What do you want with us, Jesus of Nazareth?

We don't always remember this in our day and age, but Jesus was a Jew. This seems obvious when I say it, but we don't often think through the implications of it. And one of the implications is that every Sabbath day, he went to worship at the local synagogue, wherever he found himself. Normally at home in Nazareth, but when he was on the road, he went local.  The picture above is of a synagogue in Capernaum which is thought to be slightly later than the one in Jesus' day, but still on the same site.

And here, in Mark's Gospel, Jesus is at the very beginning of his ministry. Mark tells us that he has been baptised, and then gone into the desert to think through the implications of this, to work out what it means to be “God's beloved Son, in whom he is well pleased.” He was tempted, and learnt what was and was not the right thing to do with his divine power.

And then John, his cousin, was put in prison and Jesus knew the time had come to start his own ministry in good earnest. He came out of the desert, and picked up Andrew and Peter and one or two others – we know from John's gospel that Andrew and Peter had been followers of John before this – and then, on the Sabbath, he finds himself in Capernaum, about 20 miles as the crow flies from his home town of Nazareth. So they all go to the synagogue there.

Now, one of the things about synagogue worship was that – is that, I should say, as I understand it is much the same today – is that you don't have to have a trained preacher up there, but almost any adult – adult males, in many synagogues, but some welcome women, too – can get up on his hind legs and expound the Scriptures. And visitors were very often asked to read the Scripture passage for the day as a way of honouring them, and it was quite “done” to comment on it. You might remember Jesus goes home to Nazareth at one stage and is asked to read the Scriptures there, with rather disastrous results. But not on this occasion.

What happens here, though is equally unexpected. Someone with an evil spirit is there, and the evil spirit recognises Jesus, and causes its host to cry out, interrupting whatever Jesus was saying or reading, to cry out: “What do you want with us, Jesus of Nazareth?”

“What do you want with us, Jesus of Nazareth?”

It's a good question, isn't it? What does Jesus want with us? Why does he come, interrupting our nice, peaceful church services? Why does he come, interrupting our nice, peaceful lives? What do you want with us, Jesus of Nazareth?

Of course, the answer is going to be different for each and every one of us. And yet there are some universal truths.

Firstly, I think, he answers “I want you to let me love you.”

To let him love us. That sounds as though it ought to be a no-brainer, but in fact, it can be very difficult to allow ourselves to be loved. And we tend not to look at it that way round, anyway. We think it's our business to love God – I am not quite sure what we think God's business is, but we don't always expect him to love us. And yet, how can we love unless he loved us first?

There's a story you may have heard before, told by the theologian and writer Gerard Hughes, in which he describes an image of God that many of us may have grown up with; a God who demanded our love and attention, and threatened us with eternal damnation if he didn't get it. And we ended up telling God how much we loved him, while secretly hating him and all he stood for, but terrified of not appearing to love him, because of the eternal damnation. We weren't told, or if we were told, we didn't hear, the first bit, which is that God loves us! God loves us so much that he knows quite well we can't possibly love him first. “We love, because He first loved us,” we are told. His love comes first. We need to let him love us. That's the first answer to the question, “What do you want of us, Jesus of Nazareth?”

“I want you to let me love you.”

And the second answer is “I want you to let me heal you.”

Healing. It's a bit of a vexed question, isn't it? We know that healings happened in the Scriptures, and we know that they can and do happen today, but we rarely seem to see any. We do see miraculous physical healings now and again, and we thank God for them as, indeed, we thank God when people are healed through modern medicine. But our bodies are going to wear out or rust out one day, whatever we do. We aren't designed to live forever on this earth, in these bodies, and they will eventually come to the end of their usefulness to us. But Scripture teaches that we will be raised from death in a new body, so it makes sense to me that the parts of us that make us “us”, if you like, are the parts that need healed. Our emotions, our personality, our memories. Things that have screwed us up in our pasts, that we find hard to get beyond. I believe Jesus always heals us when we ask, but we usually get the healing we really need, not necessarily the one we thought we wanted!

Also, while our language differentiates between healing and forgiveness, Jesus doesn't seem to so much. Remember the paralysed bloke whose friends let him down through the roof? Jesus' first words to him were “Your sins are forgiven!” which was what healed him. We need to be forgiven our sins, we need to be healed of being a sinner, if you like. We need to be changed into someone who can love God, and who can step away from sin – and we'll never do that without Jesus, let me tell you. We need to be healed so that we can become the person God created us to be. “I want you to let me heal you.”

