Category: Uncategorized

  • Turning towards life

    Lent 1 (B)
    Christ Church Cathedral
    18 February 2018

    Where_The_Wild_Things_Are_(book)_cover

    [video]

    Turning to life

    On the first Sunday of Lent you might have been expecting to hear the Gospel story of Jesus being tested by the devil during a 40 day sojourn in the wilderness.

    The classic Lent hymn, “forty days and forty nights”, captures that traditional spirit of extended hardship and trials.

    But this is the Year of Mark, so we get just the summary description in 1:12–13:

    And the Spirit immediately drove him out into the wilderness. He was in the wilderness forty days, tempted by Satan; and he was with the wild beasts; and the angels waited on him.

    The more developed version of this tradition is found in Matthew and Luke, but that is not what we have been served by the lectionary for this year as we start Lent.

    Instead, from the Gospel of Mark we are offered a very different but very important memory about the public activity of Jesus.

    This week’s passage offers us three snippets:

    1. Baptism of Jesus by John (vss 9–11)
    2. Jesus being tested in the wilderness: driven out by the Spirit of God to the place ‘where the wild things are’ (vss 12–13)
    3. Jesus beginning his mission (vss 14–15)

    It is that final summary that I want us to focus on today.

    Now after John was arrested, Jesus came to Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God, and saying, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.”

    I believe this brief statement offers us immense spiritual wisdom as individuals and as a faith community on this day when we have our annual general meeting.

    This summary, and especially vs 15, is one of the pivotal texts for my understanding of Jesus, for my understanding of my own faith, and therefore for my understanding of the mission we share as a faith community.

    Correctly, understood, this verse invites us to see everything from a different angle.

     

    Motivation (it’s time … God is among us)

    Mark captures the essence of Jesus’ message in this verse as he begins with the key concept of the reign of God. In the Greek text of Mark’s Gospel this is expressed as the basileia tou theou. In English Bibles since at least 1611, this has been translated as the ‘kingdom of God’ although Jesus’ listeners would probably have understood it as the ‘empire of God’.

    In the Greek-speaking eastern end of the Roman Empire, basileia was the word for empire.

    At the time when King James was commissioning his Authorised Version of the Bible, they had a problem with the ancient meaning of this phrase. Spain had an empire, but England was a kingdom. So Jesus came to speak to Englishmen at least about the kingdom of God, rather than God’s empire.

    God’s reign is what we pray for each time we say the Lord’s Prayer: your kingdom come

    God’s reign means things on earth happening the way God wants them to be, and not the way the Emperor wants them to be.

    Jesus was saying—and acting as if—God’s re-ordering of human affairs was already starting to happen. The kingdom is here. God’s reign is already happening. It starts here. With us. Right now.

    Of course, people who speak and act like that soon find that tyrants taken them out, and that would happen to Jesus within a very short time.

    Remember, he was killed not because he upset the Temple priests but because he unsettled the Romans.

    If we never say or do anything to upset the ways things are around here, I wonder if we have really understood this key element of Jesus’ own self-understanding?

    To recycle an old proverb:

    Jesus came to comfort the disturbed,
    and to disturb the comfortable.

    Can our mission, as individuals and as a church, be any different from that?

     

    Turn to life

    The second part of Mark’s snappy three part summary is that those who heard Jesus were called upon to repent.

    Ah, you say, now that sounds like Lent!

    But think again, and think more deeply.

    The concept at the heart of repentance is turning.

    We mostly have heard about this as people tell us to turn away from sin, turn away from temptation, and to turn away from evil.

    But it may be better to think of this word as an invitation to turn towards God, to turn towards love, to turn towards life.

    These alternatives invite us to think about our central understanding of ourselves, and of life. Do we mostly think about ourselves as sinners who need to turn away from evil, or as beloved children who can choose to embrace life and turn towards God?

    To put in another way, does “repent” make us feel bad about ourselves or good about ourselves? Does this word put us down, or set us free?

    I hope you will hear Jesus speaking about repentance as an invitation to become more truly who we already are, and to turn consciously and intentionally towards life, to embrace love, and to claim our true human dignity as beloved children of God.

    This Lent I am encouraging you to think about spiritual fitness options rather than pleasures that need to be set aside.

    Turning to life, rather than turning away from death.

     

    Believe

    The final part of Jesus’ mission message was for people to believe the good news.

