From Mark’s Gospel….
When they came to the house of the leader of the synagogue, [Jesus] saw a commotion, people weeping and wailing loudly. When he had entered, he said to them, “Why do you make a commotion and weep? The child is not dead but sleeping.” And they laughed at him. Then he put them all outside, and took the child’s father and mother and those who were with him, and went in where the child was. He took her by the hand and said to her, “Talitha cum”, which means, “Little girl, get up!” And immediately the girl got up and began to walk about (she was twelve years of age). At this they were overcome with amazement. He strictly ordered them that no one should know this, and told them to give her something to eat.
(From the Daily Office Readings, Mar. 12, 2012, Mark 5:38-43)
What is most interesting and empowering about this story of the healing of Jairus’s daughter told in today’s reading from Mark’s Gospel is its ending. Jesus goes to the girl, takes her by the hand and says, “Talitha cum,” which Mark tells us means “Little girl, get up.” But Mark also later tells us that the girl was twelve years old. She is an adolescent and this is significant: by Jewish tradition, a girl becomes a woman at twelve years and one day. So this young girl was poised at the very threshold of womanhood, of taking her place in the community as an adult. So not a little girl, but nearly a young woman, got up at Jesus’ command. Jesus then said to those around them, “Give her something to eat.” He doesn’t say to her, young adult though she may be, “Go and make your own breakfast.” Instead, he turns to her family and says, “Give her something to eat.” After the healing and lifting up of the one cured, Jesus commends her to the care and nurture of the community. ~ In our society, even the best of medical care comes to an end and, as with Jairus’s daughter, the patient’s family must take over. In The Book of Common Prayer, a prayer “for the aged” asks that God “give them understanding helpers” (BCP 1979, page 830); this story reminds us that not only the elderly, but also the very young and those in the prime of life may, from time to time, have need of assistance, may be patients in the midst of illness or recovering from expert medical care. As caregivers, we who are members of their family (or other nuclear community) are the experts in their history; we know a lot about our loved one and about their own abilities to provide care and a safe setting. Among the common care responsibilities we may all someday be handling for a family member as he or she recovers from illness, injury, or surgery are personal care (bathing, eating, dressing, toileting), household care (cooking, cleaning, laundry, shopping), healthcare (medication management, physician’s appointments, physical therapy, wound treatment, injections), and emotional care (companionship, meaningful activities, conversation). ~ The end of Mark’s story of the Jairus’s daughter’s healing reminds us that these are Christ-like ministries empowered by God, not simply onerous family burdens. In The Book of Common Prayer there is also a lovely prayer entitled “For strength and confidence” following the liturgy of Ministration to the Sick: “Heavenly Father, giver of life and health: Comfort and relieve your sick servant N., and give your power of healing to those who minister to his/her needs, that he/she may be strengthened in his/her weakness and have confidence in your loving care; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.” (BCP 1979, page 459) This story from Mark’s Gospel reminds us that family members are included among those to whom we ask God to give the “power of healing.”
And today’s Gospel lesson, Jesus cleansing the Temple, exemplifies the active, social justice ministry to which he calls his church. Throughout his ministry on earth, the Son of God did not simply call individuals to be good persons: he insisted that the systems and institutions of society were to be reformed so that they would reflect the values inherent in the Law of Moses (from which come the Ten Commandments we read in today’s lesson from the Hebrew Scriptures) and the word of God spoken through the Prophets. 
