Archive for the ‘Epiphany’ Category

Ceding control to gain control

January 2, 2016

Epiphany – 2016

Matthew 2:1-12

Marian Free

 In the name of God, Creator, Redeemer and Sanctifier. Amen.

In many churches the figures of the magi (often accompanied by camels) have been slowly making their way through the church, or across the sanctuary until at last, today, they have finally taken their place in the Nativity Scene. It is traditional on this day to focus on the almost miraculous visit of the magi to the infant Christ or on the inclusion of the Gentiles into the ancient faith of the Hebrews. These are important themes, but there is more to the story – not least Herod’s tenuous grasp on power and his determination to hold on to that power at all costs.

The magi (astrologers or magicians), having discovered a new star in the sky have discerned that it means the birth of a Jewish king. They set out in faith, armed with gifts following the star from their homes in the east to the land of Judea and to Jerusalem where they presume that they will find the king. Instead they find King Herod. They assume that as the reigning monarch, he will know where the infant king is to be found. However they discover that Herod has no idea where a king of the Jews might be born.

The birth of a king is not good news for Herod, We are told that Herod and all Jerusalem are troubled. Herod is not a legitimate king of the Jews. He is an Idumean who has achieved his position by cunning and by stealth. His hold on power is tenuous and entirely dependent on his retaining the favour of the current Roman Emperor. The precarious nature of his position is not helped by the fact that the Jewish people resent him. Not only is he not one of their own but he has placed himself firmly on the side of the Roman oppressors.

Like many before and since, Herod’s kingship relied on the use of force to subdue resistance or to eradicate opposition. Even his own father-in-law, whose daughter he married in order to cement his position was not safe but was killed before he could become a threat. A genuine Jewish king had the potential to be a a real danger to Herod’s hold on power. Even a child could provide a focal point for those who resented the current situation focal point for those who resented the current situation. A child allowed to grow to adulthood could rally the disaffected and the disempowered and depose Herod – either through a popular uprising or by military force. It was no wonder then that not only Herod, but all Jerusalem was troubled by the news of the birth. For those who had made an accommodation with Rome any hint of a legitimate king would have been a source of great anxiety – a threat to their present position and wealth.

Herod’s position is so insecure that he cannot afford any suggestion that there is an alternative to his rule. Using the pretext that he wishes to kneel before the new king, he asks the magi to let him know when the star appears. His intention however, is anything but benign. As the story unfolds we discover that Herod’s purpose in discovering more about Jesus is to provide an opportunity for him to destroy Jesus at the earliest possibility. (We are told that he kills all the children two years old and younger in order to ensure that any potential competitor for the throne has been destroyed.)

Herod’s insecurity and hunger for power is in stark contrast to the self-assuredness of the magi. We know very little about the magi but we can assume (from their education and ability to travel and purchase expensive gifts) that they are people of wealth and wisdom. They may not have formal power, but they appear to have an authority that does not rely on external trappings or on the exertion of force. Their influence does not require protection or support but is something that is inherent to them. It is a part of who they are. As a result they need not be concerned that anyone will take that power from them – not even a new and unexpected king. Because they are secure in themselves and in their place in the world, they are able – not only to share in the joy of Jesus’ birth – but to offer him homage and respect. His presence will not disturb their place in the world. It will enrich it. Authority sits so lightly on their shoulders that, in bowing before the infant Jesus, they lose nothing of themselves or of their authority and influence. If anything their humility increases their stature in the eyes of those who observe them. Because what authority they have in inherent to them, but not something bestowed by or usurped from others, they do not have to cling on to it, but can let it go. They know that they lose nothing in the process of acknowledging and worshipping another.

Today’s readings can be seen as a study of power – legitimate and illegitimate power, power that needs no external recognition or agrandisement, and power that is grasped hold of and requires constant reinforcement and assurance. The magi have all that they need and therefore can give all that they have. Herod will never be satisfied that his place in the world is secure and as a consequence he will continue to take because nothing will give him the peace that he needs. The magi do not need to destroy to retain their position, so they are able to affirm and build up others. For Herod, everyone is a threat who must be put down or subdued.

It is natural for us to want to find our place in the world, to move from being a powerless infant to someone who has some power and control over our destiny. This, as Richard Rohr tells us, is the task of the first half of life – finding out who we are and creating order and control. In the process we will find ourselves competing with others and asserting our own wants and needs. The task of the second half of life is, having discovered who we are being secure and at peace with ourselves such that our lives do not impact on others as we seek to satisfy ourselves. Instead, in the second half of life, we will be sufficiently self-assured that we will be able build others up rather than depend on others for our own sense of well-being.