“What do you want with us, Jesus of Nazareth?”

“I want you to let me love you.

I want you to let me heal you.

And I want you to let me fill you with the Holy Spirit!”

To be filled with God's Holy Spirit. According to the Bible, this isn't an optional extra, it's an absolutely central part of being a Christian. Remember the believers at Antioch, who were asked whether they'd received the Holy Spirit when they were baptised, and they were like, “You what? What's the Holy Spirit?” and Paul had to re-explain the Gospel to them. It turned out they'd only got as far as John's baptism of repentance, not the baptism into a new life with Christ. So far as Paul is concerned, receiving the Holy Spirit is an absolutely central part of being a Christian.

Makes sense, really, when you think about it. Because if we are filled with the Holy Spirit, we are filled with God Himself, and can be loved and healed and made whole, and God Himself can direct our lives, never forcing, never compelling, but always asking and reminding us, and enabling us. We need to be filled with God's Holy Spirit if we are to grow and change into the people God designed us to be.

“What do you want with us, Jesus of Nazareth?”

Of course, at that time the question was inappropriate, as was the follow-on of: “I know who you are, the holy one of God!” because Jesus was only just at the start of his ministry. He wasn't ready to become universally known, and anyway, he could sense that that which asked the questions had no interest in wishing him well. So he did the only possible thing, which was to command the evil spirit to come out of its host, which it did, and when the host recovered, all was well. But, of course, stories like this spread around, and Mark tells us that Jesus' fame in the area began to grow.

“What do you want of us, Jesus of Nazareth?” The question still resonates down the years, and I think the answers are still the same as ever: “I want you to let me love you. I want you to let me heal you. I want you to let me fill you with the Holy Spirit.” What is your answer? What is mine?

Will you let Jesus love you? Will you let Jesus heal you? Will you let Jesus fill you with his Holy Spirit? Amen.

Samuel

 

The story of Samuel in the Temple is an old friend, isn’t it?
I was amazed, when I came to have another look at it,
that it was actually a much darker story than I remembered.
We all know the bit about Samuel waking up in the night and thinking Eli has called him,
and Eli eventually clicking that God was trying to speak to Samuel....
but what is the context?
And what, actually, did God want to say?

It all started, of course, with Samuel’s mother, whose name was Hannah.
She was married to a man called Elkanah, and, in fact, she was his senior wife.
But her great sadness was that she had no children,
and her co-wife, called Penninah, did.
Elkanah actually loved Hannah more than he loved Penninah,
and although I don’t suppose he minded for his own sake that she had no children, he minded for her sake.

And, we are told, whenever Elkanah went to the Temple to make sacrifices, he gave Hannah a double portion.
And one day, Hannah, in the Temple, is just overcome by the misery of it all,
and pours out her heart to God –
I’m sure you’ve been there and done that;
I know I have.
And Eli, the priest, thought she was drunk, seeing her mumbling away like that.

It was rather a bad time in Israel’s history.
I don’t know if it ever occurred to you –
it hadn’t to me until quite recently –
but this is not the Temple in Jerusalem that Jesus would have known;
the first Temple in Jerusalem wouldn’t be built until the reign of King Solomon, about seventy or eighty years in the future.
This Temple was in Shiloh, and really, it was the place where the Ark of the Covenant resided.
And Eli is the priest in the Temple.
Now, back then, being a priest was something that only certain families could do;
and if your father was a priest, you usually were, too.
It’s actually only within quite recent history that what you do with your life isn’t determined by what your father did –
and isn't it the case that people are finding it increasingly hard to get a better education than their parents, and perhaps do different things?
Anyway, back then, you followed in your father’s profession,
and if your father was a priest, as Eli was, then you would expect to be one, too.

Unfortunately, Eli’s sons were not really priestly material.
They abused the office dreadfully –
taking parts of the sacrifices that were meant to be burnt for God alone,
sleeping with the women who served at the entrance to the temple.
I don’t think these women were prostitutes –
temple prostitution was definitely a part of some religions in the area,
but I don’t think it ever was part of Judaism.
These women would have been servants to Eli and his family, I expect,
and considered that service as part of their devotion to God.
And perhaps, too, they helped people who had come to make sacrifices and so on.
Whatever, Hophni and Phineas, Eli’s sons, shouldn’t have been sleeping with them,
and they shouldn’t have been disrespecting the sacrifices, either.

