Rev’d Peter Balabanski

Epiphany + 5 – Isa 58 6-12 – Ps 112 – 1 Cor 2 1-6 – Mt 5 13-20

Last Sunday, we heard the beginning of Jesus’s Sermon on the Mount – the Beatitudes – where Jesus said certain types of people were blessed. Beatitude means a state of contentment; happiness or blessedness. So it was surprising what type of people Jesus named; poor, grieving, meek, hungry people; people longing for something better; persecuted people. They’d hardly count themselves blessed, but Jesus says they are. And he promises the fulfilment of all their needs. These blessed ones are the local people gathered around him; people battling to make a living in a cruel world of military occupation, and in a religious environment where many in positions of leadership had sold out, serving only their own self-interest.

Today, Jesus goes further and says that these normal, local people are God’s salt and light; the ones to transform the earth. They’re the ones Jesus calls to join with him in bringing about the promises of the beatitudes: for the poor in spirit, the kingdom of heaven – for the sad, relief – for the dispossessed, an inheritance – for the starving, full bellies – for the compassionate, mercy – for the faithful, a true meeting with God – for the peacemakers, the peace of belonging – and for the displaced and deported, citizenship forever in the kingdom of heaven.

Ordinary, local people. And he meant it. Just before the Sermon on the Mount, we see Jesus choose his disciples. He picks ordinary, local people who know what it is to struggle for a living. He picks the poor in spirit, people who know the pain and struggle it can be simply to put a meal on the table – people who can’t do anything but put their trust in God.

Jesus calls these people to work with him to change things for the good. They’re the people who really know what’s needed, and who know we need God’s help to get there. Among these ordinary people, Jesus finds the salt of the earth and the light of the world. But more, Jesus becomes one of the poor, the sad, the meek, the hungry, the merciful, the pure in heart, peacemakers; people who’ve known persecution and bullying – people who know we need God. Jesus became one of us!

All this is wonderfully positive. But there’s also an edge to what Jesus says. Salt that loses its flavour is out. A lamp under a bushel basket is absurd. And anyone who thinks the Law and the Prophets go out the window is kidding themselves.

I think he’s talking to a different lot of people in the crowd with these words; not the ordinary locals, but the religious and political leaders who are always lurking in the wings wherever Jesus is teaching or helping people.

Jesus’s immediate audience was Israel, and Israel’s immediate context was its military occupation by Rome. Whenever Jesus taught about the law and the prophets, he did so in the context of a heated debate about the political and religious course Israel should be steering, given the context of Roman occupation. Edwin van Driel describes three main positions that people took. ^{(FotW Yr A Vol 1 p. 337)}

1^st The priestly caste based in the Temple – the Sadducees– followed a pragmatic course of action: collaboration to ensure survival. 2^nd At the other end of the spectrum were zealots who wanted to take up arms and fight the Romans. Many Pharisees belonged to this faction. 3^rd But some Pharisees chose what van Driel calls ‘the Ghetto option’; deep private study and practice of Jewish Law. They kept the 613 precepts and studied righteous Jewish living and doctrine. They did this to preserve Jewish cultural and religious identity while Israel waited for God to send his anointed and clear the invaders out. And that practice would later turn out to be an invaluable service that the Pharisees gave their people after the Temple was destroyed and Jewish identity faced utter oblivion.

But for Jesus, living a faithful life in hiding was anathema. He saw things like we just saw Isaiah see them. If you go through all the motions, but stop at the point where it might make a difference for the oppressed, the hungry, the homeless and the naked poor, you’re just serving your own interests; you’re part of the problem. To a people divided and confused by such anxious questions and varied answers, Jesus preached his sermon. It was a sermon to ‘challenge to Israel to be Israel.’ ^{N. T. Wright, Jesus and the Victory of God (London: SPCK, 1996), 288.} And that’s what it means what he called people to a practical righteousness that exceeded that of the Pharisees. The Law had to make a difference for those in need. If it didn’t, practising religion was just salt that had lost its flavour; light hidden under a bushel – a pointless caricature of itself.

So what does that mean for us? We’re carrying on as a parish where a constant concern is whether we’ll survive or not too. And that makes us cautious about our financial resources. It makes us cautious in our public statements about justice for oppressed and needy people. So today I hear Jesus taking us to task in his words to us and anyone else who goes for the Ghetto option. Scripture tells us a tenth of all we make each year should go to the poor and needy; the oppressed, the homeless, the hungry and naked. As Isaiah says, they are our kin, and we shouldn’t hide from them. We’re drafting a budget for the coming year. Today Isaiah and Jesus charge this parish to name charities and causes we will support, and at our Vestry meeting on March 22, decide the ones we’ll give a tenth of our projected income in the coming year. Before anything else; salt and light are our witness. Amen

Rev’d Peter Balabanski

Epiphany + 4A – Micah 6 1-8, Mt 5 1-12

Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount has always been the comfortable Church’s greatest challenge. I remember a Bible study group where the leader asked what we’d think if he stood up at sermon time and simply read out the Sermon on the Mount – three chapters of Matthew’s gospel. One person said they’d be disappointed. Was it disappointment that the preacher wouldn’t prepare a sermon himself, or because the Sermon on the Mount is so very challenging. I’ll never know. But all of us squirm hearing Jesus’ words about the Law, about anger, retaliation, judging others and all his other teachings, because we know there’s no other valid response but obedience.

Today’s Gospel gives us the beginning of the Sermon on the Mount; the Beatitudes in Matthew’s version. The hardest of Matthew’s beatitudes for people like us to interpret is the first one; Blessed are the poor in spirit. Who are they? I imagine they were the people Jesus went out to – the ordinary people he gave this teaching to. Many of them would have been on the lower end of the social scale among a people who’d been colonised; the bottom rung on the ladder of a subject people.

