Reflecting on Mark's Gospel - Mark 8:31-33

The disciples have just affirmed that they recognise Jesus as Messiah. Peter is the one who has voiced those words. It would appear that the disciple core group is gaining an understanding of Jesus’ role. So, Jesus begins to teach them something of what will happen. The journey ahead is not going to be smooth. He talks of hurt and pain and suffering.

The result is a reversal of the indication that they understood. Peter again speaks up on behalf of the group. Peter tells Jesus to take a different view. He is presumably bringing a traditional view of Messiahship to bear on the situation. The Messiah was understood to be a conquering hero. Suffering, rejection and death were not on the agenda.

Jesus, in an unexpectedly harsh and over-stated response, sees Peter’s comments as a temptation towards the wrong route. Get behind me, Satan! It is not what we expect Jesus to say to Peter, but the situation echoes the struggle of the temptations, and should be seen as an indicator of the way of the Kingdom, rather than a brutal criticism of Peter. Peter has understood something special and important, but there is a serious failing in his overall understanding. Yet Peter’s stance is surely intended as an expression of support.

It reminds us that our perspective may also be lacking and gives us some encouragement when we get things wrong. As Brendan Byrne (A Costly Freedom) suggests – “The fact that a disciple (Peter) who has just got something so splendidly right (the confession of Jesus as Messiah) straightaway stumbles so badly at the thought of suffering can be an encouragement: a recognition in the gospels that we all do badly at suffering. Each fresh trial that comes our way may be an invitation into this scene, to hear Jesus’ command “Get behind me . . .” as a call to a closer, more “enlightened” following of him along “the way.””

Reflecting on Mark's Gospel - Mark 8:27-30

The question as to who Jesus is gets raised repeatedly. That was so during his earthly life, and remains the case today. So, I wonder how we would answer that question? Who do we think that Jesus is? Here Jesus himself raised it directly with his disciples.

He is with them at Caesarea Philippi. In Jesus’ day Caesarea Philippi was a centre for worship of all sorts of gods. I remember being there a few years ago. Situated in the Golan Heights, close to both the Lebanese and Syrian borders, the site contains the ruins of a whole range of temples and it was fascinating to think of Jesus choosing such a context to ask this question. In this place, which has had much to say about faith and worldviews, Jesus asked his disciples what the people were saying about him. There are a number of possible answers offered, and three are mentioned. Some suggest that he is his cousin, John the Baptist. Some think that he is Elijah, one of the great figures of Israelite history. The tradition that Elijah will, some day, return is a strong one and, even today, Jewish families leave an empty chair and place setting  at the table when they are celebrating Passover in case Elijah arrives. This was thus a suggestion that might be expected. The third possibility is that Jesus is one of the prophets. Matthew’s version of this incident specifies Jeremiah as the frontrunner amongst this suggestion. It all indicates that there is plenty of speculation.

But then comes the crunch question. What most concerns Jesus is the matter of who his immediate disciples consider him to be. There has been a lot of reference to secrecy and misunderstanding in Mark’s record up to this point. What do the disciples really think? Peter, as often, is the spokesperson; and, for once, it seems as though they have understood – you are the Messiah.

As John Donahue and Daniel Harrington (The Gospel of Mark) point out – “Mark has highlighted a series of misunderstandings and rejections of Jesus by the Pharisees and Herodians (3:6). Jesus’ family (3:21), and neighbours in Nazareth (6:1-6), and his own disciples (8:14-21).” This is therefore a decisive moment. In many ways, the story Mark tells is of a journey which ends with the passion, specifically the crucifixion and the resurrection. As Donahue and Harrington note – “This serves as the starting point for the rest of the material in the journey narrative, which is designed to explain what kind of Messiah Jesus is and what implications this identity has for his followers.”

Thus, this conversation is an important turning point, but it is not the moment for an announcement. Jesus tells the disciples to keep it a secret.

I wonder what are the important questions that we need to be asking and answering. I wonder which influences of today we most need to challenge. I wonder how we better introduce God’s Kingdom values to our society, especially the communities of which we are part.

The Messiah (or Christ, which is the Greek word) is God’s anointed one, chosen for a special role. The disciples made the statement, but what they understood by it was not entirely aligned with the reality. Are we ready to be challenged by God’s perspective?

Reflecting on Mark's Gospel - Mark 8:22-26

The theme of being able to see, or not, continues as Jesus heals a blind man. The disciple group has come to Bethsaida. News of Jesus’ arrival seemed to spread quickly wherever he went and people come, and bring others, to see him. Frequently, there are references to large groups, but not so on this occasion. We are not told how many people gathered, but there is only reference to this single healing.

The blind man is brought to Jesus and they beg Jesus to place his hands on the man. They are looking for healing. I so like the way in which Jesus treats people in individuals, and so the encounters, and the healings, do not follow a precise pattern. Sometimes it is remote healing, on other occasions it is instant healing. Here we have an account of how Jesus spends a little time with the man.

Jesus takes the man by the hand and leads him out of the village. I cannot believe that was done in silence. I wonder what they talked about as they walked along, however brief the journey. I wonder if we can imagine what we would want to say if we think ourselves into the place of that man. (Or perhaps we would be so over-awed by the encounter that we would say nothing, and think of all the things we wished we had said later.)

