Notes for Reflection

July 5                           NOTES FOR REFLECTION

Texts:  Ezekiel 2:1-5; 2 Corinthians 12:2-10; Mark 6:1-13

Theme:  I think it has to be something about frustration this week – a sort of divine and human exasperation at the wilful blindness of those who, no matter what is said or done in their presence, will not see that that God is in their midst.  God's people are notoriously "stiff-necked", "stubborn", or even straight-out "rebellious", and nothing much has changed down to the present time.  So something like "Divine Frustration", or "Coping with Frustration" might be suitable.  More colloquial would be "Listen Up, You Guys", which would be particularly apt for our first lesson.  For technophiles, what about "Connection Failure"?

Introduction.  We begin very much where we were last week, in utter devastation.  This time the prophet Ezekiel is our first guide.  He is with the "first exiles" in Babylonia when he experiences an astonishing vision of the Divine, and is called into the prophetic ministry.  St Paul is again feeling the stress of trying to get through to the believers in Corinth, and is once again torn between his desire to avoid boasting and the need to prove his credentials to those who are constantly trying to blunt his message by questioning his authority.  Jesus has returned home where his growing reputation as a teacher and healer means nothing to those who have seen him grow up as the carpenter's son and expect him to behave accordingly.

Background.  At this time of the year the Church offers a series of Sundays of "special intentions".  Two weeks ago (21^st June) we were offered "Disability Awareness Sunday"; this week we have "Refugee Sunday", and this will be followed by "Sea Sunday", "National Bible Sunday", and "Social Services Sunday".  How do we respond to these offerings?  Over the years I've never quite resolved my own ambivalence towards them.  Are they useful reminders of particular areas of concern, all too easily pushed aside in our busy lives?  Or are they tiresome interruptions to the weekly flow of our readings, important in their own way, but not of the same central importance as the proclamation of the gospel in all its richness?

Paradoxically, perhaps, my main reservation about them is that they can have the opposite effect from that intended.  We can tick them off, like courses completed or badges earned.  We can observe, say Refugee Sunday, and when we have done so set aside the whole ghastly human tragedy for another 12 months, with a quiet sigh of relief.  Yet "refugees", "sojourners", "aliens", and "exiles" are a central concern of our Scriptural record from Exodus onwards.  Is it better to keep their needs and our response to them in the forefront of our teaching and preaching throughout the year?

In a strange sort of way I've had the same kind of struggle over "healing services", which were all the rage in the 1980's, at least in the Diocese of Wellington.  I was a member of a prayer group at the time, and we got all very excited at the proposal to hold a "healing service" in our local church.  Many meetings were held, plans were made, resources were found, and advertising was organised.  Then one of our members noticed that nowhere on our many lists of things to do was there any reference to the need to seek the consent of the Vicar.  Emissaries were duly selected and dispatched to the vicarage.  The Vicar listened patiently to the sales talk, and gamely read through our planning notes.  He then asked a strange question: "Has anyone checked with the Holy Spirit that 7.30pm on Sunday, 17^th June suits him?"  An interesting discussion followed.  This was about the danger of "compartmentalising" the ministry of the Church in this way.  "If this service is a healing service, what are the other services we hold – 'non-healing'?  More broadly, surely every Eucharist service is an opportunity for healing?

Some years later I found myself in a rather fierce debate that erupted when one of the parishes in our archdeaconry erected a large notice-board outside its church, proudly proclaiming itself as "an inclusive church".  We all knew what this was code for, of course, but again strong exception was taken to the implication that other churches in our archdeaconry were not inclusive – presumably, we were "exclusive", which has a whole range of connotations when you think about it.

But returning to this issue this week, I have been pondering a somewhat different concern.  Inevitably, those with a particular passion for say, helping refugees, become the source of helpful resources for our parishes, and with the best will in the world, those resources will have a particular "slant".  The result can be that in all those parishes that decide to mark this Sunday as "Refugee Sunday" a common "party line" will be preached, one that is carefully shorn of anything that may be considered controversial.  It may be so broad and non-particular as to be too bland to challenge, or even inform.  For example, would this Sunday be a good opportunity for the Christian pacifists among us to explore why there are so many refugees coming out of Iraq, and whether our military training involvement there will make the situation there better or worse??  Or to plead for special consideration to be given to Christian refugees fleeing religious persecution in Islamic countries?  Or to raise the issue of climate refugees?

So perhaps a better approach this Sunday may be to focus on the three readings set for this day and see what, if anything, they have to teach us about refugees.  Our first lesson is the obvious place to begin that reflection, and it starts on a note of hope.  Even in exile in Babylon God is present among his people.  What questions does that raise about national borders, about the desire for a homeland, and about the whole issue of exile – from whom, what or where?  St Paul, immersed in the day-to-day struggle of people with all their petty agenda's and human power-games, has seen a different magnificent reality that words cannot describe.  And Jesus is already experiencing the pain of "exile" in his own hometown, the lot of anyone who dares to speak for God in a society that does not want to hear.