They’d have been materially poor, that’s for sure. They’d have lived a hand-to-mouth existence. And their poverty would also have been expressed in poor health, haphazard nutrition, a low life expectancy, and a shocking infant mortality rate. Their social influence as farm workers or boat hands on the lake would’ve been negligible. There’d have been little they might even imagine they could do to make life better for themselves or their loved ones. Their horizons would have been very limited. Their spirits would have been effectively imprisoned by their poverty.

Blessed are the poor in spirit. We comfortable Christians are mostly screened from this de-humanising type of poverty; it’s invisible to us. But like the humble folk who gathered around Jesus in Galilee, most people in today’s world would be able to receive these words as a blessing offered directly to them. And not just a blessing, but a promise to hold on to as well; yours is the kingdom of heaven.

Exploited workers and unemployed in every country can hear this promise as their own. So can suffering Ukrainians, Sudanese, Burmese, Palestinians, Indigenous peoples and 120 million forcibly displaced persons. Jesus speaks directly to each of them, and many respond in trust. He speaks to people with little influence – like children. I hear an echo of his revolutionary promise when Jesus rebukes his disciples for stopping little children from approaching him. ‘Let the little children come to me, and don’t stop them; for it is to such as these that the kingdom of heaven belongs.’ ^{Matt 19.14} I’ll bet those children’s parents told them about that one!

These are the people I imagine Jesus meant when he declared the poor in Spirit as blessed. Occasionally, we number among them in times of grief and helplessness. It may sound strange, but I think those times when our power is gone are moments of opportunity. We must seize on those moments when we might actually sense our utter dependence on God’s grace; seize on them and hold onto them. Because we have to be in a space where we know the poverty of our own spirits if we are to enter the Sermon on the Mount with hearts open to Jesus’ power to disciple us.

In his ten beatitudes, Jesus names the qualities of those who are blessed. Those qualities are diametrically opposed to the ones sold to us as signs of blessing by our dominant culture. It’s always been the case. We heard Paul tell the status-driven Christians of Corinth that they had to understand the dramatic difference between the values of God’s Kingdom and the shallow obsessions of their new rich society. They had to hold firm; to realise that those who are counted as blessed among the people of the Cross will be rubbished as fools in a world which, like ours, values wealth, power and control above everything else.

In our society, it’s very tempting to go with the flow. It’s very hard to hold on to the treasure that it is to be poor in spirit, to mourn, to be meek, to long for righteousness, to be merciful, to be pure in heart, to be peacemakers, and to accept as a reward for all that, ridicule, persecution and false accusation. Staying in those places of weakness – of foolishness – is to be where we can engage in the deepest compassion with people for whom there is no choice; the poor in spirit. The nine beatitudes which follow this first, defining one, speak to the same people. People in mourning. Decent, kind people who have no say, who just seek peace and a fair go.

The message for us in our comfortable world is pretty much the same as we heard last week. Our children must be able to learn from our example that everyone is loved and valued for who they are, and not for what they might accomplish.

They must live in a world where we nurture justice, mercy and faithfulness as our deepest values, regardless of the consequences to our material or social power. The Sermon on the Mount challenges every impulse that tempts us to worship status and wealth. The Beatitudes challenge us not to keep smiling when we’re aching inside. They challenge us not to defend our turf; but instead to stand up for kindness and justice even though it’s much easier to turn our eyes away; to choose to be trusting and kind, even if that makes us look gullible; to work for peace even at the risk of our own safety. When we need to remember this, remember the prophet Micah, who put it all absolutely plainly; do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with your God?  Amen

Rev’d Peter Balabanski

Epiphany + 3 – Vigil of 26 Jan: –Matt 4 12-25

I’m sure that like me, you’ll be shocked and saddened by the divisive behaviours of some political leaders both here and around the world. Add that to the activities of influencers online and partisan media outlets and you wonder what can be done to stop the apparent slide into chaos that threatens world and national order. As I’ve been praying about this, I’ve been asking God to show me if and how the Church might offer a healing unity that makes a real change; that’s the unity our leaders are all saying we need. As we’ve been approaching tomorrow’s national day, I’ve been praying for the church to reel in the chaos and instead offer healing and unity; peace.

So I was excited when talking with David Hilliard on Friday to hear him describe how the Methodist Sunday Schools in South Australia helped shape their local communities. I’d had no idea of the amazing size and influence of SA’s Methodist Sunday Schools up until the mid-1960s. In 1964, they shaped the values of 44,000 children (compared with the Anglicans’ 14,000). What inspired me particularly was David’s description of the Methodist Sunday Schools’ very strong emphasis on teaching all these children to be kind to other people and to do something to help the less fortunate. These children learned that Christianity should be expressed in action. I suspect this has had a profound influence on the character of the SA community.

I confess to coming from another state. And when we moved to SA, I noticed something very different about the sense of community here. Even parliamentarians were polite to each other! That was a startling contrast to where I came from. In the light of what David has told me, I have to wonder if this SA community character that struck me so profoundly might have been shaped by all those thousands of children who’d been formed for kindness and compassion by their Sunday Schools; together living out the values they’d been given in their childhood years. Can a church community that forms its children to embody kindness and compassion in action shape the character of a whole state? It seems plausible to me.

So what guidance does our church give us as we approach a national day? Our prayer book urges us this weekend to seek reconciliation with first people. The invitation to confession reminds us that the oneness of the peoples of this land has been broken by acts of oppression and the failure of compassion. The prayer of the day asks the Spirit to bring forgiveness, reconciliation and an end to all injustice. It names where the rubber hits the road for all people of faith. The world should be able to trust people of faith to model God’s justice and mercy; God’s peace.