To our ancient ancestors, living water was the very essence of chaos. The oceans and seas, their waves, swift flowing rivers, waterfalls, cataracts, even peaceful ponds and lakes were considered chaotic and dangerous; they were very difficult even for the gods to control. The gods did battle with them; when the gods had won, creation followed. For example, in Egyptian mythology in the beginning there was only the swirling watery chaos, called Nu; out of the chaotic waters rose the sungod, Atum (later identified as Ra or Kephri), who subdued the waters and created the first dry land. We find echoes of this in Genesis 1 where “the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters.” (v. 2) God subdues the waters by first separating them and then gathering those under the firmament into seas. The Lord makes reference to this creation myth when he answers Job: “Who shut in the sea with doors when it burst out from the womb? – when I made the clouds its garment, and thick darkness its swaddling band, and prescribed bounds for it, and set bars and doors, and said, ‘Thus far shall you come, and no farther, and here shall your proud waves be stopped’?” (Job 38:8-11) Perhaps the disciples had this in mind when, boating on the Galilean lake with Jesus during a storm, they asked “Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?” (Mark 4:41) Here in Psalm 93, God wins definitively, establishing world order, which “shall never be moved” (v. 1); God’s order cannot be changed or defeated. God rules over all of creation, even the forces of chaos. Each of us is subject to the chaos of feelings and emotions, our subjective reactions to a particular event. These reactions are characterized by an absence of reasoning; they are rambunctious, even primal. It is not uncommon to hear someone say, “I can’t trust my feelings” or “My emotions got away from me.” Sometimes these intense feelings are accompanied by physical and mental activity. Emotions are impulses to act, the instant plans for handling life that evolution has instilled in us, and in any of us these primal, instinctive reactions can become chaotic and uncontrolled. Psalm 93 assures us that God is mightier than even these most powerful and unpredictably chaotic forces. God is the perfect outlet for our emotions. When you, or your family, or your friends can’t handle your emotions, God can. As The Book of Common Prayer‘s Collect for the Third Sunday in Lent assures us, God can “keep us both outwardly in our bodies and inwardly in our souls, that we may be defended from all adversities which may happen to the body, and from all evil thoughts which may assault and hurt the soul,” especially our chaotic emotions.
This is a troubling text. Paul seems to be telling slaves to remain in their slavery, not to be concerned about their condition of servitude; this would say to others that they should not struggle for the liberation of slaves. Of course, Paul believed the end of this world was right around the corner and such earthly conditions as slavery or mastership would be abolished in his lifetime. He was wrong … so how does his text speak to us today? ~ Paul’s counsel to remain “in whatever condition you were called” should not be used as a justification for not seeking better circumstances for oneself and an improvement of one’s circumstances. Indeed, it is debatable that Paul even gave that advice to stay in one’s “condition” or “situation”. It is rather more probable, it seems to me, that his counsel is to remain steadfast in one’s conversion (Greek kalesis = calling) to Christian faith and brotherhood resisting the pressures of one’s prior status – slave or master, Jew or Greek, married or single, whatever that condition or status may be – and this might even mean a change in that circumstance. I am so persuaded by the arguments of S. Scott Bartchy, Professor of Christian Origins and the History of Religion, Department of History, UCLA. He has examined how the Greek word kalesis meaning “calling”, “invitation” or “summons” – correctly translated as vocatione by St. Jerome in the Vulgate and as “calling” (or “called”) in the Authorized Version – came to be translated in later English versions as “condition”. His surprising (and probably correct) conclusion is to blame Martin Luther and the influence of his German translation! Bartchy has argued that it is certain that Paul did not teach enslaved Christ-followers to “stay in slavery.” Rather, he exhorted them (and us) to “remain in the calling in Christ by which you were called.” Quite the opposite of a passive quietism accepting of unjust social institutions, Paul’s exhortation is to an active faith repenting our own “blindness to human need and suffering and our indifference to injustice and cruelty.” (From the American BCP’s Ash Wednesday Litany of Penitence, p. 268)
