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?