Mark 13:32: No one knows about that day or hour, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.

Mark’s Gospel is the shortest of the Gospels; the oldest and, in many ways, the most down to earth. It doesn’t seem to have the agenda that the Jewish Matthew puts on his or the Gentile Luke on his. It’s an easy Gospel to read – the memories of Peter; a straightforward man. So this End of Days chapter is not really about THE END but it is a bit of a wake up call.

Our relationship with Jesus, my relationship with Jesus, is very often guided by the idea of his humanity. That he lives a normal life; that I can imagine the type of person he is; that I can empathise with what he is trying to do – as a man. I often pray to him as a brother - as he tells us to, and feel comfortable with the idea – although, obviously the most ideal of brothers.

And that can be a problem – that we forget that Jesus always carries within him that otherness that is God; that is as much him as his humanity. the Incarnation isn’t a body going spare with God in it – he is God made Man. And so his Mission isn’t just three years of walking and talking; it isn’t just the healing and feeding; it isn’t ‘just’ the trial and the crucifixion. He is already looking ahead; to the ‘what happens next’ – for each and every one of us.

And that is it; Jesus is, was, will be the Word. Whatever led to his presence on earth, the Word was, is always here. He has his place in the Trinity, pointing always to the Father, encouraging trust in the Holy Spirit.

His living ministry plants seeds, makes wine and bakes bread; feeds the hearts of those who want to follow him to the Kingdom; to the Father. And that Kingdom needs to grow, knowing that the world is against it; needs to grow strong, knowing that the world is devious and will try to overcome it. That is our task and it is not easy; we are warned not to be fooled because this is simply another time of growing and the Son of Man will return to see what we have harvested.

The Gospel suggests that this coming is imminent to the lives of the disciples yet we think we have spent two thousand years waiting – and what Season is just around the corner? The Son of Man returns – he returns every year, every month, every day. We don’t have a date in our diary, something to look forward to – the coming is always imminent - the time is now - and we should be doing our best not to be caught sleeping.

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Mark 12:44 - ‘from the little she had has put in everything she possessed’

Reflection

It’s funny how some things that the Lord tells us seems to mean more to him than others. Surely, more important to where the Gospel writers are coming from; everything the Lord says must be important you would think? Yet even Jesus seems to have his favourite subjects.

Jesus is watching a woman in the Temple; one of the little ones; the poor ones; the ‘don’t really matter’ ones and perhaps, as he is watching her, he is reminded of his own mother. Perhaps he is reminded of the scrimping and saving that she had to do before and after Joseph’s death. After all; there was no likelihood that they were a well-off family. Joseph was no more than an odd-job man and their place in the community is suggested by the comments of those who hear Jesus preach – ‘this is only the carpenter’s son’, ‘only Mary’s son’ – with the veiled addition of ‘who does he think he is?’

Yet it seems that Jesus is certainly brought up to be a good Jew; to know about the traditions of his faith; to know them but not to understand them and not always to accept them.

At the beginning of this, Jesus says ‘I tell you most solemnly…’ I love that phrase. It’s a ‘look at me when I’m talking to you. I’m not ‘one of the lads’ now’ phrase.

Because, to the ‘lads’ it will have been a little thing; a non-event. Widows give pennies every day, rich men give more – that’s the way the world is. We see success and generosity in £ signs rather than percentages. We find it hard to appreciate that 100% of very little is still 100%.

But if we give all we have – no matter what – what more is there? And whilst the world may hardly notice, God thanks us.
it’s a compelling thought that, rather than sitting enthroned in splendour at the front of the church being feted by the church-ians, God actually spends His time at the back, in the shadows, watching as all the little goodness’s, sacrifices and graces are carried out by the unassuming, unknown, undervalued Christians in the community; who are giving all they have.

Contemplation

All I have

This, I think, is where it gets difficult. Many of us are committed to our faith, we do go to church; we do give to charity; we do try to help others. How hard it is, then, to think that we may still not be doing enough.

But surely there are limits on what we can give and still live with all the family and personal needs that we have.

Is there a point to making ourselves poor?
Is the main thing that we give what we can?
Is it that we resolve each time to give more?
Is it that we give knowing that it is not enough and still give?
Is that we do not call attention to ourselves when we give?
Is it that God will take what we have – when we’ve got it?
Is it that God will not ask for more than we can give?
Does it matter where our giving comes from; love or guilt?
How do you decide which is the most worthy cause?
What if the cause turns out not to be genuine?

