Posts Tagged ‘failure’

Staying in the dark or stepping into the light

October 27, 2018

Pentecost 23 – 2018

Mark 10:46-52

Marian Free

In the name of God who refuses to be limited by the confines of the human imagination. Amen.

I have been extraordinarily fortunate in that I have been able to travel. Some time ago I was on a bus tour in northern Italy. As we drew near to the city state of San Marino the tour guide told us enthusiastically that our destination had fantastic views of the ocean. The reality for our group was very different. After we had checked in, my husband and I went for a walk to get a sense of our surroundings. The city streets zigzagged up the hill until we came to the city walls. As we were walking the cloud that had covered the sky during the day decided to settle in. As we returned to the hotel, the mist was so dense and the visibility was so low that it was difficult to discern shapes that were more than a metre in front of us. Just ahead of me my husband looked like a blurry shadow.

At the beginning of Jesus’ journey to Jerusalem he healed a blind man (8:22-26). The account is one of the more interesting of the healing narratives in that Jesus fails – at least at the first attempt. After Jesus put saliva on the man’s eyes and laid hands on him, he asked: “Can you see anything?” The man replied: “I can see people, but they look like trees walking.” Jesus had to lay his hands on the man a second time in order for his sight to be completely restored. Another interesting aspect of this account, (though it is consistent with Mark’s story telling), is that Jesus sends the man home but insists that he doesn’t go into Bethsaida. This is presumably so that he doesn’t spread the word of his healing.

The account of Bartimaeus that we have read today is quite different. Bartimaeus is named whereas the first man was not named and it is Bartimaeus, not his friends, who seeks out Jesus. Of further interest is that Bartimaeus knows who Jesus is. He recognises that Jesus is not just any healer – he is the Son of David, the one expected by the Jews. On this occasion, Jesus heals the man immediately.

Of course, the two accounts are interesting in and of themselves. We know Jesus was able to bring about healing, and these stories provide further evidence of this ability. It is intriguing then to ask why Mark would tell a story that indicated that Jesus was not perfect, that not every healing worked – at least not at the first attempt.

The answer to the puzzle lies in part in Mark’s story telling technique. The two accounts of Jesus’ healing a blind man are a literary device (intercalation or sandwiching) intended not just to report on Jesus’ activity but to reveal a deeper meaning or to emphasise the point that he is making.

Jesus’ journey to Jerusalem is framed by these two stories – that of a man who gradually receives his sight and that of a man who sees at once. In between the two accounts Mark includes the Transfiguration and the three predictions of Jesus’ suffering and death. On the way to Jerusalem, Jesus reveals himself and his future to the disciples and yet they remain confused as to who he is and what his purpose might be. Despite everything that Jesus does and teaches the disciples still do not understand that Jesus is very different from the Christ whom they had expected.

On each of the occasions that Jesus predicts his death, the reaction of the disciples demonstrates their complete lack of understanding. They argue about who is the greatest and they ask for seats at Jesus’ right and Jesus’ left. Peter draws from Jesus his strongest language: “Get behind me Satan”, Jesus says when Peter refuses to accept that Jesus will suffer. During the journey, we also see that the disciples are ineffectual. Jesus has given them the power to heal and yet they are unable to heal the boy with epilepsy,

For reasons unknown to us, the author of Mark reveals Jesus’ identity only gradually. The disciples are painted as foolish and capable of completely misconstruing Jesus’ character and purpose. One explanation for Mark’s secrecy is that the author of the gospel knows that the concept of a suffering Christ is so difficult, so outside anyone’s expectation, that he slowly introduces the idea. The three passion predictions and the disciples’ failure to understand provide the readers with the opportunity to learn from the disciples’ mistakes. By the time that, in Mark, the centurion declares of the crucified Jesus: “Truly this man was the Son of God” the readers have come to a place in which they can make that same affirmation. The suffering, dying Jesus is indeed the Christ sent by God.

Blindness comes in many forms. Those of us who have full use of our sight, may have blind spots in our understanding. Like the disciples we may be so formed by our past, by our family experience, by our education that we are unable to identity our prejudices, our narrow mindset or our limited horizons. We may be blind to the ways in which our views of God and of faith have been moulded. We may hold on to “truths” or to “doctrines” that have long since lost their meaning.

The blind men are healed, but the disciples – at this point in the journey – remain in darkness. What is the darkness that binds us? What are the hopes and expectations that hold us in their thrall? What are the images of God –Earth Maker, Pain Bearer, Life Giver – that we cannot let go?