The atrocity at Bondi Beach last month was one of many recent, terrible betrayals of that trust which have shamed faith communities of all stripes around the world. Twisted teachings of hatred and prejudice can so blind believers to God’s love and compassion for all people that they commit grotesque violence, and claim it to be God’s will.

One overwhelming response to such perversions of faith has been a cry to seek unity. The pundits tell us that a goal of terrorism is to divide us and so weaken us. But you have to wonder if terrorism is really a symptom of divisions and weaknesses that are already there. The call to seek unity is more a call to repair what we have let things sink to; not a call to reassert a unity that’s been violated by a single act. We weren’t united before Bondi. Bondi was a result of divided faith communities. If we people of faith want to help foster unity, we must first turn from our own divisions.

Right now, there’s little commitment to unity. A committed few urge us to stay in touch with our fellow people of faith. I struggle with the lack of interest there is in ecumenism and inter-faith movements. Churches Together SA (formerly SACC) was closed down last year by the heads of churches; a tragedy. All faiths should be fostering connection and unity. It’s an issue for every faith community and every Christian denomination. Churches won’t share full communion with each other. And within each denomination, we’re split up into literalist, liberal, evangelical, liturgical or pentecostal. How might our disunity hurt the wider community?

Last month, we saw this disunity erupt in the most brutal way; violence that had elements of religion, revenge and ethnic hatred behind it. It happened because a growing culture of scorning, ignoring, othering, despising and cancelling people we disagree with is smothering the old tolerance and unity, kindness and compassion, we all should have learned as children.

It’s not the place here to go into a detailed programme of how we rebuild the mission of our church to form children who will bring the healing of compassion and kindness to rebuild a nation’s life. But we’re working on that here this year. What I want you to remember from today is Jesus’s response to John’s arrest and the threat it represented. He withdrew from the location of that threat; no use tackling it head on now. He then proclaimed his message: Repent – turn from bad ways of living – because God’s realm is knocking at your door. Then he gathered people to do his mission with him, and together, they did the mitzvah thing the Jewish community has been asking us to do; they did something kind to help the less fortunate. Amen

Rev’d Peter Balabanski

Epiphany + 2 – Isa 49 1-7, Ps 40 6-13, 1 Cor 1 1-9, Jn 1 29-42

The Season of Epiphany is about Jesus being revealed to the world. So our readings prioritise mission and witness; like God’s words of inspiration to Isaiah today: I’ll give you as a light to the nations so my salvation may reach to the end of the earth. Those words remind me that Jesus commanded us to be like Isaiah when he said: Go and make disciples of all nations. ^{Mt 28.19} The mission is ours now. And the light we Christians are called to spread is the Good News of Jesus; the Gospel.

In last week’s Gospel, we heard Matthew’s account of the Baptism of Jesus. Today it may feel like we’re hearing the same story again; this time, from John’s Gospel. There are shared elements in Matthew’s and John’s accounts. There’s the Baptist’s insistence on Jesus being more important than him. And there’s the Spirit descending on Jesus like a dove. But beyond that, our patron saint, John the Evangelist presents us with some enigmatic details that weren’t there in Matthew’s account – and they don’t appear anywhere else in the Gospels either.

They start when Jesus comes down to the Jordan River where John is baptising, and the Baptist tells the gathered people, Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world. I imagine the Baptist saying these words might pass almost unnoticed for us, and many other Christians. We come from a tradition where we sing or say those words every time we gather for Holy Communion – Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world. But I think we’re meant to sit up and take notice, because Lamb of God is there twice in today Gospel. It appears nowhere else in the Bible. It’s a witness to the world about who Jesus is: it’s an Epiphany.

So our two Johns – John the Baptist and John the Evangelist – what do they mean to say to the world when they name Jesus the Lamb of God? What would all those people down at the river with the Baptist have thought he meant when he said it?

They’d have had the Hebrew Scriptures to guide them. Lambs that you read about in the Hebrew Scriptures are mostly sacrificed as sin offerings; sort of fines people paid for failing to live as faithful people of God.

But there are a few mentions of lambs in the Hebrew Scriptures that spring to mind for me particularly. One is the lamb that should’ve been offered when Abraham and Isaac went out on the journey that almost saw Abraham offer his only son Isaac as a sacrifice. ^{Gen 22} For Christians reading that, the idea of the sacrifice of an only son has a strong associations with the crucifixion of Jesus.

We read about another lamb in Isaiah’s last servant song; the lamb that was to be sacrificed because the Lord laid on him the guilt of us all. ^{Isa 53.6-7} Again, for Christians, that has very strong associations with the crucifixion of Jesus. Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world. The Baptist may well be foretelling that Jesus will be our crucified Saviour.

But the lamb in the Hebrew Scriptures that strikes me as being most immediately evoked by the Baptist’s words is the Passover lamb of Exodus 12. When God’s people were about to be freed from slavery in Egypt, they had to paint their doorposts and lintels with the blood of a sacrificed lamb. That lamb’s blood was a sign on their houses that would protect them when the Lord struck the land of Egypt. The Lord would ravage the land of Egypt that night, but seeing the lamb’s blood on their doorway, pass over their house leaving them unscathed.

When we sing the Lamb of God just before we take communion, it’s a reminder that the blood of Jesus – the Lamb of God – shelters us from the consequences of our alienation from God. Because of the blood of Christ, we are spared the spiritual consequences of actions and failures we’ve remembered and confessed at the beginning of our gatherings.

