Unusually, for me, I am going to reflect on two of the lectionary readings this week. My normal discipline, when it is my turn to write the blog, is to focus on the gospel and to quote theologian Phyllis Trible, to “shake the text until it yields a blessing”.

 

For me, it has been an interesting and enlightening way to read the scriptures, not focusing on the popular interpretation but really looking at the words, the contemporary period and the various roles of all the characters in the story. Of course, not everyone will see what I see in a text and that is okay. It is not about being right or wrong but about a text inspiring and speaking to the reader. In the past, with our community, much time has been spent teaching about how to disagree in a way that invites dialogue rather than causes conflict. Quite simple really, rather than say “I think you are wrong” or “I don’t agree with you”, perhaps comment “That’s an interesting way of interpreting the passage, I’ve always read it this way. What do you think?” That is just one quick example but there are many other ways to invite dialogue, to validate and enrich each other.

 

So back to the texts for today, as I read the gospel and the epistle passages, both talked about Jesus. I was immediately engaged by how very different the two passages were — what contrasting pictures of Jesus they paint!

 

The earliest of the two readings is 1 Corinthians 15: 1-11, which was penned about 53-54 CE. This passage contains a high and concise Christology. The way the text reads it feels credal, as if the author of Corinthians was reciting a developed statement with a focus on death of Jesus and resurrection of Christ. The purpose of the text is to encourage the recipients of the letter to continue in the beliefs they had previously embraced. As I read, I was intrigued by the credal statement and the complexity of that doctrine which had developed over a relatively short time — just about fifty years. For me, today, that would be like looking back to the seventies. On one hand so many developments have happened in that half-century. I met Andy, got married, gave birth to three wonderful children, fostered more than a hundred others, moved to a foreign country, gained three lovely daughters-in-law and three grandchildren — and that is just with family! What about developments in technology, transportation, human rights, etc.? It has been a momentous, action packed fifty years. Yet on the other hand, the time has gone so fast, the seventies seem like yesterday. A poignant reminder of how short life really is.

 

 Of course, I realize that some reading this would not even have been born in the seventies, nevertheless have probably listen to seventies music and heard older relatives reminiscing about those days. When I think over this similar time period, it really grounds for me the reality of a fifty-year time span. It does make me aware of how quickly this complex Christology developed.

 

I have long embraced the thought that the gospels were written to balance the teaching found in the epistles. Not to correct or to change but to balance — to add another side of the story of the Christ.  Although fanciful, I can almost imagine the authors of the gospels reading the Christology contained within some of the letters and wanting to balance it with the story of Jesus’ time on earth. Gospel of Luke was penned maybe thirty-years after Corinthians. It is not really a stretch to think that there was concern that the story of Jesus, birth, miracles, healings would be lost to the new generation. What a different view of Christ we would have if the gospels had never been written.  

 

Actually, there are a number of theories about the dating of Luke, but all put it significantly later than Corinthians. Most commonly ascribed to is that it was written somewhere between. 80-90 CE.  However, some scholars argue for a date as late as 110 CE while, less popularly, prefer a pre-70 date. Most think the text was revised well into the 2^nd Century. 

 

It would bring contemporary readers (or hearers) back to the simplicity of the stories of the gospel. It would ensure the miracles, feedings, healings, teaching, non-violence, etc were not forgotten.

 

As I read the gospel text in Luke (5:1-11) it is such a simple tale. Jesus was standing on the shore and got into the boat belonging to Simon. He then told him to row out further and cast his nets in the deeper water. Simon answered that they had worked all night and caught nothing but nevertheless followed the instruction. He caught so many fish the nets began to break, and he had to get help to land the catch. Then Jesus told him he would be catching people from now onwards.  

 

Of course, the story in itself is quite complex when one spends time with it. It should be noted that even within the story there is a nod to the divinity  of the Christ, the Messiah— a miracle happened such that it caused Simon, James and John to forsake their careers, families and friends to follow. The Christ was being revealed.

 

Another complexity that always intrigues me is why the synoptics placed this story as part of the calling of the disciples and Gospel of John placed it as a post-resurrection story — but I’ve blogged about that before so not for today.

 

Today, as I ponder the text  I focus on the reminder of the humanness and simplicity of the story — Jesus interacting with ordinary people, Jesus fulfilling their physical needs and Jesus calling them to be more than they ever thougt they could be. 

 

So, the complexity of the Pauline Christology or the simplicity of a story about the humanness of Jesus? I think both are needed. They balance each other and balance is good.

 

As in a mirror . . .

Today’s lectionary passage (Luke 4:14-21) made really interesting reading. As I read the text, two thoughts swirled around my head — I’ll share them both.

 

The first was I wondered how I would have reacted if I had been present at this scene. Jesus was back in Nazareth, it was the sabbath day, people were gathered for worship in the synagogue. Jesus stood up to read the scroll of the prophet Isaiah then announced, “Today, this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.” 

 

Wow — how would I react to that? Even more so, I pondered how I would react if it happened today in a local gathering for worship. 

