Moses tells the Israelites, “from heaven he made you hear his voice to discipline you” (Deut 4:36). In the wilderness, God “came down upon Mount Sinai, and spoke with them from heaven, and gave them right ordinances and true laws, good statutes and commandments” (Neh 9:13; also Exod 20:22). Ben Sirach tells the story of the judges, when “the Lord thundered from heaven, and made his voice heard with a mighty sound” (Sir 46:17). David sang that “the Lord thundered from heaven; the Most High uttered his voice” (2 Sam 22:14). So a voice speaking from heaven, in Jewish understanding, is a communication from God.

Finally, the actual words which that voice speaks are deeply significant. “You are my son” are words spoken by God to David (Ps 2:7). “With you I am well pleased” echoes what God says about “my servant, whom I uphold, my chosen, in whom my soul delights” (Isa 42:1); indeed, of the Servant, the prophet declares, God indicates that “I have put my spirit upon him; he will bring forth justice to the nations” (Isa 42:2). What is heard at the moment of the baptism of Jesus is confirmation of the place of Jesus as one beloved, chosen, and equipped by God for what lies ahead of him. It is a moment of clarity that fuels what lies ahead for Jesus.

So it is that from the moment of this intense experience, Jesus was fervently committed to the renewal and restoration of Israel. We can see this being played out in the narrative that follows on from this crystallising moment. After his dramatic dunking in the river by the desert dweller, Jesus spent some time in the Judean wilderness (Luke 4:1–13), before he returns to Galilee and begins “to teach in their synagogues” (4:14). 

What he says in those synagogues is not reported, although perhaps his typical message is contained in the story which follows. Luke notes that Jesus “came to Nazareth, where he had been brought up … went to the synagogue on the sabbath day, as was his custom … [and] stood up to read” (4:16). His first public words, as reported in this Lukan account of his ministry, were clear and focussed. 

Speaking in Nazareth, Jesus quotes from his scriptures (4:18–19, quoting Isa 61:1–2), utilises a proverb about a prophet (4:23), tells stories relating to prophets of old, Elijah and Elisha (4:25–27), and invites his listeners to relate all of this to his very presence in their midst: “today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing” (4:21). 

We gather from the Gospel narratives that Jesus had left his family as he travelled around Galilee (8:19–21; 14:26), announcing that the time was near for dramatic changes to take place (10:9, 11).  He gathered a group of men and women who accepted his teachings, journeying with him as he spread the news throughout Galilee (8:1–3).

The intense religious experience of his dunking meant that the fierce apocalyptic message spoken by the desert dweller was lived out in a radical way in daily life by this group of deeply committed associates of Jesus. The intense religious experience associated with his dramatic dunking by the desert dweller had a deep and abiding impact. Perhaps, if Jesus had already known John and his teachings, he would have  imbibed the fiery apocalyptic language and the deeply confronting challenge of John’s “baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins” (3:3), calling for people to “bear fruits worthy of repentance” (3:8) and warning that “every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire” (3:9).

The radical cost of living in the way that Jesus taught is clear in his words to his followers: “whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple” (14:26); “whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple” (14:27); “none of you can become my disciple if you do not give up all your possessions” (14:33). For Jesus, it is clear that “unless you repent, you will all perish as they did” (13:3, 5), where he cites recent incidents of the death of those he labels as “sinners” (13:2, 4).

Reflecting on his own baptism, Jesus notes, “I have a baptism with which to be baptized, and what stress I am under until it is completed!” (12:50). “I came to bring fire to the earth”, he states, “and how I wish it were already kindled!” (12:49). What that means for his followers is crystal clear: “Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division” (12:51). Following him means a complete and dramatic life transformation.

The challenge, for those of us who follow him, is to live out this radical way of life today in our lives. As those baptised into the way that Jesus teaches, and lives, our baptism mandates a transformed life. And that’s what we should remember, and commit to, on this Sunday when we remember The Baptism of Jesus.

Unknown's avatarAuthor John T SquiresPosted on January 7, 2025January 9, 2025Categories An Orderly Account: Gospel of Luke, Scripture and Theology

Disruption and Transformation by the Spirit (Acts 8; The Baptism of Jesus, Epiphany 1C)

Disruption and Transformation by the Spirit (Acts 8; The Baptism of Jesus, Epiphany 1C)

The lectionary for this Sunday suggests, as a companion piece to Luke’s account of The Baptism of Jesus, when the Spirit descends on Jesus (Luke 3:1–22), a short section from Luke’s second volume telling of further baptisms and gifting of the Spirit to new believers in Samaria (Acts 8:14–17).

In chapter nine of Acts, Saul is “converted” by a vision seen on the road to Damascus, is struck blind, then has his sight restored, is “filled with the Spirit”, and receives his commission to preach to the Gentiles (Acts 9:1–19). This would prove to be a significant turning point in the story Luke tells, which soon morphs into an account of the travels undertaken by Saul, who adopts the name Paul, and his various companions, as they preach to Jews and Gentiles in many different towns and cities. 

In chapter ten of Acts, Peter is likewise “converted” by a vision seen on a rooftop in Joppa, travels to Caesarea, preaches to the household of Cornelius, and sees that “the gift of the Holy Spirit had been poured out even on the Gentiles, for they heard them speaking in tongues and extolling God” (Acts 10:45–46). This was a second crucial turning point, for it enabled Peter, at a later gathering of leaders in Jerusalem, to affirm that “God made a choice among you, that I should be the one through whom the Gentiles would hear the message of the good news and become believers” (15:7), and then that God “testified to them [the Gentiles] by giving them the Holy Spirit, just as he did to us; and in cleansing their hearts by faith he has made no distinction between them and us” (15:8–9).

So it was that, in Luke’s telling of the story, these two key figures each pressed the case that “God has given even to the Gentiles the repentance that leads to life” (11:18, my emphasis added). The third dominant figure in the early days of this movement, James the brother of Jesus, joined his voice to theirs at the council in Jerusalem, giving the final decision of the council that “we should not trouble those Gentiles who are turning to God” (15:19)—they are to be fully accepted within the fellowship of the growing movement. The council sent four members to Antioch with the declaration that “it has seemed good to the Holy Spirit and to us” to convey this good news (15:28).

Before all of this, in chapter eight of Acts, there is another story involving the Spirit. Philip travels to Samaria, preaches to crowds of people, encounters a man named Simon, a local magician, and rejoices when Simon, as well as many others, accept his message and are baptised (8:4–13). However, there is a problem; as Luke comments in a narrator’s aside, “as yet the Spirit had not come upon any of them; they had only been baptized in the name of the Lord Jesus” (8:16). So the two lead apostles, Peter and John, are despatched to Samaria to deal with the situation.

This is the story that the lectionary chooses to place alongside the account of the baptism of Jesus for this coming Sunday, the first Sunday in the season of Epiphany. This day is designated each year as the time to recall the baptism of Jesus. So this passage from Acts seems a suitable companion reading.

In particular, it invites us to explore a little further the place of the Spirit in the early decades of the movement initiated by Jesus. And although the selected passage stops short at verse 17, the narrative continues on, describing the disruption which came from the preaching of Philip and the visit of Peter and John. It was a disruption that brought transformation to Simon the magician (see his prayer at 8:24) and to the Samaritans in other villages where the good news was proclaimed (8:25).


Giorgio Vasari (1511-1574),
“Apostles Peter and John Blessing the People of Samaria”

In this short narrative of the apostolic visit to Samaria, the Samaritans who had already “received the word of God” from Philip (8:14) were enabled to “receive the holy spirit” through the laying on of hands by the apostles who had been sent to the region (8:15-18). Although the gift of the spirit (8:17) had been separated from baptism (8:12), as it would later be in a narrative concerning events 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 (2:38-41; 8:38; 10:44-48; 19:1-7).

Baptism had been proclaimed as necessary by Peter, on the day of Pentecost (2:38); this appears to link baptism closely with the gift of the Spirit (2;1-4, 17-21). However, there is no formulaic pattern or process to be followed each time a baptism takes place. The various narratives are somewhat ad hoc. The spirit guides Philip in the encounter with a eunuch returning from Jerusalem to Ethiopia (8:29, 39)—but the spirit appears to have no direct contact with the Ethiopian himself.

Baptism is accompanied by the laying-on of hands here in Samaria (8:15-16) and later in Ephesus (19:6), but not with the Ethiopian. The laying-on of hands results in the holy spirit coming upon those in Ephesus (19:6), a link similar to that made in Samaria (8:15-17, 19) and Antioch (13:3-4). The gift of the spirit leads to speaking in tongues in Ephesus (19:7), as in Jerusalem (2:4) and Caesarea (10:45-46), but not for the Ethiopian.

In Acts, baptism may come both prior to (2:38-42; 8:14-17) and after (10:44-48; 11:15-17) the gift of the spirit; further, the gift of the spirit is not necessarily linked with baptism (for instance, at 2:1-4 and 4:31). Confused? We need to remember that Luke is telling stories, recounting happenings that he has been told about or that he has read in earlier sources. He is not setting out precise liturgical or doctrinal instruction. So, whilst the time sequence of the elements of spirit—laying on hands—water—baptism is found in different patterns, the collation of similar elements across all these stories implies a consistent cluster of elements. Read this way, there is strong continuity with events in Jerusalem, Samaria, Caesarea, and Ephesus. The baptisms in Samaria fit, by inference, within that sequence.

Whenever Christians think about the Spirit—and specifically about the dynamic force that is displayed by the Holy Spirit—our attention goes most immediately to the story of the Day of Pentecost in Acts 2. That’s when the coming of the Spirit was experienced as “a sound like the rush of a violent wind [which] filled the entire house where they were sitting”, followed by “tongues, as of fire … resting on each of them” (vv.2–3). 

In the chaos that resulted—“all of them … began to speak in other languages”—the crowd that heard them were bewildered, amazed, astonished, and thought that they were drunk! That’s a disruptive event initiated and impelled by the Spirit right there. The story of Pentecost is a story about God intervening, overturning, and reshaping the people of God. The Spirit certainly was active at Pentecost. It was a transformative moment.

