Spurred on her grief, Martha lets rip honestly and emotionally:
I know it was the grief and anxiety and all that, but I have to say I’m quite shocked and ashamed of some of the things I have thought about Jesus recently. To be honest, I was bloody angry with him! I mean, where was he when we needed him? No where to be found!
I am sure he must have got our message. So, why didn’t he come? What, was so important that he couldn’t drop it when we called? I’m convinced that, if he had been here, my brother would not have died. But he wasn’t here, was he? He let us down! And, yes, I know about the threats on his life and all that, but he’s never let it bother him before! And now of all times was not the moment for him to turn ‘chicken’! I don’t care how ‘hot’ things were getting for him: he should have been here!
That’s exactly what I told him when, eventually, he turned up. I stormed out to meet him, giving him a piece of my mind. “Where’ve you been? Why didn’t you come? You’re too late now, so you might as well just turn around and leave! If you had been here Lazarus – your friend – would not have died!”
At least that’s what I wanted to say: I’m not quite sure my words were so polite! I can tell you, that if I knew then what I know now – that Jesus had deliberately lingered and let Lazarus die – then I don’t think Jesus would have survived our meeting! I was livid – in a grief-fuelled rage! Mary, I know, felt Just the same. She couldn’t even bring herself to come out and greet him – hiding in doors to avoid him instead. So, it was me, as usual, who went out with all guns blazing. I couldn’t hide my feelings. I would tell him exactly what I thought!
Of course, Jesus was having nothing of it. He wasn’t going to cave in at my berating him. I shrugged off his hand as he reached out to touch me, saying in his own firm but gentle way “But Mary, don’t you believe?”
Well, what could I say to that? Of course, I believed! Or I had done, till now! I’d believed in him completely. With every fibre of my being, I knew that he would heal Lazarus, had he been here. But he wasn’t here, was he? That’s why I felt so hurt and disappointed! He didn’t come.
All I’d got now was loss and grief. Unexpectedly, all I’d got was to cling on to the faith that the dead would rise again on the last day. A distant and forlorn hope that fell far short of what I’d hoped for. In truth, I didn’t want to see Lazarus again on the last day; I wanted him here and now. But that had been cruelly denied me and nobody but Jesus was to blame. He was the cause of all my ‘if-onlys’. He was the target of my anger and pain.
Then, he really started to confuse me. Can you believe it, at a time like this, he started to make huge claims for himself? Things that my mind just could not take in, let alone understand. I simply could not comprehend that, at a time like this, he was making it all about himself. But that’s exactly what he was doing. “No, Martha, I’m not just talking about the end of the age. I’m talking here and now too! I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me will live, even though they die. And those who live and believe in me will never die. Do you believe this?”
How he had the gall to ask that of me right then and there, I don’t know! I glared at him with a venom I never knew I had in me. “You know that I believe!” I hissed at him, coldly. “But what good has that done me?” I wanted to follow up with, but didn’t.
I wanted to scream as I turned and stormed off back into the house. Right then, my head was reeling. It felt like the ground was falling all around me. I felt anger, panic, despair – a whole host of emotions swirling within me. My heart was hurting so much. I just had to walk away. Finding Mary hiding just behind the door, I told her in exasperation: “The teacher is here: you go and deal with him!”
So, Mary, at last, went to him. And with the same accusation from her lips, she broke down and fell weeping before him.
At last, Jesus seemed to catch up with the reality of what was going on here. It took Mary’s tears, not my anger, to break through (what I could only see then as) his denial. He, too, began to sob.
“Where is he?” he asked “Where have they buried him?”
Not able to leave that to Mary, I rushed over and helped her to her feet. Holding each other, we went together to show him the way.
As we walked, I heard mixed reactions from the crowd – some following, others silently and respectfully lining the route. A few were moved by his weeping, saying softly “see how much he loved Lazarus!”. Others where less gracious, whispering the same accusation; “He saved others, why could he not have saved his friend?” My heart echoed both the pity and the resentment as we trudged the way to the grave.
At this point things got really horrifying! Not content to see the grave, Jesus demanded that we open it up for him!
How dare he?! After failing to turn up and help on time, now he trampled all over our feelings and showed no respect at all for the dead! I stood aghast – staring at him in disbelief. Was this really Jesus – our Jesus? What had happened to him? Where had he gone?!
I was stunned and silenced. All I could manage to let out of my mouth in objection were some fumbling words about the body four days in the grave and likely smelling terrible. It wouldn’t be nice. It wouldn’t be healthy. It would not be right and respectful! In my head, I pleaded “Come on, Jesus, stop all this nonsense now! Let’s go inside and face our grief together!”
But no. He just ignored me and told them to take the stone away. Brazenly he turned to us all and demanded “Didn’t I tell you that you would see the glory of God if you believed?”
We were mortified! Had he truly lost his senses? Why was he doing this to us?
I dropped to my knees and joined Mary in sobs of tears as he went on to pray, in what sounded to me like delusional overconfidence, that God would hear him and help us poor souls to believe in him too. Involuntarily, I gasped as he called “Lazarus, Come out!” All I could do was stare in rage and disbelief at this person I no longer recognised. What had come over him? What had possessed him to do something like that?
All around, I heard a ripple of gasps from the crowd too. But it took me a quite a while to recognise that their gasps had an increasingly different tone – a growing element of surprise mixing with the horror. I looked up and followed their wide-eyed stares to the grave. A chill of horror shivered my spine as I caught a movement. Then I stifled a scream as a death-wrapped body came stumbling out of the grave.
