originally published as Mark 9:2-13 

Peter speaks

The feeling inside as we came down the mountain (even though we were quickly brought down to earth with a bump) was kind of ‘Wow!’ and ‘amazing!’ and ‘wow!’ again.  I was stirred and stunned, amazed and afraid, and totally gobsmacked all at the same time!  Jesus didn’t really have to tell us not to speak of it, because in truth I wouldn’t have known what to say!  I mean, how could anyone find the words to describe what we saw? Would any language be enough to truly capture that wonderful moment once again?

Ha! I’ve just realised what I said; ‘…Capture the moment…’  That’s ironic!  Can you believe that is exactly what I tried to do?  What a fool I made of myself! What an idiot!  How did I ever think I could capture that moment?  As if I could! As if I should!

But all that is jumping ahead, and I’m probably making no sense to you whatever! Better back track and start at the beginning, hadn’t I?    

There we were, the usual three of us, off up the mountain with Jesus. We climbed for hours, so it seemed, and so high!    

Now, if there’s a place I love nearly as much as the open sea, then it has to be up a mountain. The fresh air, the quiet, that huge sense of space!  Normally I’d be describing the view to you; that’s what catches you up a mountain, isn’t it?  You don’t look at the people with you, do you?  Companionable they may be, but your eyes are always drawn to something bigger; the vastness of the vista, the shadows racing across the valley and the amazing lighting effects on the hills.  Oh, and to see a sunrise or sunset from up there, the glow reflected in the mist below – glorious!  Nothing short of glorious!

But I can’t tell you anything about the view this time.  That’s not what caught out attention.  It was Jesus. Yes, he was glowing! 

How can I describe it?  Jesus was transformed before our eyes. His clothes became white – whiter than even my mother-in-law could wash them!  Shining white!  Unnaturally white! Glorious white! Dare I say it, it’s like he shone with the glory of God?  

It was just as I imagined it to have been for Moses when he met with God on Mount Sinai. Remember the story? His face glowed. It shone! And that’s just what happened to Jesus, except all over.  We saw God’s glory on Jesus just as it says they saw it on Moses. Only better, I think. This was not like something that came on Jesus, it came from him.  We were seeing him in his glory – the glory of the Son of God.

And then, suddenly, he was there too: Moses!  And not just Moses, Elijah too!  Both there, talking with Jesus.  Why they were there, I hadn’t got a clue. But it was amazing!

Then I thought, why are we there – James and John and I?  We were not party to the conversation, just looking on.  But Jesus had chosen us to come with him, so I thought he must have brought us along for a reason.  It never occurred to me that it was simply to be with him and to witness the event.  I had to do something – had to say something. (That’s me all over, isn’t it?  When I’m lost and out of my depth, I have to talk. It makes me feel better. A kind of defence mechanism, I suppose. I find it comforting to hear my own voice… Comforting to speak… Comforting to try to do something, even if I honestly have no idea what is going on, let alone what to say or do!)

Well, this moment was so wonderful – so awesome – that I just felt I had to capture it.  Keep it.  Stay with it forever. 

How to do that?  Why not build a tent?  No, not just one tent – three tents; one each for Jesus, Moses, and Elijah.  Yes, we could do that!  We could make them comfortable. Give them somewhere to stay. Elijah, Moses, Jesus … enshrined!  The moment kept forever!  (In truth, I was so shocked and scared that I did not know what I was saying.  How can we ever hope to keep God in a box?  But the experience was so intense, I Just didn’t want to let it go!)  

I wish, now, that I had never spoken, because the moment I did, it got even scarier still!  The cloud came in and covered us. Up there in the mountain, not able to see more than a few feet in front of your face, who wouldn’t be anxious or afraid?   But that was not it.  Moses… the mountain… the clouds … does that ring any bells?  And then, yes, the voice!  God himself was speaking to us, to me!  His voice was strong and commanding, almost a rebuke at my having dared to speak. ‘This is my son, and I love him’ God said.  ‘Listen to him!’ 

And when we dared look again, only Jesus remained.  We searched all around, but there was no Moses or Elijah, and no shiny, glorious clothes – only Jesus. The Jesus we had always known.  And the echo of the voice: ‘This is my beloved son … listen to him!’

Now you have got to excuse me, but I am only just beginning to get my head round all of this.  What I’ve told you is what I saw… although, I repeat, my words could never truly capture the moment. How could they?

James and John, I have to tell you, are as stunned as I am. The ‘Sons of Thunder’ unusually silent. Not just because Jesus told us not to say anything (and hadn’t God just told us to listen to him?), but because we just do not know what to say!

What do I make of it?  I don’t rightly know!  The mountains, the clouds and the glory rang loudly with allusions.  Moses, Elijah and God – were they really there?    Was it actually God’s voice telling us to listen to Jesus?   And what about Jesus, shining with glory?!   You work it out if you can!

And what about all that stuff about not telling anyone about what we had seen ‘until the Son of Man had been raised from the dead?’  What did that mean?  And why was Jesus so insistent about it?  I hope it all comes clear with time.  For now, I’m relieved I don’t have to try and find words to describe the indescribable.  But I’m also mystified as to why we were barred from speaking of seeing Jesus in all his glory.

This all came up on the way down the mountain, when we asked about Elijah. Why was it, we asked Jesus, that they said Elijah had to come first, to prepare for the Messiah?   

‘Indeed, he will come first,’ said Jesus, ‘In fact, he has already come, and look at what they did to him!’    His tone of voice and that pained look in his eye, gave away who he was thinking about.  Every time he talks about his cousin John, Jesus has that same look and tone.

Thinking back to all these weird predictions Jesus has been making, I’m now wondering if his “and look at what they did to him!”  means that Jesus saw a pattern emerging; a road laid out that he himself must tread?   You know just how hard I found that to swallow the first time I heard it in Caesarea Philippi.  But here it was again.  It was as though Jesus was saying: ‘You can’t build tents to protect me. I have to be free to follow the path God has set.’