Clearly Herod is stuck in the first half of life, but the magi in their wisdom have entered the second half. The magi demonstrate that it is possible for humans being to relinquish the need for security and to cede the desire for control. It is only when we ourselves reach this stage of life that we are truly able to think more of others than we do of ourselves. It is only when we reach the second stage of life that we are truly able to let go and to allow our lives to be led by the presence of God that is within us. Only then, will all our longing cease and our searching will reach its true end – before the child who renounced his divinity so that we might at last discover ours.

 

Outside the box

October 17, 2015

Pentecost 21 – 2015

Mark 10:32-45

Marian Free

 

In the name of God who challenges, surprises and above all turns the world upside down. Amen.

For the third time, Jesus predicts his suffering and crucifixion and for the third time his disciples show their complete failure to understand. If you remember, the first time Jesus announced his upcoming death and resurrection, Peter rebuked him. On the second occasion the disciples (embarrassed and awkward) changed the topic and began to argue among themselves as to who was the greatest among them. Finally in today’s gospel James and John ask Jesus to give them preeminent places in his kingdom. It appears that despite Jesus’ teaching and example, they have still failed to understand the nature of Jesus’ task.

It is simply beyond the comprehension of Jesus’ disciples that the “anointed one”, the one sent by God, would be anything but a leader – someone in control of not only his own destiny, but of the destiny of those who followed him. The notion that the one sent by God would be a servant, that he would exhibit vulnerability and frailty and, worst of all that he would be at the mercy of the leaders of the church and of the nation, was completely outside their world view. So even though Jesus tries to explain to them the nature of his ministry, it simply does not sink in. They can only think of Jesus in ways familiar to them.

In order to understand the request of James and John then, it helps to understand something of the culture of the first century Mediterranean culture in which ideas of honour and shame played a very big part. Honour was something to be sought after. It was what set one person apart from another. Honour was bestowed primarily by one’s birth, but it could also be bestowed by a leader – as a reward for services rendered, in response to flattery and other inducements – or by competing with other members of one’s group for positions of influence over the remainder. Honour could also be gained by shaming another in debate. Shame was to be avoided at all costs because to be publicly shamed was to lose one’s place in the world both figuratively and in reality[1].

So, even though James and John have completely misunderstood everything that Jesus represents, it can be said in their favour that they are behaving in a way that is completely understandable in terms of their cultural situation. They are on their way to Jerusalem, the seat of government. We, the readers, know that this is a risky venture, and the text tells us that Jesus’ followers were afraid. No doubt they expected some sort of confrontation. Reading between the lines, we can assume that the disciples thought that Jesus was on his way to Jerusalem in order to take on the authorities. There seems to have been no doubt in their minds that he would come out of such a confrontation as the victor. Hence the request by James and John: “Grant us to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your glory.“ James and John believe that when Jesus has conquered the authorities in Jerusalem he will be able to share his victory with those who have followed him. That is, he will be able to give positions of honour to those who have served him well.

What they have not realised is that Jesus’ “glory” will be unlike anything that they can imagine. Jesus “glory” will be unrecognisable as glory. To them, at least initially, it will appear as shame – crucifixion being a humiliating and shameful way in which to die.

Jesus does not strive for honour in the same way that his disciples do. For Jesus, honour was to be found not in striving for recognition or power, but in accepting the fate that God had in store for him. He will willingly “drink the cup” that has been given to him, however degrading, and he asks whether James and John have the courage to do the same[2].

Mark almost certainly uses Jesus’ predictions and the disciples’ failure to understand as a literary device. The juxtaposition of Jesus’ predictions and the disciples’ misunderstanding illustrates the point that Jesus’ mission overturns the values and expectations of this world.

God’s action in Jesus was so radical, so “outside the box” that twenty centuries later we still fail to completely understand. The notion of a God who serves, the idea that God could love us so much as to place Godself completely in our hands is so utterly foreign to the idea that many of us hold of God, that we simply cannot grasp it. We long for a God who is all-powerful and who is victorious over all. Instead we have to settle for a God who is powerless and vulnerable and who, by his life and actions, confronts all human values and ideals – thereby demonstrating that service, vulnerability and an absence of striving are the values that will lead to peace in our own lives and thus to peace in the world.

[1] Jesus plays on the idea of the avoidance of shame in the parable about taking the lower place at the banquet and it was in order to avoid shame, that Herod allowed John the Baptist to be beheaded.