 

Would I rejoice that a local boy had made good? 

Would I think he needed psychiatric treatment?

Would I think, what arrogance, what an upstart — a bit of humility needed here?

 

And even more salutary — would I become a follower?

 

Truthfully, if this happened this week, I’m not sure how I would react. Certainly, I would not drop everything to become a follower — at the very best I would want to proceed with a great amount of caution.

 

Of course, the story in Luke was probably deliberately placed by the author of the gospel to show who Jesus was. It is most likely a later, post-resurrection understanding of Jesus. Nevertheless, it is inserted early in the gospel, and I find it always useful to take a glance at how it would have impacted if it happened in the time frame selected by the author.

 

On Monday, at the Theology School, the question, which actually forms the title for the semester, was asked to each participant “Who do you say I am?” After a few minutes to think each person answered that question. Some great answers were given, and I could not help but think about them in the light of this passage.

 

There must have been something magnetic about Jesus that drew the people to him in the moment. Of course, we know the end of the story, ultimately, crucifixion happened — so clearly, not all were happy with this sort of proclamation. 

 

Nevertheless, I think it is something worth pondering for this week —

 

What was it about Jesus that drew the people to him?

How would each of us react to such a declaration if it was made today? 

What would make us leave or homes and families and become a follower?

 

But that leads me to my second thought which is about the content of the passage quoted from Isaiah. If indeed, the Lukan passage was written post-Easter event, then this is the mandate for the Christ of faith. Our community prayer is that “I may be as Christ . . .”  

 

Therefore, I can look at this passage as a mirror. It reflects the image of Christ, which in turn reflects the aspirations of the community — our aim to be Christlike. (Of course, in saying that, I recognize that none of us will ever entirely make it). Therefore, it is helpful to look at the reflection of the Christ that this passage offers and to ponder how that translates to the twenty-first century. 

 

I see a concern for the poor, release of captives, sight for the blind, and freedom for the oppressed. I wonder, for us together as a community and individually as those seeking to be Christlike, how this concern can be reflected. 

 

First, I have to ask myself — Who are the poor, the captives, the blind and the oppressed in contemporary society? 

 

In a partial answer, I recognize that poverty still abounds in this nation and many other nations of the world. In contemporary society people are held captive to many things, addictions abound. Others are aimless and stumbling around with no real direction. Many are oppressed — women, LGTBQ+, non-white people, non-human animals, the list could be endless. 

 

This can all feel a bit overwhelming especially when thought about on a national or international scale. Much as one would like to, nobody can do everything. Therefore, it is important to recognize that all one can do is to seek to be Christlike in the sphere one operates in — to serve and to be a voice for those in need whenever and wherever possible. 

(Photo: Stewart Park, Ithaca NY)

Journey to Joy

 

Happy New Year to each who reads this.

Stretching before each of us is a brand new year to welcome. Normally, I like to talk about the cyclical nature of life, a wheel that keeps turning through the seasons each bringing new delights. Yet, today, right at the beginning of January, for a brief moment, time is thought of as linear. A new year has begun, an old year has ended.  This is the beginning of a new journey. No-one yet knows what 2022 will bring — it is unexplored territory. It is a time of both excitement and trepidation as the first steps are taken towards this new journey.

 First, as I glance over my shoulder, it is a time of reflection on the previous year — a time to count all the many blessings that 2021 brought. Of course, there have been moments of sadness, sickness, surgery and stress — that is part of humanness. Yet, it is always worth pausing to remember all the good and wonderful things of the past year, even the lessons learnt, so that the blessings don’t go unheeded or forgotten as the new journey begins.

 The lectionary reading today (Matthew 2: 1-12) also speaks of a journey — a long journey. It is the journey undertaken by the Magi from the East. 

 Although tradition now cites three Magi, the Bible makes no such claim, a number is not specified. It is interesting that for Matthew — which is the only gospel that records this story — this is one of the significant events surrounding the nativity. The Gospel of Matthew has no story of an angel appearing to Mary, no stories of the birth of Jesus, no mention of the stable, no shepherds watching their sheep by night. Matthew simply records the prophecy to Joseph that the child Mary is carrying will be the Messiah followed immediately by the Magi, presumably included at this juncture to confirm the specialness of the child. 

 The Magi (singular Magus) were sages who sought to understand the world through astronomy, astrology and natural sciences. The contemporary words, magic or magician are from the same root. They probably journeyed from Babylon (Iraq), Persia (Iran) or Arabia. They would travel via the old Spice and Silk Routes, a journey of thousands of miles. So, in first century times an arduous undertaking as journey would take months if not years. Therefore, it is generally assumed that the infant, Jesus would be well over a year old by the time of the visit of the Magi. 

It is a beautiful story of a journey; a star rising at a special birth, a long and hard year or two of travel, an encounter with a King, arriving at the destination, being overwhelmed with joy, offering of precious gifts, a dream and finally returning home.  