Again, Jesus left us with a question: ‘Why do the scriptures say that the Son of Man must suffer much and be rejected?’   I’m still not sure that I knew that they did!   If they do, I’m not at all happy with it!   But this was Jesus’ last word after banning us from saying anything; ‘think about why the Son of man must suffer and be rejected.’  

Was his ban deliberate, do you think, because Jesus knows that there is something yet to come which is needed to make sense of all this? Something that reveals what true glory is?  Is that what his talk about dying and rising is all about?   Maybe.  

In that case, while this moment was so very special, it can’t be ‘it’, can it?  To cling to the moment and to try and capture it was a mistake.  And to try and capture Jesus in an experience, no matter how wonderful, will always be mistake.  He won’t be boxed in.  Jesus moves on.  He comes down from the mountain top and out into the thick of it, accepting suffering and rejection so as to fulfil the work of God.  ‘It is in this that true glory is displayed’, he seems to be saying.  And the voice of God echoes in my mind, “this is my Son- listen to him!”

Another listener in the crowd is honest and inspired:

I’m sorry, but if someone slaps me in the face, the only way I’m going to offer them to do it again is as a come on – ‘Go on, I dare you! Try that one more time and see what happens!’ 

I just know I would react. Instantly. Automatically. Angrily.  I can feel my temper rising now, just thinking about it.  That’s how I’m wired – to strike back.   It’s in my nature.  It’s human nature.  Surely most people would say the same?

But not Jesus, apparently.

And that’s the difficulty.  He’s asking too much, isn’t he?  If not impossible, what he is asking certainly goes against the grain!  How does he possibly think we can do that?  It’s crazy!

Surely, he understands that you can only push people so far?   He must know that we are a nation on the edge; our fury simmering away and just about ready to boil over.  The occupiers have been here too long and almost daily they reinforce their grip with power-plays and abuses. Not that we need Romans to push our buttons; our family, our neighbours, anyone can do it.  The anger is here inside us: beware the explosions!

So how can he ask this of us … not just that we turn the other cheek, but that we actually love our enemies, bless those who curse us, and pray for those who steal from us, mistreat us and abuse us?  What kind of cloud cuckoo land is he living in?  Again, I say it’s crazy!  Absolutely 100% crazy!

But then again, there’s a part of me that wonders if his plan is crazy enough to actually work?

I’ve never heard it put the way he put it before.  Oh yes, ‘Don’t do to others what you wouldn’t want them to do to you!’, that I have heard many times.  It makes sense.  It’s common sense.  ‘If you don’t want trouble, don’t go provoking it!’  Even my old Dad used to teach me that!

But Jesus put it differently. He put it on an active footing. He urged us to take the initiative. Not ‘don’t do’ but ‘Do!’  ‘Go and do to others what you would like them to do to you’.  Now, that might be off the wall, but it’s not a bad idea, actually!  In fact, it’s quite appealing.  Think what the world would be like if we all followed that golden rule?  And, even if not everyone did it, think how much better my life would be – how much happier I would be with myself – if only I could live up to that high ideal.  It may be crazy, but it’s compelling too, don’t you think?

Somehow, whenever Jesus speaks, I find myself wanting to be better.  His words seem to be like a mirror held up to show me everything I am not, and yet everything I want to be all at the same time.  I fall way short of the impossible ideal, but find myself dreaming of a world – dreaming of a me – in which the impossible becomes the possible… in fact, it becomes the norm. Is that such a bad thing to hope for? 

Oh, I know I will fail.  I will react badly. I will rant and rave. I will judge others and condemn them.   But I will also hope to do better.  Jesus shows us a God who is kind to the ungrateful and the wicked – a God who is kind to me.  He tells of a generous God who gives and forgives in good measure; his gift like flour from a generous market trader, pressed down into the bag, shaken together, running over in to my lap!  Isn’t that amazing?!   

And, ‘Be merciful, just as God your Father is merciful’ he appeals to us.   Let me say that again; ‘Be merciful as God your Father is merciful’.   In as much as God is our Father, and we are his children, then this is not an impossible and unreachable ideal, it is actually in us to do this.   It’s what we are born to do.  Our true nature, found in God’s true nature.  God’s life and love flowing in us and through us.  We can and we must at least try to be like him!

A person from the crowd reflects on Jesus’ radical teaching:

When I was a child, I used to love hanging by my knees from a low branch, watching an upside-down world go by. 

It took me quite a while to realise there was something wrong with my way of thinking.  While I hung inverted, my hair fell down above my blood-filled head and my clothes ran the risk of slipping to cover my face (while uncovering other parts that should have remained well and truly hidden!)  My upside-down world-view took a great deal of effort to maintain and I could only stay like that for short periods at a time.  Yet, everyone else carried on just the same as ever.  Their hair and clothes hung normally, as if pulled as usual to the earth.  The sky was above their heads and the floor was still at their feet.  Nothing had changed in their world.  In truth, the only thing that was upside down was me!

But when Jesus spoke about turning the world upside down, he meant something far more radical than that!

I was part of the crowd waiting for him on the mountain side.  In time, Jesus returned with his newly chosen disciples. There were twelve of them, and I wondered if there was a subtle hint there?  An echo of the twelve tribes of Israel?   Quite possibly!  We all sensed we were at the beginning of something big and pressed in tightly to hear what he had to say.

Now, I have to say that I found Jesus’ teaching both heart-warming and horrific, calming and explosive, sharp and clear yet bewildering all at the same time!

Here taught us this two-verse rhyme, so easy to remember, the second verse an opposite image of the one before. 

