‘Master,
save me’
And now there is another change of pace.
The Isis-style cruelty and political savagery as John is beheaded on a ruler’s
whim; a miracle of ‘biblical proportions’ as at least 5,000 hungry souls are
fed real food from a few crumbs and two fish; and a cry for profound
life-saving help as Peter literally and metaphorically learns more about the strength of Jesus
the Saviour.
The chapter opens with the killing of
John the Baptist. As I was writing this I was listening to Handel’s Messiah
playing in the background. And then the haunting strains of the alto air ‘He
was despised’ broke into my consciousness. The solo is drawn from Isaiah 53.3,
which describes the suffering servant (we understand to be Christ) as: ‘A man
of sorrows and acquainted with grief’. I was thinking about how Jesus slips
away from all the crowds and disciples to grieve his cousin’s death on hearing
how John had been executed. I had never thought before of how Jesus would have
very much been a ‘man of sorrows and acquainted with grief’ in this way. Did
Jesus get to John’s burial? Or did it happen all so fast and far away that it
was from whispers on the wind that he learned of John’s death? In the last
scene of chapter 13, Jesus was in Nazareth up in the hills being rejected by
those who knew him. In the same aria, Jesus, in the words of Isaiah, is also
described as ‘despised and rejected’. It is almost as if this lamenting aria
was written for this period of his life: rejected by his home town, struck down
by sorrow for John. When we suffer huge loss, we might also long to withdraw to
a deserted place. The world around us can become a desert, in and of itself.
Nothing might hold our attention for very long. It is as if we enter a dream
world of shock where there are no landmarks.
What happens next is another jolt. Jesus
wants time to himself and yet the crowds are seeking him. He is a man of grief
but he is moved to pity – compassion – by the state of the hundreds and
thousands who are following him into the deserted places. He has companions who
are people of sorrow and acquainted with grief too. He had compassion, healed
their sick and then set the disciples the challenge of finding them food in the
desert, miles from villages.
There is much in this account that has
allegorical significance. There is something of the Eucharist in this account:
‘Taking the five loaves and two fish, he looked up to heaven, and blessed and
broke the loaves, and gave them to his disciples, and the disciples gave them
to the crowd.’ Blessing and breaking the bread we may also see or hear echoes
of Jesus’ broken body, the sharing by the disciples after the resurrection of
this glorious brokenness for the whole world. There were 12 baskets of broken
pieces of bread left over – enough for the whole of the 12 tribes of Israel?
Enough for the 12 disciples to carry on sharing out?
Out of Jesus’ brokenness came
compassion. Out of the small offering came enough food for 5,000. The recent parable
of the sower springs to mind: here is bread multiplying more than a hundredfold
in the hands of Jesus. And it is the hands of Jesus that are so very important
in the final phase of the chapter. They become the hands of a saviour.
First, Jesus finally gets his wish, he
is at last free to head for the hills to be alone to pray and spend time with
his heavenly Father. The disciples understand. They head off by boat to the
‘other side’. I wonder how often this happens. The fishermen know how to
navigate the lake. Jesus knows how to navigate his way over the mountains. It
seems to be an arrangement that works well for them. Except, the fishermen
start to struggle with the wind against them and their craft getting battered
by waves. In the early hours of the morning Jesus appears to be taking a short
cut across the lake rather than round the mountains. Did he know they were in
trouble? How? And the ‘walking on water’ story – what do we do with this?
What I love about the story is not the sure
feet of Jesus walking on the water so much as the strong hands of Jesus reaching
out to haul Peter out of the water. ‘Master, save me,’ called out Peter, who had somewhat courageously (or impetuously) decided to try walking on water too, only to kind of come to his senses and realise what he was doing was just impossible in the real world of doubt and cynicism (and gravity).
Immediately, Jesus reached out and pulled him to safety.