But it’s not just a private matter – a comfortable arrangement between a select few people and God. The Baptist opens our eyes to a whole new level when he says Jesus is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world. Jesus hasn’t just come to shed his blood for God’s historical chosen people, or faithful church-goers. He’s come for everyone – and indeed for everything living. I guess that’s why this reading is set for us in this season of Epiphany. It must be an Epiphany for us too

Thus enlightened, what are we meant to do about it? … It’s all there in today’s Gospel. The Baptist points to Jesus and says who he really is. Andrew and his brother respond; they follow Jesus. He turns and asks them: What are you looking for? They ask him: Where are you stopping? And he says simply: Come; you’ll see.

Such a simple invitation. We practised doing it two weeks ago at the feast of the Epiphany when we chalked our doors. That’s why the first Passover story is my pick of the lamb references. The Hebrews daubed their doorways with blood. We marked our doors with chalk to say: What are you looking for? … Come; you’ll see.

Today, Jesus showed us how to do it. Ask people; What are you looking for? If it seems like what they’re looking for is to belong to Jesus here, or anywhere else you may be stopping, just invite them: Come and see. It’s that simple.  Amen

The Rev’d Dr. Susan F. Straub

 Introduction

The twelve days of the great Festival of the Nativity came to an end with the Feast of the Epiphany. The three kings arrived with gold, frankincense and myrrh, portents of a time yet to come in the life of the child, Jesus. They had rightly identified the child as the king springing forth from the people of Judaea: king of the Jews, chosen servant of Adonai, the Lord, Jewish king in truth unlike Rome’s appointed rulers, sons of Herod the Great.

 Isaiah 42:1-9

In our first reading from Deutero-Isaiah, we heard words written to console, comfort, and give hope. The people of Israel were in exile in Babylon but Cyrus of Persia was on the horizon. Cyrus would defeat their Babylonian captors, help the people return to Israel and re-build the Temple. Verses 1-7 comprise the first of four ‘Songs of the Servant of Yahweh’. ‘The Servant’ was one chosen to be God’s gift of salvation to the people in their hour of need. The Servant’s person and deeds proclaimed purity of motive, faith in God alone, and showed God’s justice as impartial and life-giving. In ‘The Servant’, God established a new covenant with his people.

Mary and Joseph had named their baby son ‘Jeshua’: ‘God saves’.

Matthew 3:13-27

Today, we heard from the gospel of St. Matthew that Jesus was among many who came to his kinsman, John, for baptism in the River Jordan. Among the crowd were Pharisees and Sadducees. Pharisees were often leaders and teachers in the synagogues. Sadducees held positions of even greater authority and were responsible for worship in the Temple.

However, Matthew introduced the baptism of Jesus this way (Matthew 3:7-12, NRSV):

7. But when he (John) saw many Pharisees and Sadducees coming for baptism, he said to them, “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come? Bear fruit worthy of repentance.

8. Do not presume to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our ancestor’; for I tell you God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham.

10. Even now the axe is lying at the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.

11. I baptise you with water for repentance, but one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to carry his sandals. He will baptise you with the Holy Spirit and fire.

12. His winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing floor and will gather his wheat into the granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.

Now, Matthew’s gospel upholds the importance of Judaic Law more than any other gospel. In this passage, John the Baptist berated the Pharisees and Sadducees who also upheld the importance of the Law. Devotion to the Law was evidence that a person was righteous. The crucial difference between Matthew and the Pharisees and Sadducees was that Matthew had experienced Jesus’ ministry. The repentant tax-collector understood that the Law was necessary but not sufficient for salvation.

In the gospel, it’s clear that John regarded many of the Pharisees and Sadducees as seeking baptism to show how very righteous, and deserving of heaven, they were: the self-promoters we can recognise in every age and amongst us today. As Julie Szego wrote (Weekend Australian 10/01/2026):

‘Enough with flattering the world view of pampered radicals spewing hate while believing themselves the embodiment of virtue, even as bodies pile up on the beach.’

However, for the quiet righteousness of his kinsman, Jesus of Nazareth, John had the greatest respect, first demurring, then consenting to baptise him. On 14^th December 2025, we saw quiet righteousness – decency – become heroic in Ahmed al-Ahmed, Boris and Sofia Gurman, and others on Bondi Beach.

For Jesus, baptism was a way of emptying himself of ego. He had kept the Law. He was righteous in the world of men and women, a leader, but to fulfil all righteousness required something counterintuitive. It meant becoming a follower: in all humility following Abraham, and the long line of his ancestors, including Mary and Joseph. Like them, to fulfil all righteousness, he had to surrender his life totally to God, the One who had given him his life. It meant keeping the Law but not relying on it for righteousness, not serving the Law blind to the needs of the people who shared his daily life. In sum, it meant living his life in faith, doing whatever God put before him, however difficult that might be for him. Think of those people we have remembered today. In the waters of the Jordan, Jesus let go of all that had made him who he was. He rose from the waters ready be The Servant, the Son of God the Father, and to be anointed by the Father’s spirit, the Holy Spirit. Jesus would begin a new life with new powers. What an image for our time.

Acts 10:34-43

Through, the Roman centurion, St. Peter learned that the gospel of Jesus Christ was for all people. He was not to allow even the prohibitions of the Law to stand in the way, but to have faith in God who had given him a vision and understanding of impartial justice, such that ‘… in every nation anyone who fears him and does what is right is acceptable to him.’.

Conclusion

Stephen Westfall wrote of his experience of spiritual re-birth (‘Within and Without’, In Moody, R. and Steinke, D. (eds.) (1997) ‘Joyful Noise’.), and I warn you of an impolite word in one place.

