Twelve Years A Slave

As we move through the gospel of Mark, we come to a story from chapter 5:21-43.  In my old blog, Near St. Anne's and the Sea, http://northdublinsmiths.blogspot.com/, I wrote a post a few years back that I believe is still worth a read.  In this post, I try to imagine what a couple of the characters in the story may have experienced as they encountered Jesus in trying circumstances.  The first character, I call Martha, though we do not know her name.  The second character is Jairus.  Let's discover the amazing ways these two individual's stories intertwine.  

The Gospel According to Martha

My name is Martha and I can still remember the month it happened.  It was like any other month, maybe just a bit heavier than usual, but nothing to be alarmed about.  I did what I would usually do – what I was required to do by the Law of Moses.  I kept myself separate and I made sure that I didn’t touch anyone or anything that might cause someone else to become unclean.  But at the end of the week, my period didn’t stop.  It seemed like it would get lighter, but then, it would come back heavy.  It went like this for days and days.  I began to get worried.  I was in my unclean state for weeks and so I began to see healers, physicians, anyone who could help me.  I spent all I had trying to be cured, but I never got any better, I only got worse.  I never could have imagined that this ailment, this affliction would stay with me for months, even years.  I struggled so much just to have enough energy to get through the day.  No matter how much I would eat, I always felt weak.  And isolated.  I got so lonely.  I gave up on ever trying to have a husband.  No man in his right mind would ever want to marry me.  They would be unclean, unable to live a normal life, unable to have children, or even be able to enjoy making love to their wife.  Eventually, after a few years, I learned to accept my status as an outsider, as one unclean -   unable to worship at the temple and unable to be in normal fellowship with the rest of my countrymen and women.  For 12 long years, this was my reality.  I was a slave, 12 years a slave, until…

The Gospel According to Jairus

My name is Jairus and I will never forget the day my little girl was born.  I was so proud!  She was my firstborn – my only child.  My wife and I wanted other sons and daughters, but she was the only one that God had seen fit to give us.  But, oh, did we love her.  Our nickname for her was Talitha – little girl.  Even as she grew older, we affectionately called her by this name.  She was a daddy’s girl, though she loved her momma too and wanted to be just like her.  Sometimes, I would take her with me to the Synagogue as I would prepare for our worship the day before the Sabbath.  I also remember taking her on walks along the shore at the sea.  We would walk along the rocky beaches, taking time to skip rocks or wade out into the shallows.  As she got older, I could see that she was becoming more and more like her mom.  She was beautiful.  I'll never forget the day she got sick.  It wasn’t long after her 12^th birthday.  She had complained of a headache that morning and a few hours later, she collapsed in our kitchen.  We took her into the back room of our home and tried to cool her fevered body with wet rags.  Nothing seemed to work.  We tried to give her every herb and every medicinal concoction that we could find, but she only got worse.  And then it hit me.  I had heard of a miracle worker, a rabbi from Nazareth who had become famous across Galilee for his healing abilities.  In fact, once, when Talitha and I were out on one of our seaside walks, we had witnessed a crowd who had gathered to hear him teach.  The crowd was so large he had got into a boat and floated out on the water to give himself some room.  I knew that he frequently crossed the sea.  In fact, some of his disciples were fisherman, so maybe if I went down by the shore I could find him.  Maybe, just maybe he would be able to do something!

According to Martha

I saw the crowd swarming him down by the sea as he climbed out of the boat.  But then, he paused.  In the middle of this mass of humanity, a man had fallen at Jesus’ feet and seemed to be desperately begging him for something.  Jesus lifted the man up and began to follow him.  The crowd also pressed in and went with them.  I struggled to catch up and as I wedged my way in-between the people a thought crossed my mind.  “This rabbi is so godly, so righteous, so full of God’s power, that if I only touch his clothes, then God will heal me through that single touch.”  I anxiously approached, weaving my way through the herd, until finally, I was able to reach out and skim the edge of his cloak with my fingertips.  I immediately felt a feeling I hadn’t had for 12 years.  My bleeding stopped and I felt a rush of energy cascade through my body.  I was healed!  But before I could make my way out of the crowd, Jesus turned around and shouted, “Who touched my clothes?”  What was I to do?  I was so afraid.  Maybe I shouldn’t have gone about things this way?  I had hoped to make a quiet escape, to draw no attention to myself, but it was obvious that Jesus realized that power had left him.  He wanted to know who had been healed and though I was scared to death, I slowly pushed my way through the people and fell down at his feet and told him everything.  With a tear in his eye and the sound of hope in his voice he simply said, “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease.”  For 12 long years I had been a slave to my bleeding womb.  What God had designed to be an instrument of life, for me had become an instrument of death, until - until that day when I reached out to Jesus and he spoke those words of life.