I once fell into the canal at Gas Street Basin. I went right under after being knocked accidentally into the dirty, dank and dark waterway. As I went under, one of the men who had brushed me into the murky depths, reached out for my hand and pulled me to safety. It was an extraordinary feeling. My head was at least two feet under, my hand and arm were straight up above me just breaking through the surface of the water. And suddenly I felt this sensation of being grabbed powerfully and, in one motion, brought back into the land of the living and the towpath. My saviour was a burly bloke who was so apologetic. I was just relieved and so were Michaela, Joseph and Isobel.
Being saved is a moment you never forget. Every day, we live by faith. Sometimes we go under the waves. Yet, every day, we are saved by God’s grace, not our own works. Saved, by the strong, vulnerable, hands of Jesus.
I once fell into the canal at Gas Street Basin. I went right under after being knocked accidentally into the dirty, dank and dark waterway. As I went under, one of the men who had brushed me into the murky depths, reached out for my hand and pulled me to safety. It was an extraordinary feeling. My head was at least two feet under, my hand and arm were straight up above me just breaking through the surface of the water. And suddenly I felt this sensation of being grabbed powerfully and, in one motion, brought back into the land of the living and the towpath. My saviour was a burly bloke who was so apologetic. I was just relieved and so were Michaela, Joseph and Isobel.
Being saved is a moment you never forget. Every day, we live by faith. Sometimes we go under the waves. Yet, every day, we are saved by God’s grace, not our own works. Saved, by the strong, vulnerable, hands of Jesus.
A commentary about this chapter says
ReplyDelete"The Herod family weaves its way in the background of the New Testament, like minor supporting characters in a play. Oddly enough, in their own minds- and in the minds of most people then- they were major players."
Herod reminds me of Donald Trump. I read , somewhere , that Herod the Great was married to a Hasmonean princess , Marianne. This link to the Jews was, apparently, one of the factors in his choice as king by the Roman emperor.
When Trump won the U.S elections, there was great consternation among Christians around the world. It was pointed out that he was the only president elect who had not ended his acceptance speech with" God save America." Instead, he concluded with the words, " I love America."
Many of us wonder what the future holds once he takes office. It is the messages and pictures that I have received on social media that linked him in my mind with Herod. He has sought to reassure American Christians by attending prayer meetings with various groups , including black evangelical Christians. Some messages point out his choice of vice president , Mike Pence. Pence is Christian, and makes repeated references to his faith.
The commentary I was reading ends with,
" What dangers do Christians in the modern world face from the "lower authority" of politicians and rulers?"
Whatever Donald Trump - or any other authority- does, they will still be subject to God. In the end, they will only be " minor supporting characters " in the bigger picture.
Half way through, and Matthew introduces another element to his story – miracles. Not that they have been completely absent, for the miracles of healing have featured strongly from early on. But there are two stories in this chapter that tell of Jesus going beyond the laws of nature, even for the primitive science of his own day. But first there is the story of John the Baptist’s execution.
ReplyDeleteThis had happened some time before Matthew includes it because Herod hears of Jesus and believes he is John the Baptist risen from the dead. He then tells of John’s gruesome execution following the scheming of Herod’s wife, Herodias, and the complicity of his daughter, Salome. Matthew does not say why Herodias hated John so much, but Mark (c6) tells us that Herodias had been Herod’s sister-in-law when he had married her, and John had been saying it was not a lawful marriage. The vengeance of a woman scorned!
Lest we think that such despotic acts of life and death belong to a different age and place, remember that summary executions and cruel deaths are a feature of many regimes and groups throughout the world today – what else is a planted bomb or indiscriminate shelling or a political execution by an incoming government? And reflect too that this country was not so different five centuries ago; Thomas More and two English Queens of Henry VIII prove the point.
John’s disciples buried his body, and then went to tell Jesus, far away in Galilee. Jesus then crossed by boat to a solitary place to mourn his cousin, and probably to reflect that it was only a matter of time before his own mission and message would lead him to a similar fate. After all, the religious leaders were out to get him killed – the vengeance of men scorned!
By then Jesus had become a local celebrity, and the crowds had followed him on foot, walking around the lake. At least there were no newspaper reporters seeking a story or paparazzi trying to get photos, but the privacy and personal grief of Jesus were just as rudely interrupted. His response, as always, was compassion and a willingness to put his own feelings aside. He spoke to them and healed their sick.