‘My own spiritual rebirth was initiated several years ago, when I had come to a place where my own resources could not carry me an inch farther. I was heartbroken, pissed off, a physical wreck, preoccupied with loss, and finally frightened enough to ask for help. I can’t be sure whether fear was the sole motivator of my sudden willingness or if there was a simultaneous surge of creativity from within that took surrender as its gesture.  I do know that I nearly instantaneously felt a flood of peace.  Part of what I had held to tightly as my identity died in that moment and in its wake left a spaciousness for contemplation, and action unobstructed by the fears and rationalisations that had been there moments before.’

Whether at our baptism or when we pray, in that gesture of surrender, the spaciousness of heaven opens before us and we are brought home, into the loving presence of God. As we celebrate the baptism of Jesus, let’s remember that the life of faith, life in the Spirit, has its beginning when we each become a child of God. As God looks at you, like a father or mother at son or daughter, realise that God is committed to you in a relationship of love that has no end. This is the light of the new covenant Jesus brought into the world:

‘I am the LORD, I have called you in righteousness, I have taken you by the hand and kept you; I have given you as a covenant to the people, a light to the nations, to open the eyes that are blind, to bring out the prisoners from the dungeon, from the prison those who sit in darkness.  I am the LORD, that is my name; my glory I give to no other, nor my praise to idols.’ Isaiah 42:6-8

Rev’d Peter Balabanski

Epiphany – Isa 60 1-6,  Ps 72 1-7 10-14,  Eph 3 1-12,  Mt 2 1-12

For centuries, the ancient Jewish people longed for the appearance of God’s anointed one; God’s Messiah. Today’s Psalm is full of that longing; for a king whose rule would be an era of justice, peace, shared prosperity, of safety and care for the needy; an era when the whole world would know God’s love. At Christmas, we celebrated the fulfilment of that longing; the king had come. But then what?

Today, Epiphany, we mark another step in the fulfilment of that longing. The word Epiphany means to make known or to reveal. For us in the Church, Epiphany is the moment when ancient Israel’s God was first revealed to the Gentiles – to the non-Jewish nations – to us. In today’s gospel, we witness that event. The nations of the world, represented in the gospel by the three foreign Magi, meet the God of Israel in the child Jesus.

Our church tradition says the Feast of the Epiphany is about a visit. Today’s Gospel recounts the coming of the Magi to Bethlehem where they meet Jesus. For the Church, Christ being revealed to the Magi says God’s original promise to Abraham and Sarah is beginning to be fulfilled – God’s promise that through their offspring, all families of the earth will be blessed. ^{Gen 12.1-3}

The Magi came to pay homage to the child who, they said, was born a king; not crowned like royals usually are. The Magi were strangers; they weren’t of the child’s faith; they weren’t of his race. But they sensed something so extraordinary about Jesus that they journeyed a very long way to see him. Our tradition says they were the first people to meet Jesus who weren’t Israelites. So for us Gentiles who have also come to Jesus, the Magi are our earliest forerunners; the first of us non-Jews to acknowledge him as Lord. And like them, we’ve been received as his guests, strangers though we were.

If Epiphany signifies the revelation of the God of Israel to the nations – to us –what sort of God has been revealed? What do we learn about God? And is what we find out something new – something people didn’t know about God before? Let’s see.

The first thing it means is that God is trustworthy and keeps promises. God’s ancient promise to Abraham in you, all families of the earth will be blessed ^{Gen 12.3} began to happen in this meeting of the infant Jesus and the Magi.

The second thing is that God is not what people say. God is not an almighty, remote-controller of everything – who gets blamed for everything that goes wrong. That god is a paper tiger, and not at all the God we believe in. This baby is what God is really like: trusting, vulnerable, approachable; gently offering friendship; willing to pass the time of day with us.

The third thing is that God’s not fussy about who God should keep company with. Everyone’s in. Without any diplomatic pre-meeting negotiations, the title chosen people is summarily expanded from one nation to all nations. Jesus’s place in Bethlehem had no bouncers. The people welcomed in to meet Jesus were not asked any questions about their religious or interpersonal or political preferences.

The fourth thing is that God is with us in our troubles. Because of the Magi’s visit, the new king is, as VIPs do, about to embark on his first international trip. But it’s no state-sponsored junket he sets out on. Jesus will flee as a refugee.

So today, what sort of God is revealed to you? Is this an Epiphany for you too? Is this the God you thought you came to worship today? If not, if this is a different God from the one you expected, what do you do with this surprising discovery? Is this a God you’d recommend to friends? A God they might consider? Sometimes among the guiding of the star, the wisdom of the Mages, the palace intrigues in Jerusalem and the cost and meaning of the gifts, we need reminding that our tradition simply says the Feast of the Epiphany is about a visit; about the honour guests do a host by coming to visit, and the honour of hospitality hosts offer guests.

The chalk inscription on the lintel of our church’s street door is a reminder to us that our church doorway is there to be open; and most particularly, it’s to be open to all comers. It’s a reminder that the church door is not so much our entry to our church, as it is an entrance beckoning all travellers – different people from us – telling these people, come into our midst and receive the welcome Christ would offer you.

The chalk marks are a sign of welcome to the traveller. They’re also a sign to us. They’re a call to us to make sure the light of Christ burns brightly here, and shines out from this community to guide travellers to sanctuary amongst us. What we do by honouring guests here transforms and heals. But of course, the important flip side is that it also transforms us who are honoured to offer this hospitality.

