Mark: A Theological Commentary

Tags

bible, Book Reviews, gospels, Jesus, Mark, William C. Placher

It is with pure delight that I thank Westminster John Knox Publishing for sending me the following selection for review. This is the opening book in a new series entitled: Belief: A Theological Commentary on the Bible.

The first book in the series is Mark, by William C. Placher. It was published along with Luke, which I have also received and will be reviewing shortly.

WJK also publishes the Interpretation series, of which I have long been a fan, but after reading Mark, I suspect this new series may far outstrip that wonderful series.

The idea behind the Belief series is to bring together the latest exegetical work, along with literary, historical, archaeological, and other pertinent advances as they impact how we interpret the bible from a theological point of view.

In Mark, they have certainly attained their goal.  Professor Placher, unfortunately now deceased, has written a simply beautiful commentary. Not content to just tell us what the text means, or most likely means, Placher explores how Mark’s “good news” is still most relevant to the world we live in today.

For example, in the opening pages, he writes:

Americans today, therefore, read the Gospel of Mark–this story of a Middle Eastern man tortured to death by the most powerful empire of his time–when we are the most powerful nation of our time, and our forces are torturing people, sometimes to death. What does this imply about our values and the sort of people we have become?

Peppered throughout the chapters are “Further Reflections” on key phrases or words such as Kingdom of God, Miracles, and Ransom. Each of these probes into the historical record and juxtaposing that against our modern notions, finding common ground and points of comparison.

Quotes are boxed throughout the text as well, and are wide-ranging in their authorship, including Luther, Barth, Basil, Tertullian, Philo, Cicero and many others. These highlight themes introduced and explored by Professor Placher.

What is most compelling is the breath of sources. You will meet the likes of Karl Barth, and Luther of course, but also the likes of Calvin, John Dominic Crossan, and Gustavo Gutiérrez. Majority opinions are explained, but plenty of minority opinions are given with their rationales. Of course, Placher gives his choice and the reasons for it in the end.

We are a  world more and more polarized along religious lines. Placher offers us, for example,  a theological explanation of chapter 12:28-34. Here Jesus is questioned by a scribe as to which commandment is first. Jesus famously says “love God and love your neighbor.” This is all well and good, but in answering, Jesus shows us that even though many of his arguments are with scribes, not all scribes are bad, some come with honest questions. Barth points out that this the Hebrew Scriptures often engage “outsiders” to do the will of God, and thus Jesus shows us that good can often come from those who are not like us. How useful it is to remember that today.

The point always is, that when we read scripture, and Mark in particular, there is much that speaks to our condition today, both individually and as communities and nations. Every minister, priest, and preacher, every teacher seeks to make the scripture relevant to their listeners. This is no more than Mark did himself, in trying to tailor the stories he told to the issues present in his community.

How could Jesus help them? How can Jesus help us? As students of scripture, we have much to gain here in understanding, but if we are also preachers and teachers, we have even more, for here we can find new insights, new interpretations, new connections where we never realized them before. For every minister who has sat late into Saturday evening, still trying to find something “new” to say on tomorrow’s gospel, she or he will likely find help here.

We squabble, some of us in our respective traditions with rules about who can join us, and who cannot join us. We have our own brand of “unclean”. Yet, Jesus did not teach us that. He taught us the opposite. He regularly ate with sinners and those ritually unclean, and he never made it a condition for sitting at table with him that repentance was a pre-requisite. What does that say to us today?

Page by page, Placher explores, teases out, and conjoins text from not only Mark, but from other texts as well both in and out of the bible. The picture sharpens and Mark’s words take on added significance. We see in a new way, hopefully a better one.

I simply enjoyed this commentary more than I can say. I found it easy of explanation, yet profound in its theological depth. Placher has drawn from a broad spectrum of experts, and has intertwined them to make coherent and useful conclusions. He gives us a foundation from which to explore.

As I said, teachers and preachers will find this commentary invaluable as they search for new ways to marry scripture to today’s world. Individuals will see application in their own lives and spiritual journeys.

If the rest of this series can be predicted upon the basis of this opening publication, then we are in for a rich treat indeed. You may indeed want to consider the entire series, as it comes out. I have barely begun Luke, and I can already see that it carries on the fine standards established in the first offering. Do yourself a favor and pick this one up. You won’t be sorry.

Learning to be Human

Tags

contemplation, divinity, ego, gospels, humanness, Jesus, meditation, psychology, Syro-Phoenician woman, the Now

As I think I mentioned, I’ve been reading Richard Rohr’s, The Naked Now. It was really a foregone conclusion that I would adore his writing, I’d heard enough said about him from a number of bloggers who read him and were praiseworthy. That was plenty of recommendation.