As Luke tells the story of Pentecost, he is deliberately linking his second volume, not only to the activity of the Spirit in Hebrew Scriptures, but also to the way the Spirit overshadowed Mary (Luke 1:35), nurtured John, son of Zechariah and Elizabeth (1:80), descended upon Jesus at his baptism (3:22), led Jesus out into the Judean wilderness (4:1) and then back into Galilee (Luke 4:14) to sustain the activities and preaching of Jesus (4:18; 10:21). 

Luke, of course, had received the account of the active role of the spirit in the baptism and testing of Jesus (Mark 1:10, 12) and developed it, just as Matthew had done likewise, introducing the saying of Jesus, “if it is by the Spirit of God that I cast out demons, then the kingdom of God has come to you” (Matt 12:28). 

Certainly, the activities of Jesus can only be thought of as both disruptive—framed by the breach of the heavens at his baptism, the tearing of the temple curtain at his death—and as transformative—signalled by the transfiguration on the mountain top, as well as the change in the disciples effected by their time with Jesus.

Some interpreters have noted that the book of Acts is less about “the acts (deeds) of the apostles” than it is about “the acts of the Holy Spirit”. 

The author himself described the two-volume work (Luke’s Gospel and Acts) as an orderly account of the things that have come to fulfilment amongst us. The work highlights how the Holy Spirit plays a central, active role in what is being reported—how the Spirit might be seen to bring, first disruption, and then transformation, in the movement that Jesus inspired.

The events reported in Acts are generated from the dramatic intervention of the Spirit into the early community formed by the followers of Jesus after his ascension. The story of that intervention reports that Jews came from around the eastern Mediterranean are gathered in Jerusalem for the annual festival (Acts 2:1–13), when the Spirit comes upon them. Each bursts out, “speaking about God’s deeds of power” (2:11). The joy and excitement is tangible even as we hear the story at two millennia’s distance.

Unthinkingly, the wider group of pilgrims hear the cacophony of Spirit-inspired voices, and assume that this is a sign of drunkenness (2:13, 15). Actually, as Luke has made clear, the tongues being heard are not the unintelligible gibberish evident in Corinth, but known languages from the various places of origin of those speaking. And the disruptive element is not from the tongues spoken, but from the actions undertaken by believers in the days, months, and years ahead—as the narrative of Acts conveys. It’s a dramatic story with clear theological guidelines.

Another dramatic story of the coming of the Spirit is told at a later point in Acts—after Peter sees a vision in which God declares “all food is clean”, and he is summoned to the home of the Gentile centurion, Cornelius, in Caesarea (10:1–33). As Peter preaches to the Gentiles, the Spirit falls on them, “just as it had upon us [Jews] at the beginning (11:15). This event is specifically portrayed as a complementary event alongside the falling of the Spirit on Jews on the Day of Pentecost (2:1–4). It is a further disruptive action that the Spirit impels. And its consequences—full acceptance of the place of Gentiles in this movement—were fully transformative.

The activity of the Spirit is noted at various places in this sequence of events. The Spirit guides Peter to meet the men sent by Cornelius and travel with them to Caesarea (10:19; 11:12). In reporting to the church in Jerusalem about the arrival of messengers from Cornelius (11:11–12), Peter notes simply that “the spirit said to me to go with them without criticism” (11:12; cf. 10:19–20). 

In this report to the Jerusalem church, Peter is short on factual reporting, as it were; he simply states that the spirit fell on them (11:15). His omission of many details (character traits, travel details, conversation and personnel; even, surprisingly, the name of Cornelius) places the focus on the role of the spirit. Once again, what the Spirit impels from this vision, visit, and sermon, is highly disruptive and thoroughly transformative for the early communities of faith. 

Jews had been used to eating separately from Gentiles and selectively in terms of food, in accordance with the prescriptions of Leviticus. Now, they are now invited—indeed, commanded—to share at table with Gentiles and to put aside the traditional dietary demarcations. 

This is disruptive: just imagine being commanded by God to become vegan and eat meals with the family of your worst nightmares, for instance! And it is transformative: from this sequence there emerge inclusive communities of Jews and Gentiles across the Mediterranean basin, sharing at table and in all manner of ways. That becomes the way of the church.

The importance of the Spirit in Luke’s account of the early movement cannot be underestimated. The significance for the church today of the Spirit’s disruptive, empowering, transformative presence at Pentecost is likewise high. And that transformative activity continues on throughout Acts.

After Peter’s sermon in Caesarea and the gifting of the Spirit to the Gentiles (Acts 10—11), the Spirit guides Barnabas and Paul to Seleucia and onwards (13:2) and then later guides Paul away from Asia Minor, towards Macedonia (16:6–7). This latter move marks a critical stage in the story that Luke tells.

At this key moment of decision in Troas, three injunctions are given; each one is from a divine source. The first of these, an instruction not to speak in the southern region of Asia, comes from the Holy Spirit (16:6). The second direction, a prohibition against any attempt to head north and enter Bithynia, comes from the same spirit, here described as “the spirit of Jesus” (16:7). The third divine interjection takes place at Troas, where a vision is seen in the night with a petition to “come across into Macedonia” (16:9). 

The new spirit-inspired direction of travel is disorienting; a serious disagreement between Paul and Barnabas had just occurred (15:39). But this disruption provides the springboard for Paul and Silas to undertake a new mission in Philippi, Thessalonica, and Beroea (16:11—17:15), before visiting the centre of Greek philosophy and politics, Athens (17:16–34), and then Corinth, where Paul stayed eighteen months (18:1–17). Indeed, all that takes place, as Paul travels relentlessly with various companions across many places (13:4—21:17), is driven by the Spirit (13:2, 4), a constantly disruptive and transformative presence.

Much later, Paul’s final visit to Jerusalem and his subsequent arrest takes place under the guidance of the Spirit (20:22-23; 21:11). That event had hugely disruptive consequences for Paul, of course, as he is arrested and spends the rest of his life as a prisoner under Roman guard. 

The story of the early years of the movement initiated by Jesus, then, is of multiple events inspired and propelled by the Spirit over these years—intrusive, disruptive, yet transformative events. The Spirit who guides all of this brings both disruption and transformation. We need, today, to be open to the same disruption and transformation.

Unknown's avatarAuthor John T SquiresPosted on January 1, 2025January 24, 2025Categories An Orderly Account: Gospel of Luke, Scripture and TheologyTags disruption, Luke; Acts; spirit; Pentecost, Samaria, scripture, theology, transformation

“Then they started to look for him”: the boy Jesus in the Temple (Luke 2; Christmas 1C)

“Then they started to look for him”: the boy Jesus in the Temple (Luke 2; Christmas 1C)

The Gospel for the first Sunday in the season of Christmas  (Luke 2:41–52) tells a story found only in this Gospel. It is set when Jesus was twelve years old, and he goes missing on what Luke reports was an annual pilgrimage to Jerusalem for the Passover festival (Luke 2:41).

The canonical Gospels included very little at all about the childhood of Jesus: Mark and John have nothing at all, while Matthew leaps from the two-year Jesus to his adult years, and Luke has only a couple of stories about the infant Jesus in the temple—except for this passage, set twelve years later. Because of this absence of material about the childhood of Jesus, from the second century onwards, various works were produced which recounted tales of “the missing years” of the childhood of Jesus. 

Some of these works focussed on expanding the story of the birth of Jesus. The Protoevangelium of James, also known as The Infancy Gospel of James, is a mid-2nd century work, which provides many more details than found in the canonical infancy narratives. It claims that Mary was a temple virgin who remained a virgin for her entire life. I have explored some of the content of this work in

More on Mary (from the Protoevangelium of James)

The Infancy Gospel of Matthew, also known in antiquity as The Book About the Origin of the Blessed Mary and the Childhood of the Saviour, offers an expanded account of the Flight into Egypt (it is not known on what this is based), and an edited reproduction of The Infancy Gospel of Thomas. This work which bears Mary’s name in the alternative title is dated to the 8th century; it has been the basis for developing Catholic traditions about Mary which still hold sway in popular piety.

In The Infancy Gospel of Thomas, a Gnostic work of perhaps the late second century, elaborated stories about the childhood of Jesus are told. One writer has described it as “a flamboyant and entertaining account of Jesus as a little child growing up in his hometown”.

See Michael J. Kruger, “What’s the earliest record of Jesus’s Childhood?” at https://www.thegospelcoalition.org/article/earliest-record-jesus-childhood/

The most famous incident in this work is when Jesus created gives clay birds on the sabbath; when accused of breaking Torah by working on the sabbath, he clapped his hands and the birds came to life and flew away! (The story is retold in the Quran, 5.10.) But Jesus in this Gospel also curses other children and causes some of them to die. 

The last story it tells is of the twelve year old Jesus in the Temple, which we know from Luke 2:41–52. In Luke’s version, the teachers of the Law heard Jesus and “they did not understand what he said to them” (Luke 2:50). In the version told in Thomas, in this place in the story there stands this interchange between Mary and the scribes and Pharisees: “‘Are you the mother of this child?’ She said ‘I am’. And they said to her, ‘Blessed are you among women because God has blessed the fruit of your womb. For such glory and such excellence and wisdom we have neither seen nor heard at any time.’” (Infancy 19:4).

Most manuscripts that we have of this Gospel are medieval, although a fragmented manuscript of this work, dated to the fifth century, is held by a German library. For a translation of the Infancy Gospel of Thomas from the medieval manuscripts , see http://www.gnosis.org/library/inftoma.htm

Other later texts that contain material on the childhood years of Jesus include The Syriac Infancy Gospel (sixth century?) and The History of Joseph the Carpenter (seventh century?). The earliest manuscripts we have for these works are medieval.

So the story that Luke includes, from the end of the childhood years of Jesus, is somewhat related to these non-canonical works, in that it reveals a curiosity about the earlier years of Jesus. Perhaps Luke includes this story to satisfy a little of that curiosity. However, Luke’s story is quite different from these non-canonical accounts, which inevitably are speculative, flamboyantly elaborated, and utterly unreliable as any form of historical evidence. 

