Monthly Archives: January 2025

A Parable for 2025

Personal

On Saturday as I started my regular bike ride, I thought: ‘The rail line to Ellenbrook is now completed: perhaps the bike path—which had been closed for the duration of the rail-line construction—has been re-opened.’ It was!

I determined that I would ride out to Whiteman Park, perhaps take some photos of the kangaroos and then return home. Somehow I missed the turn-off to Whiteman Park. So then I decided that I may as well continue on and ride through to Ellenbrook. After a few ‘interesting’ turns and ‘unexpected detours’ [read: I got lost], I finally made it to Ellenbrook, and even found my way to the new train station there, before heading back home.

It was a good ride, just over 50Ks / two hours: quite fast for me. The ride out was fast due to a tail wind. Bringing it home, though, was harder. Always is.

Welcome to 2025! Even if at times it is tough, or you take a wrong turn or get lost or find it hard to bring it home, I pray that this might be a good year for you, a year touched—even filled—with the goodness and kindness of God.

Scripture on Sunday – Mark 14:10-16

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Mark’s Passion Narrative (3)Jesus is going to die. He knows it, and somehow the woman who anointed him knows it. Now events move quickly with Judas enacting a conspiracy to betray Jesus to the chief priests. You can read the passage here.

Already in Mark 3:19, Judas Iscariot—Judas from the village of Karioth (Lane, The Gospel of Mark [NICNT], 136)—has been introduced as the last of the twelve disciples chosen by Jesus to accompany him and learn his way of life and service, and identified as the one “who also betrayed him.” The word used in 3:19 and twice in 14:10-11 is paradidõmi which means simply ‘to hand over or deliver’ and in this instance ‘to betray.’ Judas will hand Jesus over to the authorities, helping them in their wish to arrest him stealthily and avoid a riot (vv. 1-2). Further, Jesus is perhaps hard to locate when not in public (cf. John 11:57). Thus, Judas is seeking an opportune time to hand him over, away from the public gaze.

In 9:31 and 10:33 (twice) Jesus also uses paradidõmi to speak of his being handed over to be condemned to death. These ‘passion predictions’ indicate that Jesus is aware of his impending death—and of the resurrection which will follow. As such, this ‘handing over’ is in accordance with God’s purpose. That Judas now enacts his conspiracy is his decision and choice and yet somehow, it is also the fulfilment of the divine plan already announced. This does not diminish the pathos of the account: “then Judas Iscariot, who was one of the twelve…” In Mark’s Gospel we are not given any motive for Judas’s betrayal and are left wondering that one of Jesus’ closest associates could act in this way.

The sense of the unfolding of a divine plan continues in the strange story of verses 12-16. Mark begins with a timestamp which proves a little confusing. The anointing at Bethany is preceded with a similar note, that the Passover and (feast of) Unleavened Bread is two days away. Now in verse 12 it is the first day of Unleavened Bread “when the Passover was being sacrificed.” Technically, Unleavened Bread follows Passover on the fifteen of Nisan, but Mark appears to conflate the two feasts, for the Passover lambs were sacrificed on Nisan fourteenth and the Passover eaten that evening. It helps to recall that in Jewish time, the new day started at sunset, and so the transition from the fourteenth to the fifteenth occurred in the early evening. Further, it may be that Mark is merely repeating an understanding in which, in the popular mind, the two feasts were regularly conflated (e.g. Lane, 497).

More complicated is the realisation that in John’s account, Jesus’ final meal occurs before the Passover feast (John 13:1) and Jesus dies on Nisan 14 as the Passover lambs are being sacrificed (John 19:14, 30-31, 42). Has John sacrificed historical accuracy here, in support of a theological statement about Jesus, the Lamb of God? Or is John’s account more likely—with the result that Mark and the other Synoptic gospels have mistakenly called Jesus’ last meal a Passover meal when in fact it preceded the Passover? Or is there some way of reconciling the accounts so that both Mark and John are historically accurate accounts? Scholars have canvassed all three options of what Lane (497) has called “one of the most difficult issues in passion chronology,” although none of the proposals are entirely satisfactory.

