John Mark Hicks

Handel’s Messiah is a musical proclamation of the gospel, the good news of the kingdom of God.

My wife and I, along with my sister-in-law Melanie Crotty, attended the Nashville Symphony’s performance of the Messiah last Friday evening. We used this to celebrate Melanie’s graduation from Lipscomb’s Hazelip School of Theology. We were all enthralled with the presentation.

George Frideric Handel (1685-1759) composed the Messiah in three weeks and was first performed in Dublin, Ireland in the Spring of 1742. It is an oratorio rather than an opera. The former combines the entertainment value of the latter with moral exhortation. While an opera is musical theatre, an oratorio is a concert piece that is more appropriate for “sacred” settings. The first performance of the Messiah in London was controversial because it was a “sacred” piece offered in a “secular” locale.

It is a musical proclamation of the good news of the kingdom of God. Part I moves us from the prophetic anticipation of the coming kingdom through the appearance of the Christ child to a conclusion in the ministry of Jesus. Part II begins with the passion of Jesus through his resurrection to his exaltation as reigning Lord.  Part III, the shortest, is humanity’s response to God’s redemptive act and is focused on the hope of resurrection which leads to a final praise of the Lamb.

The text weaves Scripture quotations into a coherent plot that tells the story of the coming kingdom. The Messiah is King of Kings and Lord of Lords as the “Hallelujah Chorus” announces that the “kingdom of this world is become the kingdom of our Lord and of His Christ.”

This plot is a missional one, that is, it draws us into the story of God’s intent to shake the kingdoms of this world with God’s own reign.

• “all flesh shall see [the glory of the Lord] together”
• “I will shake all nations; and the desire of all nations shall come”
• “the Gentiles shall come to they light, and kings to the brightness of thy rising”
• “Prince of Peace”
• “Glory to God in the highest, and peace on earth, goodwill towards men”
• “He is the righteous Saviour, and He shall speak peace unto the heathen”
• “and He will give you rest”
• “He hath borne our griefs and carried our sorrows”
• “He trusted in God that He would deliver Him”
• “But Thou didst not leave His soul in hell”
• “Who is the King of Glory? The Lord of Hosts, He is the King of Glory”
• “Why do the nations so furiously rage together”
• “The kings of the earth rise up, and the rulers take counsel together against the Lord and against His anointed”
• “Thou shalt break them with a rod of iron”
• “He shall reign for ever and ever. King of Kings. Lord of Lords.”
• “I know my Redeemer lives”
• “”yet in my flesh I shall see”
• “We shall all be changed”
• “Worthy is the Lamb…to receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honour, and glory, and blessing”
• “Blessing and honour, glory and pow’r, be unto Him that sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb, for  ever and ever.

The reign of God means a different allegiance, a different power, a different kind of life–one of peace, rest and healing. The King has come; the kingdom of the world has become the kingdom of God.

Over three coming posts I will examine each Part of Handel’s Messiah. 

The Galilean hills were evangelized through heralding and enacting the kingdom. 5,000 males were fed with five loaves and two fish actualizing table fellowship within the kingdom. And now, apparently, the healded and fed expected something more. Perhaps they intended to crown Jesus king (cf. John 6:14-15) and inaugurate a rebellion against Roman authority.

“Immediately,” signaling the critical nature of the present situation, Jesus put his disciples in a boat and sent them back across the lake…without him. Jesus dismissed the crowd and withdrew to pray alone. These actions reflect a crisis. Previously, the crowds of Capernaum moved Jesus to seek solitude (Mark 1:38-39) as will the looming shadow of the cross in Gethsemane (Mark 14:26-42). Perhaps here Jesus seeks solitude in light of a potential violent uprising. Perhaps Jesus was tempted, as he was in the wilderness, to secure power through violent revolution. But this is not the kind of kingdom Jesus headed; he would give his life as a ransom for many rather than take the life of others in the interest of nationalism (Mark 10:45).

Eventually Jesus notices that his disciples “in the middle of the lake” were struggling to reach the other side because of strong headwinds. It was early in the morning—nearing dawn between 3:00-6:00 AM—when Jesus approached them. The narrative leads us to think that Jesus saw them in distress and decided to go to them to help, but a curious statement appears in the narrative: Jesus “was about to pass by them” (NIV). This seems at odds with Jesus intent to help.

