Handling Life's Storms

In Mark's Gospel (4:34-5-41) there is a story of Jesus and a few of his disciples being caught in one of the sudden storms that regularly arose on the local Sea of Galilee. In response to the Disciple's anxiety Jesus rebukes the wind and much to the disciples amazement, the wind stopped and the lake became calm again.

No doubt, all of us have had moments of anxiety. It might have been an unexpected bill – causing you to wonder how you will be able to pay it.

Or a Police car pulls in behind you with its lights going – and you wonder what you have done that was wrong? Or you are asked to give the vote of thanks to the speaker at the end of the meeting – and you spend the evening wondering what you are going to say. Or you have had some medical tests done – and you anxiously await the results.

If you have experience moments of anxiety – you will not be alone. We all have moments when we feel pushed beyond our ability to cope. Such moments of anxiety, (and its bigger brothers of fear and terror), can stretch us out of our comfort zone. However, if they last too long they can numb our ability to think and react in a positive and even life saving way.

Yet, in its milder form, anxiety and fear are not necessarily a bad thing; it is one of the inbuilt human survival instincts that can cause the body to release adrenaline which prepares us for action – to either attack or to flee...Which reminds me of an earlier time in my life when I learnt to snow-ski.

Early in my parish ministry as an Anglican Priest I was the vicar of a small Country parish near Mount Hut Ski Field in the Canterbury Planes of New Zealand's South Island.

I can still clearly recall the day, early in my skiing adventure, when I had ventured onto a slop that was well outside my skill range. In that moment I realized I had a choice. I could sit down and attempt to slide down the slope – with the possibility of ending up breaking something... or I could try and ski it, which is what I suddenly decided to do – and that choice led to one of the most exhilarating days in my life as I clambered back onto the ski lift to ski the slope again and again!

Such an experience is not uncommon. We see a similar struggle in in children when they are faced with the challenge of learning to walk. It may cause moments of fear and tears... but when they finally give it a go and discover they can take a few steps alone... the tears give way to laughter and they want you spend the rest of the day watching them practice walking.

Fear is not all wrong. It is part of our God given a survival mechanism. The difficulty is when our fears and anxieties get out of control and end up dominating our lives.

In the Gospel reading referred to above, we heard how the disciples experienced fear when faced with a storm while sailing on the sea of Galilee. To understand their fear we need to remember that while the disciples were professional Fishermen, the Hebrew people were never sea going people. They were affected by their ancient myths that saw the sea as the source of evil and chaos. It was the domain of a terrifying sea monster called Liviathin that is mentioned in several of their ancient Jewish writings.

What is interesting to note is that the words that Jesus used to addressed the wind and the waves, are exactly the same as he used to addressed the demon-possessed man earlier in Mark's Gospel (1:25). In their mind the destructive power of the storm was driven by the same power that can rob people from resting in their calm centre, distracting them from utilizing the wisdom and skills they normally possessed. And that can apply to us as much as it applied to those seasoned fishermen.

Storms happen to all of us in life – We all face moments when we feel out of our depth; when life becomes out of control; when we feel panic, fear and terror, or deep penetrating sorrow.

In those times Jesus reminded his disciples – and us - we are not left alone – God cannot and is unable to abandon us because we are created from and sustained by the breath of God.

When life's problems involve us in a tempest of doubt, tension and uncertainty, and we do not know what to do. Or when we discover we are faced with some hard choices and do not know which is the best choice to make... We may panic... or we may choose to pause. To take time to recenter. To remember, we are not alone. To recall that the chief enemy of peace is worry: worry for ourselves; worry about the unknown future; worry about those we love. To use that moment to trust your intuition knowing that we are never left entirely alone, because Jesus speaks of a God whose hand will never let go of us and of a love from which we, and those we love, can ever drift. Because to voyage with Jesus is to voyage in peace even in, and amid, the storms we may face.

This is not something which happened once for the disciples of Jesus; it is also something which still happens – and which can happen for us as well.

 I have Returned!