Jesus longs to open our eyes to new and different possibilities, to new ways of seeing God and new ways of relating to the world.

We can allow ourselves to remain in darkness or we can trust that Jesus will take us where we need to go. We can hold on to outmoded ideas, or we can ask Jesus to open our eyes to new and different experiences. We can hold fast to what we have always believed or we can take a risk that God might be so much more than we could ever think or imagine.

We can remain in the dark or allow ourselves to be drawn into the light.

It’s not what we do, but what God does through us

May 5, 2018

Easter 6 – 2018

John 15:9-17

Marian Free

 

In the name of God whose love knows no bounds. Amen.

Most of us know the story of the ill-fated attempt by Captain Robert Scott to reach the South Pole and how his team died when they were just 11 miles short of the food depot. Until relatively recently, Scott was held responsible for the failure of the expedition and for the deaths of his companions. However research by the University of Cambridge and the Scott Polar Research Institute has revealed evidence that those under his command bear a large part of that responsibility. Had those left to run the base camp followed Scott’s directions the endeavour would have had quite a different outcome and lives would not have been lost. Written evidence has emerged that confirms that Scott left instructions that, had they been followed, would have given himself and his companions every likelihood of surviving the return journey.

It appears that not only were Scott’s orders ignored, but a series of mistakes by the men he had left in charge created the circumstances that led to his death. Those left behind had been charged with sending the dog sleds out to meet the returnees at a point beyond the food depot. Instead, a decision was made to send the sleds only as far as the depot. If there was any responsibility on Scott’s part, it may have been that he left the ship’s surgeon in charge of the base camp rather than someone with more experience, knowledge and leadership skills. Atkinson, the ship’s surgeon, made a number of poor decisions, one of which was to use men from the base camp to unload supplies from the ship which left them too tired to leave as scheduled. Another was to send an inexperienced scientist with poor navigation skills to the food depot[1].

A successful mission requires a team of people who are equally committed, have, between them, the appropriate skills and who are willing to work together for a common goal rather than seek their own aggrandisement.

If a good team is required for a mission to be successful, it begs the questions as to why Jesus chose the people he chose to be his disciples.

It doesn’t matter which gospel we read; one thing is absolutely clear – the disciples, those whom Jesus chose, failed him completely. The disciples consistently misunderstand Jesus and his purpose. They try to thwart his mission, they question his ability, they demonstrate their lack of trust in him, they are unable to use the powers that Jesus gave them, they compete with each other and seek their own glory and, ultimately, they betray, desert and deny him. Any way you look at it the disciples whom Jesus chose were not only the most unlikely of choices, but they were also the least trustworthy and the least likely to further his mission.

The point is that their imperfections do not matter. Jesus wasn’t trying to create a team that would reach great heights or astound the world with new discoveries.  Jesus was trying to create a team that would experience the oneness that he shared with the Father, a team that rather than doing anything amazing would allow him to do great things through them. The very vulnerability and frailty of the disciples is potentially their strength. If they are able to recognise their imperfections they may realise that to achieve anything they must and allow God to work through them.

Today’s gospel is a continuation of last week’s in which Jesus urged the disciples to be connected to him as branches to a vine. The theme of abiding is made even more explicit today– abiding in the vine/abiding in Jesus is to abide in God’s love.  Jesus does not ask his disciples to aspire to greatness or to aim to achieve wonderful things. All that Jesus asks is that they abide in his love. Just as it is their connection to the vine – not anything that they do – that results in fruitfulness, so abiding in Jesus will enable them to bear fruit that will last.

When we try to put these words into practice, we must be careful not to turn them around. It is vital that we do not confuse fruitfulness with anything that we do. Trying to achieve goodness or aiming to bear fruit through our own efforts and our own actions will lead to failure. We will fail because in the very act of trying to do things on our own we prevent God’s working in and through us. By acting on our own we separate from the source of love and goodness that alone produces the fruit that comes from being in and being directed by God.

It is hard to grasp that it is not what we do but what God does that matters. It is difficult to comprehend that God expects no more and no less than that we allow ourselves to be loved by God. It is easy to misunderstand Jesus’ reference to commandments as a command to do something and to forget that Jesus gives us only one command and that is to love one another. In today’s gospel, the only command that Jesus gives is to abide, to abide in his love.

Being passive recipients of God’s love allows God’s love to flow through us to the world. Opening ourselves to the love of God shown through Jesus empowers us to be God’s presence in the world. We cannot make God’s love known unless we first know God’s love, we cannot be God’s presence in the world unless we are deeply and intimately connected to God.