Whatever the answer to this historical problem, it cannot be doubted that Mark portrays the meal as a Passover meal. In verse 12 when the lambs are being sacrificed, the disciples ask Jesus where he would like to eat the Passover. Verses 14 and 16 clearly state that they prepared the Passover meal in accordance with his instructions. The description of the meal also includes several features that mark it as a Passover celebration (Lane, 498; Morna Hooker, The Gospel according to Saint Mark [BNTC], 333).

The story itself is reminiscent of the mysterious story of Mark 11:1-7, about the colt for Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem. The disciples obviously assume that they will keep the feast and so approach Jesus with their question. Jesus’ response is cryptic: they are to go into the city, follow a man carrying a pitcher of water (typically a woman’s role and so somewhat unusual), and tell the owner of the house that the man enters, “The Teacher says, ‘Where is my guest room in which I may eat the Passover with my disciples?’”

How did Jesus know? The whole episode has the sense of the prophetic, of divine control, of Jesus being assured and in control of the unfolding events. It may be, of course, that he knew the owner of the house and the owner knew him as ‘the Teacher.’ And perhaps too he knew the habits of the servant. This seems less than likely, however, for then he could have sent the two disciples directly to the house. Rather, Jesus has prophetic insight and is being led in his ministry, even in so mundane a task. We might say, although Mark does not say it like this, that Jesus is being led by the Holy Spirit—and his disciples are observing and learning.

Growing into the Truth

Spirituality,

In his book The Skillful Teacher, Stephen D. Brookfield speaks of ‘growing into the truth of teaching.’

Yet the truth is…that each of us comes to certain understandings and insights regarding teaching that just seem so right, so analytically consistent, and so confirmed by our experiences that describing them as truthful seems entirely justified. The truth I am talking about here is not universal truth, the grand narrative of standardized pedagogy that says that everyone should think, believe, or teach in a certain way. It is a more personal truth, one smelted and shaped in the fire of our practice so that it fits the situations we deal with every day. … By growing into the truth of teaching I mean developing a trust, a sense of intuitive confidence, in the accuracy and validity of our judgments and insights (8-9).

Brookfield is not advocating a solipsistic approach to this personal truth. In the next chapter he calls upon teachers to seek subjective and objective inputs into their self-reflection to develop their professional skills and practice. Their practice is self-critical and informed by reflection, student and peer feedback, recourse to professional literature and standards, and so forth. While he rejects a one-size-fits-all normative truth of teaching adequate for every situation, he does not reject truths of teaching. His focus is on the personal appropriation of these truths in the lived experience of practice, such that they become one’s own standards.

I like the image he uses of growing into the truth, a ‘personal truth, one smelted and shaped in the fire of our practice’ so that we develop ‘a trust, a sense of intuitive confidence, in the accuracy and validity of our judgements and insights.’

Something similar can occur in the Christian’s appropriation of biblical and doctrinal truth. There, too, occurs a mix of objective and subjective inputs. Personal reflection must be informed, guided, and disciplined by community theological discussion: both are necessary. But the truth of the gospel must take root in personal life, be tested and applied, proven and shaped in one’s practice and experience. The word must become flesh in us, as well, until we have an ‘intuitive confidence’ in the gospel that shapes our judgements and insights in everyday life.

(For a little more on this theme, see my post: How to Think Theologically).

Scripture on Sunday – Mark 14:1-11

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Mark’s Passion Narrative (2)

In an earlier post, I introduced this story from the final days of Jesus’ life. This unnamed woman, scolded and criticised by the onlookers for her very public and outrageous act of costly devotion to Jesus, does not respond. She never speaks or seeks to defend or explain herself. Why has she done what she has done? We have so many unanswered questions! But although she does not speak, Jesus does: he defends her against the bullies.

And they were scolding her. But Jesus said, “Let her alone; why do you bother her? She has done a good deed to me. For you always have the poor with you, and whenever you wish you can do good to them; but you do not always have me. She has done what she could; she has anointed my body beforehand for the burial” (Mark 14:5b-8).

