Notes for Reflection

September 13                                                NOTES FOR REFLECTION

Texts: Isaiah 50:4-9a; James 3:1-12; Mark 8:27-38

Theme:  It really picks itself this week, I think.  However we might phrase it, the identity of Jesus is surely THE question at the heart of the Christian faith, whatever those of a more liberal persuasion might think.  So I'm going with "Recognising Jesus".  Of course, for devotees of James a tempting alternative could be "Tongue-Tamers Anon", or "Hold Your Tongue" or, more plainly, "For God's Sake, Shut Up!"

Introduction.  Every week is a good week when we start with Isaiah, so this is another good week.  Today's passage is the third of the so-called Servant Songs, featuring listening to God, doing God's will, suffering for it without retaliation, and ultimate vindication by God – not a bad summary of the life, mission, death and resurrection of Christ!  Our second reading is again from the unruly pen of James, who clearly has had a lifetime of struggles (not always successful) with his own tongue and assumes that we all suffer from the same complaint.  The gospel narrative in Mark has reached the pivotal point:  Peter proclaims that Jesus is the Messiah, and then blots his copy-book big time by failing to hold his tongue!  The whole idea of his friend and Messiah suffering death on a cross is too much for him.  And that's before he realises that Jesus expects all his followers to pick up their own crosses.

Background.  One of the classic spiritual exercises that I have managed to follow fairly regularly over the years is that of "spiritual reading".  In convents and monasteries this often involved reading, or having read to them, the lives of the saints, which were more often hagiographies than biographies as we would expect today.  Also included in the genre were the writings of the great mystics of the Church, such as Teresa of Avila and John of the Cross, Catherine of Siena and Bernard of Clairvaux.  In modern times our tastes may be more towards Thomas Merton or Ruth Burrows, Richard Rohr, Thomas Keating or Cynthia Bourgeault, all of which I have found helpful and enlightening and would certainly include their work on any list of "spiritual reading" I was asked to suggest.

Making a regular practice of "spiritual reading" does not mean, of course, that we cannot read other things, whether to become better informed about some area of interest, or for sheer enjoyment and relaxation.  This week, for example, my spiritual reading has been focused on Richard Rohr's typically helpful little book Everything Belongs: The Gift of Contemplative Prayer, while for sheer enjoyment I have been reading Ian Rankin's Exit Music, featuring the increasingly irascible D.I. John Rebus.  As the title suggests, Richard Rohr's thesis is that EVERTHING, when looked at through the eyes of faith, is capable of speaking to us of the presence and glory of God.  That being so, perhaps the old distinction between "spiritual reading" and "other" is itself invalid.

That may explain why it is that I have spent time this week reflecting on something I came across, not in Richard Rohr's book, but in Ian Rankin's.  Inspector Rebus, in his last week before retirement, coins a new (for me) word – "overworld".  He uses it by way of contrast to the word "underworld", and even thinks, as a police officer, "that it wasn't so much the underworld you have to fear as the overworld".  The overworld is inhabited by people of power and influence, who always know whom to contact when they have a favour to ask.  Rebus has a rather jaundiced view of those people "with their games of golf and their 'quiet words', their stitch-ups and handshakes, palm-greasing and scratching of backs".  This is his version of what we more politely refer to as the "old school tie brigade" or the "old boys' club".  What specifically had brought this on for Rebus was a case involving a young woman caught up in minor drug offending, who happens to be the first person to discover a murder victim in the street.  It soon emerges that she was in the street because she was visiting one of her "customers", who happened to be the step-daughter of a banker, a prominent citizen of the overworld.

Rebus interviews her in his usual direct style, and within hours he is hauled before the Chief Constable and the said banking step-father, and ordered to drop the matter.  Rebus reacts by being extremely rude to both men.  Reflecting afterwards he knows why he lost his cool: It was the casual arrogance that had flipped his switch, Addison [the banker] sitting there in the full confidence of his power – and the step-daughter's arrogance, too, in thinking one weepy phone call would make everything better. It was, Rebus realised, how things worked in the overworld.

There was a time when we believed in a three-tier universe, with heaven above, hell below, and the earth in-between.  As I reflected on this strange new word "overworld", it seemed to me that Rebus was painting a new version of that old model, with the underworld below, the overworld above, and the rest of us in the middle.  Most of us, from time to time, have worried about the underworld and the power they have to harm us.  But how many of us have looked up and realised the threat of harm we face from above?  Yet according to Rebus, we have more reason to fear the citizens of the overworld than the denizens of the underworld.  How so?

Because they have more power, and they know how to wield it to get what they want and to protect themselves from the consequences.  Two quick examples come to mind.  Who caused the Great Financial Crisis, the underworld or the overworld?  Who bore the brunt – the bankers or the taxpayers?  Who decided to invade Iraq because it possessed weapons of mass destruction that did not in fact exist?  Who bore and who is still bearing the cost of that?

