February 8 NOTES FOR REFLECTION
Texts: Isaiah 40:21-31; 1 Corinthians 9:16-23; Mark 1:29-39
Theme: No obvious front-runners this week; but something about compassion, openness, and relating to people as they are, I think. For what it's worth, the theme that popped into my mind fully formed a moment or two ago was "All are Welcome in the Heart of God". Something a little more whimsical, but possibly quite productive, might be "Christ's Open-door Policy".
Introduction. Once again we have the joy of starting with Isaiah at peak form; who will you compare with him or who is his equal? We then have a rather difficult passage from St Paul, who sounds to our modern ears rather more like a politician than a religious leader. But the point is clear: it is the gospel message that is important – nothing else is worth arguing about. We finish with this wonderful passage from St Mark in which he gives a brief summary of Jesus' ministry – purportedly in one day.
Background. Thoughts of war and peace have not been far from my mind in recent weeks. Over the holiday period I read one of the more remarkable books I have ever come across, from Pierre Teilhard de Chardin. In its English translation its title is The Making of a Mind, and comprises a large number of the letters Teilhard wrote to his cousin, Marguerite Teilard-Chambon from December 1914 when he joined the French Army through to 17th September 1919 when he resumed his studies and work as a Jesuit priest and scientist. The letters are astonishing at all sorts of levels; first of all, at the purely practical level, they show a regularity and speed of delivery unmatched by NZ Post today! Many of them are quite passionate – he clearly loved his cousin very much – often writing to her two or even three times in a week – but, of course, in a "celibate", non-physical and non-possessive sort of way.
The second level of interest concerns his attitude towards the war itself. As one who struggles to hold onto Christian pacifist beliefs I expected to find Teilhard very much in our corner, but there is little evidence of that in these letters. It is true, of course, that he did not have a combatant role: he spent the entire war as a stretcher-bearer, resolutely refusing any promotion that would have taken him away from the frontline. (He even avoided appointment as a chaplain for the same reason.) His fearlessness was legendary, and he received the Croix de Guerre, the Medaille Militaire, and the Legion d'Honneur. There is very little in the letters to suggest that he ever feared for his own safety: in one letter he records coming back from in front of the enemy lines, dragging behind him the dead body of an officer, then stopping in no-man's land as he was struck by the extraordinary beauty of the sunlight on a distant range of hills!
It may well be, of course, that he played down the risks he himself was facing so as not worry Marguerite or other family members, and he had to be mindful of military censorship; yet the picture he gives of life in those years is eye-opening. To borrow a phrase from the All Blacks, there was a regular practice of rotation, so that a few days in the hell of the trenches would be followed by a week or two of relative rest and restoration in a farmhouse, a presbytery or something similar. He never denies the real suffering of the men – he has a true pastor's heart – and he does occasionally refer in passing to the apparent pointlessness of some of the engagements with the enemy – gaining, holding, ceding and then regaining the same few yards of land to no obvious advantage.
But overall, his view is extraordinarily positive; and when it was over he wrote a long essay called "Nostalgia for the Front". This was more than an enjoyment of the camaraderie of the men – in fact, he quite openly struggles with what he sees as their vulgarity – but much more a realisation that human beings are at our best when we are fully committed to a cause greater than ourselves. He writes often of the need to overcome inertia – to commit ourselves to action – and recognises that war is a great motivating factor in that regard.
But perhaps the most astonishing element of these letters is the evidence they provide of the development of his thought – and the amount of writing – that he was able to achieve in the midst of all the upheaval and danger of the war. It was in the context of trench warfare that he SAW the unity of all humanity!! It was not that he saw such unity as an ideal to be pursued as the only antidote to warfare – he saw the underlying unity of humanity as a given fact, temporarily disguised or hidden by the war, but no less real for all that. He was, of course, French and he recognised "the Bosche" (as he invariably called the Germans) as the enemy: he accepted that German imperialism had to be resisted, and therefore that the war was a just one. His contribution to it was always whole-hearted. As a candidate for Patron Saint of Pacifism he was a non-starter! As an antidote to any of us tempted to adopt cheap and easy pacifism he was without peer.
I finished the book just after the somewhat muted commemorations of the 70th Anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz. Perhaps the most interesting article I came across was one reprinted in the ODT World Focus, which featured the plans to revise the exhibitions in the museum at the former death camp. The original displays, overseen by former inmates, excluded any mention of the guards, for perfectly understandable reasons. They wanted those who built and ran the camp to be excluded from human memory. But now there is a change in outlook. It is time to address the terrible question that places like Auschwitz ask of us: "How was it possible that normal people, fathers of families, started murdering people on an industrial scale?" That is the way the director of the museum phrases the question; but today there are many other ways of asking the same question.