The story told by Luke relates to some central themes found throughout his two-volume work. A number of elements in the story point forward to themes that recur later in the Gospel.

First, the setting is the Temple (2:46). In the Lukan version of the story of Jesus, the Jerusalem Temple plays a significant role. His “orderly account of the things that have been fulfilled among us” begins in the temple in Jerusalem, where we meet faithful Jewish people, Zechariah and Elizabeth (Luke 1:8–22) and then Simeon and Anna (2:22–38). This is the only Gospel that refers to these figures.

In Luke’s account of the story of the testing of Jesus (Luke 4:1–14), the order of testings found in Matthew’s account is altered, so that the testing relating to the Jerusalem Temple is placed at the climactic point of the last testing (4:11–13). 

A reconstruction of how the Temple may have looked in the time of Jesus, towards the end of the Second Temple period

At a crucial point during his ministry in Galilee, Jesus “sets his face” to go to Jerusalem (9:51). On the way towards Jerusalem, Jesus laments the fate that is in store for Jerusalem (13:33–35) and when he enters the city, he weeps over the city (19:41–44) and provides more prophetic words about their fate (21:20–24). Each of these passages is found only in this particular Gospel.

Once Jesus has arrived in the city, the narration of his arrest, trial, betrayal, sentencing, death and burial follows the pathways recounted in other canonical Gospels. However, the risen Jesus appears, not in Galilee (as in other versions), but only in the nearby town of Emmaus (24:28–32) and then in Jerusalem itself  (24:33–49). The final sentence of this Gospel indicates a return to the location of the opening scene, as the disciples “were continually in the temple blessing God” (24:53; cf. Acts 1:8–9).

The Lukan focus is singularly on the early movement as it formed in Jerusalem (Acts 1—7, 12) before spreading out from Jerusalem into other regions. Indeed, Acts 1:8 provides a programmatic statement that prioritises Jerusalem amongst all locations. And the disciples are noted as being in the temple a number of times (Acts 2:46; 3:1: 4:1–2; 5:21, 42). Indeed, this is specifically commanded by an angel of the Lord, who said, “Go, stand in the temple and tell the people the whole message about this life” (Acts 5:20). The Temple is a highly significant location in this Gospel.

A second important feature that points ahead is the fact that Jesus is engaged in discussion with the teachers of Torah. When he was found, he was “sitting among the teachers, listening to them and asking them questions” (Luke 2:46). Discussion about Torah runs through Luke’s narrative, just as it had done in the Markan source that we presume he used (5:17–26; 6:1–5, 6–11; 10:25–37; 11:37–52; 12:1–3; 13:10–17; 14:1–6; 16:14–18; 18:18–30; 20:1–47). 

A Torah scroll

Indeed, such is the vigour with which Jesus debates the teachers of Torah that “the scribes and the Pharisees began to be very hostile toward him and to cross-examine him about many things, lying in wait for him, to catch him in something he might say” (11:53–54). And then “the elders of the people” conspire with the Temple authorities to arrest Jesus (22:52) and bring him to trial (22:66), “vehemently accusing him” when he is brought before Herod (23:10) and pressing Pilate to sentence him to death (23:13–18).

However, all of this is far into the future as the twelve year old Jesus sits in the Temple, “sitting among the teachers, listening to them and asking them questions” (Luke 2:46). The response at this stage is positive and encouraging; Luke comments that “all who heard him were amazed at his understanding and his answers” (2:47). The story thus points to the way that amazement will be the response of people later in Luke’s narrative when the adult Jesus teaches and heals (4:22, 36; 5:9, 26; 8:25; 9:43; 11:14).

A third element looking ahead to later in the Gospel occurs in the words spoken by Jesus. During this exchange in the Temple, the young Jesus speaks words of wisdom. “Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house” (2:49) is the first example of many of the short, pithy sayings which Jesus speaks throughout the Gospel.

We know this kind of saying well: “the Son of Man is lord of the sabbath” (6:5), “do to others as you would have them do to you” (6:31), “wisdom is vindicated by all her children” (7:35), “let anyone with ears to hear listen!” (8:8), “my mother and my brothers are those who hear the word of God and do it” (8:21), “if any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me” (9:23), “whoever is not against you is for you” (9:50) … and so on. The words of Jesus in this story, “I must be in my Father’s house?” (2:49) prefigure this wise saying style of Jesus.

And the one small word “must” plays a key role at the centre of Luke’s theological explanation that all that takes place is integral to “the plan of God” (see esp. Acts 2:23 and Luke 7:30). (This was the topic for my PhD thesis, published as The plan of God in Luke-Acts, CUP, 1993; one whole chapter was devoted to the motif of divine necessity that is conveyed by this word and a cluster of terms used in Luke—Acts.)

What “must” take place is Jesus’s proclamation of the kingdom of God (Luke 4:43), the suffering of the Son of Man (9:22; 17:25), the necessary journey on the road to Jerusalem (13:34), and the inevitable occurrence of wars and insurrections (21:9), the flight from Jerusalem (21:20–21),, and the death of Jesus itself (22:36–37), followed by his being raised from the dead (24:7, 44–46). In Acts, this divine necessity continues to impel the activities of the apostles (Acts 4:19–20; 5:29) and of Paul (9:16; 14:22; 19:21; 23:11). All of this (and more) “must” take place. 

Indeed, an alternative translation of Jesus’ words from the Greek, οὐκ ᾔδειτε ὅτι ἐν τοῖς τοῦ πατρός μου δεῖ εἶναί με; (and the translation that I prefer) is that he says “do you not know that I must be about the business of my Father?”. This rendering highlights how this verse performs a key programmatic function for the Gospel narrative as a whole, which tells of how Jesus carries out the business of his Father. That adds another depth to the significance of this passage.

Finally, what might we make of the fact that in this story Jesus was twelve years of age? Modern readers might connect this note with the fact that today, Jewish boys celebrate their bar mitzvah—a coming-of-age ritual—when they turn 13. (Jewish girls have a similar ceremony, a bat mitzvah.) So could this story about the 12 year-old Jesus somehow relate to his own bar mitzvah? 

However, there is no reference to a bar mitzvah ceremony in the Hebrew Scriptures or the New Testament, nor in later rabbinic texts such as the Mishnah (3rd century) and the Talmuds (5th to 7th centuries). There is discussion in various medieval rabbinic texts that begins to develop the idea that such a ceremony was known; but as is always the case with rabbinic discussion, the discussions are subtle, complex, and not crystal clear to those not used to reading these kinds of texts. 

My Jewish Learning places the first reference to a bar mitzvah in a fifth-century rabbinic text which references a blessing to be recited by the father thanking God for freeing him from responsibility for the deeds of his child, who is now accountable for his own actions. However, this is simply a prayer, not a full ritual ceremony. It then notes: “A 14th-century text mentions a father reciting this blessing in a synagogue when his son has his first aliyah [the “going-up” to the front of the synagogue to be blessed]. By the 17th century, boys celebrating this coming of age were also reading from the Torah, chanting the weekly prophetic portion, leading services, and delivering learned talks.” 

See https://www.myjewishlearning.com/article/bar-and-bat-mitzvah-101/

 So we should not read any magical significance into the age of Jesus in the story that Luke tells, other than it seems to mark a moment in the orderly account that Luke writes which reveals something of the character of Jesus at a time well before his public adult activity began. We can’t attribute any historical value to the story (the author of Luke’s Gospel was probably not even born at the time that this story was alleged to have taken place). But it does play an important role in the literary structure of the Gospel—it is a hinge between the infant Jesus and the adult Jesus—as well as offering some key theological elements in the understanding of Jesus that this Gospel develops.

Unknown's avatarAuthor John T SquiresPosted on December 27, 2024December 27, 2024Categories An Orderly Account: Gospel of Luke, Scripture and TheologyTags Jesus, Luke, necessity, plan of God, scripture, temple, theology

No room in the story? Where are the women? (Luke 2; Christmas Day)

No room in the story? Where are the women? (Luke 2; Christmas Day)

Where are the women in the story we tell at Christmas? We know that there was “no room at the inn” for Mary and Joseph, as they prepared for the birth of their son, Jesus. But it seems that there is precious room in the story for women. Where are the women in this story?

There are lots of men in the “traditional” story that is retold and enacted every year: the faithful father-figure Joseph, the excited shepherds (presumably males?) coming in from the fields, the innkeeper at the place where “there was no room”, and of course the infant baby, a little boy. Then, the angel who makes appearances to announce the imminent births of John and Jesus is identified as Gabriel, another male.

There are the “three wise men”—well, it is usually presumed that they were men—travelling from the east and the evil tyrant Herod conferring with his male advisors (the chief priests and the scribes, more men) before ordering the slaughter of infant boys. There is the census ordered by the male ruler, Emperor Augustus, and implemented by the male Governor, Quirinius, throughout the region of Syria. All men. Where are the women?

Many-a-time the girls and women who take part in the “traditional” nativity scene that we re-enact each year have to don the costume of a male character, and perhaps at times a false beard, so that they “fit the part”. It’s another way that women become invisible in the story that is told—as is so often the case with stories in the Bible.

Of course, we know that the “traditional” nativity scene is a fiction—an invention of Francis, a medieval monk (another man) who collated the two Gospel accounts (both written by men) and then added additional elements on the basis of his own informed (male) imagination. We sing about that scene in carols written, largely, by men: Joseph Mohr (Silent Night), Philip Brooks (O little town of Bethlehem), Edmund Sears (It came upon the midnight clear), Cecil Alexander (Once in Royal David’s city), Nahum Tate (While shepherds watched their flocks), Charles Wesley (Hark! the herald angels sing), John Henry Hopkins (We three kings), John Mason Neale (Good King Wenceslas), and John Francis Wade (O come, all ye faithful). All men. 

See this list with explanations at https://www.countrylife.co.uk/out-and-about/theatre-film-music/who-wrote-christmas-carols-251067

And as far as the tunes we sing are concerned, there are yet more men involved: Felix Mendelssohn (Hark! the herald angels), Henry John Gauntlett (Once in royal David’s city), William J. Kirkpatrick (Away in a manger), John Henry Hopkins (We three kings), and Richard Storrs Willis (It came upon a midnight clear). The origins of the tune for O come, all ye faithful is not known, although at different times it has been attributed to no less than seven different composers—all, of course, being men! (George Frederick Handel is the best-known of the possible, but unproven, composers.)