This is a gradual healing. There are two elements of physical touch, the placing of saliva on the man’s eyes, and the laying on of hands. At first, the man can see, but not properly. I can see people, but  they look like trees, walking. So, Jesus repeats the laying on of hands; and the man is healed, and can see clearly. I wonder if we might see this as a reminder to keep praying, and not to always expect instant answers. Our encounters with Jesus are different from those of his earthly life, but they can be just as transformational.

Jesus is not trying to build a reputation. He tells the man to go home, and to avoid the village. Yet, even if Jesus had taken this man off on his own, which seems unlikely, surely the folk who brought the blind man to Jesus would be wondering, and determined to discover, what had happened.

However, Mark is not a newspaper reporter, but a gospel writer. The stories Mark tells give us an account of Jesus’ life, but also point us to Jesus’ message. As Ernest Best (Mark The Gospel As Story) reminds us – “Jesus can open both the ears and the eyes of those who at present in the pagan world do not see or hear, and he can also do the same for those within the community who are deficient in sight or hearing in relation to what their faith means for them; as they truly see and hear they will learn to follow Jesus in the way of the cross.”

Reflecting on Mark's Gospel - Mark 8:14-21

We have here a curious selection of references to bread. The conversation seems somewhat disjointed, but that is perhaps because it is happening on different levels. The section begins with a reference to forgotten bread. Jesus and the disciples were in the boat, but they had forgotten the bread, and so have just one loaf with them, which is apparently not enough. We are not told why they needed bread, but presumably the plan was to have a picnic or something to eat.

Of course, we can also see this on a deeper level, as possibly mirroring, in some small way, the two incidents that Mark has recorded in which large crowds have been unexpectedly fed, and the problem of a lack of bread has proved to be extremely temporary. Indeed, there is a reference back to both events as Jesus asks them to recall the level of leftovers on each occasion, respectively twelve and seven basketfuls.

Alongside this, there is mention of that key ingredient of bread, yeast, and a warning about the yeast of the Pharisees and the yeast of Herod. Jesus asks them about their concern at the lack of bread, but then moves to asking them if their hearts are hardened and whether they still don’t understand.

The things that matter here are the importance of bread and linking that to Jesus as the Bread of Life, and the rather puzzling circumstance of the disciples’ apparent inability to properly understand what Jesus is about. It would seem, as D. E. Nineham (Saint Mark) suggests, that – “the words of Jesus here and in the following verses imply that the miracles, like the parables, have a meaning which can, and ought to, be understood but is in fact misunderstood. The reasons for such misunderstanding are not just intellectual or psychological, they are also moral; for the words translated ‘hardened hearts’ refer not to unkindness, but to obtuseness, blindness-to-truth engendered by moral shortcomings.”

Are there times when verse 18 might apply to us? Do you have eyes, and fail to see? Do you have ears, and fail to hear? And do you not remember?

Reflecting on Mark's Gospel - Mark 8:11-13

Being a child of the sixties/seventies, one of the memories of church life in my youth, is of the impact of the musical ‘Jesus Christ Superstar’. There are many lines from the songs that I remember, but none more so than the line sung by Herod during his part in the trial and tormenting of Jesus. Herod asks for a spectacular sign which, if offered, would, he says, lead to his releasing Jesus. He sings – ‘prove to me that you’re no fool; walk across my swimming pool.’ Nearly every time that I think of a sign being demanded of Jesus, that line of that song comes into my head. There is a great deal about signs in the gospel account, and Mark often records comments about things being understood, or not understood. Miraculous events do take place, but never as a means of proving a point.

Here it is the Pharisees who demand a sign. They are using it as a test, and so there are clear echoes of the temptations (or testing) of Jesus. But that kind of response is not consistent with Jesus’ mission. He has come to proclaim the greatness of God, in action and word, but as a means of bringing healing, or salvation, not in order to attract followers by doing ‘stuff’ that defies the conventional laws of nature. So, he sighs. He declines the request and goes away. As on several other occasions, he gets into a boat as a means of, for the moment, putting distance between himself and the particular demands that are being placed on him.

The point is that Jesus’ ministry and mission speaks for itself. If the Pharisees, or anybody else, cannot see that, then that is how it is. As Denis McBride (The Gospel of Mark: A Reflective Commentary) puts it – “For Mark, there is nothing more for Jesus to say, there is nothing more that Jesus can do to satisfy his recalcitrant opponents. So Jesus leaves them behind, climbs into the boat and heads back across the Sea of Galilee to the Gentile side.”

Reflecting on Mark's Gospel - Mark 8:1-10

Here we have another instance of large numbers being fed. It strongly mirrors its more famous crowd-feeding companion, which may suggest that it is another report of the same incident, though there are sufficient differences to suggest that this night well have been a different event. There is also every reason to assume that what happened once could happen again.

The important points, which are reflected in the other story, are Jesus’ care for the crowd, the fact that all had enough to eat, and that there was a substantial gathering of leftovers. If God does something that surprises us, I wonder how we are likely to react if God does it again?

The fare was also the same, fish and bread, but that is probably because that was the standard packed lunch in Galilee in Jesus’ time.

However, whether it happened twice or not, we can reasonably suggest that Mark reports two such incidents in quick succession as an expression of frustration at the disciples’ failure to get it. I wonder if God ever gets frustrated with us because we fail to recognise that which is extremely obvious. It does seem reasonable, as Joseph O’Hanlon (Mark My Words) suggests, that – “We may make a number of guesses as to why Mark chose to repeat the story. We have reached a point in his story where the disciples come under close scrutiny and are found lacking in understanding. The feeding stories will soon become a subject of discussion between Jesus and the disciples and they are upbraided for their failure to see the significance of the events in which they had played so prominent a role (8:14-21).”