    That is not a demand that we believe the Nicene Creed or embrace the Thirty Nine Articles. It is not even a requirement that we believe in the Bible. None of that has any part in the mission and message of Jesus.

    As we read through the Gospels we do not find Jesus questioning people about their beliefs or berating them for their sins. He never asked people about their synagogue attendance or their offering envelopes. And he does not grill them about their relationship status.

    What we do find Jesus often doing is affirming the deep faith (trust) that a particular person seems to have: ‘because of your trust what you have asked will be granted …’

    This kind of existential trust in the goodness of God and in the reality of God’s reign right here and right now is what changes their lives:

    The blind see
    The lame walk
    The deaf hear
    The sick are healed
    The dead are raised.

     

    When we turn towards life—and when we trust in the goodness of God’s love which is at the very heart of our universe—then a new day dawns. God’s kingdom arrives among us. The old emperor is dethroned.

    May that be your experience this Lent.

    And may that be our experience in the year that lies ahead of us as a Parish.

    Turn to life, embrace love, discover God.

  • Transfiguration … transformation … ministry

    Christ Church Cathedral
    Last Sunday after the Epiphany
    11 February 2018

     

    062 Mt Tabor Church of Transfiguration mural, tb n040200

     

    [video]

    The story of Jesus’ transfiguration is unique because it is so different from all the other memories of Jesus that were preserved by the earliest Christians. It has echoes, of course, with traditions about Moses and Elijah, and both those characters appear in this story alongside Jesus.

    This is one of the rare stories in the Gospels where the focus is on Jesus himself, rather than some action he takes to assist another person or a saying in which he speaks of God’s kingdom.

    It feels rather like a story about Jesus from after Easter, and indeed some scholars have suggested this may be a resurrection story that has been mistakenly retold as if it happened during Jesus’ life.

    The earliest version of the story is found in Mark’s Gospel, and that is the one we read this morning. As Matthew and Luke each repeat this story that they borrowed from Mark, they elaborate some of the small details in different ways. Marks tells the story first.

    When dealing with this remarkable passage, preachers typically adopt one of the following lines:

    Epiphany: The transfiguration is seen as a moment when the eternal divinity of Jesus peeps through his humanity and becomes visible to his closest disciples.

    Vocation: Like the Baptism story, with which this episode shares many features, some preachers see this as a moment when Jesus finds the spiritual resources for his journey to the cross. That journey begins—in terms of Mark’s narrative—towards the end of the previous chapter, so this is a way of engaging with the text that respects the logic of the ancient narrative itself.

    Discipleship: Others focus on the reaction of the three disciples from Jesus’ inner circle, and especially Peter’s response: ‘Lord, it is good that we are here.’

    True Power: When observed on its proper feast day (August 6), many modern preachers are struck by the fact that this date is also the day of the first atomic bomb at Hiroshima. The brilliant cloud of the exploding nuclear device seems to evoke the radiance of Jesus’ clothing, offering a choice between two kinds of power.

    Each of those can be fruitful ways to engage with the living word of God in this ancient story, but I want to take a slightly different tack this morning. I invite you reflect with me on the significance of this text in the final Sunday of the Epiphany season.

     

    A month of epiphanies …

    The Epiphany season varies in length, depending on the date of Easter. So this year it ends a bit sooner than some other years.

    During the Epiphany season we reflect on those moments of revelation (epiphanies) when we catch a deeper glimpse of the way things are, and perhaps even of God’s loving presence in our lives.

    Through this year’s abbreviated Epiphanytide we have been offered several different examples of Epiphany moments from Scripture and our own local context:

    • The Feast of the Epiphany: when the visiting sages from the Orient encountered the manifestation of God’s love for all people and all nations in the person of Jesus. They get a glimpse of the way things are.
    • The Baptism of our Lord: when Jesus hears the divine voice calling him into his identity and his mission: “You are my son, the beloved. With you I am well pleased. A glimpse of the way things are.
    • The child Samuel, hearing God calling in the night: That mysterious sense of personal call, which other more experienced souls around us may fail to discern at first. A glimpse of the way things are.
    • The God who goes fishing: calling us to do the work that Love has planned for us, and gently persisting until we do so. While Jonah may not agree that the process was all that gentle, he—and the disciples by the lake—catch a glimpse of the way things are.
    • The God of this ancient land: the Great Spirit who has always been present in this ancient southern land, and whose presence we learn to discern more clearly as we listen to our indigenous sisters and brothers. A glimpse of the way things are.
    • The God present among us in this Diocese as we commence the discernment process to choose a new Bishop. Another glimpse of the way things are.

