Readings: Psalm 138, Mark 3:20-35
Let us pray. May my words, our thoughts and understandings
bring us into closer relationship with you and with each other O God. Amen.
And
he replied: ‘who are my mother and my brothers.’ ’And looking at those who
sat around him, he said, ‘Here are my mother and my brothers![1]
Whenever I read this passage of scripture I
wonder how the family of Jesus would have felt at this moment of seeming
rejection. It seems a bit of a low blow, a less than grateful response to their
concern for him in the face of what they see as extreme happenings. No doubt the families’ reaction is influenced
by the voices of the Scribes who suggested he was possessed by the devil, and
by their wanting to protect their son, brother, cousin from the wrath and power
of the authorities whom he seemed to have got on the wrong side of. I mean that is what you do as family. Look out for each other isn’t it? Jesus’ reaction must have hurt – for he
responds to their call of care by redefining the boundaries of family. He looks to the people seated around him, who
have come to hear him speak and heal, people of all walks of life - and calls
them family. Is he rejecting his family
for others – I don’t believe so. Rather
isn’t he suggesting that family can be more, more than those with whom you have
grown up, know well, and have a duty of care to, to keep safe. He continues by defining this larger family
as those who do the will of God. This
has some interesting implications: both for the people of Jesus time and for us
now - it means you will have family you don’t know, family who think and look
and live differently; family you have never heard of and will go through life
not even being aware they exist.
I was reminded of this concept of family
during the week as we listened to Archbishop Rowan Williams preaching at the
Diamond Jubilee service of thanksgiving for Queen Elizabeth. He talked of the wider family that is the
commonwealth, and of the Queen’s role in caring and supporting each other.
While we know that this Commonwealth family has had some seriously tricky and
somewhat abusive relationship periods, we are still to a degree united by
common history and by relationships that continue to grow and develop in new
ways. Actually do you know the picture
of coming together that is imbedded in my brain from the celebrations – that of
the waka from Aotearoa travelling side by side with a gondola from Venice.
That stretches the headspace a bit doesn’t
it, seeing loving family as something that goes across all boundaries of
culture and ethnicity - even in something as embedded in our history as the
Commonwealth of Nations? And if it challenges in this global, communication
savvy world of today, how much more so it would have challenged the people of
biblical times with their understandings of nation and tribe, enemies and
allies and invasions?
Yet Jesus requires us to lift the bar much
higher still, he requires family to be defined not by birth or community,
politics or common history, culture or geography or race but by love. Those who do the will of God, he says, are my
brother and sister and mother – those who love God and each other are part of
the one body, the one family of God. And
that, surely, is a raised bar that perversely is within reach of all people –
we are all capable of choosing to live in the love of God and each other, no
matter who we are, where we come from or where we are going.
But there is another side – a reality check
so to speak – and that is where the choice made is not of that of love but of
the opposite. We know that family,
however big or small we define family to be, can be a place of enormous destruction
and pain. From holocausts to random acts
of violence, from wars to slow death by hunger, from emotional, physical,
sexual abuse to manipulative, exploitative acts of power, all these things are
a choice made by people in this world to not love one another. Simplistically
put maybe but true none-the-less. I
couldn’t help but during the week contrast the Royal celebration in the UK with
the stories of horrendous atrocities coming out of Syria – where entire
families and villages are slaughtered, where bodies of children are lined up in
death, where nothing the international community says or does seems to have any
impact. Where are the brothers and
sisters and mothers in that place I wonder?
So where does our hope lie? How can we be better at being family in the
presence of God and each other? I want
to share with you just two stories of hope.
I have been reading about the Taize
community in France,[2]
currently made up of just over 100 brothers, of its founder Brother Roger and
the hope it expresses for the reconciliation of the world. For over sixty years this small community of
brothers, along with several associated communities of sisters have been living
a life focussed on coming alongside some of the worst poverty in the world,
ministering a message of love and belonging to masses of young people from all
over the world, and – just in case that wasn’t enough - leading dialogue and
acts of reconciliation between the Roman Catholic and Protestant and Eastern
Orthodox churches without officially being an affiliate of anyone of the groups. Why have they been so impactful, so able to
make a difference in peoples’ lives and understandings? Let me see if I can put
into words what I have discerned from my reading – there is a sense that they
hold in delicate balance the desire to be obedient to God, to live out the
Gospel message in and through their lives, with the understanding that doing
this faithfully will take them into places they could never have imagined or
predicted or have control of. Instead of
turning in upon themselves and shutting out the world, they have embraced the
intrusive, challenging and unexpected needs that have presented themselves and
said ‘What do we do now God?’ In order
to love you and each other and the world, to be as mother and sister and
brother: ‘What do we do now God?’
The second story of hope is to be found
around this table – as we come together as the family of God in the presence of
the risen Christ, to celebrate and make new who we are in the name of
Christ. This sacrament of Holy Communion
reminds us that we are part of the family of God, for us made known in Christ
Jesus, and that by participating in the sharing of the bread and the wine, we
are re-membering the body of Christ across time and space and saints – together
with all people saying ‘Holy, Holy, Holy. We are renewed and healed at this
table, strengthened and made whole, made one in the body of Christ. And when we go from this table today we are
going with this question on our lips ‘What would you have us do Jesus Christ
that will make this world we live in a place of love for you and each other, a
place of healing and wholeness for all people?
Who are my mother and my brothers? And the answer, in maybe hurtful, sometimes
difficult, but always truthful stinging words of love: you all are my brothers
and sisters and mothers. This is
Christ’s prayer for us. Thanks be to
God. Amen.
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