According to Jairus

“Jesus, I know that if you will just come and lay your hands on my little girl, she’ll be healed, she’ll live.”  Those were the words I uttered as I fell on my face and begged Jesus to come and do something for my dying daughter.  Jesus immediately went with me, no questions asked - he just agreed and followed me.  I didn’t even notice the large crowd that was following us as we hurriedly made our way to my home, until – until Jesus all of the sudden froze.  He spun around and shouted “Who touched my clothes?”  “What’s going on?” I thought.  Why is he stopping?  Doesn’t he know my daughter will die if we don’t get there soon!  Jesus and his disciples seemed to be arguing about something and then a woman fell down at Jesus’ feet and began to timidly tell him how for 12 years she had lived in a state of uncleanness, bleeding, living in isolation, but that now, after having touched his clothes she was free from her affliction.  While Jesus responded to the woman, all I could do was think about my 12 year old daughter who laid dying in our home.  And then I saw them approaching us - some of the local professional mourners.  They had already begun to gather at our house.  That could only mean one thing.  Our little Talitha had died.  They confirmed the bad news and told us that Jesus shouldn’t be bothered any longer.  There’s nothing that could be done now.  Our girl who had emerged from the womb only 12 years prior would soon enter the cold dark womb of a tomb.  Death had stung.  Death had won. 

But Jesus turned back towards me, overhearing the mourners’ lamentation.  He grabbed me by the shoulders and looked me in my tear-filled eyes and said, “Do not fear, only believe!”  Then he motioned for me and three of his disciples to follow him.  When we arrived at the house, the professional mourners were in full flight.  They were weeping, wailing, hollering, and screaming.  What a production they were putting on!  But Jesus calmly eyed the scene and confidently said, “Why are you making such a commotion?  The child isn’t dead, she’s just asleep.”  Even professionals sometimes slip up.  They went from crying for my daughter to laughing at Jesus.  I didn’t know what to think at this point – was I to hope or was I to fear?  I feared the worst and hoped for the best as Jesus dismissed the mourners and took my wife and his disciples in to see our lifeless little girl.  Jesus gently grasped her hand and softly spoke the words, “Talitha cum – little girl, get up.”  Talitha gasped for breath, opened her eyes, and began to walk around the room.  My little girl was alive!  For 12 short years, I had raised my daughter, expecting that one day she would be married and have children of her own.  But death had come and done its worst and for a moment, my hopes and dreams were shattered.  I had lost my only daughter and the hopes of grandchildren had vanished as well.  Until…until he took her by the hand and he spoke those words of life. - Shay

Why Are You Afraid?

Descending through a thunderstorm into Miami on a short flight from Orlando, our plane suddenly dropped several hundred feet.  About 5 or 6 rows in front of me, a young man flew out of his seat, smashing his head into the overhead compartment.  Maybe he was "stunned" or just slow to react, but he didn't immediately fasten his seatbelt and when the plane dropped another several hundred feet, he again smashed into the overhead compartment!  It would have been funny, had I not been white-knuckle gripping my seat's armrests.  I was terrified.  I don't like the feeling of free-falling, even on amusement park rides. So, to unexpectedly drop twice in a matter of seconds on this flight was disconcerting to say the least.  My prayer at that moment was short, simple, and on repeat: "Lord, please help us land safely and quickly, but not too quickly!  God, just get this plane on the ground!  But again, not immediately!"

Jesus' disciples must have felt similar emotions as they traversed the chaotic Sea of Galilee in the middle of a terrifying storm.  "On that day, when evening had come, he said to them, 'Let us go across to the other side.'  And leaving the crowd behind, they took him with them in the boat, just as he was.  Other boats were with him.  A great windstorm arose, and the waves beat into the boat, so that the boat was already being swamped.  But he was in the stern, asleep on the cushion; and they woke him up and said to him, 'Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?'  He woke up and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, 'Peace!  Be still!'  Then the wind ceased, and there was a dead calm.  He said to them, 'Why are you afraid?  Have you still no faith?'  And they were filled with great awe and said to one another, 'Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?'' (Mark 4:35-41, NRSV).