Jesus laughed at our stunned impotence and shouted: “Quick! Somebody! Get him out of those bandages before he falls over and hurts himself!”
Soon we were all laughing with him, tears still streaming down our cheeks.
Free of the grave and the cloths that bound him, Lazarus walked over and hugged me. (He didn’t smell bad at all!) Then he hugged Mary. Then he and Jesus joined in a hearty, back-slapping, brotherly embrace.
I looked on in awe, my heart healed and soaring. Here was resurrection. Here was life. Here was Jesus!
So, yes, I feel shocked and ashamed to remember some of the things I thought and said earlier: but who could blame me? Jesus certainly didn’t! Holding Lazarus firmly by the shoulder, her reached out to pull me into their joyous embrace. “See,” he whispered, “didn’t I say that you would see the Glory of God, if you only believed?!”
A man who had been blind all his life speaks about his experience. He is quite a character.
What a flipping awful day!
Who do they think they are? Those trumped-up, idiotic … I’ll tell you, I may not have been able to see but in my time I’ve heard a few words… and most of them I could apply to those pharisees right now!
Phuh!…and I was s’posed to be the blind one!
Well, OK, so maybe it was the first day of the week when God created light and the seventh day of the week when Jesus opened my eyes to see it. Who cares, I ask you? Thank God that I can see it now! Yes, thank God, I can see!
There I was (It’s yesterday morning I’m talking about), sat in my usual place, biding my time with my begging bowl, when it all happened.
A small crowd was approaching, and from the sounds of their footsteps and the murmur of their voices, I guessed that it was some religious lot. Probably some rabbi and his crew … and I was right (well sort of! It’s amazing how good you get at it after a while, and I, after all, have had a lifetime of practice!)
Well, they did the usual thing. If I had been able to see them coming, I would have been off. But I didn’t, so I was trapped. And par for the course, I became the object of their conversation again. That’s me, to these religious ones: something to be talked about. I present them, you see, with something of an intellectual problem. They want to know why!
Oh God, it makes me so angry! It’s so patronising, can’t they see that? It really makes you feel used. And do you not think that there are times when I have agonised over the same questions? Why ask the rabbi – why not ask me? Whose to blame? Why does it have to be that anyone is to blame?! I’ve heard enough scriptures to recognise Job’s Comforters again. (It makes you think, doesn’t it, why they bothered to write it … if no one will read it and understand!)
Why don’t they just put their theories away? I am not an intellectual problem to be discussed. I am a human being – to be loved … or at least to be shown respect!
That’s what Jesus did, you know.
“This has got nothing to do with his sin”, he said firmly, and with an obvious hint of rebuke.
“Thank God for that”, I thought, “at last someone is talking sense!” After years and years of being put down – so that you almost start believing it yourself – oh you don’t know how good it is to have someone sticking up for you for a change! I felt healthier already.
There was something different about this Jesus. I couldn’t see him, of course, but in my mind’s eye I could sense him looking straight at me. Including me in, you know? And the words that he then spoke about God’s power and might, they were not empty words, meant only to educate his followers, but living words that reached deep into my heart. Words full of invitation and promise.
“While I am in the world, I am the light of the world”, he said. I could believe that! Off I went, straight away, when he sent me to the pool of Siloam (well, it’s as good a place as any to wash away the mud from your face!) And when I came back, I could see!
He was gone, of course, by the time I got back. This was disappointing for me, I must admit , but it was infuriating for the crowd that soon gathered round. They were so full of curiosity, you see. “Where is he?”, they demanded.
Well, how was I to know? What did they expect me to do – pick him out in an identity parade? Stupid people! I’d never seen him before! Actually, I’d never seen him at all!!
A couple of the villagers have said that if they knew what was going to happen to me, they wouldn’t have taken me off to the synagogue. But they were confused, you see. They needed some advice, and who better than the learned pharisees?
The ‘learned’ pharisees?! – Tch! It was they who dragged up all of this “Sabbath” business. Typical! Just like them! Apparently, in healing me, Jesus had broken the law on at least three counts! (Now isn’t that just terrible!)
They launched a full-scale enquiry, can you believe it?! And it was really something, I can tell you. There’s none blinder, they say, than those who do not want to see. That’s not true. Jesus basically said it: “there is none blinder than those who think that they can already see.” That’s incurable. It’s also, in my humble opinion, unforgivable.
So, off they went with their theorising again! And I suppose that it was one small mercy not to be the focus of their discussion again, although I did get a real grilling.
“You say this man healed you. So, who do you say he is?”
That was some question! Who was he? What did I really think? I wanted to say so much, but you’ve got to be careful with these religious bods around, especially in the mood they were in! Quite clearly, He was not just any kind of man. With the powers he had got, he was at least a prophet – and that is what I said!
It was then that they called my parents in.
And a fine lot of help they were! You’d think that they would have been pleased about what had happened to me, but if they were they didn’t show it. In they traipsed, heads down, without sparing me a glance until they were told to. They were scared, you see. And so they abandoned me once again. Yes, I was their son – at least they admitted that! And then the truth that had long drawn a wedge between us; Yes, I was born blind. I am their blind son! Their shameful and useless blind son!
They knew nothing more about me, of course. They have never wanted to know more about me! “He’s old enough … He can answer for himself!”
Thanks Dad! Nice cop out, that one! Nice cop out again!
So, it was all up to me, as ever. I was called to the stand once more.
Now, in my life, I have learned a few wiles about looking after myself. I’d have to, really. So how was I going to play this one now?