To start with it was beautiful.  A lovely, comforting verse, full of so much promise.  No one with a speck of humanity in them could fail to be stirred by it.  Who doesn’t want to see the hungry fed and those who are sad finding cause to laugh again?  Who doesn’t want to see those who are excluded generously welcomed and those who have been rejected for their faithfulness coming at last to receive their reward?  There’s a party for them in Heaven, Jesus told us.  Our hearts cheered him on as he taught.

Then came the bombshell.  For everyone who is lifted up, others will be torn down.  The rich will find they’ve used up their credit. They will go hungry. They’ll have nothing to smile about anymore and no amount of sweet talking will get them out of it.  The scales of justice are shifting. And as God’s balance is restored there will be winners and losers: some will be lifted up and others brought down. 

I like the lifting up part, but the rest terrifies me!  This is revolutionary stuff, and it won’t come without a reaction.  There will be trouble.  The rich will not give up their treasures easily.  They will cling tenaciously to their luxury and privilege.  They always have done. They have the power to do so with force.

Not that it will do them any good.  Jesus is adamant; this great upheaval is inevitable.  Change is coming. God’s justice will be done.  Their wealth and power an is but illusion, meaningless beyond the moment, giving no long-term gratification.  In the grand scheme of things, they’ve backed the wrong horse and will lose everything.

While we have everything to gain.

Well, I say we – but here’s the sting.  For sure, I’d love to see the smile wiped off the faces of some who think themselves entitled, but I’ll not be dancing at their down fall.  And why not? Because, in truth, I’m not sure which side of this balance I stand on!  I’m not rich like some are rich.  I don’t have the palaces, chariots, servants and feasting.  But I’m not that poor either.  My children don’t cry themselves to sleep in hunger.  We’ve got a home, good health and a respectable living.  I never think of myself as rich, but compared to many… 

And here’s the worse part, if I’m not rich, there is always a big part of me that wants to be!  Who amongst us doesn’t secretly long for a windfall and, if not dreaming of luxury, still believes they’ll be happy if only they had a little bit more?  I confess that’s me! 

So, while I am excited by the promise, I think I still find myself hanging upside down in his beautiful kingdom.  My clothes are slipping and I fear I’ll be exposed.  My heart is at odds with the values of Jesus and I find myself red-faced for sure.  The pressure in my head is building.  I’ve got to right myself before it’s too late!   But how?

Simon Peter, the fisherman, tells of an exciting change of career

Hey, have you heard the news?  I’ve got a new job!  Well, more than a ‘job’ really –a vocation. I’m joining the teacher.  Jesus.  You know, that new rabbi from Nazareth who has been creating quite a stir round these parts lately?  He’s asked me to go with him and says he’s going to teach me to catch people!  (Not sure exactly what that means, yet – but I hope I’m better at it than I have been at catching fish recently!)

Last night was another bad night.  We brought nothing in. Where the shoals have gone, I have no idea, but certainly they’re avoiding my nets big time!  No doubt they’ll be back again another day; it’s always a bit of the luck of the draw. But someone else will have to catch them. I, certainly, won’t be around to do it!  And neither, for that matter, will James and John.

Now, you may think that all of this is a bit impetuous?  Maybe you are right!  But let me tell you what happened and perhaps you’ll understand what I feel I just have to go.

Our day began, as usual, with us cleaning our nets at the shoreline, our boats pulled up after a night of fishing.    It wasn’t too difficult a job as we’d caught no fish!   The beach, however, was unusually busy.  The rabbi approached us, followed by a crowd who wanted to hear him.   He saw our boat and climbed in, asking if I’d take it out just a little from the shore.

Normally I’d think ’what a flippin’ cheek!’, but I knew exactly what he was after.  The acoustics round here are amazing!  No one has to shout from boat to shore; your voice gets carried by the natural shape of the geography.  It’s handy, when you want to call a mate to help with a something.  Even better if you are a teacher and don’t want to strain your voice.   

I was impressed how he had picked that up so quickly, him being new around here.  But I was also predisposed to help him after what he did for my mother-in-law the other night.  Burning up with fever, she was, and we were getting quite worried about her until Jesus came and spoke to her. Then she was up and about, her usual self, fussing about us all, in no time.  Others had talked about him as a healer; now we had seen it for ourselves.

So, I was more than glad to take him out and sit at the helm and listen.  It would give me a chance to find out more about him.  As it turns out, he is not just a great healer, but a captivating preacher too!  He has an easy way of catching your imagination of drawing you in.  He soon had me hooked! 

After the lesson was over and class dismissed, I was happy to oblige when he asked me for another favour.  The teacher wanted to go fishing!   I told him it wasn’t the best time of day for it, and how we’d been at it all night and there was nothing there, but he still wanted to give it a go.  With a kind of knowing smile, he said ‘Oh, go on, I’ve always fancied fishing. Can’t you head out just a little further and throw out the nets?’

How could I refuse him?   I wasn’t going to begrudge him an hour or two relaxing on the sea.

But that’s not what happened!  Within moments, I could feel a pull at the nets. Attempting to drag them in, I could not believe how heavy they were!  Too heavy!  I had to call to my crew and to James and John in the other boat to come and help.  Together we managed to haul the catch in, filling both boats to the point of near sinking. I’ve never seen anything like it!  It was awesome!  Amazing and scary all at the same time!  When at last we got the boats safely back to shore and took stock, we all laughed in complete amazement, hugging and slapping each other on the back, not quite believing our good fortune. 

And then I remembered Jesus’ knowing smile and, as the penny dropped, my legs turned to jelly.  This was no normal day’s fishing.  Something extraordinary was taking place.  And Jesus hadn’t sent me out so he could enjoy a relaxing boat ride, he had brought me out for this!  He had known this would happen!  He made this happen! 

Then an odd thing happened:  I just knew I was in the presence of God.

It was all too much for me!  Just as the boats had begun sinking under the weight of the catch, so I began sinking under the weight of my own sense of unworthiness.   I didn’t deserve this!  I didn’t deserve him, sat in my boat with me.  I begged him to go!  Implored him to get away from me!  But he was having nothing of it.

