Age of Miracles

2 Samuel 5 ^1-5,
9-10
2 Corinthians 12 ^2-10
Mark 6 ^1-13.

I talked once about a fundamentalist cousin of mine who relied heavily upon a succession of divine "miracles" to correct such shortcomings in her daily planning as failing to find out the time of the last bus. I talked once about a fundamentalist cousin of mine who relied heavily upon a succession of divine "miracles" to correct such shortcomings in her daily planning as failing to find out the time of the last bus.   Commenting on this simplistic approach, Richard Dawkins, Professor for the Public Understanding of Science at Oxford University recently wrote:

     "There is a kind of religion I call Einsteinian religion, where a scientist uses the word God as a    metaphorical substitute for something that is unexplained- the way Einstein and Stephen Hawking use it. But if you define religion supernaturally- with a God who works miracles, answers prayers, and instructs you to kill people, I think that kind of religion is fundamentally incompatible with science."

Nevertheless, the theme that underlies our otherwise diverse group of lectionary readings this Sunday is an expectation of the supernatural. It seems that a successful guru or teacher will prove his or her divine worth by performing some really awesome miracles.

Now one theme that underlies our diverse group of readings this Sunday is an expectation of the supernatural. A successful guru will prove his or her divine worth by performing some really awesome miracles.

David, already King of Judah, journeys to Hebron, where he is anointed king of Israel. Immediately, he leads his army against the impregnable fortress of Jerusalem. The Canaanite descendants of Jebus take a dim view of this upstart monarch. Like the writer of Psalm 48, they are always bragging about the strength of their city. Its sturdy walls stand high on the ridge between the Hinnom valley to the west and the Kidron brook to the east. The place is so secure that even a makeshift guard of the blind and the lame could protect their stronghold against David's assault. But the Jebusites have not bargained on David's elite troopers, who climb into the city through a shaft that leads to the well of Gihon. Miracle of miracles, their impregnable bastion falls to the Lord's anointed. And David becomes the darling of the people, as he builds a new capital that unites the northern and southern kingdoms.

When Jesus begins his ministry, he is tempted to draw a crowd by performing some splashy miracle. Matthew tells us:

      The devil took him to the holy city, and set him on the pinnacle of the temple, and said to him, "If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down," for it is     written "He will give his angels charge of you, and on their hands they will \bear you up, lest you strike your foot against a stone." Matt 4 ^5-6.

But instead, Jesus goes down-market, to his hometown of Nazareth. People can sense the authority in his voice as he begins teaching in the local synagogue, but they are not really impressed. This man is just a carpenter's son. And he has a big strike against him- he can't stage anything much in the way of miracles. Mark reports:

    "He could do no mighty work there, except thqt he laid his hands upon a few sick people, and healed them." Mark 6 ⁵

As in other religions, any self-respecting prophet must validate his ministry by a series of miracles. And to put it bluntly, Jesus was a wash-out! The leaders of the synagogue took offense at him, and tried to push him over a cliff-face! Even some of the Gospel writers shared in the frenetic search for a miracle that would prove his divinity- Jesus could turn water into wine, he could walk on the waves, he could make a whole herd of pigs rush into a lake, he could raise Lazarus after he had been dead for three days. Scholars such as Rudolf Bultmann suggest that tucked away in some forgotten cave, there is a "Signs Gospel," or semeia (semeia), a text that details a long list of supposed supernatural incidents that John regarded as signs of Messiahship.

As the disciples tried to share in the ministry of Jesus, they faced even greater problems of credibility. Listen to the father of a boy with epilepsy:

"I asked your disciples to cast (the demon) out, and they were not able." (Mark 9 ¹⁸).
Whole villages would neither receive the Disciples nor listen to their message. It was a simple issue: No miracle, no audience.

Our epistle reading takes us to Corinth, a Greco-Roman city and major seaport. This cosmopolitan metropolis was a veritable religious supermarket, dominated by the cult of the supernatural. Travel with the apostle Paul along the well-paved Roman Road, leading straight from the harbour to the downtown. The first building, still far from the bustle of the city centre, is the temple consecrated to Aesclapius (Aesclapius), the god of healing and his partner Hygeia (Hygeia, or Health). Disease was rampant - 50 percent of children died in their first five years of life. If you had an intractable illness, the temple of Aesclapius was the place to go. It was bit like a spa- just as luxurious, and certainly as costly. You could take ritual baths, offer incense and prayers, and buy sacrifices from the priests. At night, you were incubated in vast underground chambers, where you spent a vigil caverna (vigil caverna). Priests roamed the grounds, whispering magic incantations through the air holes, and such was the power of belief that often the vigil brought about a cure. The temple of Aescalpius would likely have been a temptation to Paul - he suffered from a "thorn in the flesh" - possibly a form of migraine or epilepsy for which there was no cure, and three times he had pleaded with the Lord to take it away from him (v. 8).