Rohr talks about how to experience the Divine in the way the mystics do, and that essentially is in the practice of “now.” It is a well grounded practice in Eastern faith traditions, and frankly, has a long history in Western faiths as well, just by another name. In the East, the method of practice is meditation, in the West, it is called contemplation.

Both involve letting go of ego and past and future, and centering on the now. This is where we meet God. This is where we listen, open ourselves and wait. This is where we, if we surrender ourselves, find guidance. For all those who have experienced this wonder, whether for a moment or for long periods, it is in some sense indescribable, but pure joy. There is a oneness, a feeling of connectedness to all that is.

As anyone who has practiced either meditation or contemplation can tell you, the effort is hard. There is nothing harder to control than one’s own mind. The ego has a vested interest (it’s own perceived survival) in maintaining control, and keeping things within “known” parameters. To surrender to the Spirit, is to step off the cliff without a parachute. The ego fights mightily, and as anyone who has tried will tell you, the mind fills with one inane and disconnected thought after another, as one, in increasing desperation, tries to “quiet” the mind. But it is never about forcing, it is about letting go.

Living in the now means to be centered in the feelings, and senses fully of what is happening around you. Not thinking of what needs go on the grocery list, not recalling last night’s movie, not rehashing an argument of a week ago. It is smelling the flowers, feeling the sun upon your cheek, hearing the rustle of leaves in the trees, seeing the sparkle of sunlight upon the dew lipped blade of grass. It is being drunk in this moment of time.

While it is a perfect place to be, it cannot be the only place, lest we never get up, never move, and die of hunger and thirst. We must plan at least to shop and clean and it is also valuable to reflect, hoping to stave off repeating mistakes again and again. Still, we strive to be “now” people as much as possible, where we are called to be authentic and to respond authentically and with full attention to the world. As Rohr and others point out, we are Spirit, our job is to become fully human.

One point is made clear, that much of “now” work is non-dualistic. And we in the West, particularly, have a tough time with non duality. We are a right/wrong, up/down, happy/sad type of folk. Nothing brings this closer to home for us than contemplation of the humanity/divinity of Christ.

We by creedal refrain proclaim this belief. We assure anyone that it is true, (at least for most Christians). Yet, in our hearts of hearts, we are nearly incapable of realizing such a situation. How indeed can Jesus be fully human and fully divine at the same time?  We struggle with this, and imagine some switch whereby Jesus turned first one, and then the other on and off. One idling in the background while the other surges to the fore. We imagine, as best we can, but we don’t truly get it.

Yet the bible has a couple of stories that help us see it at least. One is the story of the Syro Phoenician woman. The story was apparently well known, used by both Matthew(15:21-28) and Luke (7:24-30). A Canaanite woman approaches Jesus and asks for help in healing her daughter. Jesus at first refuses, until the woman reminds him that even the “dogs receive the scraps from the table.” Jesus then does as she asks.

The story has always been difficult for me. Who is this Jesus who is so rude and dismissive? He has been traveling afoot for perhaps hours, and he clearly wants some peace, without the crowds demanding of him. When the woman approaches, alerting perhaps others that he is in fact the famous Jesus, he responds with  “it is not fair to share the food for the children with the dogs.”

This is mighty mean stuff. He refers to the woman and her child as being unworthy, dogs in comparison to the Israelites. He is dismissive. He appears tired and angry at the interruption. In a sense, one can think that Jesus was distracted with other thoughts, and reacted to the woman without thinking.

A similar story is told in all of the gospels about the cleansing of the temple, one of which in John, is replete with Jesus fashioning a whip out of cord to accomplish the task. Many people recoil again, at the anger expressed by Christ.

I think that we find in these stories, that perhaps unknowingly, the writer relates a glimpse of the real humanity of Jesus peaking through. Jesus was perhaps the human being who had transcended more than any other into the realm of perfect unity with the Divine, illustrated by living mostly in the Now. Yet, in his very humanness, he too, from time to time, failed and was overcome by ego. He too let gain purchase the too human emotions of frustration, anger, and perhaps physical exhaustion.

These stories, serve to point out to us, that we are in process. Even Jesus was it seems. His humanness in this is something we can relate to and thus we can truly seek to emulate his way of living. He failed here and there. We fail more than we succeed, yet, we are given courage and strength by his slips.

It is said, that without Jesus’ humanity, there is no point for us. If he is not us, then our efforts can come to nothing. These stories feed our need to feel that the effort is worthwhile. It is well we remember this. Tomorrow is another day to get up, dust ourselves off, and try again. Jesus, and the Creator beckon. Will you enter into the Now with them?