Their first statement was the one that did it! I mean, how could they be so stupid … so vacuous… so dim? “We know that the man who cured you is a sinner”… Oh you do, do you?
I figured then that my fate was sealed too. They had already decided. They would see it no other way. Ridiculous! Still, I took it calmly; a subtle distancing of myself from their argument, a simple and straightforward reminder of the facts … of what had undoubtedly happened to me: “I know I was blind, but now I see.” What more was there to be said than that?
But they were unrelenting and determined. They neither asked or said anything new – just the same ground over and over again. And I had had enough of it!
Or perhaps they really wanted to know?! A show of innocence: “I’ve told you everything. Why do you want to hear it again? Perhaps you too want to become his disciples?!”
That did it! I mean, why did I have to go and open my big mouth? But you should have seen how quickly they rose to the bait! Oh, the curses! And all their stuffed up knowledge, trying to put me down: “We know this!” and “We know that!” Oh yeah? “Then how come you can’t tell me where this man comes from … this man who DID cure me of my blindness?!”
And while I was at it, I thought I’d tell them a bit more of the obvious: “He had to have come from God, but why can’t …why won’t you admit it?”
It was not surprising that I got chucked out of the synagogue then! OK, so maybe I had gone a bit OTT with the sarcasm and all – but that wasn’t really it, was it? They couldn’t face it, could they; the truth that was staring them in the face! They didn’t want to see, And I ask, you, how can anyone not want to see?!
Of course, it didn’t end there.
I would have gone looking – but I didn’t want to get Jesus into trouble, or lead them straight to him. What’s more, I needed time to calm down – and this new experience of looking and seeing, was not only marvellous, it was also exhausting. So, I went back to my old place beside the road (Aa nice spot, and I had never known it!) Because of all that had happened, I guess, people kept their distance and left me alone. And I was glad. I made myself comfortable and began to doze.
Suddenly the sounds around me were familiar. A crowd was approaching. Obviously from the sound of their footsteps and the murmur of their voices they were a religious lot … A rabbi and his crew … Time to get up and go? No! It was him again, I just knew it!
I waited until He came right up to me before opening my eyes. How I felt when I did, I’m afraid I just cannot put into words.
Oddly enough, Jesus wanted to question me too. He’d heard what had happened to me, and now he wanted to know: “Do you believe in the Son of man?”
Like a fool, I asked him to tell me who this Son of man was, so that I could believe in Him.
He didn’t give me much of an answer, other than to tell me to use my eyes!
Zebedee, head of a fishing fleet in Galilee, reflects after his boys surprise him and leave the family business:
They’ve gone. My boys have gone!
I guess I always thought they might one day. What young lad doesn’t get itchy feet and feel the need to stretch his wings and fly? But not like this. Not so suddenly. Not both at once. I hadn’t expected that! Now I’m left to pick up the business all on my own. I’ll manage alright, but I was really hoping to step back a bit and let them take over the workload. I thought they were ready and up for it. But there’ll be no putting my feet up now. At least for a while. One good thing is the boats will still be here when they come back. If they come back.
What on earth possessed them to act so impulsively?! What does this man have that he can summon young men like this and they will instantly go running? And not just my two; I hear Peter and Andrew have gone as well. I can’t help admit that I’m a little worried. What have they gone and got themselves into?
Well, at least they’re together – the four of them. Perhaps there’s safety in numbers? They can look out for each other. Well, actually, Peter is no better than my two – always jumping in with both feet and living to regret it afterwards! But Andrew, he’s got a wise head on his shoulders. He’ll take care of my boys. I hope.
And as for the Rabbi; I really don’t know what to make of him. He moved down here not long ago from up in the hills. Nazareth, I’m told. Rumour has it that his own people kicked him out! But he seems harmless and amiable enough. I’d be surprised if he caused so much trouble. But then, there is the nagging question, ‘Can anything good come out of Nazareth?’. I really don’t know enough about the place to make any judgement, but sayings like that don’t spread so widely without some truth in them. What else is it they say; ‘No smoke without fire’?! I can’t help feeling worried. What father wouldn’t?
What I do know about this Rabbi, is that he has made an odd choice of followers. I don’t mean that disrespectfully to my sons, or any of the others. Yes, they are hot headed and boisterous. I’ve heard their nick name, ‘the Sons of Thunder’ and, while I suppose I should be offended by it, I really do understand where the name comes from! We’ve had some stormy times bringing them up, my wife and I. They were a pair of terrors at school, with such short attention spans, getting themselves in so much trouble with old Rabbi Reuben! A waste of time sending them, really! But what proud father doesn’t live with the hope that one of his sons might actually make it? Who doesn’t dream that one of their sons might get a scholarship, with all the opportunity that opens up? Imagine the joy and delight at one day seeing your son rising to the rank of Rabbi himself? I’d be bursting with pride! I wonder if that’s how Jesus’ parents felt about him?
They tell me that he has an amazing grasp of the scriptures and he teaches with an authority not heard before. I don’t know whether to be pleased or alarmed about that. If he can get them interested in learning when others have failed, then that’s got to be a good, hasn’t it? But if he is so persuasive and compelling, who knows what he might lead his followers to think and to do? That’s a potentially scary thought!
Sorry, I’m rambling. We old fishermen are renowned for it!
Let me get back to my point about his choice of followers. As I said, it’s usually only a few that get a scholarship to Rabbi school, and they are always the star pupils, with sharp minds and an enthusiasm for learning. They have to be, if they are to go on to be teachers themselves. But Jesus has picked out four fishermen… good with their hands, maybe, but not so much with their minds. They have already been rejected by our local Rabbi, who saw no promise in them at all. That is why they are still fishermen (A worthy trade, I might add – but even I have to admit it’s not on the same par as teacher or holy man, is it?)