[2] Here again, understanding the cultural context is useful. “In Mediterranean culture, the head of the family fills the cups of all at table. Each one is expected to accept and drink what the head of the family has given.” (John Pilch, www.liturgy.slu.edu) In the case of Jesus, the head of the family is of course God and it is God, not Jesus, who will determine places of honour.

Alarm bells

January 3, 2015

Epiphany – 2015

Matthew 2:1-12

Marian Free

In the name of God who is always the same and yet always challenging (alarming) those who are open to God’s presence. Amen.[1]

In a recent edition of The Christian Century I read the following story. A parish in the United States was in the habit of presenting a “live nativity pageant” – real people and real animals spread out over the expansive front lawn. It was the practice on these occasions for the magi to appear from elsewhere and to this end, those playing the role of magi put on their costumes in the hall of the local Catholic Church. One year, the enterprising participants decided to add to the mystery and drama by arriving in a cloud of incense. They borrowed a Thurible from the Catholics and set off towards their own Church having first made sure that the coals were well alight and that the incense was smoking. As they made their way to their destination, they were perturbed to hear the sirens of the fire trucks. Unbeknownst to them, they had triggered the smoke alarm in the hall and this had sent a signal to the local fire department. When the firemen finally tracked down the cause of the problem, one was heard to say: “You %#@& wise men are setting off alarms all over town!”

Our passive nativity scenes do not adequately capture the extraordinary nature of the visit of the magi – who must have seemed exotic, different and disturbing at the time. Indeed we know that not only Herod, but also all Jerusalem trembled at their presence. Over time, the magi have been stripped of their mystery and their power to disrupt our comfortable lives. Subsequent generations of believers have domesticated these magicians/astrologers. They no longer appear as figures who are strange and disquieting. These days they are more often referred to as kings or as wise men rather than as magicians. Their number has been determined and history has given them names and nationalities – even to the point of guessing the colour of their skin.

The text however is clear. These men – whose origin, nationality and number are unknown to us – were men who studied the sky and interpreted the movements of the stars and the planets. (Today we – good Christians that we are – might shun them as proponents of astrology, people who believe that they not God can look into the future.) Yet it is heir study of the sky is the reason that they (and apparently no one else) have noticed the star and guessed at its meaning. Even Herod, the chief priests and the scribes appear not to have noticed this phenomenon or, if they had, they had not realised its significance. No wonder the presence of the magi set alarm bells ringing.

What was the cause for alarm? First century Jerusalem was a cosmopolitan city. Successive invasions would have ensured that many cultures were represented in the city. The Pax Romana ensured that roads were safe to travel and merchants and others were, as a consequence, quite mobile. Apart from this people (not only Jews) from all over the Empire would have come to worship at the Temple. The city would not have been without its fortune-tellers, healers and miracle workers. From this vantage point, the magi might have looked like any other visitors to the city. Added to this, Matthew implies that their presence should not have been unexpected. The Old Testament bears witness in many places to an expectation that when God restored the fortunes of Israel, “all the nations” would stream to Jerusalem to worship God.

The thing that makes these particular visitors so disturbing is that it is they, not the leaders of Israel have understood the importance of the star and of the birth of the child. Unlike the Israelites who are shown to be ignorant of and then indifferent to the presence of Jesus among them, the magi recognise what is going on and have come from a distance to worship the child.

From this vantage point, their presence is disturbing – indeed alarming. Their part in the story of Jesus’ birth indicates that God is doing something radically different and unexpected. That is, God is giving the Gentiles a prominent place in the unfolding story of the people of God. The identification by the magi of Jesus as the Christ implies that from now on everything is going to be different – as indeed it turns out to be. As Paul’s letters reveal, one of the most confronting and difficult issues for the emerging church was this: “what is the place of the Gentiles and how much should our traditions and practices change so that they can be included?”

For us, the magi provide a romantic element to the accounts of Jesus’ nativity, but “King Herod was troubled and all Jerusalem with him.” Not only did the birth of the King of the Jews threaten Herod’s position and the peace and stability of Jerusalem, but it also shattered the expectations about how God would act and threw open previously unthought-of possibilities with regard to God and God’s relationship with the world.

In life, but more particularly in faith, most of us become comfortable with the way things are. We tend to think that because God has acted in a particular way in the past, God will continue to behave in that way in the future. In so doing, we make God a servant of our expectations; we place boundaries on the way that we think God will act and we blind ourselves to God’s intervention in our lives and in the world. God is not and cannot be a slave to our expectations.

