Notes for Reflection

June 28                       NOTES FOR REFLECTION

Texts: Lamentations 3:22-33; 2 Corinthians 8:7-15; Mark 5:21-43

Theme:  The gospel brought to mind an old saying, "Where's there's life, there's hope"; from which we might get a good idea for our theme this week.  I suggest "Where there's Christ there's Hope".  Or "Where there's God there's Hope" might be preferred to more easily encompass the first lesson as well.  St Paul is more difficult this week: it depends how frank we want to be.  Something along the spectrum from "Righteous Arm-Twisting" through to "Psychological Warfare" might be justified!  However, to avoid scandal, something more neutral like "Mutual Self-Help" might do.

Introduction.  This week we begin with a reading from the rather neglected Book of Lamentations.  The message is clear: even in the worst possible circumstances it is our conviction that God is present with us and is working his purposes out that gives us hope.  Perhaps the purpose of our second lesson is to remind us that this does not mean that we can all sit around doing nothing and leaving it all to God.  Where there is need our calling is to do what we can to meet that need.  Our wonderful gospel passage this week draws these two themes together.  In hopeless situations two very different people retain sufficient hope to come to Jesus and seek his help.

Background.  I have commented before on how often we hear people saying "I am just so thankful that..." when some personal drama has had an unexpectedly happy outcome.  Sometimes that feeling of thankfulness can be personalised – somebody has done something to bring about that outcome.  But often it is simply a response that means something like, "I am just so pleased that things have turned out the way they have."  People of faith may "direct" their thankfulness to God, of course, but those without faith are borrowing the language of thanksgiving without noticing the absence of a particular recipient, human or divine.  And sometimes we may experience a great sense of thankfulness that does not relate to any specific event or outcome.  Suddenly we feel, albeit briefly, that all is right with the world – it's a joy to be alive!

This week has not been like this.  For me the mood has been set very much by the appalling case of the two boys accused of the killing of the Auckland dairy owner, Aaron Kumar; and aggravated by the Coroner's findings in respect of the Livingstone tragedies in St Leonard's, and the death of the remand prisoner from drugs concealed in his body.  All three reminded us that there is something far deeper involved than mere evil actions by individuals.  While we can understand the reaction of Mr Kumar's family to the verdicts – for them it was about the death of their much-loved father – the story that emerged during the trial about the life histories of the boys in the dock widened the questions we must all consider.  If we really want to know who killed Mr Kumar we would have a long chain of responsibility to follow, wouldn't we?

We might start with a mother who drank too much alcohol and took drugs during pregnancy.  Was she responsible for the harm that caused to the baby in her womb at the time?  Why was she drinking and taking drugs at the time?  Was it her way of coping with violence directed at her? If so, should we not attribute part of the responsibility for Mr Kumar's death to the perpetrator of that violence?  Where did she get the alcohol and drugs from?  Perhaps the suppliers of those things bear some responsibility for Mr Kumar's death.  One of the boys had suffered a serious brain injury in a car accident when he was ten.  Who caused that accident?  Did he receive the best possible treatment for the injury?  And then there was all the evidence of ongoing neglect and ill-treatment suffered by both boys over much of their lives.  Who knew, and did not intervene on their behalf?  Where were the social agencies while all this was going on?

If the Crown agencies failed these boys does the buck stop there?  Or should we continue along the line of responsibility to the Government?  Were those agencies sufficiently funded to do their work?  And if not, how much of that is due to an electorate that favours tax-cuts over adequate funding of social services?  Exactly where does the chain of responsibility end if not with all of us as the society in which these things are happening?

Similar questions arise from those coronial reports that were released this week.  Perhaps we don't naturally feel too much sympathy when we hear of a gang-member attempting to smuggle drugs into a prison by concealing them inside his body.  Surely he is the author of his own misfortune?  But his mother said he was forced into doing this by gang members; he hadn't been a willing party.  And whatever the truth of that, what are we to make of the Coroner's findings that those charged with looking after him while in prison failed to do so?