So, what did this Jesus see in them, my boys and the other two fishermen? Was it anything special, or is he just desperate? Did he simply choose the first gullible ones he could find and lead astray? Perhaps, but I’m pretty sure I can give my boys more credit than that. Of course, I’m worried for them! But then, I’ve never seen them so fired and animated, so alive, so determined, as I do now. How can I possibly stand in their way?
And he’s clever, I have to admit. What a ‘hook’ he fed to them; “Come with me and I will teach you to fish for people!” That’s genius; starting with something they know they are good at and then promising to take it to a whole new dimension! If all teachers could catch the imaginations of young, unruly boys and channel their enthusiasms like that, then what a better world it would be!
So, on balance, I think I’m more pleased than worried for them. I’ve got a feeling this might just be the making of them. In fact, those are the exact words they told me he said to them. “Come with me … and I will make you…” “Make you”, did you catch that?! I think I believe he will do just that. Certainly, they have got so much confidence in him they went off without any hesitation. That’s got to be good, hasn’t isn’t it – when you find someone so inspiring that you drop everything to be with them?
I’ll miss them and worry for them, but I’ll hope it proves true. My boys: his disciples! Being guided to be the best ‘fishermen’ they can be! Learning from Jesus how to capture hearts and minds and call others, in turn, to follow Him. That’s got to be the best way to influence people, hasn’t it? I really hope they bring in a good catch!
So, go with Jesus, my boys, and go with God.
And remember, I and my boats will always be here for you, if it doesn’t work out as you hope.
Of all the people who might come and ask me to baptise them, I never once expected Him!
Of course, I tried to refuse. He is the one who should be baptising me, not the other way round! But he would not be deterred.
And all the time the question remained in my mind: why? Why did he want to be baptised? I could see no reason. I’m sure he had no need.
But, he insisted. And if this was (as he was certain) what the Father wanted, then who was I to argue?
You may know that Jesus is not the first I have refused to baptise.
There was that group of Pharisees who came. How on earth they got it into their heads that I would even consider baptising them, I just don’t know! The very thought was anathema. I sent them packing with a ringing in their ears!
People were coming from Jerusalem and from all of Judea, not just the area around the river Jordan. These genuine souls went to all that effort and travelled far, because they were serious about what they were doing. Their hearts were breaking as the confessed their sins and turned back to God. To them this was a life changing moment, not just an act. I could not undermine their sincerity by allowing these snakes to do it simply as form or ritual, or to make themselves look good and ingratiate themselves with the people. No! Baptism is far too serious to be taken so lightly. I would not let them abuse it. So what, if they claimed a birth-right as children of Abraham? Children of Abraham are as common around here as all the rocks in this desert! It means nothing! Unless, that is, you determine to live like children of Abraham! All the others else who were coming genuinely wanted to change. I baptise with the water to show they have repented – it’s both a symbolic bathing and a symbolic dying and rising again. It means you will live differently from now on. But these snakes had no intention of that whatsoever. So, I sent them packing. They will not escape the fire as easily as that!
And now here he was – the one I’ve spent my life preparing people for, the match that will light the fire. But, why did he want to be baptised? I’m sure as anyone can be about another human being, that he had nothing he needed to repent of. He is genuine, pure and holy with a capital ‘H’. I am nothing compared to him – I’m not even worthy enough to bend down and tie his shoelaces for him! But there he stood, asking me to baptise him; gently silencing my protest and urging me to get on with it. “For this is what the father wants”, he reassured me. Although how and why I still cannot understand.
And yet, in a way, I realise that my whole life has been leading up to this moment. When I first saw him walking towards me along the river, my heart leapt inside me, just as my mother told me I leapt inside her when Mary, his soon to be mother, turned up at our door that day.
Yes, I have known him all my life. He is my cousin after all, even if we have always lived so many miles apart. My mother and father, bless them, told me all about him (and my part in preparing the way for him) when I was an infant. As you can imagine, they died when I was still young, but the ones who raised me continued with the story and I learnt of all the prophesies and of my destiny and His. I knew he was to be the sacrificial lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world. I knew he was the one who would come after me, to baptise with the Holy Spirit and with Fire. Why else do you think I live as I do, out here in the wilderness? Why else do you think my voice goes out from the desert, calling the whole nation back to God? The need is immanent. The call serious. The people have to turn back to God, because he is here, now, among them.
I think that might be why he came to be baptised – not because he was dirty and needed a bath, but because he wanted to encourage those who do. He wanted to stand with them as they turned back to God, because he has always been facing in that direction and has come to show the way. Perhaps, even, in order to take the away sins of those who repent, this lamb has to become one with them so that his sacrifice would be for them: his death, the death of all that separates us from God; his life, our new life too?
Perhaps. But that will all take a lot more thinking through! For now, not really understanding all the whys and wherefores, I just did what he asked.
And, as soon as He came up from the water, I knew I had done the right thing. At that very moment I saw the heavens open and the Spirit of God come down like a dove, landing on him. And I knew (with a capital K N E and W), even before the voice from heaven declared it, that: “This is my own dear Son, and I am so pleased with him”
My cousin, Jesus; God’s own dear Son! And God delights in him!
I’d always known it, but now I really knew it! And I felt the pleasure of God settling on me too. Everything was confirmed. Everything was true. And I had played my part. The lead character I had been sent to prepare for had arrived, ready to take his place on centre stage. I must slip into the shadows now, so that the limelight falls on him.