Have you ever been there - in the middle of a sheer moment of terror?  Fear is one of the most visceral emotions we feel.  Our heartrate explodes, our palms sweat profusely, our thinking rapidly speeds up, while time seems to slow down.  Every resource our body can muster is devoted to this one moment, this one issue, this one crisis.  It's no wonder that we feel "spent" when the moment passes.

But sometimes fear doesn't come and go in quite such a rush.  There are moments in our lives when instead of being unexpectantly tossed into terror, we are forced to labor through a long, slow sense of dread.  But this feeling is just as real as the more visceral feelings of fear, and quite possibly, more damaging.  Persistent anxiety can be even more toxic as the most frightening of scares. 

But maybe the worst kind of fear is the kind of fear that develops out of perfectionism and the desire to be a "control freak".  When we are afraid to fail, and so fail to try, we have allowed fear to win.  When we are unwilling to relinquish control, we again have handed fear a victory.

According to the gospel of Mark, fear, not doubt is the enemy of faith.  Any of us who trust in God have at times doubted.  In fact, if we've never experienced a doubt, I doubt our faith is mature and tested.  Doubting is normal.  When doubts arise, I can still act in faith.  I can hold my faith and my doubts in tension.  In fact, faith isn't the absence of doubt, but the capacity to trust and to act despite our doubts.  But fear on the other hand, can be crippling.  Fear has the power to leave us in a perpetual state of floundering.

When Jesus called his disciples, he invited them to join him on the adventure of a lifetime.  It was an adventure that would take them, at least temporarily, away from their friends and family.  It was a calling that would force them to reevaluate all they previously held dear.  It was a journey that would place them in challenging circumstances, physically, mentally, relationally, and spiritually.  Essentially, Jesus was calling them to take a leap of faith, to put their trust in him, and to be willing go "all in" for his kingdom movement.  The majority of their kinsmen would think they were nuts, but if Jesus was right and God's kingdom really was coming through this ministry, then their role in this mission had the power to not only change their own lives, but the world!  Would this require faith?  Absolutely!  Would this inevitably be accompanied by doubt?  Surely.  Was this a scary proposition?  Totally.  But, if through faith, they could manage their doubt, while overcoming their fear, they would be a part of the greatest revolution in human history.  One that still resonates in our world today!

The fear the disciples faced on that boat that stormy evening so long ago wasn't the biggest test their faith they would face.  That would come later.  But it was a great opportunity for Jesus to plant tiny seeds of faith in their hearts.  Jesus knew that those tiny seeds had the power to grow into massive plants of faith in the future (Mark 4:30-32).  He knew that faith isn't the absence of fear, it's the ability to overcome that fear.  And slowly, but surely the disciples would begin to take those faithful steps that evening on the Sea of Galilee.  

What about us?  What are we afraid of?  Is there some gnawing fear that's holding us back?  Is God calling us to take a step of faith - maybe even a leap of faith into the unknown?  If so, Jesus asks us this question: "Why are you afraid?  Have you still no faith?" - Shay 

To Be With

There's an epidemic - even a pandemic - that has spread across the world to every continent, country, and people.  It's not Covid 19, but no doubt the Coronavirus played a role in this other pandemic.  It's the disease (dis-ease) of loneliness and isolation.  And make no mistake, isolation and the loneliness it carries with it are as big a health and mental threat to our world as any contagious disease.  

Every technology has benefits and costs.  When we adopt and adapt to new technologies, we should weigh both the costs and the benefits.  Maybe this leads us to reject a new tool.  Or maybe we just put it on hold until we have more comprehensive information about it.  We might hesitantly embrace it, but with some caveats and safeguards.  Maybe we limit its use and continue to also use older methods and technologies.  Or, in some cases we might wholeheartedly embrace this new development.  But again, we must always remember that there will be losses, as well as gains when we shift away from one way of living to another.

Unfortunately, when smartphones were introduced about 15 years ago, it seems as if they were unreservedly and uncritically embraced.  Only the benefits of these powerful new devices were considered.  Not many stopped to imagine how the unreflective adoption of these tools would change our lives.  But in short order it became obvious that smartphones present as many problems for us even as they provide solutions.  

In no particular order, there are questions about diminished attention spans, developmental distortion of developing brains in adolescents, the loss of face-to-face interaction and compromised communal participation.  I would like us to consider the last two issues - the loss of face-to-face interaction and diminished communal participation.  

The toothpaste isn't going back into the tube.  But that doesn't mean that the issues arising from portable computing machines (however they continue to be developed) don't exist or need to be addressed.  And when it comes to the lack of in person relationships and shared communal experience, an ancient story might offer some solutions to these very modern problems.