The theme of Jesus as the Bread of Life will emerge as important, and the sharing of bread, even at this point, has eucharistic overtones for us. I wonder what it would have been like to be there on such an occasion. Yet we are, every time we share the bread, and the wine.

Reflecting on Mark's Gospel - Mark 7:31-37

Healing, as we are seeing, is important and prominent in Jesus’ ministry. Here he heals a deaf man, who also has a speech impediment. Healing takes place on different levels, and we have already seen the importance of faith and wholeness, in every sense, when Jesus offers healing. Some want to emphasise spiritual healing, even to the extent that, with a scene like this, we can, as Warren Carter (Mark) puts it “read the scene allegorically or spiritually as a story of religious conversion.” However, as Carter also says, this approach has the problem of “rendering the man’s very real personal and societal suffering and physical healing invisible.”

We can assume that Jesus offered this man spiritual healing but, in this instance, that accompanied, rather than replaced, physical healing. Of course, that is not what always happens. I wonder how we cope when there are limits to the healing that we, or our family and friends, receive.

In this instance a man is brought to Jesus with the hope that Jesus will address his needs. I wonder how, today, we can mirror what is happening here. If we still believe, and I do, that Jesus encounters people at the point of their need, what are the things we can do to bring those of whom we might think in this context to Jesus?

It is also interesting that, unlike some other instances, this man’s healing is not instant, a useful reminder that God works in different ways for and with different people. We are individuals, and God treats us as such. I wonder if there is something to learn here about how we treat others, sometimes putting them into groups that they themselves would not recognise.

This man’s healing effectively has six stages. They are all things that Jesus does on other occasions, but they are not things that Jesus always does. Firstly, he takes him aside privately. They move away from the crowd. Secondly, Jesus touches his ears. Healing often comes by the laying on of hands. Thirdly, he spits. Saliva was often regarded as having healing properties. Fourthly, Jesus touches the man’s tongue, the other part of his body that needed healing. Fifthly, Jesus looks heavenward, surely an indication of prayer. Then, sixthly, he issues a command of healing. It is one of those instances where we are given the Aramaic word, ‘Ephphatha’, and we are told that it means ‘be opened’.

This section ends with a statement of the impact made by this healing and, presumably, this is back with the crowd and it may well have been that the crowd were not totally away from what happened, despite the element of seeking privacy that is indicated. Certainly, they end up ‘astounded’.

The recorded comment of the crowd is about Jesus making the deaf to hear and the mute to speak. It is a clear echo of Isaiah 35:5-6 where, as Carter puts it – “these events point to God’s saving presence and restorative power among Gentiles now in anticipation of the yet-to-be full establishment of God’s reign/empire.” I wonder what God is doing in our context that astounds us.

Psalm 88 - a psalm for our times

In his recent book Living with the Psalms John Bell describes Psalm 88 as “one of the bleakest psalms in the collection.”  He goes on to point out that “it has hardly begun when the author launches into a complaint of how miserable life is. In the middle of the psalm a number of sarcastic questions are directed at heaven.” 

Similarly, Walter Brueggemann, in his book The Message of the Psalms comments, “Psalm 88 is an embarrassment to conventional faith.”  And one other commentator, J H Eaton, states: “The psalm is in effect an archetypal cry of suffering.”  It is therefore no surprise to learn that this one does not appear in the lectionary, nor is one to which we are likely to turn.  However, it is there in the psalter, and sometimes we need the difficult words that express our doubt as well as our faith; and I just wonder if it is a psalm for a time of pandemic.

In the first couple of verses there is an appeal for acceptance by God.  The psalmist cries out to God – let my prayer come before you.  There are two things to note about this beginning to the psalm.  One is that it is an urgent appeal.  The other is that there is a suggestion of intimacy.  The psalmist, presumably, can’t get to sleep and so., at night, cries out to God.  Desperate times.  But the psalmist clearly feels able to cry out to God. 

But then in the next section, from verse 3 to the middle of verse 9, we get an expression of the despair and desolation of the psalmist.  Brueggemann describes it as the speaker addressing a barrage at God.  This is a very strong expression of lament.  We live in a society where it often seems that you are supposed to be successful.  Our emphasis on celebrity culture creates a backdrop that is simply not sustainable for most people, a backdrop that forces us to forget the desperation of Yemen, and other such scenes of tragedy.  But perhaps above all in our time, it has been the death of Princess Diana that has shown us the need for something else. Might that need be re-gaining prominence as we navigate our way through the coronavirus challenge?  I was struck by words that were passed to me as part of a pastoral letter written by Donald Allister, Bishop of Peterborough.  He writes: “We need to re-learn, as a society, to lament – to express at every level the thoughts and feelings of horror and helplessness evoked by this pestilence. I strongly suspect that only the Church, with our deep biblical roots, can teach that lesson: but first we probably need to re-learn for ourselves what lament really is, and how to do it.  ……  Deep Christian lament – expressing grief on our own behalf and for others, talking about Easter hope without minimizing the present horror is part of the wisdom we have received. Before we ask Why him? Why her? may we first experience and express the deep sorrow, and allow others to do the same.”  The speaker feels helpless.  The picture is bleak.  No holds are barred in complaining to God.

In verses 3, 4, 5 the psalmist paints a sad picture, overwhelmed by troubles.  But then, in verses 6 to the middle of verse 9, things are moved up a notch.  The psalmist has been lamenting a desperate situation – my soul is full of troubles etc.