Psalm 73 begins with a confession of green-eyed envy; the Psalmist acknowledges that he slipped and nearly stumbled away from faith because of his envy of the prosperous who “suffer no pain” and whose “bodies are sleek and sound.” This psalm brings in to sharp focus a complex and perplexing problems for persons of faith: the prosperity of the wicked and the suffering of the righteous. The Psalmist saw that “the wicked, always at ease, increase their wealth;” the wicked seem to be totally self-reliant and autonomous people. They seem not to need God; they are able to take care of themselves. It bothered the Psalmist that their lifestyle apparently works! Thus, he concluded that the attempt to lead a moral life is absolutely pointless; he despaired that it was in vain that he kept his heart clean and “washed my hands in innocence.” However, upon entering the temple he came to understand that the wicked wealthy will “come to destruction, come to an end, and perish from terror!” And so he comes to sing of his reliance on God, his strength and his portion for ever. At the end of the psalm, he vows to “speak of all God’s works in the gates of the city of Zion.” ~ In our society with such a deep division between rich and poor, between “the 1%” and the middle class, this psalm’s cries of envy and despair, I’m sure, speak to many, but I hope its reliance on the God of eternity, the God of hope speaks louder. “Whom have I in heaven but you? And having you I desire nothing upon earth.” The Psalmist, entering the sanctuary and changing his point of view from the worldly to the eternal, was led to see that no matter how things looked here in the temporal world his trust and confidence in God was the greatest gift of God’s grace, greater than any earthly wealth he could contemplate. A change of perspective, so that one views life through the lens of eternity, brings clarity of vision, both of the world around us and of our call to ministry in this world. It does not permit us to become embittered with green-eyed envy nor to sink into despair, but neither does it encourage us to accept wealth inequality and injustice with a promise of “pie in the sky by-and-by.” Rather, it admonishes us to “speak of all God’s works in the gates of the city.” And as St. Thomas Aquinas reminds us, “Mercy and truth are necessarily found in all God’s works” and “justice must exist in all God’s works.” (Summa Theologica, Question 21, Article 4) Psalm 73 in the Daily Office Lectionary during Lent echoes the exhortation of the Prophet Micah: “He has told you, O mortal, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?” (Micah 6:8)
When I think about religion and trees, I remember that Evelyn Underhill, writing not about this parable but about St. Paul’s prayer in the Letter to the Ephesians that the church might be “rooted and grounded in love” (Eph. 3:17), wrote: “By contemplative prayer, I do not mean any abnormal sort of activity or experience, still less a deliberate and artificial passivity. I just mean the sort of prayer that aims at God in and for Himself and not for any of His gifts whatever, and more and more profoundly rests in Him alone: what St. Paul, that vivid realist, meant by being rooted and grounded. When I read those words, I always think of a forest tree. First of the bright and changeful tuft that shows itself to the world and produces the immense spread of boughs and branches, the succession and abundance of leaves and fruits. Then of the vast unseen system of roots, perhaps greater than the branches in strength and extent, with their tenacious attachments, their fan-like system of delicate filaments and their power of silently absorbing food. On that profound and secret life the whole growth and stability of the tree depend. It is rooted and grounded in a hidden world.” (Quoted in Radiance: A Spiritual Memoir of Evelyn Underhill, Bernard Bangley, ed. [Brewster, MA: Paraclete Press, 2004]). We see the tree, its trunk, its branches, its leaves; below in the soil, however, there is a huge unseen network of roots. Love and prayer are the earth which nourishes these roots. Referring Ms. Underhill’s metaphor to Jesus’ parable of the mustard seed, and understanding (as one interpretation of the image) the “kingdom of God” analogized to the tree which grows from it to be the church, we are left with the unmistakeable inference that it is our prayer life which provides the fruitful ground in which the church must grow. I am reminded of a story told by Martha Grace Reese in her book Unbinding the Gospel (Atlanta, GA: Chalice Press, 2008) that when she was consulted by a church growth committee and asked what they should do, she told them to do nothing but pray for at least three months. And I remember another church leader saying, “This year’s level of church growth cannot be sustained on last year’s level of prayer.” Active, sustained, community-wide prayer is an absolute necessity for the church to grow into the abundant, live-giving place where “the birds of the air can make nests in its shade.” The parable challenges us with the idea that God created the church (us) for the birds (those who are not us). Are our churches, through our love and prayers, places where the birds (the ones who are not us, may not be at all like us) can come and abide? Let us pray that they are.