"He (Jesus) went up the mountain and called to him those he wanted, and they came to him.  And he appointed twelve, whom he also named apostles, to be with him, and to be sent out to proclaim the message, and to have authority to cast out demons.  So he appointed the twelve..." (Mark 3:13-16a, NRSV).

The twelve apostles of Jesus were critical to his mission.  They were to be extensions of him - to follow in his footsteps, learning from him, their rabbi, and imitating his ministry among the people.  They were called "apostles", because they were to be "sent out" with the message of Jesus.  He chose 12 apostles because they symbollicaly represented the 12 tribes of Israel.  They were a sign to the people that God was reconstituting the people of God.  But maybe, even more critical than the "sent" and symbolic aspect of their role, was what these twelve individuals brought to Jesus himself.  There was a personal function for these men to fulfill.  

Jesus appointed these 12 to be with him.  Jesus needed these relationships.  He desired these friendships.  He yearned for the face-to-face interaction that these people could provide him.  He wanted the community that these followers would create.  Later in chapter three of Mark's gospel, Jesus says that these 12, along with anyone else who does the will of God, are his family.  Jesus needed followers to participate and assist in his mission, but even more so, Jesus longed for people to live in relationship with him.  Jesus wasn't just providing us with a model for ministry, he was affirming a blueprint for life.  He endorsed a way of living that has enriched humanity for thousands of years - a way of living that if abandoned for the convenience of "virtual" relationships or "online" communities, has the power to diminish, if not destroy some of the essential traits that make us human.  We were created for community, and we must not let the proliferation of these new technologies isolate us from the relationships we critically need to thrive.  

I offer three suggestions that might help us navigate this rapidly changing environment.  First of all, let's create some healthy boundaries around our technology.  Too much of anything can be a bad thing.  Too much caffeine, too much alcohol, and even too much water can have negative effects on our health.  Too much screen time (whether on a laptop, tablet, phone, or TV) is unhealthy.  Like alcohol or coffee, each person must decide how much is too much and make appropriate plans.  Being aware of how much media we are consuming is important and putting in safeguards or limits is wise.  If we meet a friend for coffee or lunch, it might be appropriate to put away our phones for the duration of the meeting.  If this is not possible, it might be wise to only attend to the devise in the case of an emergency.  Maybe families create designated times where digital technology is off-limits?  Shared meals around tables instead of in front of televisions are positively formative.  Whatever limits or boundaries are established is less important than the fact that they are established.  

Second, let's be intentional in our relationships.  The busier we get, the easier it is to become isolated from our friends and families.  Unless we carve out time to be with others, we might find ourselves living day to day and week to week in increasing isolation.  There's nothing wrong with scheduling time for the important people in our lives.  We schedule dentist appointments because they are crucial to our oral hygiene.  Scheduling space and time for community is crucial to our mental health and hygiene.  

Finally, let's be willing to expand our social circle.  Jesus was intimately close with three of his apostles (Peter, James, and John), and he was quite close with the other nine (including Judas who later betrayed him).  But he did not limit himself to these twelve.  He made personal connections with many different people throughout his ministry, and he was open to wining and dining with people from every conceivable background.  Sometimes we need to invite others into our existing communities and at other times, we should be open to explore other's circle of friends.  We won't always have the same level of relationship with each and every person we encounter, but we all need friends, and there might be quite a few people who need us to be their friends.  

Mark 3:13 & ff, reminds us that we were created for community and our full humanity is realized in relationship.  Our personal devices have the power to enhance our lives, but there's a danger that they might also diminish them when they interfere with our friendships and when they isolate us from our communities.  We want face-to-face connections, and we need fruitful relationships.  There's no doubt that the twelve needed to be in relationship with Jesus, but let's not forget that Jesus needed to be in relationship with them too. - Shay 

Tax Collectors, Sinners, and Postal Workers

 

The situation grew tense.  There was no easy way out and there was a real chance that blood would be shed.  It wasn't so much a misunderstanding, as a miscalculation.  The two brothers, born and raised in Glasgow, Scotland to Irish Catholic parents from County Donegal had made a pilgrimage to the Emerald Isle to visit their father's grave (he had died after being struck by a car on his walk home one evening while in his home county).  Before catching the ferry in Belfast on their way home to Scotland, they had asked their taxi driver to drop them off at a pub.  They had some time to kill, so they decided to enjoy a pint or two before hopping on the boat back to Britain.  The taxi driver had encouraged them to visit a different pub.  "You don't wanna be goin' in their lads - that's an IRA bar."  But the older brother, insisted that this was exactly the place to be.  So, the two Irish/Scottish men enjoyed a couple of scoops while shooting some pool, not expecting any other kind of shots to ring out.