I just want to add an aside at this point — especially for those who have joined in the Theology School for the semester on Feminist Theology. We spent several weeks conversing about the story of Abraham, Hagar and Sarah and their resulting offspring, Isaac and Ishmael, who became great nations — our studies were based on books by theologians Phyllis Trible and Delores Williams. The story culminated in Hagar and Ishmael being sent away (Genesis 21: 8-14) later followed details of Ishmael’s line (Genesis 25). Could the Magi be descendants of Ishmael? That is certainly, a valid interpretation. If so, that gives a wealth of additional depth to this story — Mary’s welcome of the Magi, opening her home to strangers from a different culture, humbly receiving gifts from them and in response the Magi honouring the infant Jesus. What a story of inclusion and acceptance! I’ll leave you to ponder the wealth in this passage in that light of our semester long studies.

 But, as I read through the passage, as often happens, one phrase really stood out for me. The words were “overwhelmed by joy” (10). What a wonderful end to a journey! I loved that there was nothing passive about this experience. It didn’t just happen out of the blue. It was the result of a long, hard journey and a diligent seeking. I find that a good thought as I journey through 2022 — if I want to have moments where I am overwhelmed by joy, I need to be diligent and unafraid of the journey as I travel through the year.

 

I end as I begun — Happy New Year to each who reads this.

 

 

 

Peace to You

 

I am glad the liturgical year includes two periods of solemn preparation — Lent and Advent. Lent was the first established originating from the Council of Nicea (325). More than a century later Advent was established by Bishop Perpetuus of Tours (461-490) who introduced a fast before Christmas starting on St. Martin’s Day. The phrase the season of Advent was used at the Council of Tours in 597 CE. 

 

I enjoy Advent. It is a special time of the year as preparations are made to celebrate the birth of the Christ child. It is the beginning of the church’s year, a time to reflect on the past and anticipate the future. It is part of the rhythm of life, the circle that keeps turning. My hope is that the busyness at this time of year will not supersede the meaning of the season.

 

In our household the first physical preparation is to unpack the Advent Wreath and place the new candles therein. Three purple candles representing hope, peace and love, a pink candle reminding that even in a solemn season there is joy, all surround the Christ candle which will be lit on Christmas Eve. The tradition of lighting a candle each week is part of Advent for me. 

 

Today is the second Sunday of Advent. As the second purple candle is lit, it is time to reflect on peace. What is peace? It is a word that is used often and has several different meanings — tranquility, calmness, ending of a war, absence of violence, etc., etc. 

 

The lectionary today (Luke 3:1-6) speaks of John, Son of Zechariah coming out of the wilderness to prepare the way for the revealing of Christ. I know that many have heard me say this before, but I think the reference to wilderness is not about John living rough in some wild terrain but is talking about the ascetic communities located in the wilderness to which John would probably have been sent to be educated and maybe remained. It would be there the “word of God” (2) came to John. 

 

As I think about the mission of John, I’m not sure that it was very peaceful. At least, that is the image given in the few passages about him and he certainly met with a violent death. Hopefully he found peace in knowing he was fulfilling his destiny. 

 

Peace has been a big part of +Andy and my lives. In our work peace is defined as nonviolence. Hence, together we have written two books about nonviolent re-parenting. (Welcoming Strangers, Transaction 2016; Nurturing Strangers, Routledge 2018). The whole of Andy’s work at the university is centered around peace resulting in several books on the topic — most recently Talking to Terrorists (Palgrave Macmillan 2018) and Pragmatic Non-Violence (Brill/Rodopi 2021). So probably, the absence of violence will always my first thought about peace. 

 

Yet, I will also use peace in a myriad of other ways. As Andy and I walk our pugs, we often comment on how peaceful the ocean at Delaware is, or the trails at Sapsucker Bird Sanctuary and Cornell Botanical Gardens. Here, I think peace is about the serenity of nature at its best. Sometimes we talk about making peace with getting older or finding peace in the midst of unrest and chaos. Often peace is just within ourselves, a state of wholeness and well-being. When someone dies the most frequent comment is “may they rest in peace” or RIP. Yet, if I think deeply about each of these usages it does really come back to the absence of violence in each situation.

 

Today we celebrate Eucharistic together, as will millions of others worldwide. Always the peace is exchanged:

“May the peace of God be with you.”

“And also with you”

 

I think this week I will ponder about what I mean when I utter those words to someone. I want to say them with a depth of meaning rather than just a repeated weekly phrase said almost by rote.

 

So, as I light the second candle for peace this morning, I will wish a gift peace to all who are reading this — Peace be with you as you prepare to celebrate the birth of the Christ child.

 

What’s a Life Worth?

 I felt sad on Wednesday. In our post was a flyer from a local supermarket, the headline blazoned “Turkey, 87 cents a lb”. As I read it, with an incredible feeling of sadness, I thought is that all a life is worth. Eighty-seven cents a pound for the life of a magnificent bird. I have had the privilege of meeting turkeys — actually our annual practice at this time of the year is to sponsor one or two at Farm Sanctuary. These birds like to be stroked, have unique personalities and have a natural life span of about ten years. Each year in the US alone 68 million turkeys are bred and slaughtered at less than a year old. And these lives are only deemed worth 87 cents a lb. 