Like the disciples we may be unlikely and unworthy recipients of God’s love but God loves us none the less. All that is required of us is that we accept that we are loved, to open ourselves to that love, to trust in that love and like Jesus, allow that love to flow through us to the world.

 

[1]The Telegraph, April 28, 2018.

Exposed for all to see

August 29, 2015

Pentecost 14 – 2015

Mark 7:1-8, 14-23

Marian Free

 

Lord our God, our Creator, Redeemer and Sanctifier, we ask you to cleanse us from all hypocrisy, to unite us to our fellow men and women by the bonds of peace and love, and to confirm us in holiness now and forever. Amen.

Last week we looked – in a rather light-hearted way – at a number of the reasons people give for not inviting others to church. As I reflected on some of those reasons, it occurred to me that not one of us mentioned that the church was perceived as hypocritical. In the latter half of the last century if not before, the accusation of hypocrisy was often leveled at the church and used to justify non-attendance. If the subject of church attendance was raised, we were as likely as not to be told: “I don’t go to church, the church is full of hypocrites”. Those who made the accusation felt that the lives of churchgoers did not match the values and morals that they proclaimed to uphold. To be fair, this statement was made in an age in which the church had set itself up as the moral guardian of society at large and not only did many people feel burdened by the sometimes harsh demands placed on them, but on more than one occasion the church or its members had spectacularly fallen from grace. Issues such as fraud, adultery and underage sex all made front-page headlines and demonstrated that even members of the church were unable to achieve the high standards that they set for others.

The reputation of the church was seriously eroded long before the more recent revelations of the prevalence of child sex abuse in the church and its agencies.

It has been a long time since I have heard the hypocrisy of the church used as a reason for someone not to come to worship or as a justification for abandoning the faith. The reason for this is simple. Over the last decade or so the human frailty of the church has been laid bare for all to see. In the light of catastrophic failures such as child sex abuse it has become impossible for the church to continue to claim the high moral ground and difficult for us to impose on others standards of behaviour that we ourselves cannot consistently achieve. Collectively, we have been forced to concede that we cannot always live out what we preach.

I don’t know about you, but I find this new situation strangely liberating. It means is that we no longer have to pretend. Instead of trying to present a perfect face to the world, we can now be honest about our brokenness and frailty. Instead of standing apart from (dare I say above) society as a whole, we can admit our common humanity. Instead of constantly striving to be what we are not, we can finally relax and let people see us as we really are – imperfect, struggling human beings, set apart only by virtue of our belief in the God revealed by Jesus Christ.

While the exterior of the church may be tarnished and our failures laid bare for all to see, we have been set free from the unnecessary burden of pretence. Now that there is no longer anything left to hide, now that it is impossible to pretend that we are something that we are not, we can concentrate on our true vocation – being in a relationship with the God who accepts us as we are, frees us from guilt and fear and challenges us to strive for wholeness and peace – for ourselves and for others.

Our gospel this morning warns us against giving priority to rules in the belief that somehow we can achieve a degree of godliness simply by our own efforts. It is a reminder that it is what we try to be, not what we pretend to be that really matters. Authentic living, the gospel suggests, means that we should not elevate our public image at the expense of an honest and authentic engagement with and identification with the world at large.

These are lessons that for today’s church have been hard-won but, thanks to the failures of the past, it is much clearer now that the church (the Christian faith) is less about codes of behaviour and more about love, less about being good and more about being with God, less about judgement and more about forgiveness, less about guilt and more about acceptance, less about anxiety and more about confidence, less about exclusion and more about inclusion and most importantly that it is less about putting on a face and more about being real.

We come to church, not because we believe that we are better than everyone else, but because we know that we are not. We come to church as we are – broken and lost – knowing that we are assured of a welcome from the God who forgives the sinner, seeks the lost, embraces the prodigal, lifts the fallen and who longs to heal, forgive and restore a humanity that has lost its way.

This is what we (the church) have to offer the world – not a false image of perfection, but an assurance that God who loved us enough to die for us, is waiting with outstretched arms until each of us finds our way home.

 

As Rowan Williams said in his enthronement sermon: “The one great purpose of the Church’s existence is to share that bread of life, to hold open in its words and actions a place where we can be with Jesus and to be channels for his free, unanxious, utterly demanding, grown-up love. The Church exists to pass on the promise of Jesus – You can live in the presence of God without fear; you can receive from God’s fullness and set others free from fear and guilt.”