Jesus, the text literally says, “wanted to pass by them.” Jesus intends to “pass by.” The question is what does “pass by” mean. This is highly theological language; it is the language of theophany. At two critical moments in Israel’s history God “passed by” two leaders—leaders who will appear with Jesus in Mark 9 on the mount of transfiguration. God “passed by” Moses (Exodus 33:19, 22) and God “passed by” Elijah (1 Kings 19:11). In both texts God appears to them and reveals his divine presence. This is what Jesus intends to do here. Moreover, the language of Job 9:8, 11 lies in the background: the God who walks upon the seas also passes by his people though he is unrecognized.

Walking on water was not some theatrical stunt. It was not simply to shorten the distance from walking on land around the lake. He was not saving himself time or egotistically displaying his power. Rather, it was a divine appearance for the sake of his disciples; a theophany to assure the disciples of God’s love and care and to relieve their stress in the midst of their struggle. This is a gracious, redemptive moment.

But the disciples don’t recognize it. Their response is fear as they probably expected death. It was common in ancient (including Jewish) lore that the appearance of a “ghost on the sea” was a prelude to imminent death. Instead of being comforted by a divine theophany, they are “troubled,” that is, agitated or distressed.

Jesus clams their fears by identifying himself, and this identification is theologically significant in light of the theophany. He says three things: (1) Be of good courage! (2) I am! (3) Don’t be afraid! Jesus says ego eimi, “I am.” This is the language of Yahweh’s self-revelation in Exodus 3. As William Lane notes in his commentary (p. 237), encouraging good cheer and dispelling fear are part of the formula for divine self-disclosure (cf. Psalm 115:9ff; 118:5; Isaiah 41:4ff, 13ff; 43:1ff; 44:2ff; 51:9ff). Jesus is not simply affirming his own human presence but assuring them of God’s presence.

When he steps into the boat, the winds cease. God reigns over the chaotic waves. Just as the chaos was calmed in Mark 4:35-41, so here the winds were quieted in response to divine presence. Jesus does not even speak; his presence is sufficient in this instance.

But the disciples do not recognize it; they do not understand the identity of Jesus. They did not understand the loaves and fishes. They are missing the point. Jesus enacts the kingdom of God—feeding the hungry in the wilderness and appears on the water to calm the sea. It was as if the disciples were in the wilderness with Israel as they saw God’s sovereignty over the water at the Red Sea and were fed by manna. They don’t “see” what Jesus is teaching by his dramatic acts. The disciples don’t understand because their hearts are “hard.” This is a chilling comment as the hearts of Jesus’ opponents were also hard (Mark 3:5). Our expectations sometimes hinder us from seeing what God is doing because we are looking for the wrong things or in the wrong places.

The disciples are dull; they are slow to see the answer to the question they asked in Mark 4:41. He stills the waves and they don’t see. He heals the sick and they don’t understand. He feeds the multitude and they don’t catch a glimpse. He appears on the waters and they don’t recognize who he is. They fail to see that Yahweh is among them.

As we enter this story, we are invited to see though we often do not. We are often no different from the disciples. We live in fear rather than faith. We don’t embrace who Jesus is; we would rather control our own lives even when they are unmanageable. We see “ghosts” rather than God’s own presence among us.

And yet Jesus continues to enact the kingdom. The sluggish faith of the disciples does not deter him. They land on the Galilean shore near Gennesaret (on the northwest corner of the lake) and soon the people swamp Jesus. They “knew” him, filled the  marketplaces with the sick, and Jesus healed them.

The ministry of the kingdom of God continues. Jesus travelled through villages, cities and the countryside and everywhere he went they brought him the sick and he healed them, even if only by the touch of his garment.

Jesus is not deterred by the weak faith of his disciples and neither does he exclude them. He continues to apprentice them in the ministry of the kingdom of God. And that grace continues among us even now, even when we don’t understand because of the hardness of our own hearts.

Jesus sent (apostellein) his disciples with authority over demons and diseases (6:7). The apostles (apostoloi) returned reporting what “they had done and taught.” They followed Jesus into the practice of the kingdom of God—announcing the coming reign of God and demonstrating that reign by wondrous acts of mercy. The twelve had become apostles (cf. 3:14—they had been sent) who heralded and enacted the kingdom of God.