While the other brother relieved himself in the toilets, the situation for the younger brother went from calm to uncomfortable to dangerous in a matter of moments.  "So, what do you do over in Scotland?"  It seemed like an innocent question, but the answer would not bring a measured response. "I'm a postman, I deliver the Royal Mail."  

Cue the scratched record sound effect.  Zzzp!  You could have heard a pin drop in the pub.  The silence - awkward and frightening - was broken by the thick West Belfast accent of one of the patrons.  "So, you work for Lizzy?  You work for the Queen?"  

The older brother sensed something was wrong as he returned from the toilets.  The patron, turned interrogator, resumed his speech.  "You know what we do with people who work for the Queen around here?  We take 'em up to the top of that hill and we put a bullet in the back of their heads."  The man wasn't joking and for these two brothers, getting back to Scotland had just become astonishingly complicated.  

But this wasn't the first time the older brother had been in an intense situation.  He was raised in Castlemilk, one of the roughest neighborhoods in Glasgow and he had been involved in his fair share of ventures with people of "questionable" backgrounds and motives.  Seeing that this was no time to play nice, the older brother grabbed a barstool and smashed it over the head of one of the locals, knocking him out cold.  He then grabbed one of the legs from the smashed stool and wielded it like a club/knife.  In his thick Glaswegian accent, he exclaimed, "Me brother and I are over here to pay respects to our dead father.  We are Catholic and we are proud of our Irish heritage.  We're walking out of this pub and anyone who follows us will pay for it."

The brothers were able to walk out of the pub, unscathed, just.  But I doubt they ever visited that bar again on any return journeys.  And though this event happened years ago and things in Northern Ireland are in a much better state today, this story paints a picture of how things used to be in Belfast.  It was one thing for Irish people to emigrate to the UK, but it was something else for them to actually work for the government.  To "collude" with the British authorities, even in a role as seemingly innocuous as a postal worker, was seen as a betrayal to the cause of Irish nationalism in some extreme circles.  

This little anecdote gives us a window into how the tax collectors in Jesus' day were viewed by their fellow Jewish countrymen and women.  At best, they were seen as greedy and dishonest opportunists.  At worst, they were considered traitors to the cause of Jewish nationalism, having sold out to Rome, selling their souls in the process.  For a would-be Messiah, it would have seemed strange indeed to have recruited a tax collector to his cause.

"Jesus went out again beside the sea; the whole crowd gathered around him, and he taught them.  As he was walking along, he saw Levi son of Alphaeus sitting at the tax booth, and he said to him, 'Follow me.'  And he got up and followed him.  And as he sat at dinner in Levi's house, many tax collectors and sinners were also sitting with Jesus and his disciples - for there were many who followed him.  When the scribes of the Pharisees saw that he was eating with sinners and tax collectors, they said to his disciples, 'Why does he eat with tax collectors and sinners?'  When Jesus heard this, he said to them, 'Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick; I have come to call not the righteous, but sinners.'" (Mark 2:13-17, NRSV).

The Pharisees and their scribes believed that if God's kingdom was to come, then the people needed to clean up their lives and their practices.  Sin and idolatry had led to the exile 600 years before and if God was to heed the cry of his people and reverse what exile had done, then those living in the land of promise must live their lives as strictly and regimented as even the priestly caste.  Those living dubious lives of sin had no chance of participating in the kingdom of God.  Tax collectors!  They had sold their souls to the pagans and their gods, so they were beyond the pale - they might as well have turned in their Jewish card for good.  There was no place reserved for tax collectors in God's kingdom! 

But this didn't stop Jesus from calling a tax collector and inviting him to become one of his followers.  Jesus didn't shy away from eating and drinking with tax collectors and sinners, in fact, this was the company that Jesus preferred to keep!  His mission was one of renewal and restoration, not exclusionary conservation.  He sought to bring those on the margins back into the mainstream, and to force those in the mainstream to reevaluate their assumptions and prejudices.  