See this list with explanations at https://www.classical-music.com/features/composers/composers-behind-your-favourite-carols

And at least until fairly recently, most people have sent Christmas cards to each other that have been developed largely by men. These cards were originally popularised by the Hallmark company that began life as the Norfolk Post Card Company, established in 1907 by J.C. Hall and his older brothers, William and Rollie—three more men. 

Lots of men. But where are the women?

Yes, there are some women in the story. Mary, for a start; every birth story needs a mother, and mothers must be female, and so we have Mary. And then there is Elizabeth, a relative of Mary, who is included in the story that Luke tells. And, in a wonderful version of the Christmas tale that my wife uses regularly in Christmas worship services, the cranky innkeeper has a wife who does her best to look after the visitors and keep the peace. So there are some women, explicit, and implicit, in the story.

But there are more women who would have been involved in the events surrounding the birth of Jesus. For a start, Mary would have had assistance—female assistance—as she gave birth. Midwives were present at births in the ancient world; the story of Moses refers to the midwives in Egypt—and they are rare amongst women in biblical narratives in that their names are recorded: Shiphrah and Puah (Exod 1:15–22). Midwives are also noted in the birth narratives about Benjamin, whose mother Rachel sadly died giving birth (Gen 35:16–20) and the twin boys, Perez and Zerah, born to Tamar (Gen 38:27–30). 

Prof. Carol Meyers, writing in the Jewish Women’s Archive, notes that “the presence of such a health care professional, called meyalledet (“one who causes, helps birth”), was probably routine in Israelite and pre-Israelite society”. She further notes that “the belief that god is the creator of life underlies the metaphor of God as a midwife, one of several female metaphors for God in the Hebrew Bible”, citing a line of a psalm addressing God as a clear example: “it was you who took me from the womb; you kept me safe on my mother’s breast” (Ps 22:9). Prof. Meyers astutely observes that “the status of midwives—and their power to transform childbirth from what might be a negative experience to a positive one—did not erode until the advent of modern, male-dominated medicine”. See

https://jwa.org/encyclopedia/article/midwife-bible

J.M. Hochstetler, writing about “Childbirth in Jesus’ Time”, has hypothesised further: “Midwives, skilled practitioners of their profession, were significant figures in ancient society who provided comfort, pain relief, and encouragement to the laboring woman. They performed rituals and prayers to protect her and her baby, used their expertise to deal with any complications that might arise, delivered the baby and the afterbirth, and supervised the mother and baby’s aftercare.” Commenting specifically on the birth of Jesus, she deduces that “Joseph would definitely have been excluded, nor would he have protested. Giving birth was the province of women, and men were happy to absent themselves.” See

https://www.hhhistory.com/2019/12/childbirth-in-jesus-time.html

So it is a reasonable assumption that a midwife would have been present at, and assisted in, the birth of Jesus to his mother Mary. Why is there not at least a midwife (if not also some assistants) present in the “traditional” nativity scene that we re-enact each year?

Another place in the story at which women would most surely have been present would have been in the house where Joseph and Mary were staying at the time of this birth. Despite what the “traditional” story portrays, it was most definitely not a case of Joseph knocking on the doors of all the hotels in town, only to discover that, because of the census, every one of them was filled to overflowing, and so they had to settle for “a room around the back” with the animals.

Luke gives a minimum amount of detail concerning the birth of Jesus, informing us that Mary “laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn” (Luke 2:7). The word translated as “inn” is the Greek word κατάλυμα (kataluma). This is relatively rare in the New Testament, but appears in many places in ancient Greek literature, where it usually refers to a guest chamber or lodging place in a private home. The same term appears in Luke 22:11 with the meaning “guest room,” and the verb derived from this noun appears in two other places (Luke 9:12; 19:7) where it means something like “find lodging” or “be a guest.” 

Moreover, and by contrast, in the story of the Good Samaritan, when Jesus refers to the place where the injured traveller rests—clearly a commercial inn—a different word is used; it means an inn frequented by travellers is used (pandokian; see Luke 10:34). So Joseph and Mary were not looking for lodging in an inn; they were most likely hoping to find shelter with a  member of their family in Bethlehem. 

That would make sense, given what we know of ancient life; in Jewish society (indeed, in all ancient Mediterranean societies), hospitality was very important. Travel to a town where members of the extended family lived would usually mean staying with them. Unfortunately for the key figures in the “traditional” Christmas story, once they arrived in town they found many other family members had arrived before them. So there was no room in the kataluma, the guest house in the family member’s home.

Luke’s story probably suggests that Joseph and Mary were planning to stay at the home of friends or relatives; but the home where they arrived was so full, even the guest room was overflowing, and so they had to be housed with the animals in a lower in the lower part of the house. It was the custom to house animals in a special section of the house, and that, of course, would be where the manger was to be found. 

But once Mary and Joseph were given that space to stay, they would have been accepted into the family for the duration of their stay. And that meant including them in the family meals. And guess who prepared the meals? That’s right—the women of the family! And we know from familiar biblical stories that it was the women of the household who prepared and served the meals. When three visitors arrive unexpectedly at the tent of Abraham near the oaks of Mamre, the text says that “Abraham hastened into the tent to Sarah, and said, ‘Make ready quickly three measures of choice flour, knead it, and make cakes’” (Gen 18:6). 

The last chapter of Proverbs praises the “woman of valour” who runs her household with such efficiency. Amongst her many and varied responsibilities, this woman “rises while it is still night and provides food for her household” (Prov 31:15). Overseeing the kitchen was integral to the efficient running of the household. The story of Abigail feeding the troops of David while they were in the wilderness, fleeing from Saul’s men and seeking sustenance from her husband, Nabal, a rich Calebite (1 Sam 25), reveals the proficiency of women as they brought provisions for the troops: Abigail took “two hundred loaves, two skins of wine, five sheep ready dressed, five measures of parched grain, one hundred clusters of raisins, and two hundred cakes of figs” and sent them off to feed David and his men (1 Sam 25:18). Abigail was the overseer of quite an impressive domestic operation, if these figures are to be believed!

So in Luke’s Gospel narrative, when Jesus visits the home of Martha and Mary, it is usually understood that “all the work” that Martha is undertaking, without the expected assistance of Mary, involved the preparation and serving of a meal for Jesus and those travelling with him (Luke 10:38–42). The same undertakings would have been the work of the women in the house where Joseph and Mary were staying when she gave birth to Jesus. They would have fed the new parents and ensured that they were well provided for as they cared for the infant Jesus in his first few days. There are more women at this point in this story!

So we ought to remember that there were actually many more women in the story of the birth of Jesus: present at the birth and immediately after it, involved in the food preparation and sharing food at table as the wider family gathered together, ensuring that there was support for the parents of the newly-born child. And we should make space in the story for these important characters to be seen and heard. Let’s remember that, and act on it, next time we prepare to tell or act out the “traditional” Christmas story. 

Unknown's avatarAuthor John T SquiresPosted on December 24, 2024December 24, 2024Categories An Orderly Account: Gospel of Luke, Scripture and TheologyTags Christmas, Luke, scripture, theology, women

The Magnificat (Luke 1:39–45; Narrative Lectionary for Advent 4C)

The Magnificat (Luke 1:39–45; Narrative Lectionary for Advent 4C)

For the Fourth Sunday in Advent this year, the Narrative Lectionary moves from words of the ancient prophets, to words which are similarly prophetic, in a song sung by a young woman who discovers that she is pregnant. The lectionary suggests that we hear about the message delivered to this young woman, Mary, which tells about the child she would bear—the scene often called “the Annunciation”—followed by the song sung by the young, pregnant Mary—the song that is best known as “the Magnificat” (Luke 1:46b—55). On the Annunciation scene, see 

(Magnificat is the first word of the Latin version of this song. It makes sense, does it not, for a song that Mary most likely sang in Aramaic, and which is known to us from a Greek text, to be given a Latin title??? Such is the power of the western Roman Catholic Church, whose liturgy was in Latin for many centuries.)

The writer of the Gospel of Luke places this song in a scene that takes place after the pregnant Mary travels to visit a town in the hill country of Judaea. Mary is in the house of Zechariah and his wife Elizabeth, an elderly relative of Mary, who is also pregnant with child (Luke 1:39–45). This scene is rich with scriptural resonances.

I 

Providing the Magnificat as the Psalm for the week has a certain poetic justice. Although this is part of the New Testament, this hymn is certainly a song in the mode of the psalms, as they are found in the book of that name in Hebrew Scripture. Indeed, such psalms are found not only in the book of Psalms, but in other places in those scriptures. Songs in the manner of psalms are scattered throughout the stories of the lives of the people of Israel—including into the century we identify as “the first century” (CE).

Included in these psalms are some striking songs. The Song of Miriam and the Song of Moses, both sung after the crossing of the Red Sea, are psalms of thanksgiving (Exod 15:21, and 15:1–18), whilst the Song of Moses at the end of his life recounts the story of the people (Deut 32:1–43). The Song of Deborah celebrates the defeat of Sisera of Canaan (Judges 5), whilst there are two Songs of David outside the book of Psalms: a psalm of thanksgiving after a series of battles with the Philistines (2 Sam 22) and another thanksgiving psalm after the ark was set inside the Tabernacle in Jerusalem (1 Chron 16:8–36).

Some prophetic books include psalms, such as a psalm of Hezekiah after he had recovered from illness (Isa 38:9-20), a psalm sung by Jonah from the belly of the fish that had swallowed him (Jon 2:1–10), and a prayer of praise sung by Habakkuk (Hab 3). 

And then, at the beginning of the story of Samuel, his mother, Hannah, offers a long prayer in the manner of psalms of thanksgiving (1 Sam 2:1–10). We heard this song just a few weeks ago, on the penultimate Sunday of Year B (Pentecost 33). This particular psalm is most important when we come to consider the song sung about a later prophet, Jesus, by his mother, Mary (Luke 1:46–55).