But now they needed rest. The crowd—no doubt swelled by the activity of the apostles in the Galilean hills—hindered their self-care, that is, they could not even find time to eat. Jesus suggested that they go to the “desert.” This is the same word as in Mark 1:12-13 when Jesus was tested by Satan in the wilderness. It is also the same word the narrator used to describe Jesus’ withdrawal to pray (1:35) or to avoid crowds (1:45).

Jesus recognizes that the Twelve need some “alone time,” perhaps some quality time, with himself. Returning from traveling among the villages of the Galilean hills, they now needed some “rest.” Jesus is not “all work and no play;” rather, there are times for re-creation when we stop what we are doing and seek refreshment. The mission demands that sometimes missionaries should rest. So, they got into a boat and went to a deserted place on the Galilean shore.

But the crowds were like sheep without a shepherd. Or better, they followed Jesus like sheep that recognized their shepherd. They hurried along the shore as the followed the trajectory of the boat and they picked up others “from all the towns.” When Jesus landed, the crowds were not far behind. A large crowd met him, just as before in Mark’s narrative (3:7-8; 4:1; 5:21).

Jesus recognized their intensity and helplessness. They ran as they followed the boat—they would not let him go, and they seemed to Jesus as sheep without a shepherd—helpless, confused without a leader, and endangered by that lack of leadership. And Jesus loved them, just as he loved the leper earlier (1:41). So, he led them; the mission continued and sometimes the missional needs of others dictate a change of plans. Jesus led these sheep—he taught them, announcing the coming kingdom of God….and he fed them.

How do you feed 5,000 men (andres—the word for males), not counting women and children if they were present? The disciples were puzzled by the same question. The mission had to stop, the disciples think. The fellowship had to break up so the crowds could go home or scatter among the villages to find food. But Jesus has a different idea.

“You give them something to eat,” Jesus says to his apostles. They were missional disciples; they had been sent on a mission and the mission was also in front of them now. Feed the sheep! That is their mission. Here is a test for his newly formed missional community. Can they see the possibilities that Jesus sees?

Alas, they could not, much as we often do not. They can only see the limitations. “It would take almost a year’s salary to feed these people.” They do not have the resources, so they think. But Jesus assesses the resources—“you have five loaves of bread and two fish. That’s enough.”

The Shepherd gathers his sheep (cf. Ezek. 34:26-29). He sits them down in green pastures (cf. Psalm 23:1). He organizes them into small groups (cf. Exodus 18:21). Just as God fed Israel in the wilderness (Exodus 16), so Jesus feeds Israel in this deserted place. Twelve “basketfuls” (a word describing a wicker lunch box) were collected–twelve, of course, corresponds to the apostles who represent the twelve clans of Israel.

Mark’s account not only functions as a “filling to the full” (fulfillment) of God’s provision for Israel; it also anticipates the table in the kingdom of God. Indeed, as a meal which Jesus hosts, breaks bread and eats with his people, it is already a table in the kingdom of God. Everyone, including Jesus, eats, and everyone eats with Jesus. They eat what Jesus has provided.

The language of this table is eucharistic. Jesus takes the bread (and two fishes), blesses God (giving thanks), breaks the bread (symbolic distribution), and gives it. This is the language of the Last Supper where the exact same verbs are used (Mark 14:22). It is the language of the Christian Eucharist.

The symbol of bread, fish and a cup of red wine was common in early Christian art. One of the most significant was found in the crypt of Lucina in the catacomb of Callistus (early third century). The fish probably represented Jesus as well and may have been part of their eucharistic meals in the early centuries.

Christian readers, and narrative readers of Mark, should not miss the theological significance of this moment in the story. God provided food and ate with Israel in the wilderness. Jesus provided food and ate with the people in this wilderness. Jesus gives his life as food and eats with the church as it journeys in the wilderness on its way to the fullness of the kingdom of God.

When we eat and drink together as disciples, we sit at a eucharistic table. We give thanks for the provision of life we have in Jesus.

We also sit at a missional table. Jesus gave his disciples a mission: feed the sheep. They failed; “they did not understand…their hearts were hardened” (14:52). Nevertheless, Jesus ate with them as well as the 5,000.

Whereas Jesus went into the wilderness to rest with his disciples, he ends up providing rest for Israel. We are invited into that rest.