Matthew’s account of the magi raises important questions: Do we want to keep things the same or are we willing to allow our world-view to be shaken and tossed upside down by God’s once more breaking through our complacency and entering into our world. When the alarm bells ring – do we look to immediately extinguish the flames or do we ask ourselves whether God is saying something new and radical, challenging us to move in new directions and to open our eyes to new possibilities? And do we have the courage to accept the change that that involves?

[1] (With thanks to Thomas Long (Christian Century) Blogging Towards Sunday, Epiphany, 2015, 2014.

Who is in and who is out?

January 4, 2014

Epiphany 2014

Matthew 2:1-12

Marian Free

In the name of God, whose love knows no bounds and creates no boundaries for those who would love God in return. Amen.

I imagine that many of you have seen the movie My Big Fat Greek Wedding. It is a wonderful, light-hearted look at a family of Greek migrants in the United States. Like many migrants, they have formed their own sub-community and have done what they can to maintain their culture in a new and strange land. One of the ways in which this extended family can ensure that their traditions are maintained is to insist that their offspring marry someone of Greek descent who will be like them. The movie follows a young woman, her desire to build her own life and to marry the American man with whom she has fallen in love. We watch in agony as her Father parades a number of less-than-attractive but suitable Greek men before he is persuaded to give in and allow her to marry the man of her choice. Along the way we observe the difficulties of two different cultures coming to grips with each other and the migrants letting go of their rigid insistence on remaining apart.

 Of course, the movie is an exaggeration but I grew up in a Brisbane in which recent Mediterranean migrants mostly lived in West End with others who shared their language and ate their food. The supermarket in that suburb was stocked with huge tins of olive oil and the fruit shops introduced us to exotic vegetables like zucchini (which as a child I could have well done without)!

It is human nature to seek out those who support and encourage us, to find those with whom we have something in common, to mix with those who share our background, language and history. Migrants in particular often form communities in the new countries in which they find themselves. Living close to those who have shared their past and their journey to another world provides a sense of continuity, makes the present less strange and makes it easier to practice one’s faith, to cook the foods one is used to and to speak a familiar language and be understood. 

From what we can glean from the New Testament Judaism, in the first century at least, had very clear boundaries and cultural identifiers. According to Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus claimed to have come for “the lost sheep of Israel”, and all the Gospels make a clear distinction between those who are Jews and those who are not. Paul’s letters to the Romans and Galatians indicate just how strong Jewish ethnic boundaries were and how effective they had been in keeping others out. These included adherence to the law – including dietary regulations and purity laws – the circumcision of every male and belief in the one God.

These borders appear to have been fiercely guarded. Outsiders who admired and practiced the faith usually only obtained the status of “God-fearers” and were never fully included as members of “God’s chosen people”.

It is difficult to know if this was always the case, but almost certainly the experience of the exile (500 years before Jesus), would have served to define and harden national identity. It would make sense that those living in exile in Babylon would have placed an emphasis on those characteristics that distinguished them from the culture around them. (We see in the Book of Daniel a description of how some people responded to living in a culture vastly different from their own. In the face of great opposition, and at the risk of his life, Daniel holds fast to his identity and refuses to compromise his beliefs and the practices associated with his faith.)

When the exiles return home they have a clearer vision of who they are, but it is not long before they are again under foreign rule – this time in their own land. By the time that Jesus is born, Palestine has been ruled by foreign powers for over three hundred years. It would be reasonable to suppose that this too created a need for them to preserve their unique identity, to stress their distinctiveness and so claim their place in the world. Those who had left Palestine and settled in other parts of the Empire may (like today’s migrants) have drawn in on themselves and stressed the importance of the things that made them different from the world around them.

For Christians reading the Old Testament, the exclusiveness of first century Judaism is harder to understand. Books like the book of Ruth and Jonah tell, in different ways, the story of God’s concern for and desire to include every nation in the covenant that God made with Abraham. Ruth is a Moabite (non-Jewish) woman who becomes the forebear of David and therefore of the expected Saviour. Jonah’s task is to warn the Ninevites (non-Jews) of God’s wrath and to urge them to repent. According to the Book of Kings, the Queen of Sheba travels to meet King Solomon, to pay homage and to listen to his wisdom and according to the prophet Isaiah, Cyrus, the Persian King is God’s anointed or Messiah. In more than one Psalm, the author sees a time when the whole world will stream to Jerusalem. As we read the Old Testament, it seems clear that God’s intention was always to include the Gentiles.