II

We know that Jesus is intensely Jewish in the Synoptic Gospels. The story about Jesus begins in the heart of Jewish piety, and continues apace within the life of the people of Israel through his lifetime.

The opening scene of the orderly account of the things fulfilled among us (Luke’s Gospel), set in Jerusalem in the Temple precincts, reveals a pair of righteous Jews who faithfully keep the commandments of God (Luke 1:5–6). The first person we meet, Zechariah the priest, is devoted to the service of God in the Temple (1:8–9). 

His wife, Elizabeth, expresses an attitude of deep faith in God, accepting her surprise pregnancy as “what the Lord has done for me” (1:25). They are both described as “righteous before God” (1:6). Elizabeth’s relative, Mary, demonstrates a similar faith as she submits to a similar fate, bearing a child, with the words, “here am I, the servant of the Lord” (1:38).

In turn, the traditional hopes and expectations of the people are articulated in spirit-inspired hymns sung by Mary (1:46–55, known as the Magnificat), Zechariah (1:67–79, known as the Benedictus), and Simeon the righteous (2:29–32, known as the Nunc dimittis, or the Song of Simeon). These songs set the strongly Jewish tone of the opening chapters.

The key characters operate as people of deep faith. God’s Spirit is active in these scenes; Mary is “overshadowed” by the Spirit (1:35), whilst Zechariah and Elizabeth are both “filled” with the Spirit (1:41, 1:67). Simeon is “righteous and devout” (2:25); the Spirit “rested on him” (2:25), then “revealed to him” the words he then speaks (2:26) before “guiding him … into the temple” (2:27). 

This is the same Spirit that has been active since the moment of creation (Gen 1:2), that was breathed into human beings (Gen 2:7), and that infuses every one of the creatures brought into being in God’s wonderful creation (Ps 104:24–30). It is this Spirit that has endowed individuals with leadership (Exod 31:2–3; Num 11:25–26; Deut 34:9; and a number of judges) and which has inspired prophets to proclaim the word of the Lord (Isa 61:1; Ezek 2:2; Joel 2:28–29). 

See https://johntsquires.com/2020/12/27/a-light-for-revelation-to-the-gentiles-and-for-glory-to-your-people-israel-luke-2/

III

Mary stands in the long Jewish tradition of female singers. The story of the Exodus culminates in the short song sung by Miriam (Exod 15:21). Other females singing songs of salvation at key moments in the story include Deborah (Judges 5:1–31), Hannah (1 Sam 2:1–10), and Judith (Judith 16:1–17). These are the victory songs of the oppressed.

The two scenes involving Hannah and Mary have a number of parallels. The language and the events resonate with each other across the centuries. It seems to me that the author of this orderly account (by tradition, Luke) is well-read and very capable in his writing style. This whole section is shaped to read like a Hebrew Scripture narrative. So, in my understanding of Luke 1–2, the author has been influenced by the story of Hannah as he tells the story of Mary.

Indeed, we note this in the way the two songs begin. Hannah commences by singing out “my heart exults in the Lord; my strength is exalted in my God” (1 Sam 2:1). This is deliberately echoed in Mary’s song, where she begins “my soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour” (Luke 1:46). 

Hannah describes God as the Holy One (2:2) and the Most High (2:10). Holy One is a term applied to God in the Writings (Ps 71:22; 78:41; 89:18; Prov 9:10; Job 6:10; Sir 4:14; 23:9; 53:10; 47:8; 48:20) and by the Prophets (Is 1:4; 5:19, 24; and a further 24 times; Jer 50:29; Ezek 8:13; Hos 11:9, 12; Hab 1:12; 3:3). Of course, Holiness was a central element of piety in ancient Israel, exemplified by the Holiness Code of Leviticus (Lev 11:44–45; 19:2; 20:7–8; see also Deut 7:6; 14:2, 21; 28:9). The followers of Jesus are instructed to consider themselves as God’s holy people (1 Cor 3:17; 6:19; Eph 5:25–27; Col 1:22; 3:12; Heb 3:1; 1 Pet 1:13–16; 2:5, 9) and to live accordingly.

Most High is also a very common way that God is described and addressed—23 times in the Psalms (Ps 7:17; 9:2; 18:13; etc) and a number of times elsewhere (Gen 14:17–24; Num 24:16; Deut 32:8; 1 Sam 2:10; 2 Sam 22:14; Isa 14:14; Lam 3:35, 38; Dan 3:26; 4:2, 17, 24, 25 and more; Hos 11:7; and also Wis Sol 5:15; 6:3; and 45 times in Sirach—4:10; 7:9, 15; 9:15, etc). It appears as a description of God in early Christian writings (Mark 5:7; Luke 1:32, 35, 76; 6:35: 8:28; Acts 7:48: 16:17).

Mary uses a similarly-familiar term, the Mighty One (1:49), which also is a biblical name for God (Gen 49:24; Ps 45:3; 50:1: 52:1; 132:2, 5; Isa 1:24; 49:26; 60:16; Sir 46:5–6, 16; 51:12), and then she goes on to affirm, “holy is his name”, alluding directly to the title of Holy One that Hannah has used.

Hannah’s declaration that “my strength is exalted in my God” (2:1) is echoed in Mary’s affirmation that “he has shown strength with his arm” (1:51). That strength is demonstrated in a series of claims made by Mary, regarding the proud, the powerful, and the rich, in contrast to the lowly and the hungry (1:51–53). 

The clear juxtaposition of these categories, and God’s obvious preference for the latter group, is another way in which Mary’s song echoes and replicates Hannah’s song. Hannah’s “he brings low, he also exalts” (2:7) is expanded by Mary, “he has brought down the powerful, he has lifted up the lowly” (1:52). “He raises up the poor from the dust, lifts the needy from the ash heap, to make them sit with princes and inherit a seat of honour” (2:8) is reworked by Mary into her note that God “has filled the hungry with good things and sent the rich away empty” (1:53).

In these ways, it is clear that the righteous-justice desired by God for the people of God will in fact be evident; “the Lord will judge the ends of the earth” (2:10), sings Hannah; “he has helped his servant Israel in remembrance of his mercy” (1:54) is how Mary sings it. Both justice and mercy are fundamental aspects of the being of God which are worked out in the ways that God engages with the people of Israel. God is envisaged and experienced in the same way in each of these songs. The God of Hannah continues to be the God of Mary. These two songs strongly confirm that reality. 

IV

What Hannah is celebrating is that God will be at work in the events of her time. In particular, despite her barren state (1 Sam 1:2, 5–8), Hannah prayed regularly for a son (1 Sam 2:10–18) and was blessed with just such a child: “in due time Hannah conceived and bore a son” (1 Sam 2:20, 27). Likewise, what Mary anticipates is that God will demonstrate the ongoing fulfilment of the promises made to Israel in the birth of her child given to her, despite her state as a virgin (Luke 1:27, 34). 

Both newborn sons are dedicated to the Lord: Hannah’s son was dedicated as a nazirite (1 Sam 2:11, 22, 24–28), Mary’s son is recognised as the one who will have “the throne of David given to him” and who will “reign over the house of Jacob forever” (Luke 1:32–33). The son of Hannah is dedicated in “the house of the Lord at Shiloh” (1 Sam 2:24); the son of Mary is circumcised (Luke 1:21) and then taken “to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord” (Luke 1:22). The two stories mirror each other in the same way that the two songs run in parallel to each other. 

So Mary affirms that “all generations will call me blessed” (1:48), in the same way that Leah exclaimed, “blessed am I! for the women will call me blessed” (Gen 30:13). Her song ends with the claim that the promise being fulfilled is made “to Abraham and to his descendants forever” (1:55), evoking the prayer of David, that the Lord “shows steadfast love to his anointed, to David and his descendants forever” (2 Sam 22:50). The exalting of the anointed is also noted at the very end of the song sung by Hannah (1 Sam 2:10).

V

Dietrich Bonhoeffer, a German pastor and theologian who was executed by the Nazis, declared that the Magnificat, this song of Mary, “is at once the most passionate, the wildest, one might even say the most revolutionary advent hymn ever sung. This is not the gentle, tender, dreamy Mary whom we sometimes see in paintings … This song has none of the sweet, nostalgic, or even playful tones of some of our Christmas carols. It is instead a hard, strong, inexorable song about the power of God and the powerlessness of humankind.” (From a sermon during Advent on December 17, 1933; see http://cdn.bakerpublishinggroup.com/processed/esource-assets/files/1780/original/8.40.Luke_1.46-55__The_World%27s_First_Advent_Hymn.pdf?1524151427)

Martin Luther echoed Mary’s perspective when he declared, “the mightier you are, the more must you fear; the lowlier you are, the more must you take comfort.” Pope John Paul II noted the scholarly view that this song, as well as the songs by Zechariah and Simeon, are songs of the anawim (the faithful poor), whose songs offer “glorious praise of God … thanksgiving for the great things done by the Mighty One, the battle against the forces of evil, solidarity with the poor and fidelity to the God of the Covenant” (in a general audience on Psalm 149 on Wednesday 23 May 2001; see https://www.vatican.va/content/john-paul-ii/en/audiences/2001/documents/hf_jp-ii_aud_20010523.html)

Sister Elizabeth Johnson sums it up well,

“The Magnificat is a revolutionary song of salvation whose political, economic, and social dimensions cannot be blunted. People in need in every society hear a blessing in this canticle. The battered woman, the single parent without resources, those without food on the table or without even a table, the homeless family, the young abandoned to their own devices, the old who are discarded: all are encompassed in the hope Mary proclaims”.

See https://uscatholic.org/articles/201101/mary-mary-quite-contrary/ and http://compassreview.org/summer14/3.pdf

Unknown's avatarAuthor John T SquiresPosted on December 17, 2024December 15, 2024Categories An Orderly Account: Gospel of Luke, Hebrew Scripture, Scripture and TheologyTags Hebrew Scripture, Jesus, justice, Luke, Magnificat, Mary, scripture, theology

The Annunciation (Luke 1:26–39; Narrative Lectionary for Advent 4C)

The Annunciation (Luke 1:26–39; Narrative Lectionary for Advent 4C)

For the Fourth Sunday in Advent this year, the Narrative Lectionary moves from words of the ancient prophets, to words which are similarly prophetic, in a song sung by a young woman who discovers that she is pregnant. The lectionary suggests that we hear about the message delivered to this young woman, Mary, which tells about the child she would bear—the scene often called “the Annunciation”—followed by the song sung by the young, pregnant Mary—the song that is best known as “the Magnificat” (Luke 1:46b—55).