“Oh, I am going, my friend, but you are coming with me! Andrew, James and John, you are coming too!  And from now on it’ll not be fish in your nets – I’m going to teach you to bring in people!” 

I took one more look at the miraculous catch, and thought, “Well, we’re never going to be able to better that, are we?!”   A couple of hours with Jesus, and we had been enabled to do more than we ever had in years of working on our own!  I’ve always wanted my life to be fruitful and here was a mind-boggling opportunity.  Would you say no?  No, I couldn’t either! 

So, I’m off on a new path. Who knows where it will take me?  But if he can teach me, even in one small way, to be like him, then I’m up for it!  And if I can learn to fish people out of their drowning waters and into the life that he offers, then let’s go!

The same villager from Nazareth is shocked and bewildered:

I’m not really sure what just happened.   It felt like the time I went to kiss the girl and got slapped across the face – I’m just as shocked and bewildered.   My hopes were so high… but now?  How could I have got things so wrong?

To be fair I am shocked and disappointed with Jesus – but it’s more than that.  I’m also shocked – frightened, eve -, by the reaction of some of my neighbours.  I’ve never seen them like that before; so incensed and violent.  They could have killed him, you know?!  Would have, I think, if he’d not done the sensible thing and walked away.  To be honest, I think I have some reassessing to do about who I’ll hang around with from now on.  They scared me.  And Jesus?  So much for a grand home coming; I suspect he has done with us completely.

So, why did he have to go and spoil it? 

We were with him!  He had us eating out of his hand!  And then he went and threw it all back in our faces. Why?

Ok, so we were surprised at our local lad come good, but we were proud too.  Everyone was talking about him, and the great things he’d done in Galilee.  Now he was home and surely that would continue.  Nazareth would become the place to be – a new centre for a new Israel.  We were already basking in reflected glory!

But as soon as he sensed our laying claim to him, he turned on us.  You or I might have doen it a bit differently, smiling and keeping us happy for a while before quietly slipping away and letting us down gently.  But not Jesus!  He had to make a point of it… had to make it clear that he would not be owned by anyone.

“No prophet is ever accepted on his own turf” he declared.  “You just do not understand.  I am not here for you, and you can’t claim I am from you either.  I am from God and I have God’s bigger work to do”

He then went on to stick the knife in, reminding us how God sent Elijah to save not one of the countless deserving widows in Israel (as he should have done!) but a foreigner. Twisting the blade deeper, he continued to cut us out, telling how it was Naaman the Syrian that Elisha healed of Leprosy, not one of the many lepers among his own people, here in God’s promised land.

What was he telling us?  That God refuses to show special favours!  That he has come for the outsiders, not his own folk!  That no one can stake a special claim on him, not even here in his home town! 

So, it seems that the good news he’s come to bring is not for us, his kinfolk, but for others.  And the freedom he promises is for those we have held in low esteem. The release for those who, maybe, we have oppressed.  They’re the ones who get his favour; not us.  The words we’d first welcomed as so promising, now struck us hard, turning against us in condemnation. 

All around me I felt the heckles rising.  Blood was boiling – voices murmuring.  They were not liking this – not at all.  It wasn’t what they were expecting. It wasn’t what they would be having.

They rose against him and drove him out of town, so furious (as I’ve already told you) that in an attempt to bring him down off his high horse, they were ready to literally throw him down from the cliff top!   But he just walked right through them, without looking back, and went on his way.

And I just stood there, gobsmacked!   I’m still trying to take it all in.   How could something that began with so much promise, end up like this; here for a moment, then gone, like a puff of smoke, forever?

All I can say is that it’s obvious that Jesus is uncompromising. He will not be owned by anyone nor limited by others expectation.  He’ll plough his own furrow, thank you very much – led by higher things than petty village loyalties.  He’ll walk his own way – God’s way – singly and stubbornly if he has to.  And despite my disappointment, I have to say a big part of me respects him of him for this. But, from what I’ve seen today, I can tell you something for certain; it’s going to end up with him in trouble!

One of the villagers of Nazareth describes his excitement at Jesus’ homecoming:

Have you ever been there at “a moment”?   You know, a time it is clear history is being made; when something significant, perhaps life changing, is taking place?  I’m convinced I was yesterday.  And right here, in Nazareth too!

Now, word was spreading everywhere about Jesus, but we could go one better than that!   Most of us knew him. His Mum came from here, and he’d lived in our village since he was a boy.  We’d watched him grow up, some of us boys went to school with him, and we saw him train as a carpenter like Joseph, his father.  He was a good chippy, too!  He’d have had a good future ahead of him if he’d stuck only stuck at it.  It’s a growth industry round here, thanks to all the new development Herod’s doing just down the road at Sepphoris.  But then, of all things, he had to go off to Capernaum and take up preaching, didn’t he?!  Word had it that he was good at that too.  Now he had come back home, where he belonged, this was our chance to find out.

We all crowded into the Synagogue to hear what all the fuss was about.  The place was filled with a buzz of expectation, everyone determined to see our boy come good. And they were not wrong about him, you know?  Where he learnt his craft, I have no idea!  He was a bright lad and did well in school with the Rabbi, but no-one in the village really expected him to be any more than a carpenter.  And yet here he was a preacher now! And he definitely had a commanding presence about him. 

The buzz died down to silence as he stood up and was handed the scroll.  He took it and, almost without needing to read it, began to recite that beautiful passage from Isaiah.  I’ve heard it many times before, studied it’s meaning with the Rabbi again and again, but when Jesus started out with “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me…”  it didn’t feel like he was reading scripture, but simply stating a fact.  It was so real, so true, that I could not disagree: he had been anointed to preach Good News! He did it so freely, so naturally, my heart warming with every word.  Yes, this was a moment: a ‘Wow’ moment!  A special, Godly moment, for sure!

