Posts Tagged ‘misunderstanding of disciples’

Just how blind are we?

October 23, 2021

Pentecost 22 – 2021
Mark 10:46-52
Marian Free

May I speak in the name of God, Earth-maker, Pain-bearer, Life-giver. Amen.

Over the past few weeks, I have found myself wondering what is going on in the Marcan community and why the author of this gospel has felt the need to be so repetitive in chapters 8 through 10 of his gospel. With any luck you haven’t noticed, but I feel as though I have been saying the same thing over and over for the past five weeks. In this time, Jesus has, according to our gospel readings, announced his death and resurrection on no less than three occasions and on each of these occasions the disciples have wilfully or foolishly chosen to misunderstand his teaching. Peter rebuked Jesus, the disciples competed among each other to determine who was the greatest and James and John asked to sit at Jesus’ right hand and his left.

It seems that it is impossible for the disciple to believe that the one whom they have chosen to follow will not be triumphant – whether against the power of Rome or the power of evil. Despite everything that Jesus says – that those who follow him must take up their cross, that those who want to save their life must lose it, that whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all, and that the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve – the disciples seem to be blind to the implications of Jesus’ announcements and of the consequences of following one who will suffer and die.

Today’s gospel addresses this question of blindness. What appears on the surface to be a simple account of healing has, on closer examination, hidden depths. To fully understand the healing of Bartimaeus we must place it into its historical/cultural context as well as into its literary context.

Current scholarship believes that the gospel of Mark was written in about 70CE for a community who lived in rural Syria-Palestine. This being the case, the Marcan community would have recently been victims (or at least witnesses) of Vespasian’s brutal put down of the Northern revolt in 68CE. In the year 70 Jerusalem was razed to the ground, and the Temple – the centre of Jewish faith – destroyed. The impact of these events must have been profound. It is plausible that the community of faith were both confused and frightened. What sort of God would allow Jerusalem to be destroyed? Why did God not intervene and defeat the Romans instead of allowing them to destroy all that was holy?

Mark’s threefold repetition of Jesus’ announcement of his death makes sense against this background, as does the emphasis on servanthood and the instruction to take up one’s cross. In effect, Mark is reminding a community that is uncertain about their place in the world and anxious about their safety in the present and future that faith in a crucified Saviour turns everything upside down. It is not about triumphalism or success, but about submission and service. Following Jesus means being prepared to lose their lives in order to save them.

By the time Mark put pen to paper, Jesus had been dead for forty years and it is almost certain that any eyewitnesses to the events of his life and death were also dead. No doubt the community of faith had settled into some sort of comfortable existence – a comfort that has been shattered by recent events. It should come as no surprise to us that they needed a reminder of the origins of their faith and of the gruesome death that lay at its heart.

In literary terms, today’s gospel concludes a section of the gospel that began in chapter 8 with the healing of another blind man. The disciples’ blindness (or unwillingness to see what it means to follow Jesus) is framed accounts of blind men receiving their sight. Of significance is the difference between the two healing stories. In the first (8:22) the blind man does not see clearly after Jesus’ first attempt at healing. Initially he can see people, “but they look like trees, walking.” Jesus has to lay his hands on the man’s eyes for a second time before he can see clearly. In this morning’s account Jesus only has to say: “Your faith has made you well” for the man’s sight to be completely restored.

It would appear that Mark has structured his account of Jesus is such a way that he is able to confront the blindness and the misunderstanding of the community for whom he is writing. Their blindness is represented by their competitiveness, their striving for recognition or for positions of power and above all, by their failure to understand that following Jesus means both service and suffering. Forty years after Jesus’ death it seems that they need to be reminded of what it means to follow a crucified Saviour.

At the beginning of this section of the gospel Mark portrays the understanding of the disciples is as cloudy and indistinct as that of the blind man. The immediate healing of Bartimaeus at the conclusion of the segment appears to signify that Jesus has told the disciples all that they need to know and that the disciples should now be clear both about Jesus’ mission and about the roles that they must assume as his followers. In other words, over the course of this period of teaching Jesus has opened the eyes of the disciples to the reality of discipleship.