Some years have passed since my last Blog and a lot has happened in the meantime... including a Heart Attack which has pushed me to reconsider how I want to spend the years that the medical skill of surgeons have given to me.

I am most grateful, as you may imagine!

As I have been reassessing my commitments and how I want to spend the gift of "New Life" I have pulled back from being a "fill-in" Priest.  And while i appreciated the challenge and insight I received from Sermon preparation... I remembered how my Blog had fulfilled that  purpose in the past with the 80 Blogs I have posted.

So now the challenge is to open myself to the insights this medium may provide over the time ahead....

Raising of Lazarus

Life is full of mystery. Some of the mysteries are trivial. For example: 'Why do biscuits soak up cold tea faster than hot tea? Or 'Do you weigh the same holding food as you do after eating it?' There are also bigger issues: 'How can the universe be so huge and still be ever-expanding?' Or:'What will happen to me when I die?' The American Chinese poet, Li-Young Lee, pondered this last question in his poem: The Hammock

Between two unknowns, I live my life.
... And what’s it like?
Is it a door, and a good-bye on either side?
A window, and eternity on either side?
Yes, and a little singing between two great rests.1

Today we hear again the story of Lazarus (John 11:1-44). A story that is under-girded by Jewish belief that life does not begin with birth, nor does it end with death. To use Li Young Lee's words, this life is“a little singing between two great rests”.

For the Jewish people the moment of the departure of the soul (yetziat neshamah) was a most significant moment, "Greater is the day of death," declares King Solomon "than the day of birth."² And in the Jewish Talmud, which supports the view that the soul of a person is present for up to three days after death, mentions: 'The presence of others who, through their respect and prayers, show that they care, is very comforting to the soul.'

However, even after the fourth day there still remained an eternal soul-connection between the deceased and those they loved and it wasn't unusual for family members to talk to their deceased as if still living – which is not usual in our culture as well. Perhaps that is why the author of John's Gospel has Jesus arriving on the fourth day when the soul of Lazarus had left but he was still able to hear and respond and wake from his rest when Jesus called him. And then we come to the first 'punch line': the result of this 'miracle' was that many believed; some were concerned, and the religious leaders of the day were afraid. I wonder how we would have responded if we had been there?

The fear of the Jewish leaders, though, was understandable because the relationship between the Roman authorities and the Jews was quite fragile. They would want nothing to upset this uneasy stability. And this is the reason the author of John's Gospel suggests the religious leaders started to plot Jesus' death – it was all too risky and the Jews had too much to lose. And this sets the stage for Jesus' journey towards Jerusalem and for his passion, crucifixion and resurrection.

Lazarus is never mentioned again in the New Testament after his return to life. However, several other traditions arose suggesting what might have happened to him. The Eastern churches suggest he travelled to Cyprus, and became a bishop and finally died of natural causes and the Church of Saint Lazarus in the city of Larn'a'ka is said to have been built over this resting place. In the West, the Roman Catholic Church suggests he went to Marseilles in France and spread the gospel and eventually became a bishop.

In whatever importance we place on these traditions, and however we interpret the story, we do so in the knowledge that John's Gospel is full of metaphor and symbolism. What is significant is that the death and raising of Lazarus prepares the reader for the narrative of Jesus' death and resurrection. And for that reason, this Gospel story is often read at the beginning of Passion tide because both narratives hold the promise of our transformation – whether in this life or in a life to come.

For example, Robert AcAfee Brown was a US Chaplain during WW2. On his voyage home at the end of the war, he was happily surprised when a small group of soldiers asked whether he would hold a Bible Study discussion group. Towards the end of the voyage, they discussed the Gospel reading we had today. One of the men responded by saying the story of Lazarus described an experience in his life. When he joined the Marines at the beginning of the war he was immediately posted to Japan. At that stage of the war, there was little for them to do and he soon got bored. He got into serious trouble and ended up feeling very guilty and depressed. So much so he considered suicide. Then he heard about this story of Lazarus, and it was enough to cause a shift in his life that made a difference for him and for his future.