The table invites everyone to sit at the feet of Jesus—to hear his message and eat with him. His provision is sufficient. His love is welcoming. His message is hopeful. “The kingdom of God is near! Come, rest and eat with me.”

On November 7, 2011, I met with the Stone-Campbell Dialogue in Albuquerque, New Mexico. Interested persons from the Disciples of Christ, Christian Church/Churches of Christ and Churches of Christ met for some dialogue, fellowship and service in the community. This was the sixteenth time the Dialogue has met. It was the second time I had been invited to present a paper as the focus of discussion.

I presented a paper on the role of the Holy Spirit in the praxis of unity drawing upon Stone-Campbell resources in our common history.  The paper is not intended to be a final statement of any sort but rather a tentative discussion starter.

Spirit and Unity Presentation Stone-Campbell Dialogue 2011

Since the publication of William Young’s book The Shack in the light of my own personal journey into the world of spiritual recovery (which I experienced in 2008).  I found much in Young’s novel that paralleled my own experience.

It is now available on Amazon entitled:  Meeting God at the Shack: A Journey into Spiritual Recovery.

For those who have read my previous material on God, faith and suffering (such as Yet Will I Trust Him or Anchors for the Soul), this book is a continuation of my journey. I think it is more profound and more mature than my previous writings on the subject. It is, nevertheless, still ultimately inadequate as an “answer” to the struggle of life, faith and peace in human hearts, including my own. Nevertheless, God offers peace even when there are no “answers”.

The first part of this book discusses spiritual recovery while the second part addresses some of the theological questions that concern many. But even in the second part I am much more interested in how this parable and the theological questions it raises offer an entrance into the substantial themes of divine love, forgiveness, healing and hope. These are the main concerns of the book.

I think the question the novel addresses is this:  How do wounded people come to believe that God really is “especially fond” of them?

Only after reading the book through this lens are we able to understand how Young uses some rather unconventional metaphors to deepen his point.

My interest is to unfold the story of recovery in The Shack as I experienced it through my own journey. So, I invite you to walk with me through the maze of grief, hurt, and pain as we, through experiencing Mackenzie’s shack, face our own “shacks.”

Jesus’ renown has grown. As he moved his ministry into the Galilean hills rather than simply around the Galilean lake and he sent his disciples in six teams throughout the villages in those hills, his fame increased. Even some political leaders were beginning to take notice. Herod Antipas, the tetrarch of Galilee in the north and Perea in the south, noticed.

Herod Antipas, a son of Herod the Great, ruled from 4 BCE to 39 CE. The narrator calls him a “king,” but officially he was the tetrarch (the ruler of a fourth of his father’s kingdom–the purple area in the map below). Perhaps the title “king” is mocking Herod since he was removed from his position precisely because he requested the title of “king.” Or perhaps it was simply popular usage in Palestine. Whatever the case, for the first time, a political leader has taken an interest in Jesus.

Herod is concerned with the same question the disciples asked, “Who is this?” Some opponents have already called him a blasphemer or an ally of Satan. But others thought he was Elijah, the one who would come before the Messiah. Still others thought he was simply another prophet. But Herod had his own opinion: “This is John the Baptist whom I beheaded and is now risen from the dead.” Wow! Why would he think that?

John was imprisoned in Perea just about the time that Jesus began his ministry in Galilee (Mark 1:14) and it appears that Herod did not become aware of Jesus until after John was already dead. But what Herod heard about Jesus reminded him of John. Perhaps their preaching about the kingdom of God, righteousness, and judgment was so similar. Perhaps Herod thought Jesus’ miracles were evidence of a resurrected John. No doubt this instilled fear in Herod. Had John returned to judge Herod? Herod needed to know who Jesus was because he had killed John.

The Gospel uses this moment in the narrative to tell its readers the rest of John’s story. It is a martyr story–the first of two in the Gospel: first John, then Jesus. Both leading heralds of the kingdom of God within the Gospel are martyred. Both killed by political leaders. Empires oppose the kingdom of God. Mark’s original readers know this all too well as they suffer from Roman persecution.

Herod imprisoned John in response to his preaching–for the sake of his wife, Herodias. Herod had divorced his wife and married his half-brother Philip’s wife (and another half-brother Philip would eventually marry Herodias’daughter, Herod’s step-daughter). Levitical law explicitly forbade this (Leviticus 18:16; 20:21). Herod himself was not Jewish (his mother was Samaritan) but his wife was. John’s rebuke must have deeply offended her. He was imprisoned to silence him but Herodias wanted him dead.