How is it possible that brilliant scientists spend their entire working lives creating biological, chemical and nuclear weapons capable of killing all known forms of life on this planet? How is it possible that the so-called developed nations make vast profits from the manufacture and sale of armaments? How is it possible that "normal people", mothers and fathers of families, start torturing prisoners and taking selfies of themselves doing it? How is it that we still struggle to accept that we are brothers and sisters not only of those who died in Auschwitz but also of those who built and ran the place?
Have we not seen? Have we not heard?
Isaiah 40:21-31. It was this passage that brought back to my mind the letters of Teilhard de Chardin. We might think of him urging us, in the midst of all the present horror that bombards us through the TV News and other media, to lift our eyes to heaven where God "resides" above all our human mess. But that is never his message: he believes, not in a God above, but in a God ahead. What is happening now is important, of course, but is only a stage in the long process of the whole of creation converging and becoming one in Christ. Isaiah's imagery is different – for him God is above – and yet the message is surely the same. He appeals to us to see the vastness of God's vision, and to realise that even the most horrific tyrants of the present day will be blown away (in the old-fashioned sense of that term). God, and God alone, is the source of all life and goodness, and we need to constantly "plug into" that source, the ultimate renewable energy. Verse 31 says it all.
Taking It Personally.
· Read the passage through slowly. This whole chapter is about divine comfort. Let it comfort you. Above all, wait upon the Lord (for quite a while).
· Bring whatever is troubling you, personally, nationally and internationally, before God in prayer. Express to God the pain you feel, and seek his comfort.
· Examine your own feelings about New Zealand's probable involvement in a response to ISIS. How much are your feelings shaped by a sense of "us and them"? Take a particular case – say, the killing of the Jordanian pilot and the response of Jordan in killing two prisoners – and examine your feelings about it. Where do your sympathies lie?
· On the home front, read this passage through on Waitangi Day. What does it say to you in that context?
1 Corinthians 9:16-23. St Paul has got his toga in something of a twist at this point in his letter. Look back to the first two verses of this chapter to take his temperature – it is dangerously high. Clearly, he has been receiving some stick on the social media of his day. The tipping-point this time concerns an allegation of bludging: it seems that his hosts may be feeling that he has overstayed his welcome. Why should they feed and shelter him at their own expense – why doesn't he get a proper job and earn his own keep? In short, it's the first recorded example of a dispute over stipended ministry. St Paul stoutly defends his right as an apostle to some sort of maintenance, and then denies any intention of accepting it! His one desire is to preach the gospel free of charge. He then goes off on something of a tangent – as we are all apt to do when we are wound up – but perhaps part of the criticism he has faced is that he is spending too much time with those outside the fellowship (who do not put money in the plate, know what I mean, Vicar!). To him only the proclamation of the gospel matters: every other issue is of lesser importance.
Taking It Personally.
· How do you react to Paul's tone? Does his temper tantrum turn you off, or does it make him seem more real to you?
· What lessons might there be for the Church today in what he is saying? Are we too inclined to pursue other agendas at the expense of proclaiming the gospel, or are those other matters natural out-workings of the gospel message?
· Do we need to become more like other people in order to proclaim the gospel? Can we, for example, speak to and for the poor if we are substantially better off materially than they are?
Mark 1:29. This passage gives us 24 hours in Jesus' ministry. Notice the movement from synagogue to private dwelling, from giving ministry to receiving it, from ministering to individuals to ministering to crowds, from activity to prayer, from being looked for to searching for others, and from teaching the disciples to preaching throughout Galilee.
Taking It Personally.
· Reflect on your past week in the light of this "template". Is there a similar wholeness and variety in your life of discipleship?
· Jesus took Peter's mother-in-law by the hand and lifted her up. When have you experienced the uplifting presence of Christ?
· The "whole city" came to the door. Do you sometimes fell overwhelmed by the needs of others? How can you be fully engaged with others without becoming burnt out?
· Very early in the morning, Jesus went out to pray? Notice the faint hints of Easter morning in this language. What do you make of that?
· The disciples "hunted" for him. When they "found" him, they said "Everyone is searching for you." Are you hunting or searching for Jesus, or have you found him? What would you say to someone who asked you how to find Jesus?
· The disciples were, perhaps anxious that he should build on last night's success, but he leads them off to reach out to others. What lesson may there be there for the Church?*
*Reprinted from the diocesan 2014 Advent Prayer Guide, pp. 54-55, with kind permission of the author.
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