 By the first century, possibly because the Jewish people were feeling so embattled, they had not only drawn clear lines around themselves but, from what we can tell, they had come to the conclusion that a Jewish Saviour would only save the Jews – or those who were prepared to become Jews. This created a dilemma for the early believers. Many Gentiles had come to faith in Jesus just as they had and what is more, they too had received the gift of the Holy Spirit as a result of that faith. Could they be excluded from membership in this new community simply because they were not Jews by birth? The answer was “no”. Both Acts and the letter to the Galatians tell us that the issue was resolved at a council held in Jerusalem. Rather than be compelled to become Jews, Gentile converts were required only to observe a minimum number of practices in order to belong.

A different dilemma faced the Gospel writers who, some twenty years later, had to confront the reality that Jesus, the Jewish Saviour, had made a greater impact on the Gentiles than he had on the Jews. In order to resolve this puzzle, it was important that they discover and record the evidence that Jesus’ ministry clearly demonstrated an intention to include the Gentiles. In the Gospels there are accounts of Jesus commending Gentiles who exhibit more faith than the Jews, of a Canaanite woman who argues that her daughter deserves to be healed, Jesus’ command to make disciples of all nations and his promise that the disciples will receive the Holy Spirit and be his witnesses to the ends of the earth.

It is in this context that we are to understand Matthew’s account of the coming of the Magi. The author of Matthew, whom we believe was writing for a primarily Jewish community, needed to make it clear that right from the very beginning of the story, Jesus was recognised and worshipped by Gentiles. Furthermore, these magicians – astrologers or scholars – were no ordinary people, but, like the Queen of Sheba who visited Solomon, they were people of significance and wealth who come to pay homage to a Jewish Saviour. In this way the author of Matthew establishes that, from his infancy, Jesus was identified as the Saviour not only of the Jews but of the whole world. The implication being that if Jesus is the Saviour of the world, then those who are not Jews by birth or practice can and should be included in the worshipping community. Anyone who has faith in Jesus can belong.

It is always a mistake to try to second-guess God, to believe that we can determine who is in and who is out, who to include and who to exclude. If we are rigid and exclusive, if we insist that only those who behave in a certain way can belong, we are in danger of drawing our boundaries too close and of failing to see what God is doing in the world.

Who do we exclude and why? If anyone who has faith can belong, who are we to decide who is in and who is out?

 

 

A window into Luke

February 2, 2013

Epiphany 4

Luke 4:21-30

Marian Free

In the name of God, whose son Jesus is revealed to us in the gospels. Amen.

Over the course of this year you will notice that our gospel readings come predominantly from the Gospel of Luke. The reason for this is that we are in the third year of the lectionary cycle. Over three successive years we read, almost in full, Matthew, Mark and Luke. (John does not have a year to itself, but is read during Easter and Lent during those years.)

We do not know anything about the author of the gospel of Luke, but we can deduce some things from the gospel and the way in which it is written. Luke, as Matthew, follows the same order as Mark, however Luke leaves out information and text which he (we presume the author was a “he”) considers unnecessary. For example, he completely omits chapters 6 and 7 of Mark possibly because they contain a number of repetitions. On the other hand, Luke is a storyteller and with just a few details is able to create a comprehensive picture or tell a compelling story. Two of the most well-known and loved stories in the New Testament are told only by Luke – the Good Samaritan and the Prodigal son both of which say a lot very succinctly. So, despite Luke’s preference for brevity, his gospel is significantly longer than that of Mark.

For centuries, it was argued that the author of Luke was a physician. Scholars pointed to Luke’s interest in, and apparent knowledge of things medical. However, it has long since been observed that Luke has no more knowledge or interest in medicine than any other NT writer. It is clear, however, that Luke does have more interest in social justice. (In Acts we find the idea that members of the church should have all things in common and the Song of Mary states that God “has put down the mighty from their thrones and the rich he has sent empty away.”)

We know that Luke was the author of two books – the Gospel and the Acts of the Apostles – which, though separated by John in our Bibles, originally belonged together. That they have the same author is demonstrated by the fact that both books are addressed to the same person – Theophilus – and that similar themes play out throughout both books. One clear theme is that of journey and mission. The Gospel, concerned as it is with re-telling the life of Jesus, is focussed on Jerusalem and a large part of the book is taken up with Jesus’ journey to Jerusalem and its consequences. In Acts, the focus begins in Jerusalem, the centre of Judaism and the birth place of the church, and from there the story broadens out to include the Mediterranean and Rome, the centre of the Empire.