The orderly account of the things coming to fulfilment (which we know as the Gospel of Luke) tells us much more about the beginnings of Jesus (his conception, birth, and early days) than the other Gospels. The passage offered by the Narrative Lectionary for this Sunday, the Fourth Sunday in Advent this year, is one such passage.

The announcement that is being made in this scene, is to Mary, informing her that she will bear a child. Mary responds dramatically to this news. She is perplexed, amazed; she is a virgin. “How can this be?”, she asks. A messenger from God informs her, though, that impossibilities are now becoming realities. Indeed, her aged, barren cousin is now pregnant, and Mary will find herself bearing a child—but no ordinary a child; a child “who will be holy, who will he called Son of God”. Now that is really out of the ordinary!

We learn all of this through the “reporting” of a dialogue between the two characters, mother-to-be Mary, and the angel Gabriel. The dialogue isn’t an actual transcript of what took place—indeed, there is no way that the author of this Gospel could have been present to listen and remember.

Instead, the scene is based on the typical dialogue scene that we find at many places in Hebrew Scriptures. And it comes hard on the heels of a similar encounter, another dialogue scene, reported earlier in this chapter (Luke 1:5-22). The earlier dialogue involved an older man, Zechariah (although this dialogue ends up with Zechariah being completely mute); the next scene involves a young woman (who holds her own in the dialogue, as we shall see).

The dialogue proceeds, just as we would expect: he said, then she said; then he said, and so she said. He, of course, is the angel Gabriel. She is Mary, at this time identified simply as “a virgin engaged to a man whose name was Joseph” (1:27).

Jews knew about the angel Gabriel from his appearances to Daniel (Dan 8:15-17, 9:21). He appeared to Daniel at the time of prayer (Dan 9:21)—presumably this is the same angel who had earlier appeared to Zechariah, in Jerusalem, at a time of prayer (1:10-11).

If this is indeed the same angelic person who appeared to Daniel (and to Zechariah, and Mary), then he was quite a sight; Daniel describes Gabriel as “a man clothed in linen, with a belt of gold from Uphaz around his waist. His body was like beryl, his face like lightning, his eyes like flaming torches, his arms and legs like the gleam of burnished bronze, and the sound of his words like the roar of a multitude.” (Dan 10:5-6).

Such an appearance would undoubtedly evoke fear. Indeed, before Gabriel even speaks to him, Zechariah is said to have been “terrified, and fear overwhelmed him” (Luke 1:12), as also was Daniel (Dan 8:17), who says that “my strength left me, and my complexion grew deathly pale, and I retained no strength”, before he fell in a trance to the ground (Dan 10:8-9).

So the words of the angel, in both scenes, seek to meet this understandable response. “Do not be afraid”, he says to Zechariah (1:13) and also to Mary (1:30). This is what angels do; this is how they greet people: “do not be afraid” (see Gen 15:1, 26:24; 2 Kings 1:15; Dan 10:9). Zechariah’s fear had gripped him before he spoke a word, but Mary had the presence of mind, before the angel spoke these words, to reflect on what she was experiencing.

The dialogue begins when Gabriel greets Mary (1:28) and informs her that she was favoured (the word comes from the Greek word charis, which means grace or favour, and becomes a key theological term in early Christianity). Mary is described as being “much perplexed by his words and pondered what sort of greeting this might be” (1:29).

He then says, as we have noted, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favour with God.” That is followed by a declaration of the name of the child: “you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus” (1:31). This is parallel to the declaration made to Zechariah: “your prayer has been heard; your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son, and you will name him John” (1:13).

This follows the same pattern in scriptural stories when divinely-favoured women are told they will give birth, and they name of their child: Hagar, mother of Ishmael (Gen 16:11), Sarah, mother of Isaac (Gen 17:19), Gomer, the wife of Hosea and mother of three children (Hosea 1:4,6,9); and see also the moment of naming for Leah, mother of Asher (Gen 30:13), the unnamed mother of Samson (Judges 13:24), and Hannah, mother of Samuel (1 Sam 1:20).

The angel continues: “He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David; he will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end” (1:32-33). The Davidic ancestry of Jesus was an important claim for the early Christians. It was cited in early literature as a key element (Luke 2:4; John 7:42; Rom 1:3; 2 Tim 2:8; Rev 5:5, 22:16; see more on this at https://johntsquires.com/2019/12/19/descended-from-david-according-to-the-flesh-rom-1/).

Mary still is not fazed. She comes right back at the angel: “How can this be, since I am a virgin?” (1:34). Good point, well made! Only once, here in Luke, and only once in Matthew’s account, is the point made that Mary was a virgin when she conceived (Matt 1:23; see my consideration of this issue at https://johntsquires.com/2019/12/21/a-young-woman-a-virgin-pregnant-about-to-give-birth-isa-714-in-matt-123/)

In response to this good comeback, Gabriel responds with a number of significant points. First, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be holy; he will be called Son of God.” This statement references three central scriptural elements.

The Holy Spirit is understood to be active throughout the story of Israel: at the moment of creation (Gen 1:1-2), bringing all creatures into being (Ps 104:30), in equipping specific leaders (Exod 31:2-3; Num 11:25, 26; Deut 34:9; Judges 3:9-10, 6:34, 11:29, 13:25; 1 Sam 10:6, 10, 11:6, 16:13, 2 Sam 23:2; 2 Kings 2:9, 15), by inspiring the prophets (Isa 61:1: Ezekiel 2:2; Joel 2:28-29), and in the servant of the Lord (Isa 42:1). Mary here stands with others early in Luke’s story who experience the Holy Spirit coming upon them (John, 1:15; Elizabeth, 1:41; Zechariah, 1:67; Simeon, 2:25-26); and, of course, Jesus himself is filled with the Spirit (3:22; 4:1).

Holiness was a central element of piety in ancient Israel; the holy God called a holy people to live in covenant with him, and exhibit holiness in every aspect of life (Lev 11:44-45, 19:2, 20:7-8; Exod 19:6; Deut 7:6, 14:2, 21, 28:9). Following from this prophetic word to his pregnant mother, the adult Jesus was indeed known as “the holy one” (Mark 1:24; Luke 4:34; John 6:69; Acts 3:14, 13:35).

“Son of God” was also a phrase derived from older traditions; the king was regarded as God’s son (Ps 2:7; 2 Sam 7:14), commencing with David (Ps 89:26-28), and Israel as a whole was regarded as God’s son (Exod 4:22: Jer 31:9, 20). It is applied to Jesus with regularity in his adult life (Luke 4:3,9,41; 8:28; 22:70; Acts 9:20; John 1:34,49; 11:4,27; 19:7; 20:31) as well as in early confessions of faith (Rom 1:4; 2 Cor 1:19; Gal 2:20; Eph 4:13; Heb 4:14; 6:6; 10:29; 1 John 3:8; 4:15; 5:5; Rev 2:18).

Then, Gabriel tells Mary, “your relative Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son; and this is the sixth month for her who was said to be barren” (1:35). The Hebrew Scriptures offer accounts of women thought unable to bear a child, being visited by an angel and gifted a child by God, such as Sarah (Gen 11:30), Rebekah (Gen 25:21), and the woman who bore Samson (Judges 13:3). This blessing from God is celebrated by the psalmist (Ps 113:9) and the prophet (Isa 54:1).

Gabriel’s final words are “nothing will be impossible with God” (1:35-36). This also is a biblical phrase; see Zechariah 8:6, and note also Gen 18:14 and Job 42:2.

Finally, to end the conversation, Mary concludes, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word” (1:38). She accepts what is in store for her. Traditional Christianity has highlighted this element in the story; Mary becomes the humble, self-effacing, obediently submissive, thoroughly passive figure of traditional Catholic piety.

This overlooks the fact that “here am I” was a standard response to a commission from God, spoken by faithful and fearless prophets, Moses (Exod 3:4), Samuel (1 Sam 3:4), Isaiah (Isa 6:8), Trito-Isaiah (Isa 65:1), and Jeremiah (Jer 26:14), as well as the psalmist (Ps 40:7), and the patriarchs, Abraham (Gen 22:1), Esau (Gen 27:1), Jacob (Gen 31:11 and 46:2). It is also the response of Ananias in Damascus to a vision of the Lord (Acts 9:10). Mary is here accepting a challenging divine commission, and pledging her commitment to the task. It is an activist’s response!

The interpretation of Mary as passive, humble, submissive and obedient also overlooks the feisty nature of Mary’s interchange with Gabriel, as we have traced it. And this feisty nature, with its prophetic focus and clarity, is made clear just a few verses later, as Mary sings in praise of God (1:39-45). In this song, she makes it clear that she is up for the task, that she has the vision of what God is doing in Jesus, that she is fully subscribed to working for the righteous-justice of God in the lives of her people!

The many scriptural resonances, both in that song (known as the Magnificat) and in the scene of the Annunciation, indicate that Mary is to be understand within the stream of prophetic figures in Hebrew Scripture. She was a force to be reckoned with!

The scene of the Annunciation closes with the brief note, “the angel departed from her” (1:38). The angel had left; but the consequences of this announcement would stay with Mary, through the coming months of her pregnancy and the birth of the child; and through the coming years, of his growth through childhood, his adulthood, and the tragic events of betrayal, trial, crucifixion and death.

Mary knew, from the start, of the significance of this child (at least as Luke tells in his orderly account). And what did Mary know, of the stories that were later told, that he proclaimed the kingdom, healed the sick, cast out demons, and had even been raised from the dead? And how did she speak of him, then?

