NOTES FOR REFLECTION

February 15                            NOTES FOR REFLECTION

Texts: 2 Kings 5:1-14; 1 Corinthians 9:24-27; Mark 1:40-45

Theme:  In the last week before Lent, something to do with “cleansing” seems to be called for.  Perhaps “Outer and Inner Cleansing” might do.  Alternatively, the two main readings might invite us to reflect on our willingness or otherwise to seek and accept help; perhaps “Recognising our Need for Help”.  More generally, I am leaning towards “The Wisdom of Humility”.

Introduction.  Two great stories with another awkward interlude with St Paul this week.  Whoever wrote up the story of the great military leader, Naaman, struck down with leprosy and the ensuing farce of his attempts to find a cure deserves to win the St Luke Award for Storytelling.  I never tire of reading it, and it still makes me laugh.  I don’t feel the same about this passage from St Paul.  In this week of the Halberg Awards his analogy drawn from the world of athletics shows again his great gift for timing, but his treatment of his own body perhaps explains why he was never likely to win a perishable wreath.  The gospel reading comes with a sting in the tale (pun alert!): the leper receives his healing but is unwilling or unable to comply with the healer’s instructions.

Background.  “Portentous” is not a word I use often (in fact, I can’t now recall ever having used it before) – apart from anything else it’s hard to spell and even harder to pronounce.  But it might just be the right word to describe a week that began with Tony Abbot’s self-described near-death experience, continued with the teaching of theology briefly hitting the news headlines in the company of, um, hairdressing, and moved on to a multi-media spectacle of a meteor flashing across the sky and self-destructing with a loud sonic boom off-stage east.  And we’re supposed to believe that there is no cosmic significance in all this?  With all due respect to Murray, Bond, McCallum & Ko, who is going to remember their awards in a week of such earthly and heavenly events?

But wait, there’s more!  The British Establishment is apparently so rife with paedophiles that they have had to ask New Zealand to send over one of our judges to head an inquiry; in France the former head of the IMF has described himself as a “Libertine”, but insisted that he had only participated in organised sex orgies about four times a year, and he had no idea that the young women who apparently joined him in his romps were actually paid to do so (who would ever have suspected that?).  Meanwhile, the latest breach of privacy has revealed that very rich people (some of them even Aussies!) have been salting away money in foreign bank accounts to avoid paying taxes in the countries of their domicile; and on the home front the collection tins are out for Sky City to meet its “unexpected shortfall” in its budget for the convention centre (who would ever have expected that?)  Perhaps they should apply for Lotteries Commission funding?  (They’re too late for the Pub Charities loot – that’s already been cleared out, apparently.)

So, yes, the need for cleansing is widespread – social and personal leprosy takes many forms.  St Paul says “athletes exercise self-control in all things”, but he was writing long before the invention of performance-enhancing drugs, match-fixing, and over-exuberant after-match celebrations.

I’m not sure why, in such a news-crowded week, my mind keeps coming back to the decision of the Tertiary Education Commission to reduce funding to private institutions offering tuition in theology and/or hairdressing.  Part of its appeal, I must confess, is to my sense of humour.  For some reason it sounds funny, don’t you think?  It sounded particularly funny when I first heard about it on the radio because the newsreader referred to “courses in theology and hairdressing”, and for a moment I thought...  Well, it’s possible – I know of a Dunedin dentist who also has a degree in theology – although probably after undertaking separate courses.  And I have a personal interest in all this: I have a degree in theology, and, despite appearances to the contrary, I do have my hair cut reasonably regularly (though “dressed” is not a word I would use in that context – I go to a “barber”, not a “hairdresser”!)

The Commission explained that we have an “over-supply” of people with skills in theology and hairdressing and so reduced the numbers of student places it would fund by 107 (theology) and 124 (hairdressing), with a predicted saving of $1.8 million dollars which could be applied towards other courses (such as croupiers?) It’s a brave move: there may not be much likelihood of marches in the street demanding more theology students; but who among us has not smarted at being kept waiting at the hairdresser/barber?  How can this be if we have an oversupply of hairdressers/barbers?  Is it really a coincidence that the Minister of Tertiary Education is bald?

Of course, there is another side to this argument.  The hairdressing industry, in large part, is a vanity industry.  As long as our hair is clean, and of a length that does not impede our sight or hearing, it doesn’t NEED to be artificially coloured, set, permed, blow-waved, or whatever, does it?  We could, if we wanted to, choose to send more money to the Leprosy Mission than we spend each year on our own crowning glory – health, like beauty is more than skin-deep.  And if that’s too much to expect, what about just during Lent?

The argument about theology is much more intriguing.  I remember in one of Thomas Merton’s books his answer to a question he was asked once by an interviewer along the following lines: “But what use are monks?”  His reply was equally clear: “None at all.  We monks are completely useless.”  I can still remember how shocked I was on reading that little exchange – and I tended to dismiss it.  I have always been ambivalent about the “cult” of Thomas Merton – I struggle with the concept of a Trappist monk being so well-known.  But the more I have reflected on his remarks to this woman, the more I think my original judgment that he was just being smart was wrong.  He was speaking in and to a society that thinks only in terms of dollar values, productivity, inputs and outputs, and so on.  In those terms, monks have no value, perhaps – except those who produce and sell high-quality wines.  Perhaps Merton’s answer was really a refusal to accept her criteria of usefulness.