Oh, and yes, I still think it was all a bit weird! I’m still confused as to why he came to me. But if it is weird, it was also wonderful. I stand here in awe of that moment when God spoke so clearly.
My role is complete. The scene has been set. It’s time now for Act Two. I only have a small walk on appearance yet to come, but that’s alright with me. I bow out gracefully. It’s time for Jesus to shine.
My only hope is that when it comes to the final curtain, we will all be there to applaud him as loudly as God applauded today!
Matthew (a.k.a Levi), a former tax collector, reflects on Jesus’ story:
Oh, I really loved this story that Jesus told. Of course, I would; having been a tax collector myself!
When Jesus came to this bit of the story, I am sure I saw turn him wink at me! He and I both knew I could relate to what he was saying… in fact it might have been me he was describing! And once again I was overwhelmed with gratitude for how he reached out, welcomed and accepted even me.
I still can’t believe it happened. I was at work that day, back in Capernaum, going about my despised business. But that did not put him off. He strode straight up to me and invited me to join him. Me! A tax collector! A collaborator! A traitor!
I could tell by their faces that some of his followers could not quite believe what they were hearing! I can’t blame them! At first, I though it a joke – and one that was going to going to end badly for me. I was convinced I was being set up to be utterly humiliated; I’d end up ‘with egg on my face’, as the saying goes.
But it didn’t take long for me to see that Jesus was serious. He was genuinely inviting me to follow him. Me! But, how could I? Believe you me, I knew who I was and what I had done. I despised myself even more than any of them could ever despise me. A big part of me told me that this was all wrong; Jesus should not be interested in the likes of me. I did not deserve the friendship he was offering. But still he reached out and accepted me as I am: the man in his story, who can only come humbly, crying to God for mercy.
I think Jesus and I have an understanding that others of his followers find hard to latch on to. In fact, it might be the biggest mistake people make about what he truly stands for. People think that following Jesus is all about being good. Doing the right thing. Being respectable. But that is not the mainthing he is on about.The most important thing he has come to tell us is about what happens when we are not good…. When we discover that, in all honesty, we simply cannot be good…. When all we can do is look at ourself in the mirror and cry ‘failure’ – sure that is the end of it for us with God. With heads held low, all we can hope for is mercy. But it is then…. THEN… when we are on our knees in brokenness, that we are made right with God, Jesus tells us.
Time and time again Jesus repeats this, but still we persist in trying to justify ourselves! Believe you me, I for one, know that I can’t! And, thanks to Jesus, I now know I don’t have to! Jesus is the doctor who comes to heal those who are sick, not those who think they are well. He is the shepherd, devoted to seeking out his lost sheep. The choir master of heaven, leading the joyful singing over one sinner who repents.
Yes, I know this, because, I am one of them. A grateful sinner, who finds himself loved and accepted, not condemned. I am Forgiven – my guilt wiped away. I have been saved and restored by grace. Completely, fully and only by grace.
That is what some of us – like the pharisee in this story – just cannot understand.
You may think that Jesus went a little over the top in drawing his picture of the pharisee. Alright, so he was ‘hamming it up’ a bit. Any good story teller would. It’s a good technique to draw a stark contrast between characters. But, as a former tax-collector myself, I tell you, there is a lot of truth in the (albeit exaggerated) description he gives. I have seen their sneers, heard the slurs, felt their snubs. By and large I’ve only been dealt rudeness and hostility by them. That’s if they actually have to have anything to do with me. Usually, they avoid the likes of us like the plague!
So, I was glad to hear Jesus having a go at them. His caricature was hilarious… so pompous and so proud. This man was literally full of himself – he came to God reading is own CV, rather than praying in any meaningful way at all. “I’ve done this. Never done that. I’ve Excelled in my duty. I’ve prayed and given to charity. Never missed church. Never killed anyone. Never even hurt a fly. Never been greedy or cheated anyone. Never once committed adultery. Been perfectly respectful – an all-round really good egg. Unlike some people. Unlike that one over there! We all know what that one is like, don’t we? But God, please note, I really am not like him!”
Of course, that hurt, because I was the one the self-righteous so and so was pointing at! As if he knew me or anything about me! His presumption made me so angry. Why do those who pride themselves in being ‘good and respectable’ always have to be putting other people down? Are they really so insecure? Are their egos so small? And, if all they can say is, ‘thank God I’m not like that one over there’ are they really claiming anything much at all?! Does, ‘I’ve never murdered anyone’ or any outlandish claim like that really gain us many brownie points with God? Maybe it’s a mistake for any of us to compare ourselves with others. Are they really the standard by which we are measured? Even Jesus asked why they called him good, reminding us that there is only one who is good, and that is God.
Now Jesus has to be the best person I have ever known. He is the truest, most authentic human being I think there can be.
What I really love about Jesus is that there is not one hint of self-righteousness about him.
He’s not at all religious. In fact, he laughs at those who like to think they are!
Neither is he in any way superior. He’s quick to find a way to burst the bubble of those who believe themselves ‘better’. I’d go so far as to say he hates entitlement and snobbishness of any kind.
And He’s neither frightened of or put off by a person’s rank or status. He takes each person as he finds them, appreciating those who are genuine and authentic, whoever they may be.
In this, he is not only unconventional, he is radical and revolutionary. What he promises is a world turned upside down; a great reversal where the proud are put down and the humble lifted high. I’m told his Mum composed a song about that when she knew she was expecting him. He’s truly lived up to her expectations and I, for one, delight in that.