For a while I quite forgot that it was Jesus, the carpenter’s Son from right here in our village, who was speaking.  I was lost in reverie, with the sense of God’s promised favour feeling nearer than ever before.  It was as though hope grabbed a hold of my heart and started it beating to a new and stronger rhythm.   His words became a song that fired my imagination; their imagery alive so alive you could almost touch it and know it to be true.   Yes, I could see blind people being restored, lame people dancing, prisoners running free and the poor and the oppressed rejoicing in God’s richest blessings – all that God has promised and everything we had long hoped for.  His words brought this all to life and filled the world with possibility. 

“And today – here and now, in Me, those words come true!” 

‘Yes!’ and ‘wow!’

And ‘Wow!’ and ‘Yes!’

He didn’t need to say anything more. 

Every instinct told me that he was right: that this was the moment.   The Kingdom of God is here! Freedom, healing and salvation are running over the horizon to meet us!  This is God’s new day and He will fulfil his word.

The bridegroom makes his confession…

I have to admit I feel like a Fraud.   There was the Master of Ceremonies loudly singing my praises when, really, I had nothing at all to do with it! 

Oh Yes, the wine was very nice; the best I’ve ever tasted!  But I can’t take any credit for getting it in, nor for any scheme he imagined I had to save it till last. I’m not such a genius as he makes out! In fact, if it had been all down to me the wedding reception would have ended quickly and in complete disaster.

Apparently, it was Jesus’ mother who first noticed we were running out of wine.  She’s always been capable like that and has a motherly way of thinking about others.  Somehow, she saw that the refreshments were not going to last out and acted to save our embarrassment.   It was such a happy occasion; she did not want anything to spoil it.

Nobody else, of course, would have thought of asking Jesus. He is a carpenter, after all, not a wine merchant; why would anyone think he could help?  But Mary knew one or two things about her son that the rest of us were yet to discover.  He cared about people.  And unlike some religious types, he loved a party.  He seems to think that life is God’s gift to enjoy and love, its crown, really worth celebrating!   He would not let our wedding party fall flat.

Mind you, the servants did tell me he was hesitant to begin with.  He didn’t want his mother forcing his hand.  But she was having nothing of it and told them in his hearing to do whatever he said, before walking off and leaving him to it!   What choice did he have?

So, he had the servants fill the empty jars with water.  Not a promising start.  They told me they were nervous that the guests would quickly notice the water down wine.  Probably they’d expect it. It happens often at weddings when hosts bring out the cheaper stuff once the party is swinging in the hope that the guests will be too drunk to notice.  But, believe me, they notice!  And it’s remembered … a black mark inscribed firmly against the bridegroom.  I can see why the servants worried.  That’s not something I would want at my own wedding.

Mind you, what we were facing without Jesus’s intervention would have been far worse. I’d have never lived it down if we had run dry.  The village gossips would have fed off it for years to come, and my poor wife would have died of embarrassment.   I’m so glad Jesus did not let it come to that.

With jars full to the brim, he then ordered the servers to take a sample to the Master of Ceremonies.    I can imagine their trepidation as they approached him, sure that he’d spot the dilution immediately and make a fuss.  He was half expecting it, they could tell, as his expression revealed when he lifted the cup to his mouth.  But then, they told me, his surprise was a sight to behold!  He stopped dead in his tracks, allowing himself more than a moment to savour the flavours.  His eyebrows raised and he took another sip before allowing a smile to creep to his face.  Then a roar of delight!  Never had he known this before; someone saving the best wine till last.  “It’s nothing short of a miracle!”, he called out loudly, singing my praises as well as the wines. 

To be honest I was rather bewildered, but figured I should play along, accepting the praises.  Everyone was slapping me on the back when they took a new cup.  “This wedding will be remembered for a long time!” my mother said in delight as she kissed me proudly on the cheek. Clearly, she intended to feast of the glory for a very long time.

I smiled, but the glory didn’t really belong to her, or to me, or to anyone involved in planning the party, as I found out when quizzing the servers.  The glory belonged to one who had slipped away quietly once the sommelier started effusing.  Only a few knew the truth at the time – and I was so grateful once I found out. 

I don’t know how he did it, but it was Jesus who brought all the joy to the party.  I know I had nothing left to give but, thanks to Jesus, everyone went away happy.  More than Happy; filled with a great kind of joy, I would say.

I’m so glad I invited him to the wedding.   I’ve seen something in him today so special that I’ve not seen it in any man before.  I could tell that his followers saw it too.  They had a new air of confidence – a real buzz – about them as they left.   No wonder!   I may feel a bit of a fraud, but in Jesus, I believe, we have the real thing.  He showed genuine kindness in rescuing us, amazing power in turning water in to wine, and such love in bringing joy to everyone!    Who knows what else is to come?

Now, do you fancy a cup while you are here? There’s plenty left – and believe me you’ll enjoy it. Go on, have a taste and see!

Matthew, a former tax collector, reflects on the strange economics of Jesus

I wonder if she was aware that Jesus noticed her, that poor widow, slipping in to make her offertory in the Temple?

And what would she have felt if she knew she had been seen and commented on?   I expect she’d have been mortified! 

She stood in stark contrast to the others around her. Jesus had already pointed out their hypocrisy:  how they parade themselves in posh clothes, seeking recognition and prime position in their religious and social lives.   They were most likely impatient with this widow, with her measly offering, delaying and indeed sullying their own grand act of giving.   When she at last slipped out of the way, their moment came as, with exaggerated style, they counted out their money and made a big thing of placing it in the collection box.  They weren’t embarrassed to be watched – they intended to be noticed!  The bigger the audience the better!   That’s why they did it: to be noticed.