Look now at this week's gospel passage.  Notice where it is set – Caesarea Philippi, an overworld city if ever there was one.  And there, in the shade and shadow of all the architectural pomp and glory of Rome's power, Jesus, an itinerant preacher, and his strange small band of followers hold a short discussion about who he is and what is going to happen to him.  He will die between two members of the underworld, but it is not their compatriots who will kill him, is it?  That privilege (pun intended) belongs as always to those who dwell in the overworld.

Jesus comes to us and calls us to follow him into a new world, which he calls the Kingdom of God.  It will replace both the underworld and the overworld.  With Peter we are called to proclaim who Jesus is.  Neither the underworld nor the overworld is likely to want to hear.  Which of those is likely to be more of a threat to us?  John Rebus' money is on the latter.  So is mine.

Isaiah 50:4-9a:  This passage begins with something of a surprise.  To us a teacher's primary task may be to impart knowledge, or at least to show how to acquire knowledge.  But here the task is to offer a word that will 'sustain the weary' – a word to encourage those who are flagging, to offer hope to those who are dispirited.  But such a teacher must first learn, not from other teachers (as the Scribes were said to do in Jesus' time), but by listening daily to God.  Here we have a clear reference to daily spiritual practice, listening prayer or meditation.  Verse 5 may remind us of last week's gospel passage where Jesus opened the ears of the deaf man so that he could hear and then speak plainly.  Verse 6 takes us immediately to the Cross and the Lord's Passion.  But the Servant stands firm in the belief that God will vindicate him.  We remember that whenever Jesus spoke of his forthcoming death he also expressed his conviction that God would raise him back to life.

Taking It Personally.

• Reflect again on the story of the deaf and mute man from last week.  Now suppose you are asked to speak to someone about your faith.  Would you find that easy or hard?  If you would find it hard, is that because you don't know what to say (you have not heard God's word enough) or you do not know how to say it – you feel tongue-tied?
• If you do not already do so, try to start each day (or, if that really is impossible, set aside some other period during the day) to sit in silence and hear what God is saying to you.
• Would you like to have "the tongue of a teacher" – remembering that such a tongue is to enable the teacher to speak to the weary?
• Can you recall a time when someone spoke such a word to you when you were weary?
• Have you received criticism or rejection because of your faith?  How did you respond?  Did it discourage you from speaking about your faith?

 

James 3:1-12: James seems to be thinking of the more conventional understanding of the role of a teacher here; but it's not entirely clear what sort of "mistakes" he has in mind in verse 2.  Certainly it might include behaviour by the teacher that is inconsistent with the teaching given by that teacher; but the reference to "mistakes in speaking" suggests that he may be worrying about "incorrect" teaching, leading people away from the truth, etc.  Be that as it may, the rest of the passage strongly suggests that he is also concerned at the harm a wilful tongue can do, and the power of his language here strongly suggests that he has had a lot of difficulty with his own tongue over the years.  If tradition is right that this author is James, one of Jesus' blood brothers, he may even be thinking of the times when he said a few things to Jesus that were somewhat less than fraternal and loving!

 

Taking It Personally.

 

·        Reflect on the last week or so.  Have you been in full control of your tongue at all times?  Or did something "just slip out" that you now regret? 

·        Reflect on verses 9-12, particularly if you are a strong singer on Sunday mornings.  How can it be that we use our tongue to praise God and denigrate others?  Is there a sense in which we need to consecrate our tongue, to make it holy?  Try that for a day, and if you succeed, try it again the next day!

 

Mark 8:27-38.  Jesus' opening question is an interesting one.  We assume that everyone is talking about Jesus and all have an opinion to offer.  But is that really likely, particularly in a place like Caesarea Philippi?  It is much more likely that Jesus is inquiring about the prevailing view among those who have been following him.  Among them there seems to be a general consensus that he is a prophet.  Then comes the key question: who do you say I am?  Peter responds in faith, but his triumphant beam at saying the right thing for a change is quick to leave his face.  In one of the toughest interchanges between Jesus and any of his disciples, Peter tells Jesus not to talk like that, and Jesus tells him in turn to stop doing the devil's bidding.  Jesus then calls the crowd forward and tells all of them that no one can be a follower of his who is not prepared to lose his or her life for the sake of the gospel

 

Taking It Personally.

 

·        Notice the contrast between the 'in-house" conversation between Jesus and the disciples in verses 27-30 and the teaching to the crowd in the remainder of the passage.  Are you more comfortable or less comfortable talking about your faith in Christ to other Christians or to people outside the Church?

·        Make a list of the views you have heard about who Jesus is: a good man, a great teacher; just one of many: and so on.  Then pause, ponder the question deeply, imagine your answer is going to be broadcast to everyone who knows you: and then say out loud "I believe Jesus is..."

·        Have you ever denied believing in Christ?  Can you imagine a situation in which you might do so?

·        What for you is involved in taking up your own cross to follow Jesus?