Priests and preachers are sowers of the seeds of the gospel, but we are called to do more than simply cast the seed on the ground. Many of us are called to the additional tasks of clearing rocks, tilling the soil, watering and fertilizing, fencing the field, pulling weeds, chasing away pests, and so forth. Paul wrote to the Corinthians, “I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth. You [the church or the unchurched in the mission field] are God’s field.” (1 Cor. 3:6,9) He might have carried the analogy further (as I have done). The analogy breaks down, of course, because weed-choked soil cannot relieve itself of weeds nor can rocky soil relieve itself of stones, but human beings influenced by “the cares of the world, and the lure of wealth, and the desire for other things” can turn from these things. The Lenten “fast” is a time and a mechanism whereby we may make the conscious effort to do so.
Only a little bit of yeast is necessary to leaven a whole batch of dough. In ancient Judaism, leaven could not be offered on the altar: “No grain offering that you bring to the Lord shall be made with leaven, for you must not turn any leaven or honey into smoke as an offering by fire to the Lord.” (Leviticus 2:11) Although this prohibition is repeated elsewhere, the Hebrew Scriptures not say why leaven is forbidden. A popular theory is that it is because leaven spoils and corrupts. The Babylonian Talmud uses the image of “yeast in the dough” as a metaphor for “the evil impulse, which causes a ferment in the heart”; the commentary in the Anchor Bible refers to leaven as “the arch-symbol of fermentation, deterioration, and death and, hence, taboo on the altar of blessing and life.” St. Paul, steeped as he was in Jewish learning, used leaven as a metaphor for sin and its insidious ability to infect an entire community such as a church congregation. No amount of sin may be safely tolerated in the community of faith for sin spreads. So our Lenten discipline of self-examination must include an evaluation of our church communities and, says Paul, if we find any among us who is “sexually immoral or greedy, or is an idolater, reviler, drunkard, or robber” we are to “drive out the wicked person from among [us].” These are harsh words that Paul quotes from several places in the Book of Deuteronomy, e.g., Deuteronomy 17:7; 19:19; 21:21. We should temper his admonition with the encouragement of Christ in Matthew’s Gospel: “If another member of the church sins against you, go and point out the fault when the two of you are alone. If the member listens to you, you have regained that one. But if you are not listened to, take one or two others along with you, so that every word may be confirmed by the evidence of two or three witnesses. If the member refuses to listen to them, tell it to the church; and if the offender refuses to listen even to the church, let such a one be to you as a Gentile and a tax collector.” (Matt. 18:15-17) Correction is always preferable to expulsion! As the Ash Wednesday absolution in The Book of Common Prayer reminds us, God’s preference is that sinners “turn from their wickedness and live.” During this Lent, clean out the old leaven of malice and evil, and encourage one another to keep in mind “the need which all Christians continually have to renew their repentance and faith.”
In this bit from his First Letter to the Church in Corinth, St. Paul nails the Corinthians with sarcasm. Apparently they had been bickering among themselves about who was the most spiritually advanced and some had even boasted that they had grown beyond their teachers, Paul and Apollos. So Paul sardonically congratulates them that they have already achieved every spiritual goal and climbed every spiritual mountain. Paul cynically suggests that he wishes to ride their coattails into glory without the painful cost of obedience that mere mortals must pay. I admire Paul’s willingness to be confrontational with this congregation, but I often find myself unable to do so in my own ministry setting – and I would suspect that I am not alone among clergy. Influenced as we are by our society’s consumer mentality it is all too easy to analyze and evaluate our ministries according to some standard of marketability, but a priest must never forget that popularity with a parish is not proof God’s favor and blessing; clergy are accountable to God not to some corporate-culture inspired performance evaluation. We must struggle not to substitute human approval for obedience to God. In the end, this is true of everyone, not just of clergy. During these weeks in which we are invited “to the observance of a holy Lent, by self-examination and repentance,” it is well to ask who it is we are trying to please, the world around us or God?