Often the challenges life brings us, hold the most potential for our personal growth. And just as the burial cloth that bound and restricted Lazarus in the Gospel story, we also can have experiences that leave us feeling tied and restricted.

In whatever way we treat this story – as fact or fiction – it does raise questions: 'Are there areas in our life that need to be unbound?' 'What aspects of our true self have we buried in the course of our life that are waiting to be set free? Who are the ‘life-giving’ people, or what have been the life-giving occasions in our life? And who is God inviting us to support, so they might wake up?

Kia mau te rongo me te pai ki a koe i to haerenga

May you find peace and good will on your journey.

Phil 

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1Ecclesiastes 7:1

2 https://poets.org/poem/hammock 

 

The Importance of Questions (Mark 12:28-34)

We all ask questions and they began early in our lives. As a two-year-old, our favourite question was probably “Why?” or “What's that?” As our language skills developed, so would the complexity of our questions.

I remember as a young and newly ordained clergy person, I was expected to look after the Parish Youth Group. It was fun (most of the time) and full of energy and life! Once they had settled down in our lounge towards the end of the evening, the questions started. They usually began with a simple ‘Why?’ and often involved deeply profound issues of faith and life. Sometimes they were not interested in my answers; they seemed more concerned their question had a potential answer.

We have all asked that same question “Why” at various points of our life – especially in moments of tragedy or challenge. Answers given are usually temporary, and more often than not they open doorways to new questions.

If it is of any comfort, the Hebrew Scriptures are full of questions. Judaism was, and still is a religion where questions are more important than answers. As the fameous Rabbi, Abraham Joshua Heschel once said:

“We are closer to God when we are asking questions than when we think we have the answers”1

This principle is highlighted at the most important Jewish festival of Pesach (Passover) when the youngest member at the table is prompted to ask four questions that all begin with: “Why?”. This simple introduction to asking questions is continually reinforced in Jewish learning and spirituality. All the heroes of their faith frequently questioned God and the greater the prophet, the more challenging their questions..2 Questions were also valued in Judaism because they approached Sacred Scripture, and life in general, as an ‘open-ended text’ where their lives and the story of their faith was continually unfolding in the here-and-now, creating an ever new narrative between themselves and the Divine. Instinctively they knew they were partners with God and so were not afraid to ask God 'Why' in the face of uncertainty and disaster.

Our Gospel reading for this Sunday (Mark 12:28-34) comes from a section in Mark's Gospel where several Jewish leaders questioned Jesus on matters of faith and practice. It is important to remember the author was not attempting to write history. The four discussions would have taken much longer than the few descriptive verses provided. This was because in Judaism, scripture was regarded as an open text that invited discussion and the original inspiration was still present, hidden within the sacred text, waiting to come alive to inspire the heart and mind of anyone willing to spend the time and effort. An approach that gave new meaning to the saying of Jesus:

“Ask, and it will be given you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you.”3

With this brief introduction, we return to the question asked by the Scribe: “Which commandment is the first of all?”A reasonable question because Judaism had identified 613 commandments in their Scriptures. Jesus' response: 'We are to love God and love one's neighbour?’ was an orthodox response and one the Scribe would have seen as appropriate as they began a Rabbinic debate that probably lasted the whole afternoon and allowed the written text to become a living word within them..4 However, as Christianity began to take root and flourish within a non-Semitic world, it gradually lost this art of open inquiry. Instead, matters of faith became increasingly prescribed and dictated by the leadership of the developing Church hierarchy.

One thing I have observed as I have researched and written this blog is the wisdom the Scribe was seeking was not the product of thought. Rather, Spiritual awakening involves waking up from the dream of thoughts, of realising that there is nothing for us to do or know except to be present and give whatever is unfolding our full attention – with that recognition comes the inner realisation that God is in all things and all things are in God.

Kia mau te rongo me te pai ki a koe i to haerenga

May you find peace and good will on your journey.