In what are challenging and confronting circumstances, the author of Mark’s gospel seems to be reminding his community that suffering, not victory, lies at the heart of their faith and that discipleship means following in the footsteps of Jesus, even to the point of death.

If I am right and Mark is writing to a specific group of people at a specific time in history, what does his gospel have to say to those of us who are so far removed from that time and place?

Our challenge is not that we are experiencing persecution and destruction, but rather that we comfortable and complacent.

I find myself wondering – How would the author of Mark speak to our situation? What misconceptions do we hold that he would have to address? What are the blind spots that he would feel that he had to call out?

Are our lives a witness to the fact that we follow one who put others first – to the extent that he gave his life for the world?

What would the author of Mark have to say to us – to me, to you?

Is your God asleep on a cushion?

June 19, 2021

Pentecost 4 – 2021
Mark 4:35-41 (notes)
Marian Free

In the name of God who is with us even through the storms of life. Amen.

There is just so much contained in these seven verses that it is impossible to know where to start. What for example, are the disciples – not to mention the flotilla of boats – doing on the lake at all? Mark has already introduced us to four of the disciples. Peter and Andrew, James and John are fishermen and as such they would have been well-schooled in reading the weather and the lake. If a storm was brewing, why were they setting sail in the first place? Because Jesus told them to?

Then there is Jesus, asleep on a cushion in the boat – a lovely domestic detail. Jesus is not at all perturbed. Or perhaps after the last few days he is simply so exhausted that he could sleep through almost anything.

There is delicious irony here too. Earlier in the gospel, Jesus has explained the parable of the sower and claimed: “To you has been given the secret of the kingdom of God, but for those outside, everything comes in parables” (3:11). This suggests that understanding belongs only to his inner circle. Yet, here are the disciples, disciples to whom Jesus has revealed himself, disciples who have witnessed Jesus casting out demons and healing the sick who quite clearly do not understand who Jesus is. Worse, having witnessed his compassion towards the sick and the possessed the disciples dare to express their anxiety in language that makes it quite clear that they don’t get it. “Do you not care?” they shout above the waves. Their ignorance is exemplified by their last question: “who is this that even the wind and sea obey him?” All this time they have been with Jesus and still they need to ask.

No wonder Jesus accuses them of having no faith!

It would be easy to see this short account as a demonstration of Jesus’ power over the natural elements (and an expose of the disciples’ lack of understanding) but it is so much more. The language that Jesus uses to calm the storm is the same as that which he uses to cast out demons (1:25 for eg). Jesus “rebukes” the wind and demands that the sea “be silent” (translated as ‘peace’ in many versions). More is at stake here than a dramatic miracle. This is apocalyptic a realignment of a world that is perishing. It is evidence of the breaking-in of God’s kingdom (the subject of the preceding parables). The kingdom is bursting though as a seed breaks the ground. Jesus is setting the world to rights. When Jesus rebukes the wind and silences the sea, he is demonstrating that his mission has little to do with miracles and more to do with a cosmic battle. More, Jesus is making it clear that he has the power to prevent the world (the cosmos) from perishing. (Perhaps a play on words: “Do you not care that we are perishing?”)

No wonder that the disciples are terrified – filled with a great fear . This is a side of Jesus they have not seen before. Compared to the terror of the wind and waves the revelation (apocalypse) that Jesus is much more than a teacher (the word they use when they waken him) is utterly unexpected and overwhelming. Here is a man who possesses power that is far beyond their ability to comprehend. Here is man who exercises power that is associated with God not with human beings. To whom have they attached themselves? They were looking for a safe harbor, not a dynamic, world altering experience. (It is like thinking that you have laid for a ride on the merry-go-round only to discover that you are on the octopus.)

As the Old Testament attests, being in the presence of God is more often terrifying than comforting, more challenging than reassuring. The awesome presence of God can make a person feel exposed, sinful, or insignificant. Being in the presence of God can make a person want to sink into the ground or hide behind a post – after all the living God can see us through and through.

Seen in this light, the story of the calming of the seas challenges us to ask ourselves whether we have domesticated and tethered God. Is “our” God gently asleep on a cushion waiting to be woken to get us out of trouble or is God a force beyond our imagining whose concern is less with the petty and every day and more with the cosmic battle between good and evil?

Who or what is God to you?