 

To make me even sadder yesterday’s (Saturday) junk mail and flyers included an advert from another supermarket who proclaimed their worth of the lives of these young birds. For them they are only deemed worth “48 cents per lb.” 

 

Many years ago, Andy and I decided we would not eat anything that, to quote Linda McCartney, had a face. It was our personal choice. As I read the lectionary passage for this week my mind was already whirring with thoughts about the worth of a life and personal choice. 

 

Interestingly, the text (John 18: 33-37) is the Gospel of John’s account of Jesus examination before Pilate prior to the crucifixion. 

 

It made me wonder about the worth of a life in the eyes of those who had handed Jesus over to Pilate wanting execution. Perhaps, my thoughts on the worth of a life are all the more poignant this weekend with the trial of Kyle Rittenhouse and all that led up to it. 

 

Ultimately, as the gospel story continued, the chief priests were offered a way out, a way to save a life but they held firm. They wanted the life of Jesus. This was their choice. 

 

 

Today’s text also made me muse a lot on choice. I’m not really thinking about little, everyday choices like which sweater to wear today but on big choices that change the future direction of one’s life. When one reads all four gospel accounts of Jesus before Pilate it is fairly clear that Pilate did not want to have Jesus put to death but bowed to the pressure from those who demanded his death.  

 

On re-reading the account of Pilate’s interrogation in this week’s passage I think Pilate had some serious choices to make. This part of the interrogation was all about the sovereignty of Jesus. If I was thinking critically about this text, I would be inclined to ponder how each gospel writer included this conversation as a technique to emphasize the notion of Christ as sovereign to their early readers.  

 

However, today I want simply to view the conversation as an attempt by Pilate to avoid a difficult choice. In other words, he wanted a confession from Jesus which would remove from him the necessity of making a hard choice.

 

Choices can be really hard, especially if they go against the status quo. As Pilate found it can be difficult to make the right choice when the crowd is shouting for the decision to go the other way — to be a lone voice shouting for justice. Pilate was ultimately unable to do so. 

 

So, I have two important issues to muse on this week — 

What is the worth of a life? And

Can I have the courage to make the right choice even if it goes against majority thinking.

 

 

 

Reflections on the Samhain Retreat 2021

Today sees the conclusion of our weekend exploring this year’s theme of a balanced life. For the last two days the community has looked at what it means to be balanced, how it affects us — both spiritually and physically — when we are out of balance. Next the discussion moved to prayer, the first of four elements of balance — prayer, work, study and rest. As always at our retreats, I was amazed at the depth of experience and insight shared. I hope everyone enjoyed the conversations — I certainly did.  

 

As we discussed various aspects of prayer — who we pray to, where we pray, the various form the prayers take, etc., etc. I was again aware of the diversity within the community. Some prefer liturgy, some prefer free prayer. Meditation is helpful to some, others like movement. Some have created special places to pray, while still others love to be outside experiencing creation. Some use prayer beads, others don’t. It all wove together like a rich tapestry. No way is better or superior to any other, it is all about each person communicating with God in the way that is most meaningful to them.

 

But, why do we want to live a balanced life? Of course, part of the answer is we want to be healthy, both physically and spiritually. Yet, there is also an outward reason — we want to live a balanced life so we can love, serve and forgive others (sound familiar!).

 

Today, the lectionary text talks about four men who dropped everything to go and love and serve others in their communities. In Mark, the calling of the first four disciples comes right at the beginning of the Gospel (1:14-20). I am always intrigued by the placing of various stories and difference in the details within the gospels. This tale is particularly interesting as the account mirrors the one the Gospel of John which places it as a post-resurrection story. 

 

Today, I simply want to mention that these men left everything to follow Jesus. I do wish that there were such clear stories, names and collective memory about the women who also abandoned everything to follow Jesus — sadly, their stories are just hinted at occasionally in the gospels. There is also no mention of the women who were left behind to tend families allowing the men the freedom to follow — again just blurry hints.

 

However, I’ll lay that aside for now and simply acknowledge the strength of calling that made these men drop everything to follow Jesus. I can’t really say whether they had balanced lives or not, but the text does hint that they were leading normal, functional lives. Presumably, as Jewish men in the first century, prayer was a significant part of their lives. They worked as fishermen, who had quite successful careers. The text tells that James and John left both parent and hired men. So obviously a commercial enterprise big enough to support several people. For some reason, maybe from artwork, one often thinks that the disciples were poor, obviously this was not the case in this text.

 

I do think each of us has a calling, it may not be as dramatic as walking off the job and abandoning family to follow Jesus. The thing about callings is they always change lives and add direction as happened to the four young men in today’s story. Our callings are probably much more mundane than theirs, yet they changed and continue to change the direction of our lives. They are manifest in the jobs we do, the people we care for, the causes we support, the kindness we show to those we meet. These are all really important. Maybe, these callings are summed up in our community prayer, “that I may be as Christ to those I meet: that I may find Christ within them”.