    Now—on this final Sunday after Epiphany—we end with the powerful symbolic story of Jesus being transfigured, as his divine glory shows through his humanity and draws his followers deeper into the mystery of God among us.

     

    Transfigured people

    We hear this ancient story on the last Sunday after the Epiphany, which is also the last Sunday before Lent: when we begin our own journey to the Cross.

    Like Jesus in the Gospel of Mark, we are poised to begin the journey to the Cross. Like him we need the spiritual resources to make that journey.

    As we reflect on this powerful story, we are reminded that Jesus is the ultimate epiphany, our unique revelation of God among us in human form. In the person of Jesus we see the most complete human expression of God among us.

    With that insight we conclude our Epiphany journey but also start our Lenten journey.

    Paul was probably unaware of Mark’s story about the transfiguration, but he has had his own encounter with the glorified Jesus when his own life was completely turned around. In the reading from 2 Corinthians 4 this morning Paul uses words that draw on the Moses traditions but also reflect his own experience—and ours—of Jesus as the human face of God:

    “… the god of this world has blinded the minds of the unbelievers, to keep them from seeing the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God. For we do not proclaim ourselves; we proclaim Jesus Christ as Lord and ourselves as your slaves for Jesus’ sake. For it is the God who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” who has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.” (2 Cor 4:4–6 NRSV)

    Glory in clay jars

    Paul develops the metaphor in a surprising direction and takes us to a different place than Mark.

    The epiphany insights that we gather along life’s journey are indeed incredible spiritual treasures, but we contain this treasure in clay jars.

    The clay jars are us.

    Nothing less than the glory of God is hidden inside us, yet we are like cheap, disposable clay jars that hide the amazing truth of God within us, the greatest epiphany of them all.

    That is true of us all, but I want to mention two of those clay jars that happen to be here in the Cathedral this morning.

    The first is Fr Ian.

    His clay seems to be very refined, because it is never too hard to see the glory of God shining through his life, and especially in that smile that dances across his face.

    This is Fr Ian’s final Sunday with us, and I am glad that we were able to arrange things so that he could preside here one last time.

    You have been a precious gift to this community of faith, Ian. There is a great treasure of wisdom and love and hope all wrapped up in the clay jar of your humanity. We have come to treasure both your humanity and your wisdom.

    We thank you for your ministry here, and we wish you and +Sarah every blessing as you leave us shortly to re-establish your home in Canberra.

    The other clay jar I need to mention is me.

    Today I celebrate 39 years since my ordination as a Priest, and as I reflect on those years in Holy Orders I am conscious of the clay jar that is my life. The clay seems to me to be not as fine as the clay in Ian’s jar, but in my better moments the inner spiritual wisdom is the same.

    It is a profound and holy privilege to be set aside for the work of a priest in the community of God’s people. Neither Ian nor I would ever claim to have nailed it, but we are both conscious that we carry within our own lives the secret of the glorified Christ, Emmanuel, the God who comes among us.

    What is true of Ian and I is true of you all.

    We all carry in our own selves the mystery of God, an immense spiritual treasure hidden in clay jars.

    That surely is the great epiphany of these past few weeks, and the ultimate source of our hope as we begin the journey to the Cross next Sunday.

  • Discernment … wisdom … conversion

    Discernment Synod Eucharist
    Diocese of Grafton
    4 February 2018

    [video]

    Here today we begin the process of discerning the person who will serve as the next Bishop of Grafton.

    Here in this service we seek the guidance of God in that process, and we commit ourselves to be the kind of persons God can guide.

     

    Leadership as ministry

    The ministry of leadership within the community of God’s people has often challenged both those called to leadership as well as the members of the Church.

    There is no singular biblical specification for leadership, despite periodic attempts to promote one model or another as ‘the’ biblical template.

    At different times in church history various models of leadership have been developed in response to the missional needs of the churches at those times. Even within the New Testament we find many different models of pastoral leadership, and that diversity is expanded even further if we include the Old Testament.

    A reasonable case can be made that every model has its advantages and disadvantages.

    As Australian Anglicans we embrace episcopal leadership exercised within a Synodical governance framework in which clergy and lay people have substantial authority and shared responsibility for the well-being of the Church. This differs from some other provinces of the Anglican Communion where Bishops may exercise more authority and where the powers of the Synod may be somewhat curtailed.