There had been a prophecy that the Lord would not honour Eli’s family any more, and that Hophni and Phineas would both die on the same day,
and a different family would take over the priesthood.
Eli had tried to tell his sons that their behaviour was unacceptable, but they hadn’t listened, and one rather gets the impression that he had given up on them.
He was not a young man, by any manner of means.

And now he had this child to bring up, Samuel, first-born of the Hannah whom he had accused of being drunk.
Hannah had lent her first-born child to the Lord “as long as he lives”,
since God had finally granted her request and sent her children –
unlike some of the other childless women in the Bible,
people like Sarah or Elisabeth,
God gave her more than one child in the end.
So Samuel, her first-born, was lent to God, and grew up in the Temple.

I had always somehow imagined the Temple as being very like
the Temple in Jerusalem, but, of course, it can’t have been.
It was probably just an ordinary house, but with the main room reserved for the altar of the Lord and the Ark of the Covenant.
Samuel sleeps in there, you notice, and Eli has his own room at the back somewhere.
And I imagine Hophni and Phineas have rooms of their own, too.

I do think that the first verse of our reading is one of the saddest there is;
“The word of the Lord was rare in those days;
visions were not widespread.”
“The word of the Lord was rare in those days;
visions were not widespread.”
It sounds like a very bleak time, doesn’t it?

Samuel, we are told, did not know the Lord.
He didn’t know the Lord.
This in spite of ministering in the Temple daily.
He wasn’t able to offer sacrifices, of course –
he was not, and couldn’t ever be, a priest, as he came from the wrong tribe.
But he would have helped Eli get things ready,
he would perhaps have made the responses.
He would certainly have known what it was all about.
But he did not know the Lord, in those days.
The word of the Lord had not yet been revealed to him.

So when God calls him in the night, he has no idea what is happening,
and thinks that Eli is in need of help.
And it isn’t until the second or third time that Eli realises what is happening, either.
But once he does, Eli explains that it might be that God is wanting to speak to Samuel, and he should say “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening!”

And then what?
No message of hope or encouragement such as anybody would want to hear.
In fact, quite the reverse:

“See, I am about to do something in Israel that will make both ears of anyone who hears of it tingle.
On that day I will fulfil against Eli all that I have spoken concerning his house, from beginning to end.
For I have told him that I am about to punish his house forever,
for the iniquity that he knew, because his sons were blaspheming God,
and he did not restrain them.
Therefore I swear to the house of Eli that the iniquity of Eli’s house shall not be expiated by sacrifice or offering forever.”

There will be no escape for Eli;
he could, and should, have stopped his sons from being blasphemous,
from disrespecting the offerings of God’s people,
from sleeping with the temple servants.
I get the feeling Eli has rather given up, don’t you?
When Samuel tells him what the Lord has said, his reaction is simply,
“It is the Lord;
let him do what seems good to him.”
And in the end, just to round off the story, both sons were killed in a battle against the Philistines,
and Eli died of a heart attack or something very similar that same day.
And the Philistines captured the Ark of the Covenant.

All very nasty –
not one of the nicer stories in the Bible, I don’t think.
But what does it say to us?
What do we have in common with these people at the end of the Bronze Age, or early Iron Age, I’m not quite sure which they are?

The thing is, of course, we do have rather too much in common with them.
This is a time when the Word of God is not heard too much in our land.
It is a time when churches, and, indeed, synagogues and mosques, too, are disrespected;
synagogues and mosques even have to have security at the entrance, just for when people are coming to worship.
Thank goodness that isn’t yet the case with our churches, and pray God it will never be.
But even ministers and priests have been known to abuse their position – I have not heard of any rabbis or imams doing so, but I shouldn't be in the least surprised.

I suppose that there is nothing new;
every age has probably said the same of itself.
We know that we are, naturally, sinners, and unless God help us we shall continue to sin.

Samuel served in the Temple but he didn’t, then, know God.
Eli had given up;
Hophni and Phineas set him a poor example.
It must have been confusing for Samuel –
what was it all about?
And then when God did finally speak to him,
it wasn’t a comforting message of cheer and strength,
but a reminder that God’s judgement on the whole shrine and the priestly family who ran it was going to happen.