But now a whole bunch of accusations are thrown out at God.  You did this to me.  You did that to me.  It’s your fault.  We understand this.  It fits our blame culture – except, we are Christians, and it is not entirely easy to accept this attack on God.  But it’s there.  You have put me in the depths … Your wrath lies heavy upon me …. You overwhelm me ….  You have caused my companions to shun me …. You have made me a thing of horror ….  No attempt is made to downplay the hard feelings of the psalmist.  As Brueggemann puts it: “The fault is firmly fixed.”  Of course, it could be that the psalmist is hoping to provoke a response.  If the accusations are sufficiently harsh, perhaps God will explain.  Better still, perhaps God will intervene.  Perhaps God will make things better. 

Then, in the next little section, the second half of verse 9 through to verse 12, the appeal to God is renewed.  The picture here is of what the psalmist calls “the land of forgetfulness”.  The psalmist is being tantalized by God.  Some great words and concepts are used, but they are all out of reach.  The psalmist talks about wonders, about steadfast love, about faithfulness, about saving help.  The picture of God’s goodness and grace is painted, but the psalmist is not experiencing any of it, though perhaps it is all to build up a stronger commitment.  As Augustine puts it: “But that those prayers, the blessings of which surpass all words, may be more fervent and more constant, the gift that shall last unto eternity is deferred, while transitory evils are allowed to thicken.”  It’s not a good picture.  The speech is urgent.  God needs to act.  And there is, of course, some hope that God will act, otherwise why bother?  But there is no indication here of that happening.  However, though we don’t see it explicitly, we must surely imply a note of hope.  Augustine puts that like this: “the prayers of the Saints are, as it were, repelled by the delay of so great a blessing, and by the adversity they encounter in the troubles of life, that the flame, thus fanned, may burst into a brighter blaze.”

Then, in the final verses of the psalm, verses 13 to 18, there is a third and final appeal, which is followed by a further descriptive lament.  The psalmist continues to struggle with the situation.  It is affecting everything.  There is no getting away from the sense of abandonment.  At the beginning of the psalm, in verse 1, the psalmist talks about crying out to God at night.  Now, in verse 13, the prayer comes to God in the morning.  In other words, day and night, there is no escape.  The questions continue to stack up.  Why?  Why is this happening?  Why have you done this to me?  Why is it not sorted?  Why is it all still going on? 

The psalmist is not happy.  And that’s where it ends.  This is not a ‘happy ever after’ story.  It is more real life than that.  The psalmist’s struggle continues – and maybe that is a big part of the value of this psalm.  As John Bell says of this psalm, “It articulates the sense of abandonment from God and humanity that very different people have felt.”  Eaton says: “The tone of the psalm is all the more somber for lack of the concluding statement of confidence common in other laments.”

If I am honest, I struggle with this psalm.  I do recognize, as I have said, the critical importance of lament.  We can’t be rejoicing all the time.  We need to weep.  And I do think that is part of this moment.  But I can never ‘do’ Good Friday, if I can put it that way, without remembering that Easter Day is just round the corner – so I tend to think that a psalm shouldn’t end by saying, as this one does, you have caused friend and neighbour to shun me; my companions are in darkness.”

Should lament have the last word?  Well, of course, it should sometimes.  It does.  Equally, of course, it is not the whole story.  Nothing is.  But it is an important part of the story.  So, actually, I am grateful for Psalm 88.

As Walter Brueggemann says: “Psalm 88 stands as a mark of realism for biblical faith.  It has its pastoral use, because there are situations in which easy, cheap talk of resolution must be avoided.  Here are words not to be used frequently, but for the experiences when words must be honest and not claim too much.”

Reflecting on Mark's Gospel - Mark 7:24-30

The account of Jesus’ meeting with a Syrophoenician woman emphasises the twin elements of faith and healing that seem to have been common as Jesus roamed the Galilean region engaging in his mission and proclaiming the Kingdom of God. It is already clear that Jesus is approached by women as well as men, and indeed, as with Jairus’ daughter, children are also brought to him for healing. Indeed, there is a parallel with the Jairus story in that, like that synagogue leader, this woman is concerned about her daughter, though this is a matter of an unclean spirit, rather than a more ‘conventional’ illness.

However, the additional point here is that this woman is a foreigner, and so a Gentile. As so often with Jesus, this is a boundary-crossing moment. Jesus is not interested in the taboos that disrupted the society of his day. He looks for faith, wherever it may be. That is what he recognises as important. I wonder what barriers we ought to cross, whether there are taboos that we ought to challenge.

The other particularly interesting thing about this incident is the description of the conversation between the woman and Jesus. This woman is not afraid of speaking up. John Riches and Susan Miller (Mark Gospel of Action edited by John Vincent) describe a discussion of this engagement, but focussed on the Syrophoenician woman, by a women’s group in Glasgow. The group noted – “The woman initiated the discussion. She was witty and responded to Jesus’ riddle. One woman proposed that the Syrophoenician woman was ‘not overawed by Jesus’ and another said that she was ‘full of love for her child’. The group, moreover, highlighted the change in the woman in the course of the conversation. One member said, ‘She moved from her knees to walking tall’, and another commented, ‘In the end she achieved what she needed.’ Some pointed out that the woman’s faith was the source of her liberation. Others emphasised that the woman changed Jesus’ mind.”