But not this woman.  Her way was to sneak in quietly, not wanting to draw anyone’s attention. I’d put her down as a no fuss kind, simply doing her bit and probably a little embarrassed that her bit was so small.   She herself wouldn’t think her giving worthy of note.  But Jesus noticed her. He took the time to stop and see. He appreciated her.

Her gift, as much as it was, would not have made much of a difference to the Temple coffers.   As a tax collector myself in the past, I knew it amounted to nothing.  Give me the rich men and their offerings, any day!  But this is not how Jesus thought of it.  He didn’t see the amount; he saw the cost. To you and I, let alone the rich men who went before her, her gift was nothing; a trifle we would not miss at all.  But to her it was everything.   Not just a penny; her only penny!  And she gave it just the same.  

And Jesus noticed that. Yes, he did!   He saw that her giving was on a different plain entirely to the others!  They gave without pain, of what they had spare.  She had nothing to spare, but gave anyway.  Her gift was a costly one.   

And Jesus saw that.  He called us to see it too. 

Of course, he didn’t make a song and dance of it all, calling her out as a public example to shame the others; that would have been cruel and unwanted.  The woman would have fled in embarrassment!  Jesus recognised that and honoured the woman by his silence – but he did want us to see what he had seen.  He wanted us to see and take note, just as he did.  Such giving must not and did not go unappreciated.  More importantly, he insisted, this woman needed to be seen and appreciated.  She may have been overlooked by many, but not by Jesus and not by us.  He called us to see her just as He saw her… And if she had only known, that would have been an incredibly affirming gift.  She is not unnoticed. God sees. God knows.

But what was it about her in particular, that Jesus wanted us to see and take note of?

Well, her sacrificial giving was surely worthy of note.

 And, as a lesson in his new economics, it was insurmountable.  Even I, as an ex-accountant understood it: the smallest amount is the greatest amount when its everything you have to give.  Or, to put it another way; It’s not so much how much is given, but what is left over after you have given, that is the real measure of the gift’s worth.

But thinking back to what Jesus was saying earlier, some of us have been wondering if Jesus wanted us to see something more than this. Something more challenging and radical.  Maybe Jesus called our attention to her offering not simply to praise this woman’s generosity, but to challenge the system that values the costless giving of the rich over the costly giving required of the poor?   I mean, tythes and offerings, however great, don’t really mean that much so long as you have food in your belly and a place to rest you head, do they?  But what if you have neither of these and are still compelled to give?   Then what we are called to note is not astounding generosity, but blatant exploitation! 

One thing that is becoming clear is that Jesus is not impressed with anything to do with the Temple.  Earlier, he held back no punches in condemning those who revel in the system, accusing them plainly of “devouring the widows’ houses” whilst making a show of their lengthy prayers. Maybe his purpose in pointing out this widow was not to divert us from that ugly truth, but to drive home his point and condemn those who exploited her in this way?

Why did this woman have to give her everything?  When everyone in the queue with her could have upped their offertory quite easily to cover her few coppers, why was she still expected to give?  It would have been nothing to them, but it cost her everything.  And yet still she was expected to give! The scribes may not have literally gone out and seized her home but everything she had was eaten away, regardless.

And Jesus took note of this, calling us to take notice too.  Did he want us to see how corrupt a system it is when the poor have everything to lose, while the rich take little risk and gain so much?    Did he want us to wonder whether we will ever come to a point when we not only honour the poor, admiring their so called ‘generosity’, but also do right by them?  Must the poor always pay a disproportionate amount to a system that cost the rich so little?   Must the poor always take the pain, while the rich take all the gain?  

Most challenging of all I reckon, however, is this; Jesus saw this happening, not in the market place or in the palace, but in the temple!  The house of God!   Isn’t the Temple supposed to support the poor in God’s name, not use God’s name as an excuse to take more from them? (Remember, Jesus showed no mercy when he saw the house of prayer being turned into a den of thieves!)

I realise that this raises big and disturbing questions, but let me remind you; Jesus saw what happened in the temple today and took note. 

He saw the widow in her poverty, giving her everything. 

He saw the rich ones gaining all the prestige while their giving, on his count, even when all put together, didn’t amount to as much. 

He saw the costly gift and he saw the costless one.

He saw the ugly reality behind the show. 

Jesus saw it all and he called us to see it too.

Because all of this needs to be seen clearly

And seeing makes a difference.    

Eye-opening God,

No act of generosity or greed,

Of giving or grabbing,

Goes unnoticed by you.

You see it for what it truly is.

You call your followers to do the same.

Open our eyes

And lead us to act on what we see

So that every hidden hero is honoured,

all hypocrisy is exposed,

and all powers and systems that frustrate human flourishing are challenged and transformed into the Kingdom of God.

Through Christ who sees it all. Amen.

Simon the Zealot gives a long view of Jesus interactions in the Temple

Being in the building trade himself, you’d think that Jesus would have been at least slightly impressed by Herod’s new Temple. 

We were awestruck by it.  I remember Levi straining his neck to look up at the huge porticos, while James and John stretched their arms out wide to measure the huge size of the stone blocks.  “How much must each one of these weigh?” they gasped.  Andrew was more taken by the skill of the stonemasons. He ran his finger along the joint to see if he could feel a gap between the stones, but there was none.   What a building! What an achievement! Its magnificence sent huge shivers of pride running down my spine. 

But Jesus was totally unimpressed.

At first, I thought he was pre-occupied.  Then I began to think he was disinterested.  But now, I would say, he was just struck by the futility of it all.  All this effort, expense, and pride: for what? What did it amount to, he was questioning?  An insubstantial bubble that was about to burst, was his answer.  It would not last; of that he was certain. 

I remember him telling us a story once about a man who built his house on a foundation of sand. When the rains came down and the floods came up, the house on the sand fell flat. Now, it seems, he thinks the temple is built on such an unstable base.  And the crash is coming soon, he warned.  He foresaw this grand edifice and all it stood for being torn down all around us.  What a waste.  What a waste!