But the crowd, some distance from home, needed an evening meal. Somehow, Jesus conjured enough to feed 5000 people from five loaves and two fish. I don’t know how. I am amazed at the stunts of David Blane and fellow magicians, but I know these are deceptions carefully prepared beforehand. Jesus had not prepared in advance with a secret delivery from Tesco. It is mysterious and miraculous, and, as far as I am concerned, unexplainable in rational terms. But Jesus had created a sense of unity in the community around him; he had brought them together in an ad hoc communal meal; they are one in a shared experience that would affect them for the rest of their lives. Food for thought as we try to spread to Gospel!
Once he had sent the disciples across the lake in the boat and finally dispersed the crowd, Jesus finally got the solitude he sought and went into the mountains to pray alone, and reflect on the inevitable end to his mission. Then a storm arises and the boat gets into difficulties, and the disciples panic. Suddenly, Jesus is there with them, walking on the water. But people can’t walk on water, the surface tension of the water will not support the weight of a child, let alone a man. We are too dense not to sink so far that only our head remains above water. Perhaps we too often panic in life and are too dense to realise that Christ is with us at all times. Just stretch out your hand as Peter did, and have faith.
I don’t know how those miraculous events occurred, because the physics of it all makes no sense. It doesn’t teach us about science and understanding the physical world, but it does teach us about trusting God, about having faith at all times – and who knows but we may experience miracles too!
Fear.
ReplyDeleteHerod wanted to kill John but feared the crowd v.5
The disciples were terrified when they saw Jesus walking on the water and cried out in fear v.26
Peter became frightened and began to sink v.30
Jesus says "Courage. It is I. Don't be afraid".
In contrast Jesus does not experience fear but endless compassion. "There is no fear in love. Perfect love drives out fear" 1 John 4 v.18
How much more of the love of God do we need in our hearts to root out fear?
How much more often do we need to cry out like Peter and be saved by Jesus?
Matthew presents us with Jesus, the Saviour, the one who rescues us, feeds us, blesses us abundantly, the one whose love can conquer fear, the one whose loving compassion brings healing and wholeness.
Lord Jesus Christ, Son of the Living God, have mercy on me a sinner.
This is the third time I've tried to put a comment on this blog so this is just to see if this time I can I can do it.
ReplyDeleteSuccess. My given name is the name my father chose because of the little girl in his digs before my parents married. The child was delightful. I like that name. However, my mother wanted me to be called Stella Joy and that's the name I've chosen for my comments here. In the season of Advent and after
ReplyDeletethe joyful Sunday to be a star of Joy or a joyful star seems appropriate.
Fran thank you for the encouragement to read Matthew this Advent and Paul thank you for setting up the blog. I've been fascinated by the comments.
Two thoughts strike me - the cost and exhaustion of compassion and the similarities between Jesus and John.
Jesus puts his need for solitude to grieve and face the reality of opposition on hold to be there for the crowds. Each healing, each meeting and conversation took more from him at a point of his need and vulnerability, but he stayed with them. Two Lents ago I started thinking about Jesus time in the wilderness as wonderful as well as difficult and challenging. It gave him space and time to experience and enjoy God in the immensity and beauty of the desert (the night sky, the stars, the amazing plant and animal adaptations to the harshness of desert life)and to realise the possibilities of human relationships with God. When he went off by himself he was tapping back in to what that experience had given him in confidence in who he was, what he was to do, how he was going to do it, and recognising his human need for comfort and love and renewal, maybe even healing.
So far as John and Jesus are concerned John has always been a bit of a scary figure, someone to respect rather than love whereas Jesus is someone to adore and come to with confidence whatever. However, both of them were set apart by and for God even before conception, both fulfilled scripture, both knew and valued the desert experience, both preached fearlessly and were on fire for God's justice and mercy, both recognised and faced the inevitability of suffering and death and both loved and respected the other. I've got a lot of cousins and they have been a special and valuable part of my life giving me a great deal of love and care. Jesus and John had that too.