Let’s pray. Christ Jesus,…though you existed in the form of God, you did not regard equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied yourself, taking the form of a bond-servant, and being made in our likeness … humbled yourself by becoming obedient to the point of death…^{Phil 2.6-8} Thank you.  Amen

Rev’d Dr Elizabeth McWhae

Ist Sunday after Christmas: Holy Innocents – Isaiah 63 7-9, Psalm 148, Hebrews 2 10-18, Matthew 2 13-23

Introduction:

Well, did you survive Christmas day? To be honest I find this time of year tricky. There are lovely times of peace and quiet. There is a sort of kindness in the air. There are festivities. There are endless shopping opportunities. There is catching up with friends and relatives. There are beautiful church services. There are breaks from work. But there is also carpark rage. There is heartache for the breakdown of family relationships. There is sometimes too much alcohol. There are the overlooked and forgotten ones, left on their own. And there are sick and dying ones in hospitals who will not see another Christmas. And to add to this list, there are now Jewish families mourning the loss and injury of innocent loved ones. And there are 2 men, one alive and one dead, who caused mayhem at

Bondi. What does our faith have to do with any of this?

Point 1:

I believe there is a great need to put Jesus back into Christmas. The baby has mostly been thrown out with the bathwater. Instead of the birth of the Christ child at Christmas, we have been left with mas. Mass shopping events. Mass drinking. Mass eating. And a massive oversight of the fact that Jesus is the reason for the season. And now that Jesus has mostly gone from Christmas, we the struggling faithful, are left with the task of showing our secular culture, that Jesus does matter. So how do we tell those around us that this baby born from an unwed, but betrothed teenage mother, whose birth happened in a stable and whose life was cut short by crucifixion in his early 30s over 2000 years ago, was and is the most important and life changing and life affirming event for everyone in the world. Because this Christ event, starting with the birth of a baby boy in a manger, in a stable, although appearing like any other birth, was not like any other birth in history.

Point 2:

According to Matthew’s gospel, there was someone who understood the importance of this birth in particular. It was Herod. After the wise men had left the house, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, “Get up, take the child and his mother, and flee to Egypt, and remain there until I tell you, for Herod is about to search for the child, to destroy him. Because Herod’s plans were thwarted, in his rage he issued a decree that all male children from birth to 2 years in and around Bethlehem, should be killed.

These are the youngest martyrs referred to as the holy innocents, hence Holy Innocents Day. Why was Herod so fearful of the Christ child? I’m sure there were many reasons, but the main one was that he was fearful of losing his grip on power, like any despotic leader. The thought of a new king terrified him.

Point 3:

In contrast to Herod”s vengeful and horrific crimes there stands another man, a much finer man, called Joseph. A brand new unmarried father who is spiritually aware and listens to God and the angel of God. He takes Mary and Jesus and they flee by night as a refugee family to Egypt. Joseph takes them all to safety. They stay in Egypt until it is safe to return to Israel, which is once Herod has died. I really wish we knew more about Joseph. From the day he got together with Mary he was in for a very unpredictable and precarious journey, which he did not shy away from.

The contrast between these 2 men could not be greater. Matthew wants us to see that this Jesus is precious and his life needed to be protected. This Jesus had a mission to fulfill and Joseph wanted to make sure he could fulfill it. At this early stage in Jesus’ life, I’m sure Joseph would not have been aware of how things would end up. But he was a father that wanted the best for his child.

Conclusion:

These verses from Matthew’s gospel relating to the holy innocents are a shocking and uncomfortable tale of what human beings are capable of. We have learned this firsthand here in Australia very recently at Bondi. But this is not the whole story. Those left behind to mourn the holy innocents and those killed at Bondi, may be forgotten by the media now that the event is old news, but they are not forgotten by their family and friends, by us and by God. They are all offered new life and hope because Jesus himself was tested by what he suffered, he is able to help those who are being tested. Whether we are Christian or Jewish or  Islamic or agnostic, Jesus shares our life and death in order to bring us new life and new hope. This is what the message of the good news is all about. That this baby, born so long ago, both God and man, Immanuel, God with us, is always with us and available to us. This is the true meaning of Christmas that this season offers to all the world. This is the one gift or present we need to give to our world. And we need to ask people to unwrap it. 

Herod hoped that he could eradicate this child called Jesus. When he could not, he eradicated others. Herod is no longer with us. But this Christ child lives on and on and his story is what can transform our broken and needy world.

No one has been able to eradicate this one who is God with us, Immanuel.

Rev’d Peter Balabanski

Christmas Morning 2025 – Isa 62 6-12, Ps 97, Titus 3 4-8, Lk 2 8-20

Once upon a time, the Maker of the universe came among us as the first-born child of an unmarried teenager, and God took no special precautions for a safe arrival.

Why? Well, it seems that God just wanted to be with us on our own terms; you can’t really be with people if you set yourself apart. That would have made Jesus something like a tourist in an air-conditioned bus who doesn’t bother getting out; just waves at us through tinted windows as the bus roars off to the next attraction. But God didn’t want to just look at us; God wanted to be with us – Emmanuel. So, once upon a time, the God of the universe became one of us – a newborn child.

If a great ruler needed shelter and hospitality from us and asked for it, didn’t order us to give it – that’d feel strange, wouldn’t it; that ruler and us – on equal terms. But that’s what God has done for us; the Maker of the universe came among us as a newborn child, needing shelter, needing food, and not too much later, even needing to flee persecution as a refugee. By coming as a baby, God changed us somehow; called us to care for God – to learn how to be more like God – givers of love and care. God’s need; God’s vulnerability; God’s helplessness – they call something from us which can heal the world’s ills far more wonderfully than power can.

Power is one of those perennial concerns we plague ourselves with. With all the problems in the world Jesus was born into, we wonder why didn’t he come as a super-hero and stop all wars, end social injustice and wipe away the evils of hatred, dishonesty, greed, poverty and illness? Wouldn’t that have been better?