The story surrounding the Livingstone case is yet another example of this sort of thing.  "We failed to join the dots – we missed the signs – we were misled – we have learned important lessons from this case – we must ensure that we share information with other agencies..."  And the temptation is to buy into these arguments, isn't it?  To make our own judgment in each particular case.  To find someone to blame.  I know, I do that time after time.

But this week I found myself led to a different approach.  I started to read again the Book of Lamentations – not just the familiar bits like this week's passage, or the bit we use on Good Friday.  I started at the beginning.  Try it.  Especially chapter 2.  Set aside the theological objections we might have in attributing the disasters to God.  See it as a description of life in a city under a long siege.  Take verse 20 as a summary.  As I began to reflect on all this it seemed to me to be pointing to the need to recognise before God the sheer ghastly mess of the world around us as a first stage, without breaking bits off and trying to apportion blame.

The boys in Mr Kumar's dairy are samples of the thousands of neglected and abused children in this country.  Mr Livingstone was but one man whose violence towards women and children blight lives and sometimes end them.   Jai Davis, the man who died in prison at the age of 30, is just one man who thought life in a gang might provide a better life for him than the one he had in his family, and paid dearly for his choice.  All three stories are about people who are both perpetrator and victim.

I feel the need to stand back from these individual tragedies – to restrain my natural inclination to pass judgment and point fingers – and simply recognise this general overwhelming feeling of distress that these and so many other instances have given rise to.    To lay them before the Lord – to express to him my distress – and then to fall silent – to wait – to listen.  I'm not sure if the right word for this is "lamenting", but it'll do for now.  For my faith tells me that this is where hope is found. This is where redemption begins.  The Exodus story starts when the Lord hears the cry of his people.  That story reminds us that, however bad things are, there is always a way out for those who put their hope in the Lord.

Lamentations 3:22-33.  Today's passage comes with a powerful jolt to anyone who has been reading the preceding verses.    The change of mood starts with verse 21 (it may be a good idea to start the reading with that verse), when the author suddenly calls to mind something that becomes the basis for hope.  In brief, it is his understanding of the essential goodness of God.  (Quite how that fits with his belief that all Jerusalem's  woes, so graphically described in the preceding text, are caused by God is not easy to see!)  Verse 33 ends on a high note, but read on and the difficulty re-emerges.  Perhaps we can resolve it best by recognising that all of us share in the responsibility for our society as a whole.  The Old Testament way of expressing that was to describe the outcome in terms of God punishing the people for their (collective) sins.  We might say, the society we have constructed for ourselves is the consequence of our own wrongful choices.

Taking It Personally.

• What was your immediate reaction when you heard the verdicts in the case of the two boys accused of killing Mr Kumar?
• How did you feel about the death of Jai Davis in prison?
• Do you feel any sympathy for Mr Livingstone?
• Do you feel any shared responsibility in respect of any of these cases?
• Make your own list of events and news items that have upset you recently.  Try not to apportion blame or pass judgment on anyone involved in them.  Simply put them before God in prayer.  Express to God the distress you feel about them.  Then spend some time in silence.  How do you feel now?
• Is there anything that you could do to help in any of these instances or in similar situations?

 

2 Corinthians 8:7-15.  Perhaps we should cut St Paul some slack.  He is, at least, reasonably open about his approach in verse 8.  His whole argument seems to have three strings to the bow.  First, saying the right and loving thing (expressing sorrow for the hardship being experienced by the believers in Jerusalem) is all very well, but the real test of their sincerity

Is best shown by putting their money where their mouth is.  Secondly, their spiritual gifts are all very well, but a generosity of spirit is just as much a spiritual gift as speaking in tongues, etc.  Thirdly, they themselves had started to offer support previously, so now is the time to follow up and complete a generous offering.  St Paul also shows a nice balance between the theological and the practical reasons for urging them to give generously.  Christ himself has given his all for them, so now they should give to others.  But he stresses that he is not asking them to give more than they can afford – he does not ask them to embrace poverty so that the believers in Jerusalem can be relieved of their poverty.  He urges them to share the burden equally, in the expectation that, in their hard times, they might expect to receive help from others.