Naturally, we wanted to know when this would happen. When we asked he gave us a most chilling reply.  Others can tell you about that, if they want, but to be honest there’s a different question occupying my mind: just why was Jesus so unimpressed with the temple?

Come to think of it, there’s not one thing we found in the temple this week that impressed Jesus much.  From day one, with its huge anticlimax, we began to see Jesus’s contempt for the whole religious system. 

That day was a huge day – Palm Sunday as some are beginning to call it – full of triumph and energy. In from Bethany we processed; Jesus riding on a donkey, with the crowds waving their palms and the children shouting out his praise.   We were elated and so expectant.  This felt like the moment, the culmination of all our hopes and dreams. 

And in Jesus rides, right up to the temple and … nothing!  

Absolutely nothing!  He didn’t say anything, do anything, or lay claim to anything.  He simply walked round the temple and looked.  And then he left!  Back to Bethany and to bed! 

OK, so it was getting late by then; but, really?!    Was that it?  Really?!

Well, not exactly.  Those of us who were close to Jesus saw him taking it all in and we could see that the taste of the temple was sour in his mouth.  He didn’t say anything, but we could tell he wasn’t happy. A quiet rage was rising in him.  But it wasn’t until the next day that we came to see it in full force.  That was the day when Jesus went berserk in the temple. He was like a crazy man, with a whip in his hand, driving everyone and everything out before him.  

Before I tell you about that, however, I must mention something that happened on the way into town that should have alerted us to his mood.   There it was, a fig tree, looking grand and glorious in full leaf.  Yet, when Jesus went hungrily up to it, he was disappointed.  So he let rip and that poor barren tree took the full force of his frustration. When we returned later we stood open mouthed at the effect of his cursing.  All the leaves had dropped. The branches had withered. The stem was shrunken and wizened.  The tree carcass hung shamefaced, shockingly revealed for the fruitless waste of space that it was. 

Need I remind you that the fig tree has long been a symbol of our nation?  Was this an acted parable to show how unimpressed Jesus was with our fruitlessness? 

I’d say it was, going by what happened in the temple… the temple that was meant to be a house of prayer but which, Jesus declared, had become a den of thieves.  He certainly was not impressed by that!  And he wasn’t having it either! Traders and bankers alike felt the lash of his tongue and whip.  A whirlwind of fury, he tipped over the tables of exploitation, driving people and animals out.  ‘These do not belong in my father’s house’, he cried. 

It was a shocking, but awesome moment.  One, however, that clearly sealed his fate with the authorities.  They determined to see the same thing happen to him as had happened to the fig tree.  He was as good as dead already.

When we went back to the temple the next day, we didn’t have to go looking for trouble, it came looking for us.

They descended on us immediately, from all quarters, cornering Jesus and circling round him with their question: what right did he think he had to do what he had done?    

They were all there: the chief priests and teachers, the elders, and every faction of the huge and intimidating council.  But once again Jesus was not impressed. 

‘I’ll answer your question, if you answer mine’, he jibed, before going on to enquire whether they thought John got his authority from God or from the people. 

This was not a harmless retort!  It was a barbed and pointed question; one that really stirred things up.   John, you see was so hugely popular, and a lot would depend on their answer.  It wouldn’t go down well if they denied John’s authority was from God.  But if they said it was, then the people would demand to know why they did not believe either John or Jesus (the one who John had said was even greater than him!).   So, they were stuck for an answer. And scoffing at their pathetic incompetence, Jesus refused to answer their question too.

Instead, he told one of his parables; pointed as ever!  He spoke of the tenants of a vineyard who refused to pay their rent. Time after time they beat up the servants who came to collect it, sending them away empty handed.  In the end the owner sent his own son, convinced that they would not deny him.  But what did they do? They killed him, believing that, with the son dead, the vineyard they had long lusted after would be theirs at last.  Small wonder the wrath of ‘the owner’ descended on them with a vengeance!   

Seeing full well that they were the ones Jesus was getting at infuriated the leaders all the more.  But, this lot did nothing. They were too afraid of what people would think. They quietly slipped away.

But as one wave receded, in came another. Now the Pharisees swooped in, bringing some of the king’s men as ‘big guns’ to support them. 

Their approach was different, involving flattery and trickery, but Jesus gave them short shrift too: “Should we pay taxes to Rome, you ask? Show me a coin! Whose head does it have on it? Caesars! Well then, give to Caesar what belongs to Caesar, but give to God what belongs to God.”

That left them speechless!  I bet they are still trying to figure out what it really means. It has certainly given me much to think about!  But here is something else to notice here too.  What an irony!  What were these fine, upstanding keepers of the religious law doing with forbidden carved images in their pockets, let alone in the temple?  The hypocrites! 

With them dispatched, the next salvo came from the Sadducees. Jesus was really unimpressed with them.

These are the people, remember, who do not believe anyone will rise from the dead.  Up they came to Jesus with a conundrum they believed really sealed their argument. They told a story of one bride for seven brothers. She was married and widowed time after time, the good brothers each taking their turn to wed the bereaved woman, before popping their clogs themselves. “So”, the Sadducees asked smugly, “which of the seven will she be married to on the day of resurrection?”

“How ignorant can you be?” Jesus fired back contemptuously. “Don’t you know that Scripture teaches it will not be like that in heaven?  And, as for the resurrection of the dead, you must have read that bit where God spoke to Moses from the burning bush?   What did he say?   ‘I am the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob’.   ‘I am’, not ‘I was’.  God is the God of the living, not of the dead.  Chew on that one and realise how completely wrong you are!”

By now I was beginning to enjoy myself, watching all these pseudo-intellectuals with their pretentious arguments falling like skittles!  But it was not just their questions that failed to impress Jesus. It was everything about them; everything they stood for and represented.  All if it was a sham, Jesus pointed out, and most of it at the expense of others.  