Phil

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1https://forward.com/scribe/367003/passover-and-the-jewish-art-of-questioning-everything/

2https://lessons.myjli.com/why/index.php/2016/11/30/the-art-of-asking-questions/

3 Matthew 7:7

4Rabbinic Judaism had four approaches to biblical exegesis: (1) "surface" ("straight") or the literal (direct) meaning (2) "hints" or the deep (allegoric: hidden or symbolic) meaning beyond just the literal sense. (3) the comparative (midrashic) meaning, as given through similar occurrences. (4) "secret" ("mystery") or the esoteric/mystical meaning, as given through inspiration or revelation.

What Do We Do in the Face of a Crisis? (Mark 10:46-52)

This Sunday we have another story where Jesus asks the question: “What do you want me to do for you?” Last Sunday, it was two cousins who ask Jesus for special privileges so they might share in his glory, little realising the 'glory' Jesus was referring to was the cross, and the 'glory' they would receive was the privilege of martyrdom for James, and incarceration and a lingering death for John.

This Sunday's Gospel is almost the opposite of last week's Gospel. Mark 10: 46-52 is about Bartimaeus, a blind beggar who wants to regain his sight. In many ways this is a story about restoring hope to someone who had none; someone who had been relegated to an uncertain future and a life of fear, insecurity and loneliness in a world full of inequality. The Clinical Psychologist and interfaith minister, John C. Robinson, suggests the feelings and life Bartimaeus faced as a blind person is not so far removed from the experience many face in a Covid-world of rising global catastrophe.  Robinson goes on to suggest five dimensions that help when confronted by crisis1. We find them all illustrated within the Gospel story of Bartimaeus:

1. Practical: Bartimaeus presents as a practical person. He used every means at his disposal to captured Jesus attention, and to receive his life-changing healing. He then responds by becoming a follower of Jesus. Robinson suggests the first thing we need to do when faced with a crisis is to be practical. To make sure we have the basics of food, water, shelter, healthcare and safety. We also, need to be like Bartimaeus and be informed on what is happening around us and react accordingly.

2. Psychological: Pandemics can evoke a lot of negative feelings that arise from being isolated from the normal course of our lives. Enforced isolation can breed negative feelings such as fear, depression and hopelessness. The best cure is to ask for help and to be there for others. We see this reflected in the Gospel story. As a blind beggar on the side of the road, Bartimaeus was totally dependent upon the charity of others. Rather than remaining isolated in his blindness, he turns to his neighbours for support.

3. Spiritual: We know nothing of Bartimaeus' faith – except he had heard Jesus could heal people. We all have our personal hopes and beliefs. These give shape to our values and meaning to our life. They may be religious and spiritual beliefs. Or they may be based on our experiences of awe and wonder of the natural world around us. They can include the significant people with whom we share our life. One of the gifts a spirituality can provide, is support, hope and love in times of crisis. It can also give us comfort and new meaning in our struggles – and new hope to face the future.

4. Mystical: Spiritual beliefs often relate to things we have been taught and to our minds. Mystical events relate to first-hand experiences of the sacred in everyday life. Bartimaeus, for example, wasn't content knowing that Jesus had healed people – he desperately wanted to experience healing for himself. We all have had mystical experiences. These may include falling in love, sensing the stillness in a forest or an empty Church, holding our newborn baby for the first time, being stunned by the beauty of a sunset. In all these moments we perceive the boundaries of our life and world are not as fixed and physical as they might appear on the surface. We may have a fleeting sense of an interconnectedness that holds everything together. As Eckhart Toole has observed:

“Underneath the surface appearance, everything is not only connected with everything else,
but also with the Source of all life out of which it came”.2

5. The Wisdom of the Sage: Robinson also suggests:

“We create our most mature self” as we integrate and utilize the practical knowledge
and insight acquired over the years of life experience.
This provides us with not only knowledge and practical and skills,
but also the wisdom of one who can provide meaningful and inspiring leadership.”

We don't know how old Bartimaeus was, but the wisdom he demonstrates is not limited to age. In many ways, the focus in the Gospel story is not the healing of Bartimaeus' physical blindness, but his response to his healing. He leaves everything to follow Jesus just as the other early disciples had done. And it is important to remember that Jesus' life was spent mainly with those who were vulnerable, poor and homeless. In this way, Bartimaeus offers us a more authentic model of what it means to be a follower of Jesus compared to James and John in last week's Gospel. James and John wanted recognition and power. However, they had still had to learn that the Way of Jesus is one of service to others who may be struggling in our communities.