 

Taking It Personally.

 

·        Draft an appeal letter from St Paul based on this passage, and address it to yourself.  How would you respond?

·        How would you feel about St Paul's approach in this letter?

·        How do you respond to unsolicited appeal letters from charities?  Why?

 

Mark 5:21-43.  This is a beautifully constructed story.  The tone is set once more with that expression, so common in Mark's gospel, about "crossing over to the other side" (of the lake), and keep it in mind as you read through this passage.  Notice the two very different characters who come to Jesus for help, one from each side of the social and religious divide.  One is a very important person in the local area, a leader in the synagogue, called Jairus .  Ordinarily he would have been very cautious about being seen in public with Jesus; but facing the near death of his daughter he comes to Jesus begging for help.  On the way to meet this need, Jesus is intercepted by a nameless woman who is equally desperate.  Because of her condition, she is "unclean", and therefore excluded from the synagogue.  Moreover, she has far more at risk than her reputation: if the crowd had known of her condition she could have been set upon and even killed.  Both of them are driven by desperation, but also by faith in Jesus.  Their hope is in him.  Of particular interest to me is the fact that Jesus "called the woman out".  Why would he do that?  Why embarrass her, shame her, even: why not let her be healed privately?  (See verse 43.)  Because he wanted her (and the crowd) to know physical healing was only a very small part of what her faith in him had done for her, I think.

 

Taking It Personally. 

 

·        This is a perfect passage for praying with your imagination.  Place yourself in the story with the disciples.  Be aware of your own feelings as each new part of the story unfolds.

·        What is your reaction to Jairus?  Are you surprised that such a man would come to Jesus?  Do you resent his approach (the cheek of the man!), or do you think it's a feather in Jesus' cap?

·        Are you surprised at Jesus' willingness to go to Jairus' house?  Disappointed?  Concerned that Jesus is showing favouritism to Jairus because of his position?

·        Notice the large crowd tagging along with him.  How do you feel about that?  Are they just rubber-neckers, or are they genuinely interested in the outcome of the case?  Would you rather they went away or are you pleased at the numbers Jesus is able to draw?

·        Can you see the woman moving up behind Jesus, reaching out her hand, trying to touch him?

·        When Jesus asks who has touched him, what is your reaction?  Do you respond with the disciples?

·        How do you feel as the woman "outs herself"?  How would you describe her?  Do your feelings change as you hear her story?  How do you feel about Jesus' words to her?

·        Now the messengers arrive with the sad news that Jairus' daughter has died.  How do you feel on hearing this news?

·        How do you feel about Jesus' words to Jairus?  Do you believe that there is still hope?

·        Journey on with Jesus to Jairus' house.  Notice the sound of the mourners wailing and weeping.  How do you feel now?

·        Hear Jesus tell them the little girl is not dead, but sleeping.  Hear their scoffing response.  How do you feel now?  Are you embarrassed at Jesus, or outraged at their mockery of him?

·        Go with him into the girl's bedroom.  Look at her on the bed.  How do you feel?  Are you excited, worried, anxious?  Look at Jesus.  How does he seem?

·        Hear him speak to the girl.  Then watch as she responds.  How do you feel now?  Are you overcome with amazement?

·        Do you have any intention of obeying his command to tell no one about what you have seen?

 

 

Notes for Reflection

June 21                       NOTES FOR REFLECTION            

Texts: Job 38:1-11; 2 Corinthians 6:1-13; Mark 4:35-41

Theme:  I'm tempted to suggest "When Everything Turns to Custard", or, in shortened form, "Custard Happens".  If you would prefer something a little more grown-up, perhaps "Faith under Fire", or "Faith that Endures" would be more appropriate.