     

    Discernment Synod

    Beginning here today, this Synod embraces its responsibility for the appointment of a new Bishop, a responsibility that we exercise as we follow a series of careful steps:

    First of all, here in the Eucharist, we seek God’s guidance. I shall return to the significance of that in just a moment.

    Secondly, we shall then spend the bulk of today listening to one another carefully, intentionally, with spiritual ears attuned to hear not only one another but also the God who is within us, among us, and between us.

    Finally today, we shall elect the Bishop Appointment Board. Those chosen to serve on this Board are being entrusted by us to choose and appoint our new Bishop, informed by our discernment process today and guided by God.

    Let’s pause for a moment and consider that.

    What a profound act of faith.

    We not only seek God’s guidance, but we are delegating 12 of our members (along with 6 reserves) to make a decision of immense significance for us as a Diocese, and for many of us as individuals.

    We trust those 12 (18) people to act in good faith.

    Our trust in them is a tangible instance of our trust in God.

    We are indeed stepping onto holy ground as we undertake this task today.

    Let me now return to stage one of that process: what we are doing here in this Eucharist in the Cathedral this morning.

     

    Ongoing conversion

    As I mentioned earlier, here in this service we are seeking God’s guidance not only on our discernment Synod today, but also on the whole process of choosing our new Bishop.

    In our case and at this time, we need to discern not only the qualities needed in our new Bishop, but also the qualities needed in us as we form the Synod of this Diocese and work in partnership with our Bishop.

    Our prayers are not for others to be touched by God, but for all of us and each of us to be touched by God.

    Let me put this in stark terms.

    Unless we are reformed and renewed we can sabotage the ministry of our new Bishop

    For sure we need wisdom to find the right person

    But getting the right person is not a silver bullet to resolve the real challenges we face.

    We also need to be the right people, the people God wants us to be.

    We need a deep and continuous conversion of the Diocese, and that means us (not the Registry office).

    It is for that blessing that we pray this morning.

    As I try to unpack what that blessings might look like, let me recycle some words of St Paul, and suggest that we are seeking the gifts of faith … hope … love …

    • faith: an attitude of trust rather than pretending to have the answers
    • hope: genuine confidence that God has work for us to do and will enable us to do it
    • love: authentic concern and goodwill that subverts theological tribalism

     

    Yes, we seek wisdom to identify the right person to serve as our Bishop.

    But we also seek grace to become the kind of people with whom that new Bishop can serve.

    That way—and only in that way—can we engage in the mission to which we are called and develop the ministries that will authentically communicate the heart of the gospel to our families, our neighbours, and indeed our own selves.

    May God grant us our prayers.

    Amen.

     

  • Rainbow faith in an ancient land

    Australia Day Service
    Grafton Cathedral
    28 January 2018

    australia_day1

    Over this holiday weekend it is timely to reflect on what it means to be Australian, and especially what it means to us as people of faith.

     

    Goodbye to privilege

    We can start by acknowledging that the days of privilege are past.

    While religious faith continues to be protected and respected in our society, Christianity no longer enjoys the status that it once had. That is especially true of the Anglican Church, as social changes have necessarily meant that our percentage within the total population would decline.

    We now find ourselves as one church among many, and one faith among several.

    That is no bad thing as monopoly feeds arrogance, and privilege tends to corrupt.

    We have seen the dark side of that privilege revealed in the plain light of day by the careful work of the Royal Commission into the sexual abuse of children in church institutions. That religious institutions were not the only places of abuse is no consolation. It reminds us deeply we failed to bring our distinctive Christian values to bear on the important caring ministries in which we were involved.

    We share and reflect the failings of other individuals and institutions.

    But we also claim a different set of values, and we aspire to a higher level of genuine care, modelled on the practice of Jesus himself.

    So let’s set aside any hankering for past privileges, and focus on how our faith might inform and shape our citizenship now and in the future.

     

    This land

    What does it mean to be in this place, rather than somewhere else in the world?

    Every place is both beautiful and special, but this is our place.

    It is an ancient and distinctive land, with animals and plant life that are quite remarkable in their own right.

    The challenge of the Jewish exiles in ancient Babylon becomes ours as well: How do we sing the Lord’s song in this strange land? But we reframe that slightly, so it becomes: How do we sing the Lord’s song in this ancient and unique place?