Faith and Healing

The journey to Jerusalem continues in today’s lectionary gospel text. In a previous blog I talked about how the whole of the second half of the Gospel of Mark is the story of the journey towards crucifixion. The story continues with a lot of teaching en route, crowds have gathered, and a throng is now following in Jesus wake. 

 

Yet, the teaching was not easy, just prior to today’s passage there was the third prediction of Jesus’ death. Immediately came a request from James and John to sit beside Jesus “in glory”. Using this as a teaching opportunity, Jesus spoke about how those who want to be great must become servants. This was followed immediately by the text for today (10:46-52). It is the tale of the named beggar, Bartimaeus, who shouted out to Jesus requesting to receive sight. Ultimately, Bartimaeus was healed and became a follower.

 

 As I read this chapter, and re-read chapters 8 & 9, in an attempt to grasp the context, I have to ponder whether the spiritual is mirrored in the physical. This is not the first time in these chapters that a person has received the gift of physical sight. It was clear that in spite of previous teaching the disciples still hadn’t seen servanthood. They needed spiritual sight and revelation to understand what was being taught to them. The disciples needed spiritual sight, Bartimaeus needed physical sight. Maybe the healing was a lesson without words.

 

As an aside, for those who were present at the Theology School on Monday night. The chapters studied of Trible’s book God and the Rhetoric of Sexuality made much of how sight and the other senses were so prevalent at creation. I could not help but to ponder that along with this passage.

 

Yet, as I mused on it, perhaps the point that gave me the most to think about was the connection between faith and healing. The final words to Bartimaeus were, “Go, your faith has healed you” (52).

 

I can’t help but think how problematic those words have been for decades. The connection between faith and healing has caused many people feelings of inadequacy and not being good enough. It is a hard subject and one to which I have no answer. 

 

I have seen people healed divinely, without any medical intervention, but to be honest it does not happen very often. Or, at least, I have only seen it happen rarely. 

 

I have seen lots of people healed through medical interventions and procedures — through the skills of dedicated doctors, nurses, science and all others who are involved. Yet, for many of them it was not an either or. It is okay to invoke God and follow the advice of the medical profession.

 

However, I have heard it said that if people are not healed divinely it is because they have a lack of face. Many years ago, I was told by an older lady that if only people had enough faith they would never die. She, herself, expected that to be her reality — very sad.

 

In addition, I knew a person who was wheelchair bound. They dreaded it when their church had a visiting preacher — often choosing to skip the meeting. They told me that these meetings almost always included an altar call for a prayer for healing. Subsequently, she endured glances and comments about why her faith had not allowed her to walk — very sad.

 

I also have had more than one friend who has died from cancer. These were good, faith full individuals. In, one case someone approached me to tell me that if the person had enough faith then she would have been healed — very sad.

 

I think my thoughts began after I read on Facebook a post saying that people shouldn’t get vaccinated for COVID-19 as God would protect them because of their faith. Interestingly, after I had written this blog but before posting it, I was in the car listening to my favourite radio station (LBC-Leading Britain’s Conversation). There was a phone-in discussion about the governments new COVID regulations. People were phoning in with their thoughts. One guy phoned in to say he was against vaccination because he was a Christian and God would protect Christians. He was asthmatic and even the host urged him to rethink his position. 

 

Anyway, I think, the whole subject raised by the passage today is a very difficult one. Humanity is frail and ultimately all will die. When reading a text which highlights a link between faith and healing it should be handled with care. This text should not be used to make anyone who seeks immunization or medical intervention feel inadequate. 

 

So, I don’t want to deny the possibility of divine healing, at the same time, I want to be grateful for the skills and advances in medicine and science. As is often said, all truth is God’s truth.

Troublesome Texts

Today’s lectionary gave me a choice between two passages — Mark 10:17-31 (ordinary time) or Matthew 6:25-33 (harvest thanksgiving). I read both through a few times, waiting to see if I was gripped by a certain phrase or idea which is my normal practice.

 

They are, at first glance, very dissimilar. Yet as I read between them, I became aware of one similarity. Both passages contained commandments which seem to be impossible to follow. This intrigued me and gave rise to the question: How does one treat a Biblical commandment when it seems impossible to follow? What do we do with them? Do we disregard them? Do we strive towards meeting them? My mind was a whirl.

 

The first text focuses on how hard it is for those who are rich to enter the Realm of God. And, I think, in the developed world all are rich to some degree. The exhortation is that everything should be left to follow Jesus making it a very difficult text. And, if one is honest it is not one that most people take seriously. Even, those who take the scriptures in a fundamentalist or literal way have not followed this commandment in entirety. 

 

I look round our small community, everyone has somewhere to live, food to eat and people who are cared about. Personally, even with moving to a new country I have not followed this text to the letter. Although the move put physical distance between us, I did not turn away from parents, nor later from my children. It is very hard to hear this text even with the rider that if one takes that step it will be given back a hundredfold in this life — and the next.

 

In contrast the second story is a lovely comforting text. Jesus talks about the heavenly mother-father providing food and clothing. The exhortation is not to worry — in the text this specifically refers to earthly provisions essential to life. 