Introduction.  At last, a week of great readings!  We begin with this wonderful opening address as God responds to Job's questioning.  Having spent much of the book empathising with Job in his afflictions, we should, perhaps, shrink with him as God puts him (and us) in his place.  (But, oh the wonderful poetry!)  And what a perfect match we get with the second lesson from St Paul.  Look at his own list of afflictions, but notice his attitude towards them.  No complaints, no demand for an explanation; he accepts it goes with the turf.  More baffling is this week's short gospel story, which seems to be so straightforward.  But is it?

Background.  As with many other parts of the east coast of the South Island, Waikouaiti Beach has been taking a fearful hammering over the last few days.  St Clair hogs the local limelight, and of course our beloved capital city gets on the National News, but our local beach is suffering too.  Already the debate has started.  Is this due to climate change; or is it, as one expert said on the radio, "a perfect storm" (surely the first time this expression has been used metaphorically to describe an actual meteorological event!), comprising exceptionally high tides and strong on-shore winds?  An interesting debate to have, no doubt, from inside a warm, weather-proof building, set well back from the nearest coastline.

Not much help to me as I stood on the only vehicular access to the historic Matanaka Homestead and Farm on Cornish Head (dating back to our whaler-founder, John Jones), watching the sea removing the last bit of embankment standing between it and the track.  One day I measured the width of embankment still remaining (yes, I know, I should stay in more): it was about 80cms.  Four days later it was gone, and the first bite out of the track itself had already been taken.  I wondered how the people presently farming the historic property were feeling now.  Presumably, that track was first put in back in the 1840's, or thereabouts.  It had "always been there" as far as anyone living today could remember.  Now there's a large piece missing, leaving a gaping hole, "guarded" by a couple of orange cones.  Unless someone moves them back soon they'll be going for a swim shortly.

Further along our beach the picture is now much the same.  Old macrocarpa  trees that grew tall and strong several metres back from the coastline, and seemed to be in good health, when we first moved here in late 2009,  have either already been brought down by the sea or are teetering on the edge, many of their large roots now exposed to all the elements.  A strong white barrier erected some years ago and designed to keep passers-by well back from the edge, is now dangling over the edge.  The ramp that has been used for many years to give race-horses access to the beach for training purposes now ends in a 50cms drop down to the beach.

I remembered watching people planting marram grass and flax bushes to stabilize the dunes along part of the beach – hundreds of plants put in by fit young people on a lovely sunny day.  To no avail, as it has turned out.  The flax are nowhere to be seen; the marram grass is strewn across the entrance to the lagoon and adjoining areas of the beach.  The dunes are being swallowed by the sea.  There was a terrible fascination in all this, just standing there, watching the next waves forming well out to sea before rearing up and racing towards the beach, wandering if I really was still out of their reach, and where I could go in a hurry if I needed to.  It was exhilarating and awe-inspiring, as I watched the waves come in, effortlessly pick up large tree trunks, and even lengths of concrete fence posts, and carry them all back into the sea.

It took me back to my boyhood, growing up on the north coast of Cornwall, lying in bed listening to the Atlantic Ocean beating on our cliffs.  They were made of granite, and were 300 feet or more high.  They weren't going anywhere in a hurry – even though – through the centuries - the sea had managed to tunnel out caves here and there.  If granite eventually yields, what hope is there for sand dunes, clay, and marram grass?  A few months ago a neighbour and I were making light of "dire warnings" of rising sea-levels.  We reckoned we'd be okay: we'd be long gone.  It would take 100 years or more to reach our road.  On the way back from the beach this week I suggested to him we might have to revise that forecast – to about 4-5 months!  We laughed – hoping we were joking.