Luke’s gospel was probably written some time between the years 80 and 90. it cannot have been written before the sixth decade of the first century otherwise it would not have been able to include the details recorded at the end of Acts, nor can it have been written any later than the late second century which is the date of our earliest copy.

By the time that the gospels were written, the emerging church faced a crisis – the Jews to whom Jesus was sent had failed to respond to his message, whereas the Gentiles – who did not belong to the people of Israel – had come to faith. To some extent, all the gospel writers deal with this conundrum in some way, but the issue expressed most clear in Luke. The third gospel demonstrates both that God remains faithful to his promises – God has not abandoned the Jews – and that the inclusion of the Gentiles was always part of God’s plan. This is one reason that the author of Luke begins the story in the centre of Judaism and concludes the account in the centre of the empire.

Even though Luke is keen to demonstrate the movement of the faith throughout the whole world, he is equally keen to emphasise its Jewish roots. According to Luke, the story of Jesus and of the early church is nothing less than a continuation of Judaism and the fulfilment of the OT expectations. Unlike Mathew, who repeatedly alerts us to the fulfilment of the OT, “this was to fulfil what was written in the scriptures”, Luke makes the same point by repetition and allusion. So for example, the Song of Mary is almost identical to the Song of Hannah and Jesus’ life is portrayed in such a way that those who knew would associate Jesus with Moses. (Moses goes into the wilderness. In the desert Moses experiences a call from God. The people to whom Moses is sent do not understand and so on.) In fact it can be argued that Luke sees the account of John the Baptist as the conclusion of the OT era (the last of the prophets), and Jesus as the beginning of the new, God’s anointed one.

Today’s gospel reading is recorded in Matthew, Mark and Luke. Luke’s record is however, quite different from the other two. If you were able to place the three accounts side by side you would see that Luke provides new material that is not found elsewhere. All three report Jesus’ preaching in the synagogue. Only Luke quotes the passages that Jesus reads: “He has sent me to preach good news to the poor, to proclaim release to the captives.” Likewise only Luke has Jesus claim that the scripture is fulfilled in him. The former is consistent with Luke’s social justice emphasis and the latter with his fulfilment theme. Luke alone has Jesus insinuate that the crowd (like the Jews in the times of Elijah and Elisha) are unable to recognise one of their own whereas those from outside (Naaman) do. (The reader is not surprised – this is what is happening in their own time – Gentiles believe, those to whom Jesus was sent do not.)

The response of Jesus’ listeners in Mark and Matthew is relatively mild despite being impressed, they took offense at him because they knew him so well). In Luke the reaction to Jesus’ claim and to his insinuation about the lack of faith in his listeners is so powerful and negative that they try to kill him. (Luke, at the beginning of his account of Jesus’ ministry is already making it clear that it is not that God has abandoned God’s people, but that they have failed to recognise God in Jesus.)

Most of us think that we know what the Bible says so sometimes it comes as a shock to learn that passages and stories that we thought belonged to all the gospels belong only to one or that one writer makes what we consider to be radical changes or additions to a familiar story. It is also exciting to compare the three accounts. Our new knowledge encourages us to ask questions, to consider why Luke added so much to his source material, what he was trying to say about Jesus, who were the people who heard or read the Gospel, how did the early church develop and grow and so on? During the year we will discover the answers to some, if not all of these questions.

Scripture is fascinating, confusing, challenging and comforting, but above all, it is one way that God communicates with us and a way that we in turn communicate God to the world. Don’t we owe it to God and to the world to discover and to understand as much as we possibly can?

Jesus at a wedding

January 19, 2013

Epiphany 2, 2013

Wedding at Cana – John 2:1-11

Marian Free

 

In the name of God who showers us with abundant blessings and reveals himself to us through his Son Jesus. Amen.

 

I don’t need to tell you that I know a great deal about weddings. Not only do I conduct numerous weddings but I had a hand in planning my wedding and have been involved in the planning of my children’s weddings. Even quite simple ceremonies take quite a deal of planning. A bare minimum requires the signing of the Notice of Intent at least one month before the ceremony, arranging a celebrant a venue and two witnesses. Anything more elaborate also involves deciding on the number of guests, sending invitations, choosing music, booking a reception centre, selecting a menu, organizing a cake, making or purchasing a dress, hiring or buying a suit, buying shoes and flowers, planning the seating arrangements, thinking of and inviting someone to be an MC and hopefully planning a honeymoon. For those who want to go to more trouble cars need to be hired, a photographer booked, wedding favours made or purchased, bridesmaid’s dresses made or bought and the list goes on (and on).  No wonder people find it stressful, I’m exhausted just listing what needs to be done!