Ezekiel 2:1-5.  It is important to remember that the Babylonian exile took place in stages, shaped largely by geopolitical power games then featuring Egypt and Babylonia.  In 597 Jerusalem was subdued and about 10,000 of its leading inhabitants (including Ezekiel) were captured and taken off into captivity, but the city itself was spared.  It was finally destroyed in 586 after a terrible two-year siege, provoked by yet another attempt to throw off the Babylonian overlords with the help of the Egyptian army (which failed to materialise).  This first, commissioning vision occurs immediately after the first deportation but before the final destruction.  One of Ezekiel's first tasks therefore is to tell the exiles to stop expecting an early return to Jerusalem because it will be destroyed.  Instead, their hope is in God, not in Jerusalem.  1:1 is important.  Ezekiel was "among the exiles by the river Chebar".  That's where he had his overwhelming vision of God, which knocked him to the ground.  Then he heard "the voice of someone speaking".  And the first thing he heard was a command to "stand up on your feet".  This is resurrection language; he falls to the ground (as if dead) and is raised back to his feet (new life), which he experienced as a spirit entering into him. .  And this is immediately followed by his commission, which, we should note, has the effect of exiling him from his fellow exiles.  From being among them, he is now sent to them.  Put the other way, Ezekiel is no longer an exile, because he has been restored to his home in God, while the others remain exiles dreaming of a return to Israel.  Their exile from God is underlined by the fact that there is now a chosen intermediary between God and themselves.  This point is driven home in verse 5: they shall know that a prophet is among them, not that God is among them.

Taking It Personally.

• Has there ever been a time in your life when you felt exiled from God?  Is there any sense in which you feel exiled from God at this time?
• The people are described as "rebels", "impudent" and "stubborn".  How would you describe people who do not share your faith?  How do you feel about them?  Is their lack of faith of concern to you or is that "their own business"?
• If you were given the opportunity to speak to the Prime Minister about "the refugee problem", what would you say to him?

 

2 Corinthians 12:2-10.  This is surely one of the most emotionally charged passages St Paul ever wrote.  His frustration, his anger, and his desperation at the ongoing niggling opposition he is experiencing from some in the infant church at Corinth are driving him nuts.  Notice his reluctance to speak of this vision he had, which he has kept to himself for 14 years!  Even now he ties himself up in knots pretending that it was an experience someone else had, before abandoning this subterfuge.  He knows how it will be misconstrued – who does he think he is!  It's all very well for him with his head in the clouds, but the rest of us have to get on with life in the real world.  Throughout St Paul's ministry, as is shown in his correspondence, he is perfectly ably to deal with, and to give instruction on, mundane practical matters.  (Last week, we recall, he was promoting an appeal.)  But sometimes – when even people of faith seem unable to transcend their pettiness – it just becomes all too much for him who has not only been converted by the Risen Christ, but has also had this glimpse into the heavenly realms.  By verse 10 he has begun to calm down and get a grip.  He has reminded himself – if not them – that nothing is too much to bear for the sake of Christ.

 

Taking It Personally.

 

• Is there any experience in your life – whether or not you would describe it as a vision or a direct experience of God – to which you return from time to time to give you strength in times of challenge?
• Have you experienced a "thorn in your side" that you have asked the Lord (unsuccessfully) to remove?  Are you more aware or less aware of God's presence in times of hardship and challenge?

 

 

Mark 6:1-13.  This passage follows immediately after the healing of Jairus' daughter.  Jesus has come back across the lake to his hometown, presumably, Nazareth.  We might have expected a hero's welcome awaited him, particularly if news of his successful ministry throughout Galilee had filtered home.  Instead, his reception is hostile.  They remind one another (and, presumably, him) that he is no better than them; he's an ordinary working man who earns his living by doing manual work, albeit with the skill required of a carpenter.  He can't fool them – they've known him from way back, and they know his mother and siblings.  Whereas in other places he has been the man of power amazing crowds with his teaching and miraculous deeds, here in his hometown it is he who is amazed at their lack of faith, and his own apparent lack of power to do much.  He takes up the itinerant life again, moving from village to village and teaching.  He sends out his disciples two by two to share in his ministry, giving them the power to overcome spiritual opposition.  They start where John the Baptist and Jesus himself had begun – calling the people to repentance.  He also prescribes clear "boundaries", making it clear that they are not to impose on others but to make do with whatever is freely offered to them.

 

Taking It Personally.

 

• Do we still have a tendency to recognise overseas experts in preference to our own?  Why might that be so?  Are you good at recognising prophets amongst us?
• Notice the prohibition against being well-prepared before setting out.  Why might that be considered desirable?  Is Jesus encouraging begging (or scrounging)?
• What one thing in this passage is the most helpful for you in your faith journey?