    How do we express our faith with an Aussie accent, crafting words that come from our experience rather than words borrowed from ancient Palestine or Medieval Europe?

    This is essential work, but it will not be easy.

    One aspect of the challenge is seen in our religious calendar.

    We observe Christmas, a celebration of the coming of Light at the darkest point of mid-winter, in the middle of summer. And we wonder why everyone is at the beach and not in church? We sing of dashing through the snow, as we head to the coast and slap on the sun screen. Here in the Great South Land, we are singing the Lord’s song in words that derive from the northern hemisphere. Category error!

    Even more out of sync is our celebration of Easter, the ancient Spring festival, in the middle of Autumn. We have mortgaged our copy of the Lord’s song to the calendar of another place, and our lyrics clash with the reality of what is happening outside the window. We talk of new life, as the leaves turn brown and fall to the ground.

    The reality is that we cannot change the dates for Christmas and Easter, but perhaps we can make sure that we observe them with an Aussie accent.

    Much as I love and identify with the geography of Palestine, that is not our land. As Palestinians—whether Jewish, Christian or Muslim—have needed to find ways to speak of God and faith in their own accent, so we need to learn how to speak of God in ways that will resonate with our neighbours, our children, and our own inner self.

     

    These people

    And what does it mean to be among the people who share this place with us?

    Who are these people?

    First of all, we acknowledge the indigenous people of this land. We share this land with people whose ancestors have been here for 60,000 years. Let that number sink into our consciousness. 60,000 years.

    When literalists engage in the folly of adding up the genealogies in the Bible to calculate the age of the earth, or the dates of Adam and Eve, they come up a number of around 6,000 years. On the same timeline, they place Abraham—the so-called father of the faith—around 2,000 BCE, or 4,000 years ago.

    While such numerical games are meaningless nonsense in a universe that is 15 billion years old, there is a lesson to be learned.

    Christian fundamentalists claim with pride that our faith goes back to the time of Abraham, yet we live in a land with a human history stretching back 60,000 years and more.

    We have much to learn from the oldest continuous human culture on the planet. Yet we rarely pause even to consider what we could learn from them about singing the Lord’s song in this strange and marvellous land.

    That is going to change.

    The Cathedral will now be working with indigenous theologians to provide a space for what the Revd Lenore Parker, a local indigenous priest and poet, calls ‘big river theology’. I have no idea where that will take us, but I catch a glimpse of it in the art that transforms the Baptistery of this Cathedral Church. For sure we have much to learn about speaking of God in this place and among these people.

    OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

    Apart from our indigenous people, and similar to many of us, there are a great many other people around us whose roots lie in other places and other cultures.

    What an incredible blessing to live in such a diverse and multicultural community.

    As people of faith, when tensions arise between different cultural and ethnic groups—­as they always will from time to time—we will celebrate diversity, encourage openness, and refuse to join those politicians and other xenophobic forces that seek to promote fear and hatred so that they can divide and conquer our community.

    We celebrate the diversity of God’s creation, including the diversity of humankind.

    As church we seek a unity that goes beyond ethnicity, race, social status or gender. We value those differences, but we refuse to allow them to divide us from one another in the Great South Land.

    At least that is theory.

    The reality may be different as we look around and wonder why the faces inside this Cathedral are so similar to one another, and so unrepresentative of the diversity seen outside the Cathedral.

    This too must change. And it will.

     

    Towards a brand new day

    As I wrap up these brief reflections on being people of faith, Christian people, in this ancient land, let me quote part of the beautiful prayer by Lenore Parker that we shall use as the preface for the Great Thanksgiving Prayer this morning:

    God of holy dreaming, Great Creator Spirit,
    From the dawn of creation you have given your children 
    the good things of Mother Earth. 
    You spoke and the gum tree grew.

    In the vast desert and dense forest, 
    And in cities at the water’s edge,
    Creation sings your praise.
    Your presence endures
    As the rock at the heart of our land.

    The sunrise of your Son coloured the earth anew,
    And bathed it in glorious hope.
    In Jesus we have been reconciled to you,
    To each other, and to your whole creation.

    Lead us on, Great Spirit,
    As we gather from the four corners of the earth;
    enable us to walk together in trust
    From the hurt and shame of the past
    Into the full day which has dawned in Jesus Christ.

    Amen.

     

     

     

     

  • 2017 Bible and Archaeology Study Tour

    150620 Banias

    For those interested in a three week study tour with a focus on the Bible and archaeology, here are some details of the 2017 Bible and Archaeology program to be offered at St George’s College, Jerusalem in June/July this year.