 

The text ends with if one strives first for the Realm of God all these will be given to the follower (33), As an aside, this verse has always sat uncomfortably with me. In the developed world many countries having social care systems and charitable organisations which provide at least a basic safety net to those in desperate need. This allows the text to be read with a certain amount of ease. However, how would it feel reading or hearing this in an area stricken with famine and drought, where one watches their children starve to death, where the ravishes of poverty are seen, where medical attention is non-existent. I wonder what it would feel like if this verse was proclaimed in one of those areas. At the very least, maybe feelings of worthlessness and abandonment by God.

 

But for today I want to remain with “do not worry”. At first reading the worries in the Gospel feel quite minor as they are dressed up in lovely images of birds and flowers. Somehow, this has become a “pretty” text and because of this is read with a smile and the thought of how lovely. Because of this domestication the impact has been lost. This is a text about (in Maslow’s terms) survival needs. The most basic human needs without which life is incompatible. The impact of this text cannot be underestimated.

 

Yet not worrying seems impossible — and I’m not talking about the healthy worry which is part of the human system designed to prevent harm. I’m talking about worries that many, If not all, people face regularly. 

 

When I worry, I know that worrying does not change the situation, but somehow my body and mind still react. Eventualities and situations cycle through the mind, butterflies form in the stomach sometimes even trembling can occur. 

 

Although, our worries in contemporary times may be different than those in the first century they are no less real. I find, that try as I may, I have no ability to stop worrying. I am not an over-anxious sort of person. So, I’m not saying that every bit of every day I am consumed with worry. I am merely saying that sometimes a circumstance occurs that causes me to worry.

 

I want to be real here and say that no matter how hard I try, worry still sneaks in. 

 

Therefore, I find both of today’s passages troublesome. They are texts that contain very serious exhortations — leave everything behind and do not worry. These are hard, if not impossible, to do. I do not want to spiritualize these texts in an attempt to minimalise them. That feels less than honest.

 

I have no conclusion about how to handle these two and other troublesome texts. Just a couple of thoughts —

 

My first thought is that I can think about these texts using a redemptive-movement hermeneutic. They are stages on a journey which is ever changing and developing. A command to give to the poor and leave everything is being replaced by hearts of generosity.

 

My second thought is that these texts should never be used to produce guilt either in oneself or in others. I don’t feel guilty that I have a house, family, food on the table. I am grateful for all I have and rejoice that I can share with others. 

 

Anyway, a lot of musing to do this week!

Who is the Greatest?

 The Gospel of Mark is the earliest of the four gospels (approx. 70 CE). It provides much of the source material for both the Gospel of Matthew and Luke. The structure of Mark is interesting and, I think, reveals something of the intent of the author.

 

The first half (1:1-8:30) seeks to acknowledge, or even prove, Jesus as the Messiah. The gospel opens right at the beginning with preparation for the public ministry—no birth stories in Mark. The ensuing text is packed full of miracles, healings and teaching. The word authority is used several times as the author continues to seek to reveal who Jesus was. This half of the Gospel ends with that declaration from Peter:

 

“[Jesus] asked them, “But who do you say that I am?” Peter answered him, “You are the Messiah.”  And he sternly ordered them not to tell anyone about him.” (8: 29-30)

 

The second half of the Gospel is often thought of as the journey towards the cross. It begins with the words: 

 

“Then he began to teach them that the Child of Humanity must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, “(8:31) 

 

In this second half of the Gospel the author seeks to establish that the way forward is not in great, conquering strength as many were hoping for but by the path of suffering, of laying down one’s life even to death. Ultimately, this focus in Mark reveals the death on the cross as the greatest proof that Jesus was the Messiah.

 

I just wanted to set the text for today (9:30-37) into this context. Jesus is walking with the disciples providing an opportunity to re-emphasise the journey to the cross. The author of Mark records the words of Jesus as being very direct and clear:

 

“The Child of Humanity will be betrayed into human hands, and they will kill him, and three days after being killed, he will rise.” (9:31)

 

This is followed by the part of the text I want to focus on today. The reader is told that the party arrive at their destination. Once in the house where they are residing Jesus asked what they had been arguing about on the journey. The question silenced them perhaps these followers were a little embarrassed because they had been arguing about who was the greatest. It does feel a bit futile — they had just been hearing about the ultimate end of the journey was to be betrayal and death and they are arguing about who is the greatest. 

 

I suspect this was included in the Markan text at this point to provide opportunity to emphasise again that this journey is not about greatness. I wondered is it part of the human psyche to want to be great? To want to be better than others. To make the whole of one’s life journey about competition. 

 

I see it all around — this need to be greatest. It is visible in both the international and national arenas. Sometimes, as I read or listen to news it feels like the whole content reveals a huge competition about who is the greatest. I even see it on social media, posts full of self- promotion with the underlying assumption that their product or ministry or insights are the best. I wonder why can’t difference be celebrated without the need to be better than the other. 