I don’t have answers to any of these questions –
but they are certainly worth thinking about this week.
You may have some of your own.
And if you get an answer – let me know!

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Drawn from Psalm 89

I was one voice, Lord
Singing your faithfulness and your compassion
A song that repeated my own heart
‘I will love you always’.


The heavens caught the air
Stars bursting with melody across the skies
The metre marking light speed
In praise of Love eternal.

As above, so below
The rhythm of Earth’s lifeblood throbbed.
The cadence of the tides
Love’s own heartbeat.

The compass of the Universe turned
Drawing harmony and counterpoint together
Creation wove the score in rainbow shades
A celestial symphony.

Magnificent, but too much
I am just one voice in this song of the spheres
And all so far above me
I have lost my place.

Only a sigh, Lord
But a remembering of where we first met
In the pause between breaths
In the rest of a heartbeat.

That is where you are, Lord
The music refined by the mystery of your Presence
Your song to me in the spaces between
‘Always, I will love you’.

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Drawn from Psalm 46

I rest in the Sanctuary of the Lord

Knowing that God alone is my refuge.

I am deafened by the worlds demands

Overwhelmed by its rages and torments

The seas swell and the mountains quake

The uproar of mans greed echoes through the night

Angry voices call out for revenge

Broken hearts for rescue.

But not here

Here is a Holy Place

This, my refuge

Deep as a mountain pool

Hopeful as the dawn sun

The home of the Most High

Heart’s ease is here

Soul’s friend is here

Spirit’s food is here

My Lord and my God

The Lord speaks and the world melts away

Be still and know that I am God

Be still and know

Be still

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1 John 3:3 - We shall be like him because we shall see him as he really is.

Reflection

If we ever worry about how well we are, or are not, doing at being a good Christian; at being Christ-like; we should not be too hard on ourselves.

Think about the disciples that lived and were taught by Jesus, all those years ago. They had the benefit of weeks, months and years in his company; of understanding the importance of sheep and fish and vineyards; of seeing the mannerisms and nuances that accompanied the parables and the teachings. They had the benefit of ‘being there’.

And yet, still they got it wrong; regularly and outstandingly. They saw what Jesus did and still did not always see that they were meant to be like him. Maybe they saw his behaviour as eccentricity to attract the masses or to ridicule the Temple.

They were right and (at a push) left hand men; there must have been some authority in their closeness to the Lord; something that marked them out as ‘better’.

Surely they were not meant to be poor, persecuted or meek; surely they were not to be servants and less than servants; surely they were not meant to give up their lives in order to live the life of the Kingdom?

Why do we think Heaven is ‘up’? Why does Jesus ascend? Why the mountains? Does God have to use these metaphors and imagery because that’s how we think; we have to see that rising up out of this place to that place; and that place being better?

We will be like Christ when we can see him as he really is; really is.

He is a servant – how do we accept the role?
He is an obedient son – What sort of children are we?
He turns away from the world’s temptation – do we?
He loves unconditionally –Hmmmm?

Our ambition to be Christ-like is in itself a paradox – involving a lot of letting go and letting God work in us. Becoming less so that we may become more.


Contemplation

I have a problem with some images of Jesus; particularly the gentle, meek and mild image. I don’t really know where that idea of Jesus can help me in my life. I do like the Temple-crashing Jesus and the other times that he stands up to those who refuse to listen.

This probably says a lot more about me than about Jesus.

Because Jesus did teach gentle, meek (still not convinced about mild) but that these attributes could be, should be, strengths.

That authority was not about having the power to makes changes but having the desire to makes changes and to make them for the good of others.

Perhaps this week pray about one of the times that Jesus did make himself a servant; the washing of the feet, cooking the meal for the apostles and see it as the gift it was.
Then perhaps look at some of the times in your life where you have had to, where you still do, take this role, maybe against your will or at least without good grace. Then make a conscious effort to see the hand of Jesus holding yours, making what seems menial, holy – becoming a little more Christ-like.

Mark 10:50 - ‘Courage,’ they said ‘get up; he is calling you.’

Reflection

Many of us feel that this life is a journey and that the time that we spend here, whether good or bad, are footsteps that lead us towards the Kingdom and towards God.

Some of us are fortunate enough to be sure that we are always on the right path; that we are doing our best and that Jesus is with us already as we travel. Our prayers are full of hope and thanks for his company.

On the other hand, some of us are less confident about the pathways; less sure that the turns we take are still heading the right way; less optimistic of Jesus’ presence and are struck by the feeling we are struggling to do it on our own.