In some ways this is a ‘bigger’ incident than that with Jairus’ daughter because on this occasion Jesus heals the girl without going to see her. The implication is that the faith of the woman plays a large part. I wonder what we might have said to Jesus if we had been around in those days. I wonder what we would have made of this, and indeed many other incidents. An important thing here is Jesus’ willingness to engage with whoever approaches him.

Reflecting on Mark's Gospel - Mark 7:1-23

Jesus and the religious leaders of his day and society shared in common a belief that it was important to follow the way of God. Where they disagreed, and this seems frequently to have come to the fore, was over the matter as to how that was worked out.

The Pharisees and the scribes followed a code of conduct. There were detailed rules as to how to behave in all sorts of circumstances. These gave clear clues as to what was permissible, and what was not. In particular, the notion of ‘purity’ was important. You had to be ‘clean’ in order to come and worship God and, if you were ‘unclean’ you needed to stay away from worship for the moment. The rules around purity were lengthy and complicated, and ranged from instructions on how and when to wash your hands to the impurity caused by contact with, for example, sickness or death, and even birth.

I wonder what are the rules or codes by which we determine our behaviour. I wonder if they are too relaxed or too rigid.

Jesus recognised the importance of right living but, like the prophets of old, condemned a detailed following of long lists of rules that rode roughshod over substantial principles of love and justice. Here, in two complementary conversations, Jesus addresses, separately, both the religious leaders and the ordinary people on questions as to how to properly keep the religious tradition. So, as Edwin Broadhead (Readings: A New Biblical Commentary – Mark) puts it – “Addressing the religious leaders as hypocrites (meaning actors), Jesus applies to them the scathing prophecy of Isa. 29:13, where Israel is accused of false worship. The major charge is levelled by Jesus in his own words: leaving the commandment of God they observe human tradition (7:8-9,13). He cites one example; the reinterpretation of the principle of corban, which gives obligation to God priority over parents. For Jesus this one example is typical of the way his opponents apply and interpret God’s law. …. Jesus turns from the religious leaders to address the crowd. The tone is urgent and imperative: they are called to Jesus and commanded to hear and understand (7:14). His instruction to the crowd is reduced to a single principle: being clean or unclean has nothing to do with what one eats, but with what comes out of a person.”

Some of the references here are not entirely clear, and that is complicated by our having a completely different understanding of such matters. The perspective of Jesus’ day, whether of the religious leaders or the crowds, does not fit our experience. However, there is a broad principle that remains relevant. I wonder how much of what is right and good is exhibited in our lives and seen by those whom we encounter, and I wonder, to what extent, people look to and at us and see things which could be damaging. I wonder, too, to what extent we stand up for principles that are consistent with God’s Kingdom. For some clues on behaviour that is ‘clean’ see, for example, John 13:34, Galatians 5:22-23, and Philippians 4:8.

Reflecting on Mark's Gospel - Mark 6:53-56

So, Jesus reaches a point where he is widely recognised. Was this an unwanted celebrity status or was it an opportunity to make the kind of impact that allowed him to fulfil his mission? Whatever the answer to that, it must have been stressful. The description here suggests relentless activity. The big task of the moment was that of healing but that was central to Jesus’ ministry and a clear demonstration of his core message about the Kingdom of God.

The people of Genneserat recognised Jesus and, more importantly, recognised the healing contribution that he could bring to their community. There is the impression of a lot of people coming to Jesus in a short space of time as they rush to bring the sick to him. This is an opportunity not to miss. Jesus, too, is not static. This is a mission that stretches across the region and this bringing of those who are unwell to Jesus takes place in the different towns and villages to which he goes. It is even said that he sometimes goes to farms. Jesus went where he could meet people, and I am sure that he would often be in the centre of the community, which is why there is mention of folk coming to look for him in the marketplaces.

I wonder what kind of reputation we are building for God’s work and for the Kingdom. It is interesting that, as Bonnie Bowman Thurston (Preaching Mark) points out – “Mark depicts Jesus as the one who appears in the drama and storms of life and also in the midst of ordinary people in their daily lives and practical needs. It is more than a little sobering to me to note that what the disciples, those who were supposedly closest to Jesus, miss (6:47-52) seems manifestly clear to common people and peasants (6:54-56).”

I wonder if there are things of God’s work in the world that we are missing, and that might be for all sorts of reasons. An important element in this story is to note that an encounter with Jesus is a healing experience. We are told that the sick people only had to touch the fringe of his cloak in order to be healed. That seems almost magical, but suggesting that omits the faith element that, though not specifically mentioned here, surely remained important, as in stories like that of Jairus and his daughter and the woman with the flow of blood who may have been the one who set the trend of touching just the hem of his cloak.

The people who came were desperate for help, or so it would seem. They begged him for healing, but what they asked was given. (Of course, life is not always like that, but the promise of the presence of God walking the way with us remains constant.)

Reflecting on Mark's Gospel - Mark 6:45-52

It is rather a mystery why Jesus sent his disciples off in the boat while he stayed behind with the crowd. I wonder if they were getting tired and fractious and he thought it better to send them away. Whether that is true or not, I wonder how we respond to what God might suggest to us when we get tired and fractious.

The disciples set off by boat for Bethsaida. Jesus dismisses the crowd. Then, Jesus climbs a mountain in order to be alone and to pray. So, maybe Jesus just sent the disciples off by boat, so he could have some time on his own for prayer once he had sent the crowd on its way.