I don’t think it would. It’s hard to argue why, but essentially, it’s best demonstrated in the story of the life of Jesus. Once upon a time, the Maker of the universe became one of us – a newborn child. God is born, grows up, and lives an ordinary life like ours; works, eats and sleeps. God takes the time needed to win our trust. God starts doing this in the baby we honour today; Jesus.

You can trust a baby. We can deal with someone who’s just like we are; we know where they’ve come from. We don’t feel threatened; we don’t think they’ll ask for more than they need, or think too little of us if we fall short. This is what God did for us; God took the time and embodied the shape needed to earn our trust. And because of that, when Jesus grew up and started telling us about the Kingdom of Heaven, we could get what he meant because Jesus spoke in a language that emerged from human experience. Think of his parables; Jesus spoke our language.

When Jesus healed and forgave people, he scandalised those in power – and also many of us who prefer to see ‘real justice’ done. (We probably mean revenge). But slowly, gently, Jesus taught us God’s way of healing, accepting, life-giving justice, peace and mercy. And we accept it from him because we know him; we can trust him. We can see the depth of his commitment to us. So in this baby, we are invited to see who God is. Jesus comes gently to open up channels of empathy with us that don’t threaten us. In Jesus, God models love and commitment and understanding and acceptance and everything else we need to become more fully human ourselves – everything we need to live lives of emotional and spiritual wholeness.

Jesus the Christ Child has done this; called on us to look out the real resources of our humanity; to be there for each other just like we’d do for anyone we’d known as a baby – ready with our compassion, our care, and our wish to nurture.

God offers to form us anew through Jesus; the baby of Bethlehem. In Jesus, God is one of us so trust and understanding can be complete. We’ll let him touch us; we’ll listen when he tells us there’s a world beyond our own perspectives; beyond our pride and fear and guilt and loneliness. It’s called the Kingdom of Heaven.

So when once upon a time, the Maker of the universe came among us as a child, needing shelter, needing food, and soon, even needing to flee persecution as a refugee, God offered a new us. God our shepherd somehow lifted us from dwelling on our battles and our fears and weaknesses, and called us to be shepherds too. At Christmas, God calls up our capacity for transforming love from deep within us all.

When we meet this Child, God begins a slow, intricate process of calling from our most profound selves the greatest gifts and the truest strengths our humanity can give birth to. God calls up our true selves, made like this child we worship, in the image and likeness of God. And that’s something no superhero can be.

These are the qualities humanity is crying out for in this present time of war, violence, grief, anger and mistrust. God gave time and gentleness to earn trust. Jesus offered forgiveness and love to any who hurt him. But most important of all, he was – and remains – with us. For us to follow his example takes a lifetime’s formation to learn, and a grace that the world desperately needs. He was born the Prince of Peace. Ours is to choose to follow his example, and bring to the world a choice for kindness and grace in every circumstance. That’s the Spirit of Christmas, who has come to dwell in us. The Maker of the universe, become one of us – a newborn child. God bless all of you and yours this Christmas.  Amen.

Rev’d Peter Balabanski

Christmas Eve 2025 – Isa 9 2-7, Ps 96, Titus 2 11-14, Lk 2 1-14

Christmas is astounding. It celebrates the wildest, most astonishing event. One day, the Maker of the universe was born as a tiny, helpless baby; a real one; vulnerable to all the hazards of a dangerous world. Why so vulnerable? Why did God need to come as a tiny, helpless baby? Scripture says God would send someone to save the people. That’s a big promise, and it raises the ‘big question’: If there is a loving Maker of the universe, why is suffering allowed to happen? That’s the ‘big question’. People have always asked it, ever since we were told that God loves us. If there is a loving Maker of the universe, why is suffering allowed to happen? 

We’ve been witnesses to human suffering on a shocking scale over recent years and days. Violent people are waging terrible war on innocent, vulnerable people. And we’ve seen just days ago that nowhere is immune from people who feel entitled to do violence to others. What sort of a God lets that happen?

We aren’t the first to ask the big question. Everyone who’s endured slavery, war, famine, colonization or exile has asked it. Our Gospel began with an account of an emperor bullying simple people. They asked the big question too why does God let this happen? Their question had always been answered with a promise. God would raise up someone extraordinary who’d sort things out. We just heard Isaiah say this special leader would be born to the Hebrew people; born a descendant of King David. He’d have the authority and the power, finally, to bring lasting peace; peace which he would uphold with justice and righteousness.

Jesus was far greater than the prophets ever expected. But he didn’t come in great power as some invincible warrior. He came in the most scandalously defenceless way imaginable. One day, the Maker of the universe was born as a tiny, helpless baby. Just before he was born, his unmarried parents had to find emergency lodgings 100 km from home. Jesus’s first bed was an animal’s feed trough. The first visitors invited to come and visit him were scruffy strangers, shepherds. Apparently they turned up in the middle of the night; just what every new parent needs! And soon after, this family would be on the road again as refugees.

One day, the Maker of the universe was born as a tiny, helpless baby; vulnerable to all the hazards of a dangerous world. Why in the world must any family endure such humiliation? Why claim that this baby is God’s answer to the ‘big question’. If there is a loving Maker of the universe, why is suffering allowed to happen? This question has a built in assumption. It is that we expect that a loving God should free us from tragedies. Really? How would a loving God do this?

If a loving God stopped wars and turned weapons into farming tools, would that fix relations between nations? No. If a loving God fused the world’s tectonic plates together, stopped all storms and got rid of mosquitoes, would that make Earth a suffering-free zone? No. If a loving God abolished disease, injury, put a force-field round all vulnerable people, made bullies behave, would that stop us suffering? No. It wouldn’t address the human heart. So God did something beyond expectation. God came to be with us; Jesus – Emmanuel – God, one of us, in all that mess.