And now here are this week's readings before me.  What am I to make of this passage from Job, humbling him in the presence of the One who, among other things, claims to have set limits on the reach of the sea, saying to it "Thus far shall you come and no farther, and here shall your proud waves be stopped?"  Can I raise my voice in protest?  Should I wake up the sleeping Christ and ask if he cares that we are drowning?  Or just follow St Paul's example and get on with proclaiming the Good News?

Job 38:1-11.  The first thing that strikes me about this passage is something I had never really noticed before.  Verse 1 seems to be no more than an introduction to what follows.  But think for a moment how different it might be if it had simply read "Then the Lord spoke:".  Three small points here.  What follows is addressed to Job; not to the world at large, nor to Job's three friends, nor to the mysterious Elihu.  The Lord speaks to Job, the man of faith, not to those who see Job's plight as an opportunity to show off their theological knowledge and debating skills.  Secondly, what the Lord says is in "answer" to Job, even though it appears to us that the Lord is changing the subject and avoiding Job's issues altogether.  Thirdly, the Lord speaks out of a "whirlwind": this is no soothing balm whispered to Job.  This is designed to blow him away, as we might put it today.  Further, the Lord speaks only when all human speech has ended; Job, his three friends, and Elihu have said all that human wisdom and feelings can offer.  Only then does the Lord speak.  And the third point is this.  Job has spent much of the book wishing for an opportunity to present his case – he wants to "have it out with God" as if in a court of law.  God frames his response in just that format, but reverses the roles, of course.  Here God is the one demanding that his accuser should front up and face him.  And that's the real issue, isn't it?  Who is Job to question God, the Creator of all things?  Who are we?

Taking It Personally.

·        Read through Elihu's contribution (chapters 32-37).  What do you think of his argument?  Is it consistent with the Lord's answer" in chapters 38-40?

·        What are the real issues raised by Job's experience?  Are they satisfactorily resolved by the Lord's "answer"?

·        Does God cause harm to people, perhaps to test them, correct them, or give them an opportunity for growth?  Does God "allow" harm to come to people for any such reason?

·        In the case of the death of a child, we sometimes here it said that "God has taken the child to be with him", or words to that effect.  How do you feel about that?

·        Remember that Job's trials and tribulations are said at the beginning of the Book to be the outcome of a challenge made by Satan and accepted by God to test Job's love of God.  Does Job love God for all the blessings God has showered upon him – a heavenly version of cupboard love – or will he continue to love God regardless of what befalls him?  How do you feel about that?

·        Do you love God?  Why?

 

2 Corinthians 6:1-13.  This passage is just as astonishing as the passage from Job, and probably far more challenging.  Job will always have about it the quality of a "case study", something we might find in a training manual on the spiritual life.  Here we are in no doubt that St Paul is writing from "the coalface".  And what a difference it makes to his attitude!  All that matters to him is the work he has been called to do.  The afflictions listed in verses 4-5 are real and horrific, but there is no word of complaint here, no accusing (or questioning) look directed heavenward.  Rather, he stresses that his response to such difficulties is itself part of his message: no matter what happens to him, he continues to show in himself the qualities that come from his faith in Christ.  Part of his suffering has come, of course, from the very people to whom he is writing this letter, although here he leaves that unsaid. Only in verse 12 is there a hint of this.  The other thought that struck me this week is that verses 8-10 constitute a sort of parallel version of the Beatitudes.  Perhaps the tone of this whole passage (and, in some ways, of St Paul's whole ministry) is set by verse 2.  The all-important word for St Paul is "now".  There is no time for intellectual debates on the why's and wherefore's of human sufferings, and certainly no time for self-pity.  The gospel is urgent!

 

 

 

Taking It Personally.

 

·        Compare St Paul's attitude to his suffering with that of Job.  What do you think accounts for the difference?

·        Which approach are you most likely to follow when you are afflicted by illness or other troubles?

·        In your dark times are you aware of "any restriction" in your love for God?

·        If you could say one thing in response to St Paul here, what would you say?