So,
Way to go, Jesus: You really put that smug mug in his place!
Pompous, self-righteous and judgemental; you showed him up, for real!
I’m so glad I am nothing like him…I don’t do what he does, and in so many ways I am better than hi…
Simon the Zealotshares his own perspective on a story Jesus told:
I wasn’t there at the time, so I missed Jesus telling the story of this unjust judge and his bad dealings with the widow. When the others filled me in, they said Jesus told this story to encourage us to be persistent in prayer. I can see their reasoning, but the story set me thinking further. I have a feeling that a too simplistic understanding in that direction might well be misleading.
For a moment, I almost felt sorry for this poor fellow. Just imagine it: at every corner the judge turned, there she was; this pestering widow! There was no escaping her and her demands! I imagine him, every morning, opening his door a crack and peeping out to check the coast was clear, only to despair at seeing her there and ready to pounce. “Does this damn woman never give up?” he might well have asked!
But my sympathy for him does not run far. In fact, I side firmly with the woman. I’m not the only one in our group who is politically aware. I’ve heard it rumoured that Thaddaeus was a member of the same party as me, when he used the alternative name of Jude or Judas (something like that) – but he has kept quiet about that. Even if he wasn’t, I am sure he’d share my revulsion at everything this judge stood for.
I may have made the Romans the main target of my criticism, but I know that that there are plenty of officials in our own set up who are careless (to say the least!) in their use of power. Even judges, who are charged in our law to stick up for the rights of the vulnerable; widows and orphans chief among them. They can and do abuse their position. This man Jesus was describing may have been made up, but believe you me, there are many just like him. And when the judiciary becomes lazy or corrupt, so many of the most vulnerable in society are deprived of their rights. There is not much justice in this world.
So, I think this woman Jesus describes is a bit of a hero! She will not just lie back and accept her fate. She fights with everything she has got. It may not seem a lot, but her daily protest pays off. In the end she just wears the scoundrel down. For the sake of a bit of peace and quiet, he finally in. In praising that persistence, I’m completely one with Jesus.
But what I think I have heard him saying, which the others have not picked up on, is that this determined, unwavering demand for justice in a world that does not always give it, is a right and worthy thing. The woman is right to make her protest. She is praised for her persistence which, in this case, pays off. In other cases I have known, it has not. The vulnerable are not listened to. The protesters are reviled, imprisoned, ‘disappeared’ and even killed. But their determined fight for justice is nonetheless good and right. Jesus praises it.
What angered me in Jesus’ story is that the woman was the only voice crying out for justice. She was left to fight her battle alone. Where were the other voices? Where were those who should have been standing beside her, making her protest their own? Were the majority content to remain quiet, turning a blind eye? Did they consider that the protest was none of their business, or not what good and respectable people should be doing? God forbid it! But surely the silence of good and godly people is one of the cruellest things the vulnerable have to contend with. Why are they not there in Jesus’ story, standing alongside this widow in her fight for justice? Why are we all not protesting with, for and alongside vulnerable people just like her? If her persistent protest is praised – what would Jesus say about ours?
Alright, you say, calm down! It was just a story! And you are right. In this case. I remind you that time and time again it is a real and terrible thing for people all around the world, left alone in their trouble. And, as I think someone has said, all that it takes for evil to thrive is for Godly people to remain silent.
Mind you, even if this is just a story, I find myself wondering if it is a really good one? It is so easily misunderstood! How many of us will fall into the easy trap of thinking that Jesus is saying that God is just like that judge? That he is careless and slow to answer? That we have to pester, pester, pester, to get his attention and get things done?
But that is definitely not what Jesus is saying. I’ve heard him use this technique before. He is not comparing God to the judge, saying they are alike; he is contrasting God with this judge, pointing out how different they are. He is saying, if this despicable fellow (who thinks nothing of the poor and vulnerable and cares nothing for the justice he is supposed to stand for) will eventually back down for the sake of a little peace and quiet, then how much more will God ( who is justice itself, and who loves his children and calls us to live in love for one another) … how much more will he hear our prayers and petitions, because we are crying out for exactly the things he stands for in the first place?!
In our world, justice may be slow to come and many will be denied it altogether. Those in power and authority will often forget their duty and fail to act as they should. They may well misuse their position to look out for their own interests; just as the judge in Jesus’ story acted only out of self-interest.
But in God’s world – his kingdom that is coming – the only judge is God himself. And he will see justice established. Wrongs will be righted, and swiftly too, because God is justice and God is love. That’s why we should be persistent in our prayer. That’s why we should never give up, even in the face of the huge injustices in our world, where nothing seems to change, and when the voice of protest can seem powerless and ineffectual. Not because we have to pester God to make him hear us, but because we have truly heard him and will not give up on hope and purpose until the blessings of his rule are known by all people.
The prayer that Jesus taught us is that God’s kingdom will come on earth as it is in heaven. And where Gods rule is difficult to see, surely, we must raise our voice of protest and keep up our words of prayer. We must stand with the widow and speak for her and all who are like her. And not just for those who are shouting loudly, but also for those who have become so drained and worn down that their cries have dried up and they have become voiceless. We cry out, not to a God who has to be persuaded, but to the God who wants to persuade us. And we must not give up praying and protesting, until his Kingdom comes.
Judas (not that one, but the other one!) reflects as Jesus begins the journey to Jerusalem:
Do you remember that story Jesus told a while back about a man who was mugged and how it was a Samaritan who came to help him? Yes, a Samaritan! I was as shocked as you are when I first heard it. Still am, to be quite honest… how Jesus had a priest and a Levite just walk on by without lifting a finger, while the foreigner went out of his way to do what you’d think any good and godly person would do. Well, I’ve been thinking a lot about that story recently. Partly because of where we are, but mostly because I think I just saw that story lived out for real, right in front of my eyes!