    Dates: 18 June – July 7, 2017

    Study Tour Leader: Dr Greg Jenks

    Costs: The College fee for this three week program is US$5,000 per person. This includes all accommodation, meals and land travel in Israel/Jordan, as well as entry to national parks and museums. It excludes air travel, travel insurance, drinks and tips. The College will collect US$100 from each participants to cover gratuities to all staff as well as drivers, porters, etc.

    Closing Date: Friday, 10 March 2017

    Academic Credit: For eligible students, academic credit may be given for THL361 Theology International Study Experience at CSU School of Theology. Financial assistance for the cost of the program may also be available. Full details at the CSU Global web site.

    Description: The program is designed to include two weeks working on the archaeology dig at Bethsaida, but that aspect of the program may need to be changed.

    In brief, we are in transition from the project being hosted by the University of Nebraska at Omaha to a new hosting arrangement with Drew University. It is possible that there may not be a season at Bethsaida in 2017, or that we may be digging at Magdala instead of Bethsaida. As a result, I have prepared an alternative three week program without any actual time on a dig, just in case that is necessary.

    Copies of the draft schedule, including the alternative option that includes no time working as a volunteer on a dig site, are available on request. Simply drop me an email and I shall be happy to send the draft schedules to you.

  • A sermon for St Andrew’s Day

    Andrew of Bethsaida, the ‘first-called’

     A sermon preached at St Andrew’s Theological Seminary, Manila on St Andrew’s Day, 2016.

    sats-greg-day2

    Introduction

    It is an immense honor for me to stand here among you on this feast day of St Andrew, and it is with a deep sense of privilege that I bring you greetings from the Christian community in the Holy Land, in Bethlehem, in Jerusalem, and in Nazareth.

    Greetings in the name of Jesus our Lord from your sisters and brothers in Palestine, and Israel, and Jordan, and Lebanon.

    Greetings, in particular, from Archbishop Suheil Dawani, the Anglican Archbishop in Jerusalem.

    The land of the Holy One, the land that Jesus knew, is now divided among four nations.

    It is the one land, with two peoples, and three faiths.

    The Christians of that land give thanks to God for you, and they ask you to remember them in your prayers.

    They do not ask you to take side in their national, political, and social conflicts, but they do ask for your solidarity in Christ as they seek to be faithful people of God in their land at this time.

    And they make the same prayer for you here in this land at this time.

    Andrew of Bethsaida

    It is sad but true that Andrew’s connections with Bethsaida are not often considered. Sadly this is true even for someone such as myself who is one of the co-directors for the Bethsaida archaeology project.

    We tend to focus on Bethsaida as the city of Simon Peter and the city of Philip, but not to give much thought to Bethsaida as the city of Andrew.

    That is an oversight I regret, and the invitation to be here with you today offers me an opportunity to make amends!

    After 30 years of excavations at Bethsaida we have a pretty good idea of what Andrew’s town was like.

    It was located at twelve o’clock on the Sea of Galilee, right next to the point where the rapidly running waters of the Jordan River flow into the still waters of the lake. After dropping 3000m from the Lebanese mountains to the lake, the water is moving at a pace and carrying lots of silt. As it meets the lake it loses its momentum and drops its load of soil and nutrients at the northwestern edge of the lake.

    Over time the silt accumulates. The water slowly becomes shallow. It is warm. It is rich in nutrients. It creates the fish breeding grounds of the Kinneret then and now. This slow physical process created Bethsaida, and its was to destroy it as well.

    Andrew lived in Bethsaida at a time when its natural advantages as a fishing village had expired. As the delta in the NW corner of the lake grew in size, Bethsaida found itself cut off from the lake. A fishing village without access to the lake is a village without a future.

    Maybe that is why Andrew and Peter were to encounter Jesus in the nearby village of Nahum, better known to us as Kefar Naoum, Capernaum? There the fishers had good access to the rich fish breeding grounds in the NW corner of the lake,

    Andrew was proactive in the face of adversity.

    Together with his brother, Simon—and perhaps other fishing colleagues from Bethsaida—Andrew relocated to Capernaum. It was not a long journey, But it was on the other side of a deep political divide. That is a story to which we shall need to turn shortly.