Throughout history, humans have been quite adept at making distinctions and drawing boundary lines.  We excel at exclusion.  Whether its race, economic status, education, vocation, or political persuasion, we often see the world through the lens of "us" and "them".  We highlight our differences, instead of leaning into our similarities.  Rather than finding common ground and celebrating our shared humanity, we sometimes home in on distinctives and we decry our differences.  

And this story also reminds us that we are all in need of restoration and renewal.  We are all in need of the healing that the great physician Jesus freely offers.  But sometimes, in the midst of our busy lives, we forget that we too are sick.  Like an a-symptomatic carrier of a disease, it's easy to forget that without our healer's sympathetic touch, we too are dying.  Often, it's the less obvious, but just as deadly sins like pride, ingratitude, and jealousy that trip us up and cause us to fall, rather than the more obvious sins like adultery, theft, and hatred.  The good news of the kingdom is that through Jesus we can be cleansed from all of the above, provided we humbly and graciously accept his gift of healing.  None of us are well, but we are through the gospel, invited to move towards a time when "all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well."  And as we move towards that time, following in the footsteps of Jesus, we shouldn't be surprised if our fellow pilgrims include a few tax collectors, sinners, or even postal workers. - Shay 

I Do Choose

His eyes darted up and down, back and forth, this way and that way.  His palms were moist with sweat while his heart raced, and his breath shortened.  This tension wasn't new to him - it was always this way.  The only thing that was worse than being picked last, was not being picked at all.  Most of the time that was his lot, but every now and then, he would get picked, last - reinforcing his perception that he was the least. 

Have you ever felt this way?  Have you ever felt left out?  Have you found yourself on the margins - right on your tippy toes, straining your neck, peering inside, but feeling like you would always be left on the outside?  Have you ever been picked last, or not been picked at all?  

Even the most introverted of people long to be a part of group or a community.  When a party's going on - even if you might decline an invitation, you probably still want to be invited.  No one wants to be left out or marginalized.  When choices are being made, we want to be chosen.  And when decisions are being made, we want those decisions to be made in our favor. 

In First Century Palestine, there were a number of things that might keep a person isolated from his or her community.  Often it was a form of ritual impurity that might last for a moment, but not a lifetime.  But every so often, someone would develop a condition that had the potential to keep them isolated forever.  This was the lot of the leper.  

In Mark 1:40-45 we read, "A leper came to him begging him, and kneeling he said to him, 'If you choose, you can make me clean.'  Moved with pity, Jesus stretched out his hand and touched him, and said to him, 'I do choose.  Be made clean!'  Immediately the leprosy left him, and he was made clean.  After sternly warning him he sent him away at once, saying to him, 'See that you say nothing to anyone; but go show yourself to the priest, and offer for your cleansing what Moses commanded, as a testimony to them.'  But he went out and began to proclaim it freely, and to spread the word, so that Jesus could no longer go into a town openly, but stayed out in the country; and people came to him from every quarter." (NRSV).

Most of the "lepers" we read about in the gospel did not have the condition that we call leprosy today (Hansen's disease).  Almost any skin ailment might be considered a form of leprosy in the ancient world and the most efficient way to keep a contagious disease from spreading in a community was isolation.  After Covid-19, we have a better idea of what isolation is like.  However, our pandemic isolation was short lived for most of us.  If a leper in Jesus' day did not get better, they were to remain isolated (or in community with other lepers) in perpetuity.  If they were healed - miraculously or otherwise - they were to appear before a priest to be examined and then given the "all clear" so that they could rejoin their family and community.  If a leper were to be made "clean", it wasn't just about physical healing, but also relational and emotional healing.  

It's not surprising that as Jesus' fame spread and the crowds became aware that God's healing power was at work in him, that people like this leper might seek him out to be set free.  This particular leper had no doubt that Jesus could heal him, but he wasn't sure that Jesus would heal him.  Humbly, he kneeled at Jesus' feet, begging him.  He made it clear that the choice of his healing was 100% in Jesus' ballcourt.  And then Jesus went above and beyond what this poor man might have hoped for.  Jesus reached out and touched him, saying, "I do choose.  Be made clean!" 

Jesus' touch was not insignificant.  This man had probably not felt the touch of another person's hand since he had been diagnosed with his ailment.  Normally, a person's unclean status would spread to any and all who were in physical contact with them.  But in this instance, it wasn't uncleanliness that was contagious, but Jesus' cleasing power.  

And the three short words from Jesus made all the difference for this leper.  "I do choose."  Three beautiful and powerful words for someone who for so long had been cast to the margins.  We've probably all experienced the power of those three words.  "If you choose, you can marry me."  "I do choose."  "If you choose, you can invite me."  "I do choose."  "If you choose, you can pick me."  "I do choose."  "If you choose, you can heal me."  "I do choose."