For those of us who feel blinded by our own doubts and fears –prayers have a different meaning. When we pray it is a calling out to the dark; asking for God’s hand, God’s eye, God’s voice. ‘Let me know you are there!’ But not really expecting an answer.

And then, suddenly, the dark replies; but it is not dark, it is light; blinding light full of Grace. After all your calling – he is calling you. So what do you do?

Does the knowledge of your doubts, the reminding of your weakness leave you hiding behind disbelief, rooted to the status quo? Or do you leap to answer, full of courage that, at last your prayers have been answered. Ready to find your feet walking solidly in his footsteps; seeing the route marked clearly and your place in the world shining.

When God calls, when Jesus calls, we always have the choice – to hear yet to ignore – or to have the courage to stand and be heard, to ask for what we really want, to be healed, to find love.

Contemplation

Those who have eyes

For many people the idea of not being able to see is a terrible one. We cannot imagine not being a part of the visual world and all that entails. But sometimes in faith we become blind. Locked behind rites and traditions that create a place where enlightenment is not for you. God’s presence being a gift for saints and prophets, while we follow the rules and stay within the lines.

Jesus is not good at lines, he tends to cross them regularly and with challenge. But then he waits to see what reception he will get. He makes the invitation – he doesn’t force himself on us – what happens next is always our decision.

In prayer imagine yourself cocooned in darkness, gathered in to yourself, with just a tiny beacon deep within calling out to God. The mediation from last week – maranatha – calls out to the Lord.

Then, believe that he has heard, and that he is there within arms reach, asking what you want.

What do you want?

Paul’s letter to the Hebrews 4:16 - ‘Let us be confident’

Reflection

Recently, we have been talking about becoming less – less of who and what we want to be; less of what the world expects; less involved in ambition or climbing social ladders. As we give away more and more; how should becoming less and less make us feel?

As we give up more, we become poorer, and what does that mean?

What it should mean, and certainly why anyone would want to do it, is that we become happier and more centred in who we are. Once we have turned the idea of less being a negative we can start to appreciate what it is we are doing.

We all know that there are ways where ‘less’ turns what seems a negative into a positive; we can lose weight; we can become less stressed; we can de-clutter our houses and our lives. Once we start discarding what we don’t really want we can start to focus on what we do really need. Like martial arts practitioners, climbers or even fishermen we can pay attention to what is important, to what the goal is. I wonder if that is why Jesus started with the fishermen, seeing that ability in their eyes.

Becoming less also means that we become compact; we can join up our thoughts and our actions without having to work through the lists of ‘what ifs’ and ‘if only’s. We develop an instinct for what is right. We may still be veiled from God but there is a lot less veils to worry about.

And we become better at hearing God speak in our lives; seeing God’s hand in what happens in the day; understanding why what happens, happens. Not all the time, for who can know God that well, but more than we did.
And when we are able to reach that quiet God space within us, knowing that God is there; not as an angry judge, or a vindictive puppeteer but as a parent and comforter, then we can approach that place with confidence and eagerness. The simplicity of being less – the simplicity taught by Paul, by Francis and Chiara and many other saints – is a simplicity that says ‘I know you are there’.

Contemplation
Maranatha

The Maranatha method of contemplative prayer is the confident call to a God who wants to be with us.

To pray in this way you need a comfortable and quiet place where you can have silence for at least twenty minutes; you should be sitting in a relaxed but upright position – imagine the housemaids or the bridegrooms friends waiting for the Lord’s return. This is an expectant mediation. You might light a candle or close your eyes.

Once you are comfortable and relaxed in the body, taking a few deep breaths and moving any immediate thoughts away. This is time to begin the mantra – Maranatha. Try to say it and repeat it as part of your breathing, as quickly or as slowly as is natural for you.

The phrase itself is Aramaic and mean two things depending on how you say it,
Ma -ra – na-tha – means ‘come Lord’
Mar-an – a-tha - means ‘Lord, you are here’

But don’t worry about trying to say it in a particular way. You should aim to do this for about twenty minutes; you can build up from five or ten if you wish. As you pray you may feel yourself distracted by thoughts or noises, take a second to admit to yourself that you have been distracted but it is gone now; and continue. You may find that the word goes into silence and this is absolutely fine for however long you can manage it.
After twenty minutes, say thank you for whatever has come to you (and that could be nothing but the rest from the day) maybe listen to some reflective music and take some deep breaths and stretches, before continuing with the day.