Unknown's avatarAuthor John T SquiresPosted on December 16, 2024December 15, 2024Categories An Orderly Account: Gospel of Luke, Hebrew Scripture, Scripture and TheologyTags Annunciation, Gabriel, Hebrew Scripture, Jesus, Luke, Mary, scripture, theology

The scriptural resonances in the Benedictus (cont.) (Luke 1; Advent 2C)

The scriptural resonances in the Benedictus (cont.) (Luke 1; Advent 2C)

One of the passages offered by the lectionary for this Sunday, the second Sunday in Advent (Luke 1:68–79), comprises the text of a psalm-like song that is often called The Benedictus, after the opening phrase of the song in the Latin translation. The whole song resonates in every line with words, ideas, concepts from the Hebrew Scriptures. I’ve been considering that in earlier posts on this passage.

See 

How God is now at work: the Benedictus of Zechariah (Luke 1; Advent 2C)

Luke, as we know, was writing many decades after the events he reports; he certainly wasn’t present at the time John was born, and it is most unlikely that any of the people he refers to as his sources (Luke 1:2) were witnesses to this. Rather, it is sensible for us to consider that he wrote this song, drawing extensively from the Hebrew Scriptures, and placed it in the mouth of Zechariah at what was an appropriate moment in the story that he was telling. (The story as a whole isn’t history; it is Luke’s way of introducing the figure of Jesus by placing him firmly in his historical context, as a Jew of the late Second Temple period.)

In my previous post, I have considered how God is described, and prayed to, in this song, drawing on various scriptural passages. Another way that Luke evokes scripture is when he has Zechariah sings that God “has remembered his holy covenant, the oath that he swore to our ancestor Abraham” (Luke 1:72–73). The phrase explicitly evokes comment in the ancestral narrative, when Moses fled to Midian, that “God remembered his covenant with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob” (Exod 2:24), repeated in words on the lips of the Lord to Moses, “I have heard the groaning of the Israelites whom the Egyptians are holding as slaves, and I have remembered my covenant” (Exod 6:5).  

The phrase recurs in the psalm that recalls the sins committed by the people of Israel during their time in the wilderness, when “he regarded their distress when he heard their cry”, and so “for their sake he remembered his covenant, and showed compassion according to the abundance of his steadfast love” (Ps 106:44–45). Reflecting on the sins of the people of a later generation, the prophet Ezekiel reports that the Lord God will nevertheless “remember my covenant with you in the days of your youth, and I will establish with you an everlasting covenant” (Ezek 16:60). This idea lies behind the promise offered at the same time by the prophet Jeremiah, that the Lord God “will forgive their iniquity, and remember their sin no more”, and so “will make a new covenant with the house of Israel and the house of Judah” (Jer 31:31–34). Remembering and recommitting to the covenant  is embedded in the scriptures.

Zechariah refers to two key characters from Israel’s ancestral stories: Abraham, in referring to “the oath that [the Lord God] swore to our ancestor Abraham” in making the covenant (v.73), and David, in referring to the “mighty saviour” that God has raised up “for us in the house of his servant David” (v.68). These are, of course, two key figures in the story of Israel, to whom much attention is given in the ancestral narratives (Abraham in Gen 12—25; David in 1 Sam 16—1 Ki 2).

Although the song is sung immediately after the birth of the son of Elizabeth and Zechariah (Luke 1:57), to be named John (1:59–63), the father celebrates the birth of his son largely, as we have seen, by celebrating the mighty deeds of God. He does note that this child “will be called the prophet of the Most High” and that he “will go before the Lord to prepare his ways, to give knowledge of salvation to his people by the forgiveness of their sins” (1:76–77). This is indeed how John is portrayed when, as an adult, he becomes active around the Jordan in calling people to repentance (Mark 1:2–8; Matt 3:1–12; Luke 3:1–18).

The one who “prepares the way” reflects the prophetic word of Malachi,  who declares “I am sending my messenger to prepare the way before me, and the Lord whom you seek will suddenly come to his temple” (Mal 3:1). The fiery nature of this messenger’s language (Mal 3:2–3) is clearly reflected in John’s message of judgement (Luke 3:7–9, 16–17). That he proclaims “a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins” (Luke 3:3) guides Luke to give to his father words (1:77) that point forward to this very message.

The song ends with some observations about the response of people to what God has been and is doing. Zechariah anticipates that those who learn of this might “serve him without fear, in holiness and righteousness before him all our days” (vv.74–75). All three characteristics of this response are, of course, fundamental elements in the piety of ancient Israelites and Jews of the Second Temple period. “You shall fear the Lord your God” is a priestly refrain (Lev 19:14, 32; 25:17, 36, 43) recurring in the words Gos speaks in Deuteronomy (Deut 4:10; 5:29; 6:1, 13, 24; 10:12, 20; 13:4; 14:23; 17:19; 31:12–13) as well as in subsequent narrative books.

Holiness amongst the people is also advocated by the priests, on the basis that God is holy. “I am the Lord your God; sanctify yourselves therefore, and be holy, for I am holy … I am the Lord who brought you up from the land of Egypt, to be your God; you shall be holy, for I am holy” (Lev 11:44–45; see also 19:2; 20:7, 26). And righteousness is declared by various prophets as who the Lord God requires of God’s people (Isa 5:7: 11:4–5; 32:16–17; 52:1, 7; Jer 22:3; 23:5; Hos 10:12; Amos 5:24; Zeph 2:3).

Finally, the closing verses of this song contain evocative imagery which draws from poems in Hebrew Scripture. “The dawn from on high will break upon us” (v.78) resonates with Third Isaiah’s words that “your light shall break forth like the dawn and your healing shall spring up quickly” (Isa 58:8). That dawn will “give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death” (v.79) references the numerous places where light breaks into darkness (Ps 18:12; Isa 9:2; 42:16; 58:10; Mic 7:8; and see the same dynamic in the creation account at Gen 1:1–5). The phrase “the shadow of death” (v.79) alludes to “the valley of the shadow of death” in Ps 23:4. 

Then, the final affirmation that this breaking dawn will “guide our feet into the way of peace” (v.79) refers to Third Isaiah again, in his lament that “the way of peace”, missing in his time, will surely come. This oracle, in fact, splices together the same ending notes that we find in Zechariah’s song: “the way of peace they do not know, and there is no justice in their paths; their roads they have made crooked; no one who walks in them knows peace. Therefore justice is far from us, and righteousness does not reach us; we wait for light, and lo! there is darkness; and for brightness, but we walk in gloom” (Isa 59:8–9). 

Indeed, in the following oracle the prophet declares: “Arise, shine; for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you. For darkness shall cover the earth, and thick darkness the peoples; but the Lord will arise upon you, and his glory will appear over you. Nations shall come to your light, and kings to the brightness of your dawn.” (Isa 60:1–3). Or, as Zechariah sings, “By the tender mercy of our God, the dawn from on high will break upon us, to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace.” (Luke 1:78–79).

See also 

Magnificat: the God of Mary (Luke 1) is the God of Hannah (1 Sam 2) (Advent 4C)
The scriptural resonances in the Annunciation (Luke 1; Advent 4B)
Unknown's avatarAuthor John T SquiresPosted on December 4, 2024December 2, 2024Categories An Orderly Account: Gospel of Luke, Hebrew Scripture, Scripture and TheologyTags Benedictus, Hebrew Scripture, Luke, scripture, theology, Zechariah

The scriptural resonances in the Benedictus (Luke 1; Advent 2C)

The scriptural resonances in the Benedictus (Luke 1; Advent 2C)

One of the passages offered by the lectionary for this Sunday, the second Sunday in Advent, is a well-known and familiar passage, and although it is proposed as “the Psalm” for this Sunday, it is found in the New Testament—in the long first chapter of this Gospel, which leads into the Christmas story.  The passage offered (Luke 1:68–79) comprises the text of a psalm-like song that is often called The Benedictus, after the opening phrase of the song in the Latin translation. 

The whole song resonates in every line with words, ideas, concepts from the Hebrew Scriptures. Luke, of course, was writing many decades after the events he reports; he certainly wasn’t present at the time John was born, and it is most unlikely that any of the people he refers to as his sources (Luke 1:2) were witnesses to this. Rather, it is sensible for us to consider that this song was placed in the mouth of Zechariah, drawing extensively from the Hebrew Scriptures.

The blessing which opens the song (v.68) has the standard form of blessings found in prayers by Jews in antiquity, through until today; they begin with a phrase of blessing: “Blessed are you, O Lord our God …”. Blessed are You, O Lord our God, Ruler of the universe, Who brings forth bread from the earth is prayed before a meal. Blessed are You, o Lord our God, Ruler of the universe, who creates the fruit of the vine is prayed before drinking wine. Zechariah begins in this pattern, “Blessed be the Lord God of Israel”, before proceeding to indicate how God has been at work. 

Another key scriptural element in his song comes when Zechariah refers to God as “Most High” (v.76). This way of describing God is found in a prayer of Abraham (Gen 14:22), where he seems to have adopted it from King Melchizedek of Salem, who is introduced as “priest of God Most High” (Gen 14:18–20). It is repeated by Balaam in his oracle (Num 24:15–16), once in the lengthy Song of Moses (Deut 32:8), and once in the lengthy Song attributed to David at the end of his life (2 Sam 22:14). 

Prophets who used this phrase included Isaiah, once (Isa 14:14), Hosea, once (Hos 11:7), the author of Lamentations (Lam 3:35, 38), and Daniel (Dan 4:24–25; 5:17, 21; 7:18, 21, 25–27), who appears to have picked up this phrase from King Nebuchadnezzar (Dan 3:26; 4:2, 17, 34). The phrase is most common in the psalms, where it appears 23 times (for instance, Ps 7:17; 9:2; 21:7; 46:4; 47:2; 50:14; 57:2; 91:1, 9; 97:9; 106:7; 107:11). The same appellation then appears in eight other places in the New Testament (Mark 5:7; Luke 1:32, 35; 6:35; 8:28; Acts 7:48; 16:17; and Heb 7:1, referring back to King Melchizedek).