The good news that Mark gives us in this short story goes beyond this specific instance.  It sheds light on the God that not only created us, but loves us, has compassion for us, and desires a relationship with us.  He wants to heal us and to restore us to healthy relationships with others too.  For centuries, people have debated how far God's love extends.  Is his love open to all?  Does God desire everyone to be saved, or is it only for a special few?  John's gospel states plainly that "God so loved the world (not a select few within the world) that he sent his only Son."  In 1 Timothy 2, Paul states that God desires all people to be saved and come to a knowledge of the truth.  God's answer to this question is: "I do choose."

I need to be reminded of this.  When I begin to doubt God's concern for me, I need to hear those words, "I do choose."  When I am facing an uphill problem, I need to read those words, "I do choose."  When I am struggling to overcome sin and temptation, and I'm feeling like I'm all alone and unable to become the person that Jesus has re-created me to be, I need to hear his words again, "I do choose."  When I cry out to Jesus with the statement, that's really a question, "Jesus, if you choose, you can heal me.", then I need to hear his response, "I do choose."  

Ours is the God who chooses, and the choice is clear, God is for us, not against us.  God is for all of us!  Hear those words of Jesus again, "I do choose." - Shay 

The Beginning of the Good News

"Out of Egypt I called my son.", so the prophet Hosea had announced centuries before.  God's son in this case was not a single individual, but the entire people of Israel.  But Israel had been divided shortly after the time of King Solomon and eventually the northern tribes had been taken into Assyrian exile, never to return.  A few stragglers had been left in Samaria, but they had mixed their bloodline and their religious practices with pagans who the Assyrians had transplanted to the area after conquering it.  The southern kingdom of Judah (including the tribe of Benjamin, some of the Levites, and a few other remnants of the original 12 tribes) understood themselves to be the inheritors of the promises made to Abraham so many years before.  Through much persecution and difficulty, they had held onto the traditions of their ancestors and had avoided the complete loss of their faith and heritage, but they too had gone into exile (Babylonian) and even when the Persian Emperor, Cyrus had given them the opportunity to return home and rebuild their temple and their lives, many had stayed put, creating what came to be known as the Jewish diaspora.  One empire after another had held them captive and at the dawn of what would come to known as the Common Era (CE), many Jews hoped for a messiah to arise who would defeat their pagan overlords, cleanse the temple and other religious institutions, and reestablish God's kingdom on earth.  The messiah's mission would be nothing short of a new exodus.  Out of Egypt, (or Babylon or Rome), God would again call his son.

Then, out of the blue a prophet named John arrived on the scene.  Mark tells the story this way. "John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.  And people from the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem were going out to him, and were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins." (Mark 1:4-5, NRSV).  Over twelve centuries earlier, Israel had passed through the waters of the Sea of Reeds before spending 40 years in the wilderness.  After their wilderness wandering, they again passed through water, this time the Jordan River, as they entered into the Promised Land.  In symbolic fashion, those who responded to John's message were reenacting God's original deliverance of his people in the exodus as they recommitted themselves to restoration and renewal in anticipation of God's new work among them.  

Mark continues, "In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan.  And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him.  And a voice came from heaven, 'You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.'" (Mark 1:9-11). Like the rest of his fellow Jews, Jesus is a member of the people who collectively could be called "God's son."  But Jesus is also unique.  In his baptism, the one individual, Jesus, is declared to be the Son of God, the Beloved.  Like the Judean kings before him, he will represent the people before God, but in ways that far transcend what kings like David and Josiah accomplished.  And just as Israel passed through the waters those centuries before, Jesus passes through the waters of baptism, fully identifying with his people.  But all will not be easy for this one who has come to establish God's kingdom on earth as in heaven.  

"And the Spirit immediately drove him out into the wilderness.  He was in the wilderness forty days, tempted by Satan; and he was with the wild beasts; and the angels waited on him."  (Mark 1:12-13).   Like Israel before him, Jesus spends, not 40 years, but 40 days in the wilderness.  He is vulnerable before the wild beasts - those animals who would one day become tame (Isaiah 11:6-8) and he is forced to confront the accuser, the Satan.  But whereas Israel had often gone astray in the wilderness, longing for the security of slavery and trusting their own ingenuity over God's, Jesus is led by the Spirit and relies on God's provision to get him through.