One day, the Maker of the universe was born a tiny, helpless baby; vulnerable to all the hazards of this dangerous world. Jesus was born among animals and insects in a stable – so non-human life has God with them too. Shepherds were the ancient world’s equivalent of street people. So they have God with them. Early on, Jesus became a refugee who had to depend on the kindness of others just to survive. So asylum-seekers have God with them. Jesus loved and cared for people who were sick in body or mind, or they were hungry or lonely. So they all have God with them. He treated women as equals and protected children. So women and children have God with them. Jesus was arrested, tried and executed by the state. So prisoners and those on death row have God with them. Everyone can be told that Jesus is their Emmanuel – God with them. All of us. God was born, a living, mortal organism on planet Earth. So every creature, the air we breathe and the land we walk on has God with us. Jesus is God. He was then – and always is – God with us.

But what about that question of suffering? It’s not been forgotten. As the height of his ministry, Jesus would take it all to the Cross. He willingly had all wrong and all evil crucified in his own body, and took it to the grave where it belongs. And on the third day after his death, when he rose, alive again from the grave, all that suffering – even death itself – lay defeated at his feet.

We still experience suffering. We’re still not in the last days. But the Good News is that while suffering has an end, we do not. Just as Jesus came to be with us in our suffering, he promises that when we die, he will come and take us to be with him in his risen life. ^{Jn 14} We’re promised that after the last days, God will make a home with us in a renewed heaven and earth, and wipe every tear from our eyes. Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more. ^{Rev 21}

Christmas celebrates the wildest, most astonishing event. One day, the Maker of the universe was born a tiny, helpless baby; vulnerable to all hazards of a dangerous world. He came to share in our life, and to share his life with us, all out of sheer love for us. He came so we might have God with us in every moment, in every place. And we always will. Thanks be to God for such gracious love to us!  Amen

Rev’d Peter Balabanski

Advent 4A – Isa 7 10-16, Mt 1 18-25

The Australian government has declared today to be a National Day of Reflection. This is so the nation may stop together and unite to turn our thoughts to everyone impacted by the Bondi Beach attack, including the families and friends of those who lost their lives and those injured.

We in SA are invited to light a candle at 6:17 pm and together with family, friends and loved ones observe a minute of silence as part of a united, national act of remembrance. This is a moment to pause, reflect and stand together with our Jewish community, to share in their grief, and affirm that hatred and violence will not divide us. We will thus stand united with Jewish Australians and remember those who lost their lives and who were impacted by this event. https://www.pmc.gov.au/news/national-day-reflection-bondi-beach-attack

The words together and united here are very important. Because doing things as a united community, with all the love and respect and consideration and compassion that implies, choosing to be an intentionally united community, confronts and rejects divisive evils like hateful racial or religious profiling. It can also begin to support healing of the wounds that were inflicted to separate people out from the community as a whole.

Being together says that everyone belongs; everyone is cherished; everyone is us. It’s not an aggressive reaction; it’s simply love in action. And that’s what we as the Church of God are particularly called to be. So remember 6.17 pm our time. Set an alarm for 6.00, have a candle ready and be together with the national community. A candle gives a good long time for reflection.

The Song of Mary reminds us that the use of power and violence to divide people into categories of insiders and outsiders, haves and have-nots, slaves and owners – Mary’s song reminds us that these curses have dogged humankind for a very long time. And around the world in recent years, and now most immediately at Bondi, the blight of human cruelty and hatred towards people artificially branded ‘other’ seems to be sinking to ever deeper lows. There is an answer to this in intentional unity. But even then, it can seem like that’s not enough. Many of the world’s people still feel isolated from being heard; from having any say. They feel invisible.

We’ve just been presented with a compelling response to this. Today, in her song of joy, Mary declares that no-one is alone in their struggle to belong; to be heard; to be seen. As a teenager, she’s practically invisible in her 1st century community. Yet she bursts out with a song of such radical challenge to the powers that be, that it’s been banned by authoritarian governments as recently as the 1970’s and 80’s; not to mention by the British Raj in India. They didn’t want people getting ideas about God casting down the mighty from their thrones and lifting up the lowly!

Mary may have been invisible to the decision-makers of her community, but one of the first things we hear in her song is that she knows God has seen her: my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour, who has looked with favour on his lowly servant. God sees me, sings Mary. I belong. I’m visible. I’m heard, and I can’t be silenced. Can you imagine what it was like for the young Jesus to be raised by a mother like this? No wonder he turned out the way he did!

Mary knows God. She experiences God as her great Saviour; God has done great things for her. And that gives her the confidence to compare the way she sees her world being run with the will of God she has heard revealed in the scriptures. A cruel foreign regime divides her people to rule them. And she knows God will have none of it. So she sings confidently of God’s deep kindness for the lowly and the hungry. She knows from Jewish history that God has had a short way with corrupt rulers. So she sings confidently of God doing that again, scattering the proud in their conceit, casting down the mighty from their thrones, and lifting up the lowly. Filling the hungry with good things and sending the rich away empty.

God’s judgment has a distinct pattern for Mary; judging for the poor and needy, but holding the rich and powerful to account. They live as though there is no God, so they’ve made their own bed. They’re to be sent from God’s presence empty; lonely; unseen. The tables are turned. A community of people together will remain.

That’s the vision we hear in her last verse. Mary remembers God’s promise to Abraham; that through him, all families of the Earth will be blessed. In the end, for God, everyone belongs. Unity replaces division; love conquers hatred. What a wonderful conclusion from Mary, that young Jewish teenager, on this day of reflection. And what a Son she’ll be sending to the world at Christmas! Amen