Those That Have Ears–HEAR!

Tags

Bartimaeus, bible, faith, gospels, healing, Jesus, Mark, poor, social concerns

 

Image shamelessly stolen from MadPriest at "...I could be wrong"

I love going to church every Sunday. I seem to always find peace and a certain enlightenment there week to week. I deeply appreciate the congregation I am a part of. So many dedicated and hard working people.

I admit I am blessed to be in it. And yesterday’s liturgy had powerful teaching for us all.

The other day, I focused on Job, one of my favorite books of the bible. Today, I wish to revisit Mark’s treatment of the story of Bartimaeus, in chapter ten.

Mark is an interesting gospel. Written perhaps around 70 CE, and perhaps from the environs around a just fallen Jerusalem, his audience must have lived in some fear. The Romans were overrunning everywhere, and a small band of Jesus followers threatened no doubt that Empire even more than the traditional Jews with their strange practices.

Mark prepares his audience for further sacrifice, in fact making it clear that their lot in life may well be harsh and dangerous. They may only get their reward in death. Here we find the suffering servant at it’s best. Some suggest that Mark is the most reliable gospel we have, arriving first and before other gospel writers started to tailor their writings to reflect the emergent church and taking into account the realities of the day.

I tend to think that might be true, and that makes the story of Bartimaeus somehow more urgent, more real to us. Poor Bartimaeus, a man apparently not born blind, but certainly now so, begging for his food and shelter, unwanted, unclean, marginalized in a society built on class. Bartimaeus was the bottom of the barrel, just the kind of person Jesus tended to seek out.

He is helped or manages to find his way to the roadside where he has heard presumably that the faith healer Jesus will soon pass along. He hears the crowd approaching, and when he is sure that it is indeed him, he shouts out–“Jesus, Son of David, have pity on me.”

The  crowd jostles him, and urges him to be quiet. We must assume that at least some of these are followers. Some indeed are disciples. We are close to Jerusalem,  close to the end, and these disciples have been with Jesus nearly three years at this point. No voice is heard in opposition to the stern words to Bartimaeus. Until Jesus, hearing, calls him forth. Then the crowd turns on a dime and also calls encouragement to the blind man.

This is the focus of the periscope. There have been a number of stories about blindness in Mark, both literal and figurative. Jesus has been telling his disciples of his coming passion and death. He has tried to explain to them that the they must serve–that is their greatness. They don’t get it. They never get it, not until the end. They remain on this road to Jericho, blind too.

They are insiders, privileged to be with the Master all this time, learning and watching, listening and one would hope, meditating on the wonders they behold, from this man/God. Yet, they raise no voice against the crowd “quieters.” They are serious, about the business of travel. They wish no slow down by some beggar along the way.

Until Jesus, once again radicalizes the scene. He stops, he calls, he heals, and then he moves on again toward his destiny.

Bartimaeus, asks to be made whole. Don’t we wish we were? Why are we ready to deny wholeness to another because it is inconvenient, time consuming, bothersome. We are asked to get our hands dirty. The poor don’t dress well, don’t smell very good, they are often unattractive.

Did Bartimaeus become blind because of sin? Certainly most in his society believed that he must have. Perhaps the disciples still did as well. But Jesus knew better. He asked Bartimaeus no questions of “qualification.” He didn’t call Bartimaeus to meet some standard of worthiness. One can argue, no doubt, that Jesus knew the answers, but that but begs the question. If Jesus has nothing to tell us about our humanity, then his teachings are worthless, mere platitudes to mere humans.

So we must conclude that such things did not matter to Jesus. What mattered to Jesus was one thing: do we have faith? If we do, then we deserve our healing. And perhaps, even when we don’t. There were other healings, many in fact, wherein no question was posed about faith. No all the healed were conscience at the time. But even when they were, Jesus never stated faith as a prerequisite. It merely made his job easier. Perhaps in reality, Jesus sought sincerity.

As Church, as people, we must ask the question of ourselves. Are we as insiders putting up stumbling blocks to the outsider who comes in need? Do we establish standards of entitlement? Are we turning away Bartimaeus on a regular basis because we have concluded he is unworthy of our charity? Do we have the right to ask at all? Is this not up to our God to fathom–the one who has known us in the womb, and knows our every thought? Who are we to judge?

Jesus radically turned upside down nearly everything he touched. He gave us a new way of looking at the world and relating to it and to each other. That is and should always be our focus. I am told that yesterday ONE BILLION people went to sleep without adequate nutrition. We grow enough for everyone, but ONE SIXTH of our population is hungry.

How many Bartimaeus’s out there are we turning away and denying? How many are you?