After crossing the Jordan again and returning to Galilee, Jesus enters the Promised Land "...proclaiming the good news of God, and saying, 'The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent and believe in the good news.'" (Mark 1:14-15).  For those Jews who had waited centuries for God to honor his promises to their ancestors, the news that God's kingdom was at hand, must be both exhilarating and almost too good to be true.  And that's exactly the response that Jesus consistently receives as he begins his ministry of healing and renewal.  Some respond in awe and trust, while others are more skeptical and even dismissive.  

The same is true today.  Along this spectrum of both belief and disbelief, the message of Jesus is received in 2023.  But for those willing to take a step, and quite possibly, a leap of faith, the message about Jesus is too good not to be true.  In a world dominated by competing messages of bad news, it's refreshing to hear that there's another perspective out there.  There's hope for renewal, healing, and restoration for this dark world.  This beautiful and amazing world doesn't always work right.  But one day it will.  Those with faith believe that the world began to change for the better when Jesus arrived on the scene 2,000 years ago.  But it was just a beginning.  There's more to come.  This is "The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God." (Mark 1:1). - Shay      

The Big Narrative

From the primeval savannas of Africa to the stone age caves of Europe.  From the tents of the ancient Near East to the jungles and rainforests of South America.  From the riverbanks of the Indus to the mudflats of the Mississippi, people from every tribe, language, and nation have gathered around campfires to find purpose and meaning for their lives.  From the pre-historic to the present, people have gathered around tables and have met in meeting halls to tell stories.  Stories are what define us as people and what differentiate us from other animals.  Of all the amazing feats our big brains are capable of achieving, the most crucial and probably the most underrated of all is our ability to make the connections that allow a narrative to take shape.  The most human of all human characteristics is the fact that we tell stories - we concoct and shape narratives.  And when we are not writing our own narratives, we are busy listening to the narratives of others.  Other people's stories help shape and inspire the stories that each of us are busy writing and rehearsing.

We all tell stories, but we don't all tell the same stories.  Even the story that we believe and that we aim to live into can change and evolve, as we grow and develop.  Nor do we always understand the story that we are busy creating.  It's often in hindsight that we more fully understand the words and actions that have contributed to the narrative that we've participated in.  And with reflection we are given the gift of revision - we can continue to edit, even as we continue to write (both literally and metaphorically).  

I've been shaped by an ancient story for my entire life.  It's a story that transcends continents and millennia.  It's a story that probes the recesses of the human heart and a story that offers a resolution to the ultimate fate of the universe.  It's a story I've questioned and it's a story that has questioned me at my most raw and vulnerable.  It has given me hope when all my hope was lost and it's a story that has convicted me to my core.  Through this big narrative, I've been both vindicated and exonerated, while at times being exposed as a fraud.  But this story has never left me bored or complacent.  I'm always compelled to come back for more.  

In 2010, I began a blog a few months after moving to Dublin, Ireland.  My wife, Juli, my daughter, Ashlyn, and a team of 7 other individuals and I had accepted the challenge to create a new community of people shaped and molded by God's story of creation to new creation on the north side of Dublin.  The purpose of the blog was to simply reflect on our story in Ireland with the hope that it might shed a little light on the stories of others around the world.  When our family moved back to the States in 2015, I continued to write on the same platform with the same hope in mind.  If nothing else, I was inconsistent at blogging while living in Texas and Colorado.  At the end of 2021, my family moved to the Kansas side of the greater Kansas City area.  I wrote a few more blog posts after making the move, but all in all, I feel like "Near St. Anne's and the Sea" has run its course and it's time for a new chapter, if not a new beginning in my blogging adventures.  If you would like to read about our experiences in Ireland and beyond, you can do so at Near St. Anne's and the Sea.

But here and now, you are reading the first post of a brand-new blog, "The Big Narrative".   In this blog, I invite you to join me in exploring the ins and outs, the nooks and crannies, the highs and lows, and the ebbs and flows of the big narrative of Genesis to Revelation, more commonly known as, the Bible.  Over time, we will hopefully cover most, if not all, of this epic story.  It will not be a linear exploration, just as most of our stories don't often proceed from A to B onto Z.  Rather, it will be a journey of starts and stops, with a good deal of dead-ends and detours along the way.  But my hope is that through the process of the reading, writing, rehearsing, and editing, we will all be just a little bit closer to understanding our own personal stories and the grand story of the universe too.  I realize that's a big ask, but after all, it's a big narrative!  - Shay