It then looks as though Jesus is making his way round the lake as the disciples sail across it, presumably taking the same paths as had, earlier in the chapter, been used by the crowds, a catching up with Jesus that led to the teaching and picnicking that has just happened.

Making his way round the lake, Jesus notices that a storm has blown up. Like the crowds earlier, he had intended to overtake the disciples and arrive in Bethsaida before they did. However, instead, he takes an extremely unusual diversion He makes his way across the water, to the consternation of the disciples who think they are seeing a ghost. The unusual events are stacking up. We might expect the disciples to begin to get the picture by now, but that does not seem to be so.

Tom Wright (Mark for Everyone) explores the matter of where Mark is pointing, what he is trying to say to his readers, and what might be expected of the disciples. “What have we learnt from the story of the loaves? Clearly, Mark is hoping, something that will make us less than totally astonished to see Jesus walking on the water – though how he can suppose anyone of any period of history could avoid being startled by that is a moot point. But what he seems to be stressing is Jesus’ sovereignty over the natural world. If they had reflected on the loaves and fishes, they might have realised (Mark seems to be saying) that water wouldn’t be too much of a problem either – though Jesus never does anything like this again.”

So, once again, the terrified disciples experience a storm being calmed, but they continue to struggle with these unexpected and unexplained turns of events. Jesus finds that he has to tell them not to be afraid, and we are told that they do not understand. Bread that multiplies and winds and waves that unexpectedly go calm remain a mystery. I wonder how we feel when God tells us not to be afraid.

Reflecting on Mark's Gospel - Mark 6:33-44

The feeding of the five thousand is amongst the best known of gospel stories. It is also amongst the most told, appearing in all four gospels. It therefore seems to have been an important part of the Jesus tradition from an early stage though, as Douglas Hare (Mark) points out – “modern readers are sometimes less receptive, because the multiplication of loaves and fishes is so incomprehensible.”

Jesus and the apostles have gone in search of peace and quiet. They took a boat in order to escape the crowds, but the tactic failed. Many of the people second guessed the plan, rushed round the lake, and were there, waiting, when they arrived in the retreat location. I wonder how we respond when our plans go awry.

Jesus responds with compassion. He wanted the space, but he cannot ignore the needs of the people. He opens up on a teaching session and then, with great generosity, looks to provide them with refreshments.

There are a couple of interesting points here. They are described as sheep without a shepherd. The shepherd image is a common Biblical indicator of the love of God. As the shepherd cares for the sheep, so God cares for the people. Here the implication is that shepherdless sheep are in trouble and that Jesus wants to put that right. It links to his claims about being the good shepherd (John 10:1-18), and the story that he told about a sheep that got lost (Luke 15:1-7). The other point is that the story appears to only concern men. Some translations have made it gender neutral by talking of the people sitting in groups on the grass, but the word used suggests that this was a male occasion. That is supported by the arrangement in groups being reminiscent of a military approach.

However, the biggest question is around what actually happened. Hare summaries a couple of the suggestions that have been made – “according to one proposal, the meal was symbolic only; each person received a small fragment of bread and was spiritually, not physically, satisfied. A second suggestion is that the crowd was so moved by the generosity of the boy who shared his lunch (John 6:9) that they produced their own hidden resources and shared with any who had none.” Despite these interesting suggestions, I am inclined to think that what is important here is to accept that something very special happened, and not to get caught up in trying to explain what that was. I am inclined to endorse Hare’s comment on the two explanations he suggests – “although these are both edifying interpretations, neither does justice to the story. It is better simply to acknowledge that we cannot understand the miracle.” I wonder how we cope with not understanding lots of what God does.

Essentially, this is a story of God’s abundant generosity, and that is seen not least in the substantial level of the leftovers, an amazing total of twelve baskets, appropriately, but perhaps not surprisingly, one per apostle. I wonder how we view God’s abundant generosity. I wonder how much we enjoy and share, and those are two different points, the fare (or food) provided for us by God.

Reflecting on Mark's Gospel - Mark 6:30-32

It is good to engage with people. It is good to tell, in action and in words, the good news of God’s Kingdom. However, we all need times when we can escape from the pressures of mission and ministry. We need opportunities when we can reflect on what we have done, what we are doing, and what we are called to do. I wonder whether we make adequate provision for such times and, in particular, how we do that.

Here we have a reference to the apostles gathering with Jesus and their trying to set up such a time. This may well be in response to the mission that is described earlier in this chapter. Was this the moment of reporting back? It is significant that the word used is ‘apostles’ and, if we link that to the earlier reference to the twelve being sent out, it suggests that this particular gathering around Jesus simply involves the immediate core band of disciples, and not a wider grouping.

We certainly get the picture of the disciples/apostles coming back from this first mission on which they had been sent and wanting an opportunity to share the news of what had happened and, almost certainly, to review the experience. As Brendan Byrne (A Costly Freedom) puts it – “One detects in the report a breathless sense of novice enthusiasm – matching the increased enthusiasm of the crowds that prevents them having any time to eat (v. 31).”

It is hard to resist when people keep coming to ask for help. It is hard to stop when there is more work to be done. Yet Jesus is always aware of the need for time out of the limelight, what we might call moments of retreat. ‘Burning out’ is of no help to anyone. I wonder whether we need to take steps to balance our lives.

As on other occasions, the boat is used as a means of escape, and to put distance between the apostles and the crowds. At least, that’s the plan.