Moving further into the city, we pass the magnificent temple of Apollo, another God of healing and prophesy. Apollo was big on kenosis, offering religious healing and absolution even to those guilty of major crimes such as murder. And as director of the Muses, Apollo's temple certainly had the best choir in town.   A little further down the road, we come to the shrine of Demeter, the fertility Goddess. She promised adherents bountiful crops and a plethora of children. Rumour had it that if you wanted a real night on the tiles, the shrine of Demeter was the place to go. There were beautiful banquet rooms adjoining the sanctuary, where you could eat your fill of food sacrificed to Demeter, and it was whispered that you might boost your personal fertility with a little help from one of the priests or priestesses.

This was the background against which Paul sought the miracle of building a Christian church. I am not sure he did a Bibby poll, but at first glance the demographics seemed promising. Elsewhere, Paul had tried to build a church from the proletariat, or even a group of slaves. But in Corinth, he had only to take a stroll through the Agora to smell the tetradrachma (tetradrachma) of the marketplace. Some of the new Greek converts had large households. Rumour had it that one was even a senior official at City Hall. So the movement was launched with great enthusiasm. I have no doubt there were plans to build a sanctuary that would put the temples of Apollo and Demeter to shame, and a professional choir was hired that could out-sing the Muses. There were big plans for Mission and Service, too. The Christians in Jerusalem were starving, so Paul set up a friendly competition with other congregations to see who best could raise funds to help the mother church.

Then the whole thing began to fall apart. There was division and litigation. Apollos probably came from a family that had worshipped in the old temple, and many preferred his liturgy and teaching. Some of the congregation liked going into an ecstasy, speaking in tongues that would have delighted any Pentecostalist. One faction suggested tarting up the church hall and making the communion celebration into something like the worship of Demeter. Quickly, services degenerated into a Bacchanalial feast, with much immorality. And of course, when it came time to send in the M & S funds, the treasurer had a long face, and there was a desperate search for funds. In all, this was far from the miracle that Paul had sought.

What lessons can we learn from today's lectionary? Firstly, I think, we should not always expect miracles. Like our Pentecostal friends. we often see Jesus in the role of magician; so, we make earnest prayer to spare ourselves, or one of our friends- particularly if we are faced by a thorn in the flesh- a devastating pain, or an incurable illness. But God may be saying to us that we have already been given the means of cure, be it a healthy personal lifestyle and adequate nutrition, a community emphasis upon clean air and water, the production of medication at affordable prices, or the growth of knowledge that stems from investment in health research rather than weapons of destruction. And sometimes, we must accept that illness and suffering cannot be avoided. We must all eventually die. Modern medicine, hospices, and the loving concern of our brethren can ease our path to eternity, but sometimes our final weeks of life will not be pleasant. We may lack physical or mental strength, but God's power can be made manifest and perfected in our weakness. (2 Cor 12 ^9-10).

Secondly, we can learn from the reactions of Paul and the early disciples on the days when miracles do not occur. It was tempting for the disciples to get really mad when a whole town would not listen to them:

    "Lord, do you want us to bid fire to come down from heaven and consume them?" (Luke 9 ⁵⁴).

But the advice of Jesus is simply to shake the dust of that community out of their sandals, and move on to a more receptive audience. Likewise, for the sake of Christ, Paul is content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions and calamities (2 Cor 12 ¹⁰). He achieves this sublimation through some type of mystic process, which he describes as being caught up into the third heaven (2 Cor 12 ²).

When I am weak, then I am strong! In our twenty first century, this seems nonsense. We worship power and strength. We admire the person who is self-assured and self-reliant. We conceal our vulnerability and camouflage our inadequacies. But in depending on our own knowledge and strength, we exclude the Grace of God. The road to spiritual wholeness comes from acknowledging our human weakness, and allowing God to work through us in all our frailty.

I close with a short poem, said to have been written by an injured Confederate soldier, and used by Adlai Stevenson on his 1955 Christmas card:

   I asked for health that I might do greater things,
       I was given infirmity that I do might do better things...
   I asked for riches that I might be happy,
       I was given poverty that I might be wise...
   I asked for power that I might have the praise of men,
       I was given weakness that I might feel the need of God....
   I asked for all things that I might enjoy life,
       I was given life that I might enjoy all things...
   I got nothing that I asked for but everything that I hoped for.
   Almost despite myself my unspoken prayers were answered.
   I am among all men most richly blessed.

May this be our experience.   AMEN.

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