 

On this journey to the cross Jesus condemned this need to be better than others. The way to go was servanthood. In the final verses of today’s text Jesus illustrates this be taking a child and telling the disciples that welcoming such a child is welcoming Jesus. This is a very powerful image. 

 

To comprehend it fully it is important to not think about children as they are thought about today — cute and sweet (in most cases!), innocent and vulnerable. In the first century children were often the marginalized. Many were street urchins who were considered expendable. A PBS document talks about how after a baby was born it was placed on the ground, if the father picked it up the child was kept, otherwise they were discarded. 

 

Jesus, as a male, would not approach or hold the child. I suspect a collective gasp would escape from the first and second century audience. This behaviour was a little outrageous and would demand attention.

 

In contemporary times, to understand Jesus welcoming and taking a child into his arms within this whole context of the journey towards the cross, servanthood, refusing to think of oneself as better than others, it is necessary to imagine not a child but someone who is considered marginalized or an outcast and extend the same welcome to them. Not such an easy image as a child but a very soul-searching and powerful one.

 

 

 

 

(https://www.pbs.org/empires/romans/empire/family.html)

 

Pivotal Moments

Pivotal moments are those times that offer opportunity to be life changing. Women in the Gospels are present at several such moments — actually, I would call them not just life changing but history making. Things change with pivotal moments, the world becomes a little different, a new course is set and nothing is ever quite the same. 

 

I rejoice that women were instrumental in some important, history making, pivotal moments in the gospels. A few weeks ago, the lectionary text was the story of the wedding in Cana (John 2) attended by Jesus and the disciples. Part of my blog noted the significance of the conversation between mother and son — 

 

I quote:

 

As always when reading this text, what fascinates me is the conversation between Jesus and his mother. It is a significant part of the account and as such would seem to be important. When the wine ran out it was Jesus to whom his mother turned. She told him there was no wine. Jesus is recorded as saying it was no concern of his as “My hour has not yet come.” 

 

It is a strange retort. Obviously, Jesus knew that his mother was expecting a miraculous intervention but seems reluctant to reveal who he was. It seems, Jesus would be happy to remain in anonymity. 

 

Yet, it seems that his mother knew best! She knew it was time for the ministry to begin and her words and actions revealed it to Jesus. She did it quietly and calmly. She simply ignored his protestation that it was not his hour and told the servants, “Do whatever he tells you.”  (“Cracks are Appearing”, January 24 2020)

 

It was a pivotal moment. It unlocked the ministry of Jesus — life changed and history was made.

 

Today’s text is another such pivotal moment (Mark 7: 24-end). A Syrophoenician woman came to Jesus to seek healing for her daughter.  Jesus’ response was harsh, “It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.”

 

I have heard many attempts to mediate this phrase. I have read suggestions such as Jesus didn’t really mean it and it was only said to test the faith of the woman. Personally, I don’t like the idea that unpalatable passages are explained away. Sometimes things in the Bible are simply not good and we need to accept and deal with that. I think Jesus’ response here was one of those times. Jesus was focused on his mission to the Jewish people and treated the Syrophoenician woman with contempt. I think it is important, particularly in the current climate, to acknowledge what really happened here. It is an example of racism. 

 

Happily, the story does not end there. The Syrophoenician woman was not cowed. She did not allow the comment to pass uncontested. I am full of admiration for her and the courage she displayed. She challenged the narrowness of Jesus’ mission. “Sir, even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs.”

 

The challenge was met and change happened. The woman was instructed to return home as her daughter was healed. It was a pivotal moment — life changed and history was made. 

 

Once again, a woman — who in this story remained unnamed — was instrumental in revealing to Jesus a significant change. A woman was given voice to speak the message of inclusion for all. I cannot express the enormity of the significance of this short story. Although, I’m not going to dwell on it today, but the completion of today’s text illustrates that the change was immediate. 

 

A woman ushered in this pivotal moment in history. Nothing would ever be the same. This event, this story, allowed the Apostle Paul to pen the words “There is neither Jew nor Gentile …”.

 

Everything changed — all are welcomed and received. 

 

 

 

My Soul Rejoices

 

My soul rejoices . . .

 

I felt uplifted as I read the lectionary text for today. It was not even the content of the whole passage, but the first three words alone were sufficient to excite me — “And Mary said”.

 

What a wonderful beginning to the passage! In the last few weeks I have bemoaned, on several occasions, women who in the gospel texts remained unnamed. Often, these women were identified only by their relationship to a male — the daughter of someone or the sister of someone.  They were invisible in their own personhood.

 

Yet, here, right at the beginning of the Gospel of Luke the author announces, “And Mary said”. A woman is being identified by her own name, and her words are being given a place of importance. It is, indeed, a cause for rejoicing. 

 

I would like to think that her words are completely unaltered, yet, I have to admit that they are probably mitigated through the lens of the male gospel writer. Nevertheless, it does not detract from the magnitude of allowing a named woman to speak and be credited with this speech.