    First, let me observe that Andrew was known by his Greek name, as was his neighbour, Philip. This is in contrast to Jesus and his family, all of whom—according to the tradition preserved in Mark 6—had Jewish names with good biblical pedigrees:

    Mary/Miriam – sister of Moses
    Joseph – the dreamer, one the 12 sons of Jacob/Israel
    James/Jacob – the ancestor of the 12 tribes
    Jeshua/Jesus – Joshua
    Joses/Joseph – perhaps named for their father
    Simon – another of the 12 sons of Jacob/Israel
    Jude – yet another of the 12 sons of Jacob/Israel

    Andrew’s name reflects the character of Bethsaida as we have come to know it from its material culture that we have unearthed in our excavations.

    Once the capital of the Aramean kingdom of Tsur during the Iron Age, this village had never been an Israelite town. It was always a border town, in the foothills of the Golan.

    We can trace the contours of its culture and its political fortunes as we sift through the layers of Iron Age city and then the new village that was established by settlers from Tyre and Sidon in the Hellenistic period. For a hundred years and more after the conquests of Alexander the Great, this was a frontier village on the northwest boundary of the Ptolemaic Kingdom. It then came within the Seleucid Empire, and we can trace the change of administration in the coins at Bethsaida that now celebrated Antiochus rather than Ptolemy. Finally, not long before the time of Jesus, it became a Jewish outpost as Herod the Great completed the unsuccessful attempt by the Hasmonean to impose Jerusalem control on this northern edge of the biblical lands.

    The village had become Jewish, as we can see from the Herodian oil lamps, the limestone vessels, the Herodian coins, and from the deliberate desecration of a small pagan temple from the second or third century BCE. But the town retained some vestiges of its non-Jewish past.

    Following the death of Herod the Great in 4 BCE, the north east corner of his kingdom was assigned to one of his three surviving sons: Philip the Tetrarch. Another son, Antipas, was assigned the fertile country between the Sea of Galilee and the Mediterranean as well as the territory of Perea on the eastern side of the Jordan River (opposite Jericho).

    The two sons engaged in a long running competition for Roman endorsement as their father’s heir, and each aspired to the title, “King of the Jews”. Bethsaida was destined to play a role in that conflict, even though it was too little too late for Philip. And this takes us back to the political divide between Bethsaida and Capernaum that I mentioned earlier.

    Non-Jewish traditions flourished in Philip’s jurisdiction, as we see from his coins which feature the head of the Roman emperor and (just once) his own image. Neither Herod nor Antipas ever issued coins with such images, which were deeply offensive to pious Jews. In the far north of his territory Philip was delighted to have inherited the Augusteum, a temple in honor of the divine Emperor. This building at Caesarea Philippi, the city Philip built for Caesar, featured on most of his coins. and it celebrated pagan traditions connected with the emperor cult.

    A year after the execution of Jesus (on the first anniversary of the death of Julia, mother of Tiberias), Philip transformed Bethsaida into a Greek city with the name, Julias. He most likely rededicated the Hellenistic pagan temple as a shrine in honour of the divine Julia. Sacred images of Julia have been recovered from the site in our excavations.

    So Andrew of Bethsaida is not just a fisherman from a small village on the northern shore of the Sea of Galilee. He carried a Greek name and will have lived through times of significant social change in his home village.

    But there is more to Andrew than an interesting multicultural zip code.

    At this point we shift our focus from Philip the Tetrarch to his brother, Herod Antipas.

    Antipas was in many ways a worthy candidate for his father’s throne. He was ambitious and calculating. Jesus called him “that fox” (Luke 13:32).

    After initially rebuilding Sepphoris to be the capital city of his new jurisdiction, by 18 CE he has moved to a new project. With the succession of Tiberius as emperor after Augustus, Antipas decided to found a new city on the western side of the lake. He named it Tiberias and the centre of gravity for his administration shifted from Sepphoris to the lake.

    He taxed the fishing industry hard, as it was one of the few natural resources at his disposal.

    Tiberias lay then (as now) at the southern end of the fish breeding grounds in the NW corner of the lake. Capernaum and Migdal to the north were key centres for the fishing industry.

    Despite the burden of these heavy taxes, Andrew relocates to Capernaum. Along with Peter—and perhaps also James and John, the sons of Zebedee—Andrew chooses to live in the jurisdiction of Herod Antipas.

    But there is more to the story of Andrew and Antipas.