The focus of this song, as is the case also in the song sung earlier by Mary, as well as in each of the missionary speeches reported in Acts 2–17, is on “what God has done”, a theme of significance throughout Luke and Acts—as I have argued in my PhD thesis, The plan of God in Luke—Acts (1993), and in my commentary on Acts in the Eerdman’s Commentary on the Bible (2003). 

Three times in this song Zechariah mentions the redemptive power of God, who “has looked favorably on his people and redeemed them” (v.68), “saved [the people] from our enemies and from the hand of all who hate us” (v.71), and “rescued [them] from the hands of our enemies” (v.74). Calling God “Redeemer” is typical of Second Isaiah (Isa 41:14; 43:14; 44:6, 24; 47:4; 48:1, 17; 49:7, 26; 54:5, 8) and continues in Third Isaiah (Isa 59:20; 60:16; 63:16). It is also found in other books (Job 19:1, 25; Ps 19:14; 78:35; Jer 50:34). 

God is identified as Saviour (2 Sam 22:3; Ps 17:7; 106:21; Isa 43:3, 11; 45:15, 21; 49:26; 60:16; 73:8; Hos 13:4) and praised as one who saves (1 Sam 10:19; 14:39; Ps 34:18; 37:40) and also rescues (Ps 34:17, 19; 37:40; 97:10; Amos 3:12). The language on the lips of Zechariah is thoroughly scriptural.

Alongside this, there are two references in this song to the mercy of God, as Zechariah sings of “the tender mercy of our God” (v.78) and rejoiced that God “has shown the mercy promised to our ancestors” (v.72). In the ancestral narratives of Israel, mercy is noted as a quality of God by Jacob (Gen 43:14), David (2 Sam 24:14; 1 Chron 21:13), and Nehemiah (Neh 1:11). Of course, involved in the ritual of worship in the Tabernacle and then in the Temple is the sprinkling of sacrificial blood on the “mercy seat” in the holy place (Lev 16:2, 12–14); the seeking of mercy from the Lord was at the heart of the annual Day of Atonement ritual.

Even as they call the people to account for their sins, prophets occasionally proclaim the mercy of God (Isa 30:18; 55:7; 60:10; 63:7; Jer 31:20; 33:26; 42:12; Ezek 39:25; Dan 9:9; Hos 2:19; 14:3). Daniel instructs his companions, Hananiah, Mishael, and Azariah, “to seek mercy from the God of heaven” (Dan 2:18) while in Zechariah’s first vision the angel pleads with the Lord for mercy (Zech 1:12). 

Many times in the psalms there are prayers seeking God’s mercy: “be mindful of your mercy, O Lord” (Ps 25:6); “do not, O Lord, withhold your mercy from me” (Ps 40:11); “let your mercy come to me, that I may live” (Ps 119:77); and most famously, in the prayer attributed to David after he had committed adultery and murder, “have mercy on me, O God, according to your steadfast love; according to your abundant mercy blot out my transgressions” (Ps 51:1). In the fifth Song of Ascents, the psalmist pleads, “have mercy upon us, O Lord, have mercy upon us, for we have had more than enough of contempt” (Ps 123:3).

Then, when Luke has Zechariah describe this mercy as a “tender mercy”, it may well be that the words of Hosea are in mind: “how can I give you up, Ephraim? how can I hand you over, O Israel? … my heart recoils within me; my compassion grows warm and tender. I will not execute my fierce anger; I will not again destroy Ephraim” (Hos 11:8–9). It is a touching moment in the prophet’s words; and a nice touch in the song that Luke places in the mouth of Zechariah.

See also 

How God is now at work: the Benedictus of Zechariah (Luke 1; Advent 2C)
The scriptural resonances in the Benedictus (cont.) (Luke 1; Advent 2C)
Magnificat: the God of Mary (Luke 1) is the God of Hannah (1 Sam 2) (Advent 4C)
The scriptural resonances in the Annunciation (Luke 1; Advent 4B)
Unknown's avatarAuthor John T SquiresPosted on December 3, 2024December 4, 2024Categories An Orderly Account: Gospel of Luke, Hebrew Scripture, Scripture and TheologyTags Benedictus, Hebrew Scripture, Luke, scripture, theology, Zechariah

How God is now at work: the Benedictus of Zechariah (Luke 1; Advent 2C)

How God is now at work: the Benedictus of Zechariah (Luke 1; Advent 2C)

The orderly account of the things coming to fulfilment (which we know as the Gospel of Luke) tells us much more about the beginnings of Jesus (his conception, birth, and early days) than the other Gospels. The passage offered by the lectionary as the psalm for this Sunday, the second Sunday in Advent, is one such text.

It’s a well-known and familiar passage, and although it is proposed as “the Psalm” for this Sunday, it is found in the New Testament—in the long first chapter of this Gospel, which leads into the Christmas story.  The passage offered (Luke 1:68–79) comprises the text of a psalm-like song that is often called The Benedictus, after the opening phrase of the song in the Latin translation.

The song occurs after the birth of John, son of Elizabeth and Zechariah (recounted in 1:57–58). This is a surprise pregnancy for Elizabeth, who was described as being “barren”, and with Zechariah is noted as “getting on in years” (a better translation would be “of advanced years”) (1:7). During the announcement of the imminent birth of a child (1:8–20), Zechariah had questioned the declaration of the angel Gabriel, asking “How will I know that this is so? For I am an old man, and my wife is getting on in years” (1:18). For this lack of faith in what Gabriel has said, Zechariah is struck dumb (1:20).

Being muted by the action of the deity was the experience of the prophet Ezekiel, immediately after the vision that he saw which initiated his public prophetic activity. Before he could speak to the people, Ezekiel was given a scroll, which he was told to eat, and then he was informed by the Lord that “I will make your tongue stick to your palate so that you will become dumb and be unable to reprove them, for they are a rebellious people” (Ezek 3:26). Only after this experience can he prophesy to the people of Israel. 

Zechariah’s experience mirrors the experience of Ezekiel. When Zechariah is eventually enabled to speak again, after the birth of his son, he offers the wonderful hymn of praise which forms this Sunday’s psalm— the Benedictus, so called from its appearance in the Latin text of the Roman Mass, Benedictus (in the original Greek text, it is eulogētēs; in English translation, this becomes “blessed”). 

A depiction of Zechariah from the collection
by photographer James C. Lewis

Zechariah, we are told, “was filled with the Holy Spirit” and spoke words described by Luke as “this prophecy” (Luke 1:67). This places Zechariah in the long line of prophets inspired by the Spirit to speak with  boldness to the people. God’s Spirit is active in many of these scenes early in this Gospel; Mary is “overshadowed” by the Spirit (1:35), whilst Zechariah and Elizabeth are both “filled” with the Spirit (1:41, 1:67). Simeon is “righteous and devout” (2:25); the Spirit “rested on him” (2:25), then “revealed to him” the words he then speaks (2:26) before “guiding him … into the temple” (2:27). 

This is the same Spirit that has been active since the moment of creation (Gen 1:2), that was breathed into human beings (Gen 2:7), and that infuses every one of the creatures brought into being in God’s wonderful creation (Ps 104:24–30). It is this Spirit that has endowed individuals with leadership (Exod 31:2–3; Num 11:25–26; Deut 34:9; and a number of judges) and which has inspired prophets to proclaim the word of the Lord (Isa 61:1; Ezek 2:2; Joel 2:28–29). 

The words sung by Zechariah resonate richly with words from scripture. This is part of the technique being employed by the author of this Gospel in these opening two chapters, when, to set the scene firmly within Second Temple Judaism, he tells the story in ways reminiscent of the ancestral narratives of the Hebrew Scriptures, and has the main characters (Zechariah, Mary, and later Simeon) sing in the style of Hebraic psalms. 

Some scholars refer to the Septuagintal style of Luke 1–2, because of the many ways that the Greek of these chapters reflect the Greek of the LXX. Other scholars refer to the Semitisms of Luke, here and in other places in his Gospel. A detailed and complex analysis by Albert Hogeterp and Adelbert Denaux, Semitisms in Luke’s Greek, can be read at https://api.pageplace.de/preview/DT0400.9783161553370_A33723451/preview-9783161553370_A33723451.pdf 

Luke, of course, was writing many decades after the events he reports; he certainly wasn’t present at the time, and it is most unlikely that any of the people he refers to as his sources (Luke 1:2) were witnesses to them. Nevertheless, we could accept Luke’s portrayal of these two people as at least feasible. Zechariah was, with Elizabeth, “righteous before God” (Luke 1:6); as a priest, he served in the temple (Luke 1:8–9), and so would have known well the psalms. The form of the song he sang correlates with various psalms of praise; although in my mind, it was Luke who created this song and placed it on the lips of Zechariah, just as he did with the many speeches he includes in his Gospel and especially in Acts. 

Zechariah would also have heard regular readings from Torah in temple worship, which is evident in the description of both Elizabeth and Zechariah as “living blamelessly according to all the commandments and regulations of the Lord” (1:6). This knowledge, along with his familiarity with the words of the Nevi’im (the prophets), is evident in what he sings in this song. Indeed, there is specific reference in the song to what has happened “as [God] spoke through the mouth of his holy prophets from of old” (v.70). 

What Zechariah is singing about is, in a sense, a rich fulfilment of older prophetic texts (but there are many references to narrative and psalms, as well). In particular, he sings about how God has been at work, and is at work, in events of the time, just as Mary had done so earlier in this chapter in her song known as the Magnificat (Luke 1:46–55). On this, see 

Magnificat: the God of Mary (Luke 1) is the God of Hannah (1 Sam 2) (Advent 4C)

In the next two posts I will consider these scriptural references and allusions; see

The scriptural resonances in the Benedictus (Luke 1; Advent 2C)

and

The scriptural resonances in the Benedictus (cont.) (Luke 1; Advent 2C)
Unknown's avatarAuthor John T SquiresPosted on December 2, 2024December 4, 2024Categories An Orderly Account: Gospel of Luke, Hebrew Scripture, Scripture and TheologyTags Benedictus, Hebrew Scripture, Luke, scripture, theology, Zechariah

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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)
  • When you come together (3) … wait for one another (1 Cor 11)
  • Going “back” to church—what will our future look like? (4)
  • 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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