 

Mark 4:35-41.  This is an intriguing little story, made all the more tantalising because of the variations between Mark's version and those we find in the other two synoptic gospels: see Matthew 8:23-27, and Luke 8:22-25.  Uncharacteristically, Mark seems to have cluttered up his story with some irrelevant details that the other two writers have omitted.  For instance, Mark says "evening had come"; they took Jesus with them "just as he was"; and "other boats were with them".  None of those details appear in the other versions, and it's hard to see the point of their inclusion in Mark's account.  (Possibly, that adds to the authenticity of his account: he recorded the facts as he understood them to be, without trying to make any particular point.  The three accounts vary about the exact wind-speed ("a great windstorm"; "a furious storm"; "a squall"), but those differences seem unimportant.  Of much greater interest is the variation in the words the disciples spoke when they woke Jesus up.  According to Mark they said, "Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?"  The exact meaning of that depends on the breadth of the word "we".  Perhaps they meant to include Jesus with them?  Matthew removes any such ambiguity: "Lord, save us!"  Luke is harder to read, but perhaps is also a plea for help.  Jesus' rebuke of their lack of faith seems tough: at least in Matthew's version, surely they are looking to him to save them, which in itself is an expression of faith, is it not?  All three versions end with the same question, which shows what this story is really about.

 

Taking It Personally.

 

·        In times of strife, is it enough for you to know that Christ is with you, or do you want him to do something?

·        What do you make of the fact that Jesus was asleep in the middle of the storm?

·        Meditate on the words in verse 35 "let us go across to the other side".  Is there any situation in your life at present where you might need to leave the side you're on and go over to the other side?

·        Notice that these guys (or at least some of them) were experienced fishermen.  It is precisely within their sphere of competence that they find themselves "out of their depth".  What do you make of that?

Notes for Reflection

June 14                                   NOTES FOR REFLECTION

Texts: Ezekiel 17:22-24; 2 Corinthians 5:6-17; Mark 4:26-34

Theme:  I'm struggling a bit this week – none of the readings rank among the most exciting in the Lectionary.  It may be a good idea to stick to something like "The Kingdom of God", or "Laying the Groundwork", or "Painting with Broad Strokes".  Alternatively, "The Art of Parable-Telling".  Jesus is providing basic teaching on the great central theme of all his teaching and ministry, the Kingdom of God.  At a deeper level, this might suggest "The New Spirituality", or "The Christian Worldview".   Or even "All Change".

Introduction. We start with a passage from the prophet Ezekiel, not always known for the clarity of his message.  As usual this bit only makes sense in the context of the chapter as a whole.  Basically, it is a promise for a fresh start for the people who have suffered the ignominy of being carted off into Babylonia, having first tried a devious arrangement with Egypt in breach of their treaty with Babylonia.  We follow that with some stirring and challenging words from St Paul to a people for whom persecution was an everyday possibility.  There are worse things than death!  In fact, for people of faith, death is something to look forward to.  The gospel passage is a little more low-key – but just as challenging.

Background.  It is not often that I agree with myself, especially not a week after I have said or written something.  But this week I am in the happy position of finding that I still agree with the following passage from last week's Notes:

The spirit of fear.  I keep coming back to that phrase as I ponder the book [Hack Attack, by Nick Davies], and the extraordinary events surrounding FIFA this week.  Even the mini-drama of the Labour Party is another example of what happens when fear replaces a commitment to truth, pragmatism replaces idealism, and cynicism drowns out hope and a belief that we can all do better than this – that we can all BE better than this.  Power over others or service of others?  This week we are reminded that all this is a spiritual battle.  Jesus himself is accused by his opponents of having the spirit of Beelzebub.  He responds with tough talk of his own.  The issue is clear.  We either seek to follow the Spirit of God, or the spirit of evil.