Reflecting on Mark's Gospel - Mark 6:14-29

The horrifying picture of John the Baptist’s head on a platter is the defining moment in this segment. It is, as Morna Hooker (The Gospel according to Saint Mark) notes – “the only section in the gospel which is not specifically about Jesus.”

However, John’s role is important as the one who prepares the way, and who points to Jesus. They are cousins, and Jesus has been baptised by John. John’s death, especially in such a dreadful fashion, is significant. In many ways, John’s death becomes a new element in John’s pointing to Jesus as they both have their lives ended at the hand of the authorities and, as Hooker puts it – “both John and Jesus are put to death by political rulers who recognise their goodness, but who are described as weakly giving in to pressure.”

It is certainly bizarre, however wonderful her dancing, that Herod gives the order for John’s execution on the basis of it being a reward for a good dancing performance. But the offer that he makes to the girl is anyway weirdly extravagant – whatever you ask of me, I will give you, even half of my kingdom.” It suggests that excessive amounts of alcohol had been consumed.

Presumably Herodias did not take the offer entirely seriously; and yet, in the face of the possibilities that lay within such generosity, even if there was a feeling that what was asked needed to be much less than what was offered, it remains extremely strange that this was the request. It indicates massive anger and vindictiveness on the part of the mother, at whose suggestion the request was made.

Herod, to be fair, does not really want to carry out this action, but finds himself caught up in the consequences of a silly promise, and unwilling to lose face. As Hooker comments – “he is trapped by his own weakness and sin into a position where he is blind to the real issues, and John is treated as a political puppet instead of as a prophet of God.”

I wonder how ready we are to admit our mistakes, even when it means losing face. I wonder who we treat, or think of, in a way that is inappropriate, or plain wrong.

Reflecting on Mark's Gospel - Mark 6:7-13

Jesus’ mission is now expanded as the disciples are sent out in pairs. It would seem that the time of initial training and preparation is over. They are now entrusted with the task of building on the work that Jesus has begun. The focus here is on how they are to approach this role. As Leith Fisher (Will you follow me?) points out – “The first calling of the disciples, as their name implies, is to be ‘learners’, companions on the way with Jesus. Now they are called ‘apostles’ (6:30), ‘those who are sent out’. They are set on their way to witness and heal, to drive out demons and to proclaim the Kingdom’s presence. Mark is not at all interested in the results of their mission. He doesn’t tell us how they fared. He is interested in the instructions that Jesus gives them as he sends them outwards.”

The one thing that is specified as a purpose of this sending is that they were give authority over the unclean spirits. That is perhaps because, in the context of the time, that would be seen as most important. With that sorted, other things would be likely to fall into place. The unclean spirits were blamed for much of what went wrong and was damaging in people’s lives.

In terms of preparation, they are effectively told not to pack. They should go just as they are, and therefore cast themselves on the care of those amongst whom they go. They are told that the only thing they may take is a staff. They do not need food, money, or a change of clothes, despite those being obvious things to take on any journey. In that society, where there would be limited ability to carry luggage, there was much more dependence on the hospitality that might be offered along the way. But this instruction to take nothing seems extreme.

They are told to be accepting of the hospitality that is offered to them and, in particular, not to look to move to better lodgings, if the opportunity arises. Where they are not welcome, they should move on. The important thing is to get the mission undertaken. If those among whom they go are unresponsive, they should not waste time. I wonder what this says to us about the lengthy preparations we sometimes make for mission and evangelism. Preparing is good and important, as is training; and the disciples had been trained. But I wonder if sometimes we get stuck in the preparing to the detriment of the actual work. I wonder if we need to listen to Jesus’ call to disciples to travel light.

Most of what we are told here focuses on the preparations, or lack thereof. But we are told that they did what was asked of them, and also that their mission was effective. Verse 13 – they cast out many demons, and anointed with oil many who were sick and cured them. The disciples still had a long way to go, as do we, but it is clear that God is blessing what they do, and they are already being used in the Jesus mission.

Reflecting on Mark's Gospel - Mark 6:1-6

In a way this is one of the unexpected segments of the gospel account. Meeting opposition is a regular aspect of Jesus’ story. However, somehow we expect that to lie with the religious leaders and the occupying Romans and to be focussed in Jerusalem. We recognise the truth of the saying that Jesus cites in verse 4 – prophets are not without honour, except in their home town, and among their own kin, and in their own house. But we do not expect this rejection.

These were the people who had watched him grow up. This was the community in which he was known. We might expect some element of scepticism. Isn’t this Joseph’s boy? That element is there, though the references are to his mother, and brothers and sisters. However, we might also expect an element of pride. Even if they did not completely understand what was happening, could they not see that ‘one of their own’ was doing something really good?

The people of Nazareth are full of questions. Warren Carter (Mark) lists these – “They ask five questions: the origin of his teachings (6:2c), the nature and origin of his wisdom (6:2d), his mighty works (6:2e), his identity/occupation, and his household (6:3).” As Carter further comments – “his hometown audience is mystified and does not discern divine activity or the presence of God’s commissioned agent.” They relate to him, as a Nazareth boy, and see nothing more.

Interestingly, as a result they miss out on what has been happening in the surrounding communities where Jesus has been engaging in what we might now describe as Kingdom ways with the people whom he encounters. At first sight it may seem surprising that we are told that Jesus was able to do very little in that place: but it is an important reminder of the place and importance of faith which is frequently mentioned in the accounts of the events involving Jesus in neighbouring communities.