Weddings in the first century were quite different, but I presume that they also required a great deal of planning. From what we can re-create from the literature available, it appears that in the first century all of the village would have been invited and the festivities would have lasted for seven days. The celebrations would have started, not at 3pm at an appointed time, but whenever the friends of the bridegroom arrived with the bride. One can only imagine the sort of organisation that would go into such an event. Feeding a large crowd over a number of days would involve a considerable amount of preparation – beasts would have to be chosen, slaughtered, prepared, and cooked, bread and sweets would have to be made and enough wine procured. Other arrangements such as dowries would have had to have been settled long beforehand.

It is interesting that the first event in Jesus’ life that is recorded by the author of John’s gospel is that of a wedding not a healing. What is more, the story raises a number of questions – not least of which is why the hosts ran out of wine. Were the groom’s parents really so unprepared as to not have enough to drink, or was it, as some suggest, that Jesus and the disciples did not observe the tradition of bringing a contribution to the festivities? Other questions arise: Whose wedding was it? Why was Mary concerned about the lack of wine if she was not the host? Why does Jesus address his mother in such an abrupt way: “woman”? Scholars have had a field day with the question of Mary’s interference in the festivities. It is this story that has led to the theory (used by Dan Brown) that Jesus was married to Mary Magdalene. If this were the case, it would explain Mary’s concern with the wine – she is the host of the celebration. It is her responsibility to have catered adequately for the party, it is her reputation that will be harmed if she proven to be an inadequate host. This is why Mary notices the shortfall and looks to Jesus for a solution.

Commentaries on John’s gospel provide answers to some of these questions, but the real key to the story lies not in the specific details, but in the evangelist’s purpose in recording it. The heart of the account is not Jesus’ relationship with his mother, nor is it the miracle itself, nor even the vast quantity of wine that results. The last line of the story tells us that its primary purpose is the revelation of the person of Jesus – to the disciples who are present and to those who will read the account later.

From start to finish, the author of John’s gospel is intent on making known that Jesus is the one who is to come, the one sent by God to bring salvation to the world and eternal life to those who believe. As we learn in chapter 20, John’s gospel is written: “so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.” So the purpose of the first of Jesus’ miracles recorded by John is to bring people to faith in him.

Unlike the Synoptic Gospels which begin with Jesus’ healing the sick and casting out demons, John begins with a wedding and a miracle of abundance. What is not readily obvious to us will have been clear to Jesus’ disciples and would certainly have been plain to those for whom the Gospel was written. Through the use of symbol and allusion, John portrays Jesus as the one who will bring the redemption promised by God. For example, as today’s reading from Isaiah indicates, marriage is a sign of the restoration of Israel – the people will be the bride and God the groom, their shame will be taken away and they will be able to hold their heads high among the people. A wedding and a feast imply that Jesus is the one who was to come.

Elsewhere, Jesus speaks of the danger of putting new wine into old wine skins. Wine replacing water is suggestive of a new and different era replacing the old. Lastly, the water to which Jesus refers is stored in stone jars, jars which because they were not porous and could not be contaminated, held the water used for the ritual of purification. John’s readers would have understood the illusion – Jesus’ salvific action replaces the need for repeated ritual purification. Through Jesus, the people have been put right with God for all time.

In the written account at least, and possibly in the actual event, all of these images would have spoken to the disciples of the fact that God, through Jesus, was doing something new. Something that has been pointed to by the prophets was now a reality in the life and presence of Jesus. Through allusions to OT expectations John presents Jesus as God’s answer to all that has been promised. He suggests that through Jesus the relationship between the people and God has been healed, the promised banquet has begun, the forsakennness of Israel has been supplanted by marriage and that because of Jesus the need for purification has become redundant.

So you can see, there is so much more to this wedding than a miracle. The wedding allows Jesus glory to be revealed which in turn leads to the disciples’ belief in him. The revelation of Jesus in John’s gospel has one purpose and one alone, that those who see and those who hear come to believe that Jesus is the Son of God.

A miracle-worker does not change the world. Someone who turns water into wine does not bring about the salvation of humankind. The extraordinary thing about Jesus, as John’s gospel will make clear over and over again, is that he and the Father are one and that through him, the world is redeemed and the relationship with God is restored.