This week Jesus starts to "translate" this basic choice into "kingdom" terminology.  It's visionary stuff, Big Picture stuff.  He comes into the public arena at a time of severe difficulty for the people: they are once again under foreign occupation.  Their leaders are split between those who collaborate and those who resist.  There are all sorts of issues we would recognise today, issues of identity, of inequality, of oppression, and so on.  Attempts are made throughout the gospel to get Jesus to take sides – are you with us or with the Roman overlords?  Jesus seeks to change that whole mindset: he proclaims an entirely new way of living, one in which there are no sides, only people called to love and serve God and one another.  That is his message and the core of his teaching.

That's why it is so difficult to follow, and to proclaim.  It goes completely against our natural grain.  Fear is our default setting.  We fear change because it might makes things worse for us, without considering whether it might make things better for others.  Our principles often seem good and lofty, but they are so easily sacrificed on the altar of pragmatism.  We are all in favour of affordable housing, but not if it might reduce the value of our own properties.  We are sympathetic to the plight of the 50 million refugees and displaced persons currently in dire straits, but we don't want more of them here because they might reduce our own standard of living.  [Can it really be true that Australian officials paid people-smugglers to take their human cargo away from Australian shores?]  We are all in favour of workers being paid a living wage so long as it has no impact on our own income or on the prices we have to pay for the goods we buy.

To what shall we compare the kingdom of the world?  We might like to ponder that question before reflecting on the teaching of Jesus about the alternative.  A jungle in which the strong prey on the weak?  A war zone in which the military destroy the civilians, where adults kill children?  A city damaged by an earthquake in which landlords are free to charge exorbitant rents to people whose homes have been destroyed?

It was to and about such a world that Jesus (and before him John the Baptist) brought a simple but revolutionary message: "Repent, for the Kingdom of God is at hand."  How have we as people of faith responded to this message?  Some of us have, of course, played silly word games with it, insisting that "kingdom" is inherently sexist and therefore can no longer be used in polite society.  More seriously, we have assumed and even taught that the Church is the Kingdom of God, and that there is no Kingdom of God outside the Church.  So we have endless seminars, conferences and other talkfests about "building the Church", "reforming the Church", "saving the Church", and even "finding the Church of the future", whatever that is supposed to mean.  When did we last have a conference on "Proclaiming the Kingdom of God"?  And an even better question, when did we last proclaim it?

The Kingdom of God is like a land with no borders where all our welcome...  it is like a co-operative society in which all members work together to ensure that the needs of all are met... it is like a worshipping community of people who recognise one another as children of God, and who know him as Abba, the source of love, life, and light.

The Kingdom of God is the antithesis of the world as it is at present.  It comes not by conquest and force, but by word of mouth, God's word of mouth first, and then ours.  It comes in practice by practise.  Its coming is a process, not an event – a slow, gentle process of growth.  That's why Jesus starts his explanation with parables about seeds and their sowing.  The way to overcome Roman occupation was not armed rebellion – it was through letting a seed fall to the ground and die.  On the cross fear died, so that love could grow in its place.  "Fear not," said Jesus.  "I have overcome the world."  Can we believe him?

 

Ezekiel 17:22-24.  Before there were parables life was even more difficult!  Chapter 17 begins with the word of the Lord coming to Ezekiel with the words, "O mortal, propound a riddle and speak an allegory to the house of Israel."  There follows a riddle/allegory about two eagles and the vine (verses 3-10), with an explanation in verses 11-21.  Whether or not we are any the wiser at the end of all this may well depend on our access to a study bible or commentary.  In brief, this is a reference to the Babylonian captivity following Nebuchadnezzar's invasion and defeat of Judah.  He installed a puppet king and dealt with the people reasonably fairly under a treaty, which set out the relationship between Babylonia, the imperial state, and Judah the vassal state.  But Zedekiah tried to enter into an alliance with Egypt to defeat the Babylonians, in clear breach of the treaty.  Why was that so offensive to God?  Perhaps for two reasons.  First, when the treaty was entered into the king of Judah would have sworn in the name of God, and therefore to break the treaty was to break the oath.  And secondly, God's people should have been putting their faith in God to deliver them, not in the Egyptian armed forces.  Thus, today's passage rewrites the riddle/allegory and turns it into a promise of God's deliverance of Judah.

