Standing Under the Scriptures
February 22, 2009

Dear Fellow Voyagers,

Our readings for this Sunday are:

2 Corinthians 4.3-6: The glorious light of Christ shines in the heart of believers.

Mark 9.2-9: On the Mount of the Transfiguration it is given to Peter, James, and John to see Jesus in his true identity.

With regard to last Sunday’s first reading (1 Corinthians 9.24-27), I missed the point of it, big time. Often the class will catch me when I slip up. But not on this occasion.

In this passage, as you will recall, Paul cites footraces in an arena or stadium and, to a lesser extent, boxing in making his point. These sporting events were common in the Graeco-Roman world, and his Corinthian converts would have been familiar with them as spectators even if not as participants. I remarked on the exceptional nature of such analogies in Paul’s writings; for the most part he draws his examples from Scripture not pagan culture. And I did so rather dismissively. I failed to realize that what was involved here was much the same as in Jesus’ calling of Peter and Andrew (Mark 1.16,17), which we discussed some Sundays ago. In this Jesus said, “Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men.” This brought out the continuity (along with discontinuities) between their previous occupation as fishermen and their prospective one as disciples: in the latter they could and would draw on the experiences and disciplines of the former. The point was a telling one for me, having found so much of my Foreign Service career to carry over into my study of Scripture and of history and into my teaching and preaching in the church. It is the basis of my belief that other professions and activities can similarly carry over into Christian ministry---provided they involve the sort of commitment that Paul proceeds to talk about.

His is not commending foot racing to the Corinthian Christians. But he is concerned that they be fully committed to their faith. And in foot racing he sees such commitment on the part of the runners, not only in their running but in their preparations for racing. (Their competitiveness may have derived from athletic prowess being one of the few forms of upward mobility in the stratified society of the ancient world.) So in effect he tells his Corinthians that their commitment to their faith should be no less than that of runners to their running, since the crown they are striving for is heavenly and imperishable rather than earthly and perishable. Actually, in his address to the Athenians before the Areopagus (Acts 17.16-34) Paul draws similarly on the secular culture.

Here we verge on what is known as natural theology, premised on the idea that something of the divine can be seen in the world around us: It has more complexities than can be gone into in a class notice. But Alister McGrath has spoken of it tellingly in his three-volume scientific theology series. Particularly relevant to us here is the concept that he terms ancilla theologiae: handmaid of theology. This means that the methods of secular disciplines---his particular concern is with the natural sciences and their a posteriori approach to the data---can cast light on theology and its methods. This is not to contend that the church should recast itself into the likeness of, say, the Foreign Service. That would be a disaster. Nevertheless the church could profit by incorporating elements of such a calling into its own structure, that structure being revelation as attested in Scripture.

Our Gospel reading was Mark 1.40-45. (What major point I missed in that I have yet to become aware of.) As we noted, like much of the rest of Mark 1 it is concerned with healing. This placement so near the outset perhaps reflects Mark’s view that healing was at least as important as the other components of Jesus’ ministry. We recognized the contrast here with the means of healing that we are accustomed to. Indeed, when we even suspect that something is wrong with us, our impulse is to run to the doctor---at least it is mine. Yet people who lack this option, in biblical times and also today, may be open to other channels in a way we are not. But even we, in reading the accounts of Jesus’ healings, should be able to sense that in them God’s power is being manifested.

As in the case of Peter’s mother-in-law, which we considered a couple of Sundays ago, the healing that takes place here is of an individual, a leper who comes to Jesus out of his utter need for what Jesus can bestow. And Jesus’ compassion for the afflicted comes into view in both cases, implicitly in the first and explicitly in the second (the Greek word translated as “moved with pity” in verse 41 has a visceral connotation). Indeed, healing and touching a leper, who as unclean was cut off from human contact, would require special compassion. We noted the instructions that Jesus gave to the leper once he had healed him: “say nothing to anyone” about his healing and “show yourself to the priest and offer for your cleansing what Moses commanded,” as set forth in Leviticus 14.2-32. Regarding the latter instruction, we supposed that Jesus here called for compliance with Jewish law so as to avoid unnecessary conflict with the religious authorities (although such conflict took place soon enough, in the first part of the next chapter). As for the former instruction, the ex-leper immediately spreads word of his healing far and wide. Was he then disobeying Jesus and therefore to be censured? Perhaps, but he might also be regarded as so overwhelmed by deliverance from his besetting disease that that he could not help but speak. Since Mark’s Gospel contains no reproof of him, this may well be so. It could then put us in mind of our own deliverance in coming to faith in Christ and of the gratitude that we have felt for it. And obscured as this may have become by the cares of the world and the passage of time, we ought never to lose sight of it.

Faithfully, Fr. Ted