Now don’t ask me where we were: It was somewhere back up the track where it runs close to the border with Samaria, that’s all I can tell you. We were wary when we saw them approaching; a column of about ten people walking our way. The tension began to ease when we got close enough to see they were not wearing uniforms or carrying weapons. (Not the usual kind of border patrol, then). But it started mounting again almost immediately, when we realised that instead of spears, they held crutches and, instead of carrying arms, their arms were bound in layers of dirty bandages. Lepers! And a big gang of them! Our senses became alert and panic started to rise. Whether or not this group intended us any harm, there was mortal danger here.
We were relieved to see that they stopped a way off, keeping to the rules about safe social distancing. They haven’t always done that. (And neither, for that matter, has Jesus!)
Well, we stood and eyed each other nervously, wondering who would speak first. It was them, of course. Across the divide, they identified Jesus and began calling out to him in one voice: “Lord Jesus, have mercy on us!”
He did, of course, but not in any way we have seen him do so before. Previously, he has reached out and touched untouchables like these – demonstrating kindness and acceptance, as well as bringing physical healing. Today there was no touch and no visible sign of a miracle; just the command to go and find a priest to show them selves to. (In our society the priest who are the health inspectors. They are the ones who have the skills to examine sufferers and the authority to declare a leper ‘clean’. Only then are the poor souls allowed to come out of isolation and re-join their family, taking their place in society again.)
Amazingly, at his simple instruction, they left! None of them hesitated or thought to question or complain. None stopped to look down at themselves and see the scars still there. They simply went to do what he said, even though there was no obvious evidence there and then to suggest a healing had taken place.
But on their way, something obviously happened, because one of them came running back, so excited and loudly praising God as he ran. He didn’t bring his crutches with him this time. Instead, he threw himself carelessly to the floor at Jesus’ feet, pouring out his gratitude repeatedly.
And, yes, that man was a Samaritan!
To be honest, I don’t know where the others came from, but I think it safe to assume they were a mixed group – normal boundaries falling away as they were brought together in a bond of common adversity. Jesus certainly made that assumption, because then he was angrily questioning why only this ‘foreigner’ had come back to say ‘Thank you’.
Now don’t get me wrong; by calling this man a ‘foreigner’, Jesus was not having a go at this man. Far from it! He was having a go at us! His target was the other nine, notable by their absence. And through them: all of God’s people – not one of whom came back to him in gratitude. It seems they had either got so carried away with their good fortune that they instantly ran home to their families (and who can blame them for that?) or else they had taken their healing for granted – as though it was theirs by right.
Like in the parable, God’s people did not come out of this well. Jesus went to great lengths to point that out! Once more we find ourselves shown up by a Samaritan– a despised foreigner – who acted as all God’s people should. He alone gave thanks. And he alone received the full gift of Salvation.
Again, don’t get me wrong. I don’t think any of the others had their healing reversed or anything like that. Jesus would not be that vindictive! Healing was his gift and he gave it freely. But what this man received was something more. In running back to acknowledge Christ as his healer, the man revealed a deeper healing and wholeness. His heart was touched, as well as his body; and that’s what Jesus meant when he said that the man’s faith had made him well.
So, I find myself feeling challenged and more than a little disappointed in my own people. I think it’s clear that Jesus must be disappointed in us too. I have no doubt he is saddened by it.
But I’m also beginning to wonder why Jesus brought us down this path in the first place. There are other ways to get to Jerusalem, but he specifically brought us this way. I’m thinking there is a reason for that; probably that Jesus likes walking on the borders where different races and people meet. Yes, we are heading for the centre, but I think his heart is here at the edge. His stories seem always to be about crossing boundaries: The foreigner becomes his hero! The Outsider is praised and welcomed! Now his actions prove it too. His heart, clearly, heart is to include not to exclude. The only tension at the border, as far as he is concerned, comes from those who are afraid to follow his lead.
When we asked Jesus to increase our faith, we were looking for something to inspire us. Instead, we got a put down and a dismissive instruction to just get on with it. “It’s nothing more than your duty. Don’t expect any great thanks”
Uh? Do you think he misheard what we were saying?!
We’d asked him to give us more faith, because we recognised our need of help. It all feels beyond us. His demands seem overwhelming. I mean, even the basic task of forgiving someone, as he says we should, is difficult. To say we should always do that, many times over, feels impossible! We don’t have it within us. We need help. We need more faith. Surely, it’s not unreasonable to ask him to give it?
But, instead, we get a put down. “If you had faith the size of a mustard seed…” Harsh that! Is he implying our faith is so small? Or that we don’t have any faith worth talking about at all? At times in the past, I confess, he has been quite right in berating us for our lack of faith. But why now, when, for once, we were the ones admitting our need to him. Did we really deserve this knock back?
And then, to tell us we have no right to expect anything from our master is like really rubbing salt into the wounds! It’s as though he’s saying we should know our place and just get on with our job; no help, no recognition, no reward. He can’t possibly be serious, can he?
Or maybe I am the one who did the mishearing?
To be honest, I’m confused. This doesn’t fit at all well with everything he’s been teaching us so far. For a start, he’s told us time and time again that we are not servants, we are friends. More than that, we are family. He really wants us to have the assurance that we are God’s children, with all the privileges that entails. It’s hard to take in. Almost too good to be true. Now he has set our tiny fragile egos in panic again. Did we get him wrong? I really don’t think so.