    Andrew was also a follower of John the Baptist, and John was critic of Antipas. His criticism of Antipas for divorcing his own wife to marry the wife of his brother, Philip, was to cost John his life.

    So let’s tease this out a little further,

    Andrew has relocated from Bethsaida to Capernaum, but in John 1 we find Andrew among the disciples of John the Baptism in the southern area of Antipas, at Bethany-beyond-Jordan, on the eastern side of the Jordan River.

    The next day John again was standing with two of his disciples, and as he watched Jesus walk by, he exclaimed, “Look, here is the Lamb of God!” The two disciples heard him say this, and they followed Jesus. When Jesus turned and saw them following, he said to them, “What are you looking for?” They said to him, “Rabbi” (which translated means Teacher), “where are you staying?” He said to them, “Come and see.” They came and saw where he was staying, and they remained with him that day. It was about four o’clock in the afternoon. One of the two who heard John speak and followed him was Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother. He first found his brother Simon and said to him, “We have found the Messiah” (which is translated Anointed). He brought Simon to Jesus, who looked at him and said, “You are Simon son of John. You are to be called Cephas” (which is translated Peter). (John 1:35–42 NRSV)

    This suggests that Andrew had been drawn into the prophetic renewal movement associated with John the Baptiser. Andrew—along with his brother, Peter, and at least one other person from Bethsaida, Philip—had travelled down to the southern end of the Jordan Valley to participate in John’s mission.

    We would love to know more.

    One thing we can be sure of: this was not a fishing expedition!

    Like Jesus himself, Andrew and his close associates from Bethsaida had been drawn into the crowds responding to John’s preaching in the wilderness. He was already on a spiritual journey before he encountered Jesus.

    And that journey was political as well as religious.

    To associate with John was to oppose Antipas.

    Then we see Andrew among the first to shift his allegiance from John to Jesus.

    After that, Andrew tells Peter that he has found the Messiah. In the classic turn of phrase, “he brought Simon to Jesus.” Not a bad achievement for the first convert of the ‘first-called’.

    Later in John’s Gospel, Andrew will bring to Jesus the small boy with the five barley loaves and two small fish (John 6:6–10), and then he and Philip will go to tell Jesus that some ‘Greeks’ are wanting to meet him (John 12:20–24).

    Apart from being consistently named among the Twelve, there are two other traditions about Andrew in New Testament.

    In Mark 1, Andrew is described as jointly owning with Peter the house in Capernaum that we tend to call “Peter’s house”. This house became a place of hospitality and healing, a place of teaching and wisdom, and the place that Jesus himself would call home.

    Finally, in Mark’s version of the apocalyptic discourse (Mark 13:3), Andrew is named among the inner circle of disciples who ask Jesus to explain his teaching on the end of the world.

    Conclusion

    Andrew of Bethsaida then disappears from our sight, and is never included among the “so-called pillars” of the church in Paul’s correspondence. We have no reliable information about him after Easter, although that has not prevented Christians in various parts of the world claiming him as their patron saint.

    What thumbnail sketch of Andrew emerges from this survey of archaeology and text?

    What wisdom for our journey of faith?

    What insights for our mission?

    Andrew was grounded in his own faith tradition.

    He also lived in a pluralistic community where his tradition was not the only option.

    Andrew of Bethsaida lived in a mixed community with Jews and pagans, and his own name reflects the cultural and religious diversity of Bethsaida.

    He lived at time when ecological changes in the local environment made traditional life difficult, and required him to relocate to a more sustainable location.

    Andrew never forgot his roots even when creating a new future for himself and his family.

    He lived in a time of political tension as the surviving sons of Herod the Great pursued their personal political ambitions with no regard for the people under their rule.

    Andrew was drawn into the Jewish renewal movement led by John the Baptist, and traveled to the southern end of the Jordan valley to explore what this might mean for him and for his family.

    He was not content just to be a passive participant in the crowds that came to hear John, but we find him spending time in John’s company and seeking to go deeper.

    Andrew was with John when Jesus walks by and decides to go after this stranger of whom John spoke so highly.

    With the patience of an experienced fisherman, Andrew spends a whole day with Jesus: observing, listening, asking questions.

    Andrew becomes the first-called, the first person we know who was called to follow Jesus.

    He embraced the call to be a disciple, and he invited others to do the same.

    This is the person we celebrate today, and this is the legacy we claim as our own. The Jesus who called Andrew, calls us.

    May our response be as strong as Andrew’s, and as true to our own context in this place at this time.