And that’s the issue here, I think.  What possible use are theology students if they cannot contribute to the economic wellbeing of New Zealand, or even find a job that will provide them with enough income to support themselves and their families?    Isn’t that the real meaning of life?  We don’t need theology to reveal that truth to us.

2 Kings 5:1-14.  Just the first verse shows the narrative genius of the author of this book.  The portrait of a great military leader is immediately before us with such clarity that we might not notice the first of three jarring notes.  First, this is not the commander of Israel’s army: he commands the army of Aram (Syria) who is an enemy of Israel.  Secondly, his great victory is not due to his military gifts, but to the Lord’s gift to him.  Think about that for a moment.  Then, thirdly, we discover that this great man has the dreaded leprosy.  Verse 2 confirms this strange scenario.  The Arameans have attacked Israel, and carried off at least one young girl, who is now Mrs Naaman’s maidservant (or slave, to be more precise).  Yet, this enslaved nobody is the one who can point the way to a cure for Namaan’s disease.  So desperate is he for a cure that he embarks on the journey to his enemies’ land, on the advice of a slave-girl.  He naturally assumes the medical bill will be astronomical and goes well-loaded.  The interlude with the king of Israel having a fit is quite wonderful with his protestation “Am I God?” (Echoes of Pontius Pilate – “Am I a Jew?”)  The farce continues with Elisha sending out a messenger: when we go to the Medical Centre we don’t expect to be treated by the receptionist!  The “green prescription” seems designed only to humiliate, and again the critical role of persuading Naaman to submit is given to his servants.  Only when his submission is complete (signified by the seven-fold dunking) is he cured of his “leprosy” in all its manifestations, spiritual as well as physical.

Taking It Personally.

·       Take your time with this story.  Journey through it with Naaman.  How might he have reacted when he first saw signs of leprosy on his skin?  Fear?  Denial?  Have you had a similar experience?

·       How might he have reacted when he discovered that his wife’s slave-girl knew of his condition – presumably his wife had spoken to her about it? How concerned are you to keep your own medical issues private?

·       What might he have felt about the suggestion that he should return to Israel, this time as a supplicant seeking medical help?  What steps might he have taken to hide his true identity?  Have you ever been concerned that you might be “recognised” going to a medical centre?

·       He was obviously outraged when Elisha gave him the cold-shoulder.  Have you ever felt that you were being “dismissed” in this way?

·       How do you think Naaman was changed as a result of this whole experience?    How might it have changed his attitude towards Israel?  Could this case be used as an example of the value of cross-cultural experiences in breaking down international hostility?

1 Corinthians 9:24-27.  In the land where the Olympic Games were born it is no surprise to find that St Paul should make himself like an Olympian to win Olympians; but perhaps this is one of those cases where he allowed himself to be sucked into difficulties by pushing an analogy too far.  The basic idea, that spiritual growth, like athletic prowess, requires regular training, commitment, and energy is clear enough.  But are we in competition with one another, like runners in a race?  Surely not – everyone who enters genuinely into the Christian race wins the prize.  Certainly we need to keep focused on that prize, rather than running aimlessly or beating the air.  But verse 27 goes too far – there is surely a difference between training the body to perform better, and punishing it, or even enslaving it.

Taking It Personally.

·       How does your spiritual fitness programme compare with your physical fitness one?

·       Would Lent provide a good opportunity to deepen your commitment to spiritual practice?  What might you feel able to commit yourself to for the next 6 weeks or so?

·       What help or guidance might be available to you through your local faith community in this regard?  Could you suggest the establishment of a “spiritual fitness group” within your fellowship?

Mark 1:40-45.  A very short simplified version of the Naaman story here.  The leper takes an enormous risk: if he has “read” Jesus wrong he could find himself beaten or killed for approaching a man like this while “unclean” from leprosy.  Unlike Naaman, he is a nobody, with no letter of introduction to provide any promise of safe passage.  But he is also free of Naaman’s hubris: he kneels before Jesus and asserts that Jesus can heal him if he chooses to do so.  Jesus is touched by this man’s approach, and chooses to touch him, healing him as he does so.  He asks (demands) only that the man will not rush straight to social media, but to no avail.  The result is that Jesus is now the one excluded from the town: he has, as it were, swapped places with the leper.

Taking It Personally.

·       How easy do you find it to ask for help?

·       How easy do you find it to keep confidences?

·       Are there any “lepers” in your faith community – those whom you try to avoid socially?  How well or otherwise does your faith community welcome those who are “challenged” in some way?

·       Do you or your faith community support the Leprosy Mission or other organisations seeking to cure leprosy and support those who suffer from it?