Taking It Personally.

• Notice how this story is about Judah's lack of trust in God.  Realising that they could not save themselves, they had sought a more powerful military ally.  Does that sound familiar?  Sometimes wisdom resides in recognising our helplessness, which in turn reminds us of our total dependence on God.  Do you agree or disagree?
• Can you recall a situation in which you felt completely helpless?  To whom did you turn for help?
• When you are asked for advice by someone who feels helpless, are you more likely to suggest prayer, or do you try to "solve their problem" yourself?
• Can you recall an occasion when the intended help made the situation worse?
• What view of history comes through to you from this chapter?  Do you believe that New Zealand's history has been guided by God in some sense?  As a nation, do we learn from our history, or are we more likely to keep repeating the same mistakes?
• As you look back over your life, have you learned from past mistakes?  Are you wiser today than you have ever been in the past?

 

2 Corinthians 5:6-17.  Before I forget, the Lectionary suggests we might omit verses 11-14.  I'm not sure whether this is a form of cultural twinge or politically correct nonsense – whatever it is I urge you to reject it.  False humility is just as much false as false boasting.  St Paul is speaking about himself and others in simple truth.  His conscience IS clear: his personal integrity IS well-known.  To boast in the Lord is very different from boasting on Facebook!  We no longer regard ourselves (or Christ!) from a human point of view.  Then comes the wonderful verse 17: So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away: see, everything has become new!  (I don't want to boast, but clearly St Paul shares my love of Isaiah 43:18-19!)  Notice that in this context his term "a new creation" is synonymous with the term "the Kingdom of God".  As noted above, this is addressed to people who are at real risk of persecution and even martyrdom.  St Paul's response to that is not to offer feeble words of encouragement, much less an escape plan.  He dismisses the idea that life and death is a question of any real importance.  The only thing that matters, dead or alive, is to please Christ.

 

Taking It Personally.

 

• Have a look at verse 1-5, before you get into this week's passage.  It is not easy, but it may help you to reflect on your own mortality.  Are you afraid of death?  Why?
• Read verse 10.  What are your feelings about this?
• In what sense (if any) do you boast about Christ?  To whom?
• Ponder verses 14 and 15.  What do they say to you at this time?
• Learn verse 17 by heart.  Ask for the grace to truly believe it and live it out in your life.

 

Mark 4:26-34.  We now get into the more detailed parabolic teaching that Jesus gave his disciples, beginning with those by which he tried to convey his vision of "the Kingdom of God".  The short "twin parables" in this week's passage emphasise the point already made that spiritual growth is a slow, gentle process, initiated by God.  We do not know why some people "get it" and others seemingly do not.  We might say that the seed falls where the Sower wills it.  The gardener can improve the chances, of course, but the mystery of life contained in the seed itself is beyond understanding.  It is pure gift.  "The earth produces of itself" is how Jesus puts it, using language drawn from the creation story in Genesis ("let the earth bring forth...).  The point is that maturity is the end result; there are no short-cuts.  Although the mustard plant may not have been the best example to choose, the second parable makes a similar point: from small beginnings true life will grow in time.  Verses 33-34 (along with the earlier verses of 10-12) are worrying, at first sight.  They appear to suggest that Jesus is clearly trying to create an in-crowd and an out-crowd.  But perhaps the explanation comes in verse 11 – "to you has been given the secret of the kingdom of heaven".  Faith and understanding are themselves gifts from God, and are given only to those who first commit themselves to following Christ.

 

Taking It Personally.

 

• Spend time meditating on these two short parables.  Ask the Spirit to lead you deeper into them.  What guidance do they give for your own spiritual growth?
• Make a list of the things that can stop a seed growing.  What might be the spiritual equivalents of those things?
• How would you describe "the Kingdom of God"?