Kia mau te rongo me te pai ki a koe i to haerenga
May you find peace and good will on your journey.

Phil
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1https://politicaltheology.com/the-politics-of-discipleship-mark-1046-52/

2https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/2567181-a-new-earth-awakening-to-your-life-s-purpose?page=19

St Francis of Assisi

The 4th of October is the Feast Day of St Francis of Assisi. A well-loved and popular Saint. I wonder what images come to mind when you think of him? Perhaps Pet Services, birdbaths and religious pictures? Certainly, there are many stories about St Francis and his love of animals, birds, fish, cricket, rabbits, bees and even worms. Thomas of Celano, one of the early followers and chroniclers of St Francis, recorded the following about him:

Toward little worms even he glowed with a very great love, for he had read this saying about the Savior (Psalms 22:6): “I am a worm, a no one”. Therefore he picked them up from the road and placed them in a safe place, lest they be crushed by the feet of the passers by."1.

If we find that slightly cute, I wonder if his (and our) affection would extend to other critters such as cockroaches and rodents? Be that as it may, we often have honoured the animals and birds with whom we share our lives at this time of year at an annual Pet Service. However, it is also good to remember that St Francis was more than a lover of animals – he is also a patron of the Ecology, and an inspirational travelling evangelist!

I think back to when I first learnt of Francis. I was a university student at a time when we had no internal assessments and no semesters. One could happily enjoy a good social life for the first half of the year before studying madly the last two months before sitting the final exam. So it was that a local vicar who knew my parents took me under his wing. I recall sitting in his Elizabethan sitting room in a dark, damp, old-worldly vicarage. He was puffing away on his pipe as he told me about a poor little rich man from Assisi, who also as a teenager, lived a wild and carefree life. What appealed to me then, and has stayed with me, was Francis radical, wholehearted determination to follow the way of Jesus. Francis was inspired to change his life and make a difference in a world where extremes of wealth, hypocrisy, and poverty existed. I also learnt about other people, closer to my generation, who had been inspired by St Francis to make a difference. People like Douglas Downs, an Anglican Priest, inspired by the life of St Francis of Assisi, move out from the comfort of his home in England to live and worked amongst the thousands of homeless men who lived on the roads during the post-war depression. They had no work, no skills, no social security, no hope and no one wanted them. Then a friend, inspired by the example of Douglas, offered the use of his farm in Dorset as a place of refuge. Douglas believed every person had a skill to offer. If they were willing to help on the farm, he would provide food and lodging, and help them find their special talent, develop it, then send them on their way with a reference and new hope for the future. Douglas' secret was similar to that of St Francis of Assisi. Both “Could see the light of God in others.” One of the brothers later wrote these words about St Francis:

It was this love that opened Francis's eyes to the truth of God in creation. Everything spoke of the love of God. All of creation became faces of God - the world became the temple of God as everything reflected God's power, wisdom and goodness. This led Francis to live in relatedness and to share all he was and had with all things – for all things were his brothers and sisters because they shared with him the same beginnings, the same incarnation of God. But we are unable to see this until we first are able to see God's goodness within us – this is the path to transformation.

The Gospel Reading for the coming Sunday (Mark 10:2-16) tells us of another young man who met Jesus on the road. This time it was not in the form of a leper as St Francis did. It was face to face in person. He wanted to find meaning in his life. But unlike Francis, he wasn't prepared to let go of the material things that gave his comfortable life meaning and purpose. And that one thing made the difference.

Francis could see beyond the superficial boundaries of life and see with clarity that every person is created after the image and likeness of God. And when we too are able to see people as Francis did, we will also see them for who they truly are – images of God.

Kia mau te rongo me te pai ki a koe i to haerenga

May you find peace and good will on your journey.

Phil

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1Thomas of Celano, First life of St. Francis.