I wonder where we fit into this story. I wonder how we would have reacted, had we been in Nazareth on that sabbath day when Jesus began to teach in the local synagogue. Their unbelief is a surprise to Jesus. It would seem that he was expecting his mission and ministry to make God’s difference in Nazareth as in the surrounding area. But that is not so, and it is time to move on. So far as we know, Jesus never again goes to Nazareth.

Reflecting on Mark's Gospel - Mark 5:35-43

It appears that it is too late. As Jesus is about to resume his walk to see the little girl, the father, and Jesus, are brought the news that she is already dead. The message is that there is no point in continuing. Don’t bother the teacher! But Jesus has no thought of turning back; and there is nothing to indicate that Jairus does other than expect him to continue,

We would assume that Jairus does not have any inkling of what is about to occur, and yet it is surprising that he makes to attempt to suggest that continuing is pointless as it is too late. Denis McBride (The Gospel of Mark: A Reflective Commentary) suggests that – “the image of Jairus walking with Jesus , after the messengers tell him is daughter is dead and advise him to trouble Jesus no further speaks its own language of quiet faith. It tells us of someone who has faith in Jesus as more than a healer, someone who can walk towards the unspeakable loss off death with the one who can meet death itself with a power of new life.”

The story is a healing story, but it is more than that. It is a story of profound and challenging faith. I wonder how our faith stands up when it is subjected to extreme testing.

This is a story of highs and lows, of hope and loss, and restoration. It has a happy ending. Jesus takes the girl by the hand, and tells her to get up. Remarkably, she does exactly as instructed. But the story ends, as do several of these healing encounters, with a request not to spread the news. Is it that Jesus does not want things to get out of hand? Is that Jesus does not want to be bothered by too many people? We do not know: but what we will discover is that there is a lot more to do.

Reflecting on Mark's Gospel - Mark 5:25-34

Jesus’ accompanying of Jairus to see his daughter is now interrupted. Jairus must have been incredibly frustrated. We can imagine that he was desperate to get back to his daughter with Jesus. But there is a pause in the journey.

It would seem that as Jesus made his way along the road with Jairus, the crowd had not dispersed. They, or at least most of them, were following on. That would have slowed the progress. It also gave this desperate woman her chance. It seems likely that she wanted to remain anonymous. It also seems likely that she had no intention of stopping everyone. She just wanted the chance of being healed, and she thought that just touching Jesus’ cloak would be enough.

She was right about just needing to touch that cloak. As the old hymn we used to sing puts it, ‘She only touched the hem of his garment.’ But her assumption that she could remain unnoticed was not correct. Jesus was aware that power had gone forth from him. So, Jesus asks about who has touched his clothes. To the disciples it is a ridiculous question. Lots of people have brushed against him. They do not understand. Yet, in the midst of a crowd, Jesus can have a one-to-one. That is what happens here. He knows. The woman knows. That particular healing contact is so different from the inevitable brushing against each other and, as Brendan Byrne (A Costly Freedom) points out – “The rude protest of the disciples when Jesus, aware of the power that has gone out from him, asks who touched him, brings out the difference between the jostling that he receives from the crowd and the touching in faith that channels healing.”

We learn that this woman has a long medical history in which she has tried ‘everything’ to resolve this issue. Her condition has been with her for twelve years, coincidentally, as we will learn a little further on, the same amount of time as the entire life of the little girl. She has spent a lot of money trying to find a cure, but without success. It would have been reasonable for her to have given up. But she has faith. She exercises her faith, and it does the trick. I wonder how strong our faith is, especially when we might think that we have already reached the end of the road. Now, though, all is well. Jesus’ addressing of her, as Byrne puts it – “expresses both personal reassurance and social rehabilitation  ….  he proclaims her reinclusion with the community.” We would not exclude somebody on medical grounds, but times were different then, and it was all bound up with the understanding of purity and impurity. However, I wonder who we do exclude. I wonder whether we realise it. I wonder what we are doing about it.

Reflecting on Mark's Gospel - Mark 5:21-24

The latter part of what we have as Mark 5 tells two stories of healing, one of a little girl, identified only as the daughter of Jairus, and the other of an unnamed woman with a long-term medical problem, probably gynaecological. The latter effectively interrupts the former, and the former is, of course, really rather more than a healing, as the little girl is raised from death.

But that is all still to come. Here, as these two encounters begin to unfold, Jesus, having re-crossed the lake by boat, is met by a great crowd. His reputation as a preacher, a healer, and one who can cast out unclean spirits is building. Among this particular crowd is one of the leaders of the local synagogue, a man named Jairus. Jairus has come to Jesus because he is desperate. It is interesting that folk often only think of turning to God when they are desperate. If that were us, we would probably be annoyed and frustrated, but I am not sure that it bothers God. God’s love is so overwhelming that we are welcomed as we are and whenever we come to God.

I think that there are two interesting thing here. One is the identity question. In the patriarchal society in which Jesus lived, women are often unnamed. It is significant that Jesus often pays attention to the anonymous members of society. We know that this little girl’s daddy was called Jairus, but we have no idea as to her name. The second thing is that Jairus himself came to Jesus. He was an important person at a difficult moment.  As William Barclay (Daily Study Bible – The Gospel of Mark) points out – “it is rather strange that he came himself and did not send a messenger. It seems unlikely that he would consent to leave his  daughter when she was on the point of death. Maybe he came because no one else would go.”

I wonder who are the anonymous and marginalised members of our society who we should be looking out for, and even getting to know. I wonder whether we truly recognise our need of God or whether we need to get a bit more desperate first.