 

These powerful words speak of a sort of redemptive justice, a different realm, a reversal of the norm. This prophetic utterance declared the mission of the child Mary was bearing. This is not Mary, meek and mild as often depicted in writings and art but a strong prophetic woman who was given her own name. This is not a woman just speaking to other women, this is a woman uttering a message for all. It is something to be rejoiced in. 

 

As I am writing this, excited about a woman who was named, heard and listened to, not just in the moment but throughout the centuries, I am hearing the overnight news from Afghanistan. I am saddened about what this will mean for the people, especially women and young girls. They will be much in my prayers in the ensuing weeks and months. One day, I hope life will be different for these women in Afghanistan. 

 

Change does take time, women being seen and heard is comparatively new. One only has to look at history, and not even ancient history, to see that. Even in our contemporary society change is slow to happen, seeds planted in one generation only start to bud in the next generation until they eventually show fruit. 

 

Mary’s proclamation and the acknowledgement are anachronistic. They stand as a prototype and as an example to all. So today, I rejoice in those three small words with huge implications — “and Mary said.”

To Be the Best

Yet another unnamed woman defined only by her relationship to a male (or in this case three males) came to Jesus. She had a surprising request about the upcoming Realm of God, “Declare that these two sons of mine will sit, one at your right hand and one at your left . . .” (Mathew 20:21}

At this point I let out a big sigh! It seems like human nature has not changed much over the centuries. I read the rest of the text (20:20-28) but it was this unnamed mother’s request that became the focus of my musing this week. 

Here is a question which I pondered for several hours — is competition a good thing?

Of course, in a capitalist society competition is a fundamental value which drives the markets. However, that is not where I want to linger today.

Most of my pondering was about competition between people, where someone wants to be better than someone else. This unnamed mother wanted her sons to have higher honour than the other ten disciples. The ensuing result was to sow discord and division within this small company of twelve (24).  

People are encultured into this mindset from being young. I remember when my kids were very small, there was lots of conversation between parents about who sat up first, who walked first, who talked first, who learnt to read first. I have had so many children that I could watch it among new parents with a smile. It all seemed rather silly, yet with some parents it was so very important to have their child reach milestones early thus being perceived as the best. 

Then I thought about the competitive nature of our whole education system. Here I content myself with just another big sigh! 

Then there is the competitive nature of sports where winning has become more important than playing. A couple of weeks ago my family of football fans (English football that is!) watched a European football competition. All of us were saddened to see fans booing teams from opposing countries — competition leading to nationalism. 

Ultimately, the final was won on penalties which, to me, always feels a cruel way to determine a match outcome. The three young lads who missed their penalties all happened to be Black and they became subject to horrendous racism. In that instance, competition leading to racism — so very sad. 

Somehow, culture seems to be permeated with the same competitive spirit that today’s text highlights, wanting to be the best and most honoured regardless of others.  

Can that mindset be broken? Honestly, I’m not sure it can as it has clearly persisted over the centuries. However, I do think the text hints towards an answer — it is quite simple — serve others (26). 

Imagine a society where instead of competing to be better than one’s friend, one’s acquaintance, one’s colleague, one’s sibling, even one’s enemy everyone served the Other, helping and encouraging them to be the best they could be. Maybe that would be moving towards the heart of the gospel. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What — no name?

Greetings from our campsite at the beach. The sun is shining, and a gentle breeze is blowing. We have enjoyed several days of biking, hiking and camp meals. One of the joys of camping is eating every meal outside. This morning at breakfast we had a visitor, it was a bug — of the sort we had never seen before! It was about an inch and a half long and bright orange with very long black feelers. It just sat on the corner of the table having somehow got inside the screen tent — probably not hard to do as there are several small holes in the mesh! 

 

I wondered if our bug friend would enjoy toast so placed a small piece nearby. Sure enough, the bug moved to the toast and started nibbling it. We were both amazed. So, I placed a piece of melon next to the toast. The bug seemed to enjoy that too.

 

Andy looked at me and commented that as the bug had joined us for breakfast, they should have a name. He chose “Flo”.  The name changed a stranger to a friend — suddenly they had an identity. Flo hung around for quite a while before flying to explore new regions. 

 

Interestingly, as I read the lectionary this morning, names were the first thing I noticed. Or should I say the lack of them! 

 

The text tells the stories of two women (Mark 5: 21-end). Neither were named. One is identified only by her male parent, the other by her disability. It made me quite sad, neither was deemed important enough to be given their own identity, their name. 

 

The text also speaks of life transitions. The younger was twelve, just on the brink of womanhood, making a transition into the next stage of life. The other woman was also ready to make a life transition as she yearned for menopause and the fruitfulness of that stage. 

 

An important time for both of them — but not significant enough to give them a name! 

 

Both needed healing. Others sought it for the young girl, the older wiser woman sought it for herself. Both were healed and onlookers were “overcome by amazement (42)”. 

 

This morning, as I read the stories, I, too, am amazed. Not at the magnitude of the healings but that Jesus cared enough actually to see these unnamed women and tend to their needs. I rejoice in that and hope that I, too, will see those who are invisible.