Maintaining a sense of awe

January 5, 2013
Maintaining a sense of awe and wonder

Maintaining a sense of awe and wonder

Epiphany 2013

Matthew 2:1-12

 

Marian Free

 

Holy God, open our hearts to the wonder that surrounds us – especially that which reveals your presence. Amen.

I don’t know what your experience was, but I clearly remember the day on which I became aware that science had destroyed my innocence – the day I knew things which changed forever the way in which I looked at the world.  I guess that I was about nine years old. I was lying on my back under a frangipani tree. As I looked up at the clouds I saw – not fluffy, cotton wool creations on which angels might sit, but instead floating masses of water which would not hold even the smallest of celestial beings. In that moment I knew, all the magic of clouds had gone. My new-found knowledge meant that my view of the world had changed forever. It was no longer possible to see the world as I had once seen it.

While I obviously remember that moment with absolute clarity, I can assure you that it did not destroy my joy and wonder in creation, nor did it produce an antipathy for science which, as often as not, points me in the direction of awe and wonder not only in God’s creation, but in those good things made by our hands.

That said, I do feel a sense of regret that the church, which at first protected its members from the Enlightenment, eventually allowed itself to be caught up in a need to be both rational and scientific. Over the years much astronomical work has gone into trying to find an explanation for the star that the Magi followed. Could it the triple conjunction of planets, a combination of just two planets, a Nova or even a comet? Unlike other miracles, astronomical events can be traced with some accuracy. If we knew the exact date of Jesus’ birth or could read back into Matthew’s story the precise time at which the Magi saw the star, we could scientifically work out whether there was an actual astronomical event which caught the attention of our Magi.

Determining the nature of the “star”, finding scientific evidence for the biblical miracles, is to miss the point of the story-telling. It is clear if we read all four gospels, that none of the writers were intent on writing an historically accurate account of Jesus’ birth. If they were all four accounts would be exactly the same. By the time the evangelists were writing, there were no eyewitnesses to Jesus’ life and besides, they had a more important goal in mind. As they saw it, their task was to bring people to faith in Jesus not to write history and certainly not to write history as you and I think of history.

In the setting of the first Christian communities, the stories of Jesus played a number of roles, one of which was that of forming the identity of the emerging community, of reinforcing the idea of who they were. The stories that were repeated were the stories of faith. They recalled Jesus as people had known him, they developed an understanding of Jesus’ place in history and provided tales that were vital for the ongoing life of the church. The writers and their communities were not cross-checking references to make sure they got it right. What they were doing was trying to make sense of, not to record history. (It is only in relatively recent times that there has been a concern with the historicity and reliability of biblical stories. Prior generations accepted them as sacred stories of faith and were not overly concerned with whether or not they corresponded with actual fact.[1])

Which brings us back to the Magi, those mysterious figures who come from who knows where to offer gifts to a child whom they believe – despite his unpromising beginnings – will one day become a king. Their place in Matthew’s gospel and in the future direction of the church is vital for they represent the Gentiles – all the nations other than that of Israel, who by virtue of this birth, will through faith rather than physical descent be able to gain a place in the people of God.

In this way scripture was fulfilled. Throughout the OT there are signs that the God of the Jews could and did use others to fulfill God’s purpose, just as there are indications and even promises that no one would be excluded from God’s embrace. Abraham was promised that he would be the forebear of many nations, significant characters of the OT testament did not belong to the nation of Israel – Ruth was a Moabite, Rahab a Canaanite and Cyrus a Persian. Jonah saved the Gentile people of Nineveh. A queen from Sheba came to visit Solomon and so on. Add to this the references in the Psalms and elsewhere that the Gentiles will stream to Jerusalem. In other words it is easy to defend the notion that the OT expectation was that Judaism would not remain an exclusive group.

The reality of the early Christian community was that the Gentiles were flocking to Jesus while the Jewish people were, by and large holding back. All the gospel writers struggle to come to terms with this situation. Matthew solves the puzzle at the start by having rank outsiders become the first to identify and to worship Jesus.

It would be wonderful if both the shepherds and the magi were historically true, but what is more important is what the stories have to tell us. The shepherds place Jesus among the poor and the outcast. The account of the Magis expands Jesus’ sphere of influence beyond the confines of Israel. In that sense both accounts are true because they both reveal an essential truth about Jesus.

In our search for truth let us not abandon our sense of wonder and expectation. There are times when we may suspend out intellect and allow ourselves to be drawn into a story which in the final analysis is beyond our grasp and certainly beyond our comprehension.


[1] Johnston, Engaging the Word, 7.