The basis of his defence of the woman is that she has done him a good deed. The critics had wanted her to do a different good deed: to sell her expensive ointment and give to the poor. Such an act would be good also; indeed, Jesus suggests as much. Whenever we wish we can do good for the poor. It would be wrong, I suggest, to use this verse as a means of neglecting the poor, as though, if we ‘give to Jesus’ (or the church) we need not concern ourselves with the plight of the poor. Nor should we use the passage to construct a hierarchy of values with respect to our giving. Better, I think, simply to read the passage as the story of this situation: “You always have the poor with you … you do not always have me.” In his earthly historical existence, Jesus would very soon be gone, and the woman had seized the opportunity to express her love for him while she still could. She poured out what she had (all she had?) to Jesus, and he accepted and blessed it.

“She has done what she could.” There is grace in these words: she gave what was in her hand to give. She did what she could, not what she couldn’t. There was no demand that she give so extravagantly, no requirement that others do likewise. She retains agency in her act, and Jesus’ word protects against the manipulation of those who would abuse others in the name of ‘true discipleship,’ always demanding more.  Her offering was a gift springing from gratitude and love, and it was recognised as such.

More importantly, though, is Jesus’ next word: “she has anointed my body beforehand for the burial.” By this statement he provides the interpretation of her act. It would be possible to view Jesus as imposing an interpretation on the woman’s act, but it would be better I think, to suppose that Jesus perceives her true motive and desire. If this is the case, she had insight into what Jesus was about to suffer. She believed, perhaps, his passion predictions (Mark 8:31-33; 9:31-32; 10:32-34, 45), or maybe she had prophetic insight about his imminent death. In any case, she understood Jesus in a way that even his disciples had failed to. In response to the predictions of his sufferings they were resistant, confused, fearful, and doubting. She sees, she knows, and she responds. Somehow she knows that Jesus is giving his life—for her!—and so she responds in kind, echoing his self-gift with her own.

Truly I say to you, wherever the gospel is preached in the whole world, what this woman has done will also be spoken of, in memory of her (Mark 14:9).

Jesus’ defence and commendation of the woman now reach an astonishing crescendo: this unnamed and silent woman’s act will be spoken of wherever the gospel is preached. Even two millennia later and on the other side of the world, we speak ‘in memory of her.’ Why?

The story of this woman’s act stands in stark contrast to that of Judas, the Chief Priests, and the ‘others.’ They want to betray and kill him. They evaluate that done for his good as a ‘waste.’ She understands what they do not. She perceives what the others fail to see. She penetrates to an understanding of Jesus’ person and work in a manner they do not. In Luke’s version of the story Jesus asks his host: “Simon, do you see this woman?” He couldn’t even see her—his social inferior—let alone see what she could see. And yet this woman’s act is exemplary, and emblematic of true response to the gospel.

In this woman’s act we find portrayed the real meaning of discipleship: an act of devotion and love, a life given and poured out to the Jesus who gave and poured out his life for us. Here is seen a heart of love for Jesus Christ; an unconcern for the respect, approbation, or opinion of others; an act and not merely a wish or an aspiration; a devotion and not merely an attachment; a perception of who Jesus is and what he is about, and of his significance for and impact on—me; a responsive act to his prior self-giving; a true valuation of the value of things; a recognition that nothing given to Jesus can ever be a ‘waste’; and an understanding that he is worthy to receive all we are and all we have.

There is a reason, I think, that this woman remains unnamed and silent in the narrative: her whole existence is, as it were, reduced to this act. This act is her life-act, that by which her whole life and existence is characterised and understood. There is a being and a doing which cannot be distinguished. It may be that the one springs from the other, the heart as the source of the act, the act as revealing the heart, but in truth the two are one. This act, the outpouring of her life in grateful response to the act of Jesus, was and is the definitive act, the defining act, of her life, just as the cross was the defining act of Jesus’ life. It is in this way that she is an exemplar of discipleship.

I am left now with a searching question: what is my life-act? If my life were to be boiled down to its most characteristic element, would it reflect the love of God and love of neighbour? What defines my life – a whole-of-life devotion to Christ – or something else?