Maybe I’ve been a bit paranoid? Perhaps he wasn’t actually saying we didn’t have enough faith – but just the opposite? That faith is such a powerful thing that you only need the tiniest amount of it to make a huge difference? Or, even, that it doesn’t matter how much faith you have, so long as you put your faith in the right thing?
Thinking about it, Jesus’ answer really was quite ridiculous! Who on earth would want to tell a mulberry tree to get up and plant itself in the ocean? It may be a cool trick, but it’s pointless. You don’t get a new delicacy called salted mulberries; I tell you! I’ve seen trees that have been washed into the sea by a storm or landslide. Sometimes, with a big enough root ball, they stay standing for a while. Then the salt seeps in and slowly kills them, bleaching their wood a colourless grey until all they have left is a decaying trunk, waiting to be taken by the tide.
Was he at it again – subtly poking fun at our silliness? Maybe.
And was Jesus, once more, reading our motives more clearly than we do ourselves? Quite likely. He doesn’t want us performing grand gestures that make us look and feel good. He simply wants us to get on with doing the things he asks of us.
He doesn’t want us doing things in order to convince ourselves or others that we are alright with God. He simply wants us to realise that God loves us as his own, and then to live as God’s beloved children, loving him in return. We need no reward. It’s given as a gift already.
And most of all, he doesn’t want us waiting and begging for more faith all the time. He simply wants us to put whatever faith we have into practice.
Perhaps, it’s not so much how much faith we have that is important, but who we have faith in? Maybe, we don’t need greater faith in God, only some faith in a great God? That’s what gets things moving (mulberries, mountains and perhaps even me)!
Do you know, I really wish Jesus hadn’t told that story!
Not for the reasons you may be thinking, I assure you! There’s not a trace of guilt here. Coming from a working family in a working village, I’ve never known wealth and privilege like that. Ours was a day-to-day existence, and we knew how to look out for one another. Had to, really, ‘cos we never knew if it would be us falling on hard times next. And, we may well be thought of a backwoods Galileans, but we know our scriptures, you know! We understand full well what God requires of us! We even care enough to try and put it into practice – unlike some, so it would seem.
No, the reason I wish he’d not told that story is that I fear he’s wasting his breath.
Unlike some of Jesus’ stories, this one isn’t original. It’s a well-known folktale around these parts. I’ve heard stories of visitations from the afterlife many times before; each one coming with the warning that if we don’t change our ways, it’ll not end up well for us in the hereafter. Scary stuff, if you want to take it literally. But comforting for some; to know that there will be this great reversal and those whose struggle in this life is ignored by those who could help them will end up on top, enjoying all the riches they have been denied, feasting as special guests ‘resting in the bosom of Abraham’, while those who have had it easy will find their comeuppance indeed!
But even this can be misconstrued. There’s some who say if there’s going to be this great reversal in the next life, then it’s better to be poor here and now, surely? Maybe the poor should suffer with dignity, cos there’s pie in the sky when they die.
For some, this is just an intellectual game – a light hearted picking up on the flaw in the argument. They don’t really mean it. But for others, this is just far too convenient. It gives them an easy way out – a justification for doing nothing to help, and an appeasement for those who are left in suffering. “Why lift the poor up now if it means they will only lose out in the end? Surely, it’s better for them if I keep my riches to myself, don’t you think? In fact, I’m doing them a favour!” What rubbish! … and most know it’s a load of rubbish! But some will always find a way to twist things to their advantage… even if it is a complete misrepresentation of the story!
Others, I’ve heard, miss the plot entirely when they take this as a literal description of life after death, not an allegory. They are convinced that Jesus is simply telling us what it’s going to be like when we die. I am not at all sure that it is. As I said, Jesus is repeating a common folk tale. He’s using an accepted idiom to make a point. It doesn’t mean he wants it to be taken literally. And most of all he didn’t mean for us to turn this into a theological treatise about life after death. He was making a very important and valid point about how we should be living now.
As I remember it, Jesus has changed the usual telling. Normally, when the rich man asks for messengers to go and warn their relatives, those messengers are actually sent. Jesus did not allow that. He refused flatly to let anyone cross the great divide. “Too late, my friend”, the rich man is told, “you should have thought about this before!”
For Jesus, the focus of urgent attention is always the present, not what happens in the afterlife. It’s what we do here and now that matters; how we treat our neighbours, how we respond the cry of the poor, how seriously we take the call of God to “do justly, love mercy and walk humbly with our God”.
The idea that messengers from beyond can change our minds is always an entertaining one. I expect it’ll appear time and time again in all kinds of fiction, challenging the ‘scrooginess’ of the careless rich. It’s such a good motif. But Jesus refuses to use it. He’s not convinced. “Why would they listen if a man came back from the dead”, he asks, “if they will not listen now?”
Where I come from up north (in Galilee), we have a saying ‘There’s none deafer than them that don’t want to hear’. I guess Jesus agrees with that. It’s been laid out clearly since the time of Moses, he tells us. We have everything we need. The time to pay attention is now!
Still, I do think that if we stepped out of fiction and actually saw this happen, then it would definitely grab our attention. If someone came back from the dead, we’d surely sit up and listen! Such an amazing miracle would change everything, wouldn’t it? No-one could ignore that, could they?
Not that we’ll ever know. Like that is really going to happen!
(Oh, and I can’t wait to tell our friend in Bethany that Jesus used his name in this story. I wonder what he will make of that?)
Marking The Moment 