But good things came from it, too.
Samuel became known and respected as a prophet and as a judge in Israel.
He couldn’t be a priest, as he was from the wrong tribe,
but he could be, and was, a prophet who was widely respected and loved.
It was he who anointed Saul as king, and then David.

So there is hope, even in the cloudiest, stormiest days.
The temple of Shiloh was abandoned, and the Ark never returned there.
But the Ark did return, and eventually the Temple was built in Jerusalem.
Samuel became one of the most famous prophets of them all.

Samuel said “Yes” to God.
He was willing to hear God’s message,
no matter how unpleasant it had to be,
no matter how traumatic.
He was willing to hear, and he was willing to speak it out.
And so God used him to establish the Kings of Israel and then of Judah –
perhaps not the most successful monarchy ever,
but from King David’s line came, of course, Jesus.

It is never totally dark.
God ended Eli’s family’s service to him, yes;
but the Temple endured, and was eventually rebuilt in Jerusalem,
bigger and better than before.
The Ark of the Covenant was taken into captivity –
but it came back, and remained in the Temple until it was no longer needed, as God made a new covenant with us.

When we go through difficult times,
and I think we all do, whether as individuals,
as churches,
or as a society,
it’s good to think back on this story.
God may be bringing one thing to an end;
but a new thing will, invariably, follow, just as spring follows winter.

The difficult thing, of course, is going on trusting Him when all does seem dark, when we can’t see how things are going to work out.
It's been terribly dark just lately, hasn't it, with the wars in Ukraine and Israel threatening our own world.
But remember Paul’s letter to the Romans, chapter 8;
“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.”
I do think that we can ask to see how God is going to work a bad situation for good;
it’s amazing how that can and does happen.
Perhaps one day we will see the good that God has worked out of the war between Russia and Ukraine.
Perhaps one day we will see the good that God has worked out of the conflict between Israel and Hamas.

And we need, like Samuel, to listen to God, and to do what He asks of us, no matter how difficult.
Are you willing to do this for God?
Am I willing?
It isn’t easy, is it?

Thanks be to God that we need do none of this in our own strength, but in the power of the Holy Spirit, who strengthens us.
Amen!

Gold, Frankincense and Myrrh

 

What a very odd story this is, about the wise men coming to Jesus.
For a start, you only find it in Matthew's gospel, and not in Luke's.
To carry on with, it's quite difficult to reconcile the course of events in Matthew with those in Luke –
for instance, Luke seems to think that the family go straight back to Nazareth, stopping off at Jerusalem on the way to present Jesus in the temple,
whereas Matthew seems to think they lived in Bethlehem all the time,
fled to Egypt to escape Herod's vengeance after the wise men's visit,
and only then settled in Nazareth.

I don't suppose it matters much, really, though, because we have also got an incredible amount of tradition mixed up with the stories –
the ox and the ass in the stable, for instance;
you don't find those in either gospel account.
Nor, in the one we have just heard read, were there three wise men!
It doesn't say how many there were.
Tradition, of course, has made of them kings;
Caspar, Melchior and Balthazar.
But that's not what the Bible says.

And it is only tradition that identifies gold with kingship,
frankincense with divinity, or godhead,
and myrrh with death.
But seeing as we all have our own mental image of the Nativity stories,
it doesn't matter very much.
It wouldn't really be a Christmas crib without donkeys and oxen, would it?
And it's a lot easier to depict Eastern potentates than Zoroastrian astrologers, or whatever they really were.
And if we see gold, frankincense and myrrh as equivalent to kingship, godhead and death –
well, why not?
It helps us remember a bit Who Jesus is,
and anything that does that is always helpful.

I have heard people comment that the wise men might have given more useful gifts, but, in fact, back in the day what they gave would have been very useful.
After all, gold is always useful, and when the Holy Family had to flee into Egypt, as Matthew tells us they did,
they would have needed gold to help cover their expenses.
And although you can get both frankincense and myrrh very cheaply in Brixton these days –
Brixton Wholefoods usually has them in their spice jars –
back in the day they were very rich and rare.
And useful.
Frankincense isn't just about saying that Jesus is divine,
it's also very calming and soothing,
and it helps to heal chest infections and coughs.
You can either burn it as incense –
and it is an essential component of the incense that some Christians like to burn in worship –
or you can buy the essential oil and dilute it to massage yourself with.
It's also used in face creams for its anti-ageing properties.