Yes, they could dress up and walk around in pomp and ceremony, demanding respect. They could claim front row seats and make a show of depositing their money in the offertory box.  So what?  What does that amount to?   A widow quietly dropping in just two copper coins, he observed, gives more than them. Why?  Because for her to give the small amount expected of her, meant she had to give everything she had got.  Everything!  While they gave just a little of what they had to spare, she gave her everything!  And Jesus was quite clear how great would be the punishment for those who make such a show of their religion, while exploiting widows and robbing them of their very home!

So, you see what I mean? Jesus was unimpressed!  Not just with the magnificent buildings, but with everyone associated with them, and everything that went on in them.  He could not find a good word for any of it; built, as he saw it, on pomposity, lies and extortion.  It was all pointless, fruitless … a wholly unimpressive, empty shell.   He had no doubts it would all be torn down and destroyed when God’s judgement fell. 

As he went on to describe that coming judgement, it became quite chilling.   I shall not repeat it all now.  But what he said basically amounted to this: Get out!  Run!  Don’t trust in this system, not even for a minute.  Don’t hope that it will save you. Don’t trust the temple, the religion, your national pride and the many who claim to be your messiah.  It is all corrupt to the core and it will fail.  Destruction will be complete.  If you stay, you will fall with it.  The son of man is coming, with judgement in his hand. So, get out! Run! Now!

So, you see now, why they all turned against him?  Too many home truths!  He saw right through them and made no attempt to hide how utterly unimpressed he was…

…Except for one exception.

There was this one teacher in the temple who sensed the rightness of Jesus’ thinking. This man asked genuine questions, and applauded Jesus’ teaching freely. “You are right, Jesus”, he declared. “It really is nothing to do with religion and its rites, rules and regulations.  It is about recognising the one true God and loving the Lord your God with all that you are and everything you have and loving your neighbour as yourself. No commandment, as you say, is greater than this.  Nothing comes remotely close in importance.”

Everything about the Temple left Jesus cold.  But this man earned his respect.  Jesus praised him loudly for all to hear.  To this lone voice among the lot of them, Jesus declared: “You are not far from the Kingdom of God.”

Bartimaeus tells how he cried out to Jesus and was cured of his blindness:

Ah, so you’ve heard have you?  And come to have a look-see for yourself, have you?   Uh huh!  Well, come closer and let me have a look at you instead!   No, not there! The sun’s too bright for my eyes at the moment.  There!  Just there!  Aah, so that’s what you look like!  I’ve always wondered. Hhm…nice legs- shame about the face! (Only joking!!)

Oh, so you don’t think that’s funny?  I see. 

I see!

Hah!  I see!   I SEE!!!

Oh, my goodness…that’s the first time I’ve said those words knowing I can take them literally!  I see.  I can see! I can see, I can see, I can SEE!

OK, Ok. I’ll calm down and tell you all about it!

Well, they were not in a good mood either – his followers, yesterday I mean.

They were quieter than usual.

Tense.

A little overprotective of their master as they passed by.

“Shut up!” they told me.

“Be Quite!”

“Don’t bother the Master now!”

Did I listen to them?  Like Heck!   Where would that have left me?  Still blind… Still begging… and still desperate! (‘cause, that’s what I was, you know; desperate!)   They may well have been right that Jesus had got more important things to think about than me, but I had to grab my chance; it may have been the last one I ever had!

 “Jesus, Son of David, have pity on me!” I shouted.  And I kept on repeating my cry, despite all their attempts to hush me.  Their gagging efforts only served to make me shout the louder.  After all, it wasn’t them I wanted to hear me; it was Jesus.  I was determined to keep on shouting until he did!

I almost thought it was over… that Jesus had walked on by and my chance was missed forever.  Oh, the cruel agony of it!  I could not let it happen! Oh God, PLEASE, do not let it happen!  But then I knew that he had heard me.  There was a flurry in the crowd as on mass they stopped and turned to see what had caught his attention.  In the silence that followed I heard him speak to his closest followers, telling them to come and call me to him. 

“It’s your lucky day,” they said when they reached me, “Get up! Come and see the Master!”

And I was up like a shot, throwing my coat aside.  

When he asked me what I wanted him to do for me, I answered quite simply, “Teacher, I want to see!”

That was it. That was all.   I didn’t want or need anything else.   My one desire was to see. 

All my life, I’ve hated the humiliation of begging. But what else, as a blind man, could I do?  If I could see, then I could work.  If I could see, I would be accepted and respected.  If I could see, I’d be free of this cursed life to start a new one, standing on my own two feet, earning my own living, taking up my responsibilities, gaining the respect I deserved.  So yes, I wanted to see.  Without doubt and with everything I had within me, I wanted to see.

Then, “Go”, said Jesus, “your faith has healed you.”

That was it!  Nothing more.  Nothing dramatic. No mumbo jumbo words or incantations.  No grand theatrics for the crowd.  Just this; “Go. Your faith has healed you.”   And as Jesus spoke those few simple words, my eyes opened!  Just like in the scriptures, it was exactly the same for me: ‘God said “let there be light!” and there was light’   

To be honest, though, I’m not sure what faith I had worth mentioning?  

I was desperate, that’s for sure.  So desperate, that I was not going to give up crying out to Jesus until he heard me.  Is that what faith is?

And I was ready; coiled up like a spring, ready to leap up the moment he called me to him. Is that what faith is?

Or perhaps it’s that, in this one moment at least, I was prepared to leave everything behind and pin all my hopes on him? Is that the faith that he saw in me?

I don’t know.  What do you think?

What I do know, is that I’ve Ieft my old life behind and I’m stepping into a new one with Jesus.  We’re on the road heading into Jerusalem now.  I wonder what we’ll see there?  

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