Myrrh, too –
rarer than rare, back then –
is very healing.
When I was growing up, there was always a little bottle of tincture of myrrh in the medicine cabinet in case anybody had toothache –
tasted vile, but did the trick.
It's still a component part of some toothpastes, even today.
And I believe it can be used to heal skin irritations, things like that –
not the toothpaste, of course, but the essential oil, or a cream containing it!
And, as we know, it was used in embalming the dead, and it's seen as symbolic of death.

So you see they would have been useful gifts, as well as symbolic.

But why does it matter?
What is it all about?

Partly, of course, it is about giving to Jesus.
The kings, or wise men, or whatever they were, brought gold, frankincense and myrrh to the one "Born to be King of the Jews",
even though they were not themselves Jewish.
Three of the most valuable commodities in the ancient world,
and not only valuable, but very useful, too.
I don't know what we would think of as the three most valuable commodities of today - probably something like platinum and uranium and petrol, which, except for the last, wouldn't be quite so useful!
Nor quite so symbolic, either –
the tradition of kingship, divinity and death may be only a tradition, not biblical, but it is very powerful.

But then, that's not really what's wanted today, is it?
What God wants of us today is –
well, basically, nothing less than all of us.
Not just our money, not just our time, but our whole selves.
And that's scary!
Next week, Rev’d Rita will be leading you in the Covenant service, when we recommit ourselves to being God's person in the year to come.
Again, scary!

Very scary.
But the thing is, that's actually only part of the Epiphany.
The posh name for it is “The manifestation of Christ to the Gentiles”.
The Gentiles.
And, when you come to think about it, the Magi couldn't really have been more outsiders if they'd tried with both hands!
They were, it is thought, some kind of astrologers, diviners,
just exactly the sort of person Jews were forbidden to be.
They came from the East, probably from present-day Iraq or Iran,
not countries with whom Israel has ever had a peaceful and friendly relationship!

The people to whom God chose to make himself known in the person of the infant Jesus were outsiders.
Rank outsiders.
Apparently not just the Magi,
but also the shepherds whom Luke tells us about were total outsiders,
far from the comfortable religious establishment of the day.

And again and again we see this in the New Testament, don't we?
It's the outsiders who get special mention,
the tax-gatherers,
the prostitutes,
the quislings,
the terrorists,
the members of the occupying power.

Even after the Ascension, it is still the outsiders who get special mention –
Cornelius, for instance, or the Ethiopian treasury official.

And us.

What the story of the Epiphany tells us is that we are loved.
Loved to the uttermost.
No matter who we are, what background we come from,
and whether we love God or whether we don't.
We are still loved.
Don't ever believe the fundamentalist groups who want to tell you that God hates Muslims, or gay people, or whoever –
it's simply not true.
Even if you were to say “Oh, bother this for a game of soldiers,
I'm never going near a church again!”
God would still love you.
Even if you were to go out and murder someone in cold blood,
or order your army to attack innocent people.

God might hate it that you did that, but God would still love you.
God might, or might not, have approved of the way the Magi worshipped him, but
he still loved them, and caused their journey and their gifts to be recorded in history.

I don't know if that makes it any easier to give ourselves to God or not.
It's difficult, isn't it?
And I think sometimes we stress about it unnecessarily.
We are always going to get it wrong.
That stands to reason.
We are, after all, only human, and the whole point of the Incarnation, of Jesus becoming a human being, was so that we could make mistakes and get it wrong and it wouldn't matter too much.
After all, salvation was God's idea, not ours.

We sometimes forget that, don't we?
We tend to live as though we have to get it right, or we won't be Jesus' people any longer.
But that's not so.
After all, what are we saved by?
What Jesus did for us on the Cross, or by our own faith?
I rather think it is what Jesus did for us that saves us!

But then, if we are saved by what Jesus did for us, why bother?
Why give expensive and valuable gifts,
like gold, and frankincense and myrrh,
or even our own selves?
Isn't the answer because Jesus is worth it?
Those of us who are parents know something of what it must have cost God to send his only son to earth as a helpless human baby.
We may even glimpse, sometimes, something of what Jesus must have lost, limiting himself to a human body.
Jesus is definitely worth all we can give to him, and then some!
And, more than that, Jesus makes it worth our while giving to him!
Because we are loved, because Jesus loved us enough to give up his whole life for us, then anything we can give is accepted with love, with joy, and is transformed into something greater.
Amen.