Herod, however, was fascinated with John. He sensed John was a godly man and he enjoyed listening to his preaching. But when he heard him, Herod was disturbed or disquieted. It gnawed at him and worried him. When Herod heard about Jesus, this worry surfaced again. Politically, John had to be silenced, but existentially Herod knew there was more to John than met the eye. He played the middle of the road–he kept him safe in prison.

Herodias, however, wanted him silenced permanently and her opportunity eventually came through her daughter Salome. (We know her name from Josephus, Antiquities, 18.5.4.)

Herod invited his governmental officials and leaders from Galilee and Perea to a birthday banquet at his palace fortress in Machaerus (in Perea on the eastern side of the Dead Sea) where John was imprisoned. Such Roman banquets were lavish and often extended for days.

But this banquet is infamous for the dance of Salome. Unfortunately, we don’t know much about the dance itself. Many have understood it as an erotic dance, but this is unnecessary. In fact, it appears that Salome was between twelve and fourteen (cf. Harold Hoehner, Herod Antipas, 154-156). Even Romans would have viewed an erotic dance by the young daughter of the “king” as unseemly. It is more likely that she was an exceptional talent and enthralled her audience, especially Herod. Her young age is perhaps indicated as well by the fact that she consulted her mother about how she should respond to Herod’s response to her performance.

His gesture was a typical exaggerated offer from one of higher rank to one of lower rank (cf. 1 Kings 13:8; Esther 5:3, 6; 7:2; Luke 19:8). It was as if I had said to my daughter, “I’ll give you anything you want” but with the pre-understanding that there are limits to that gesture.

She requested, at her mother’s instigation, John’s head on a platter–no doubt an allusion to the banquet setting. Herod reluctantly conceded to the request as he could not deny her given his boast in front of all his officials. He could not lose face in their presence.

John was martyred. He died for the sake of the kingdom of God. He was killed by a political leader. He was killed because, as a righteous person, he proclaimed righteousness.

We might imagine that the disciples of Jesus knew this story. Some of them had followed John before Jesus called them. John’s disciples buried John and the beheading of John was public knowledge; the news may have spread through the officials present. (Josephus, Antiquities, 18.5.2, notes the ministry and execution of John.)

We might imagine that the disciples of Jesus remembered the execution of John when they realized that Jesus, too, was headed to death. The disciples fled in terror before the prospect of such an end. Peter denied Jesus.

Heralds of the Kingdom of God die. Peacemakers are put to death. Disciples of Jesus are persecuted. Jesus was martyred; his disciples were martyred. Announcing the reign of God is often heard with hostility, opposition and ridicule. Jesus’ call to “take up your cross and follow me” perhaps does not sound so easy after all.

That was no place for a child. In the darkest days of Jerusalem’s despair, God told Jeremiah to neither marry nor have children (Jeremiah 16:2). That world—the world of Jerusalem’s destruction—is no place for children. All that would await them was pain, horror, gloom, dislocation, and destruction. Even now it may sometimes seem that the world is too horrible for children, especially if you are living in parts of the developing world like the Sudan.

When Isaiah confronted Ahaz in Isaiah 7-12, it was no place for children. The future was dark. And, yet, the hopeful promise is that a “child is born” (Isaiah 9:6). The birth of a child will signal the rise of hope and secure a future filled with righteousness, justice and peace.

At time of Isaiah 9, Judah was in national decline. Its king, Ahaz, had made an alliance with the foreign power Assyria but that alliance eventually enslaved him and the nation as they suffered under their oppressive yoke. Ahaz empowered foreign gods as he sacrificed his own children in the fires of Molech and honored the gods on their high places. He replaced the Yahwehist bronze temple altar with an Assyrian style altar (2 Kings 16). Judah lived in darkness, gloom and eventually under the yoke of Assyrian power. Ahaz trusted the empire of his day rather than Yahweh (Isaiah 7).

Judah, living under that yoke, fought alongside Assyria against Israel (the northern kingdom and Syria [Aram]). They put on their warrior boots and blood stained their clothes. They became complicit in Assyria’s imperial agenda. Instead of trusting in God’s deliverance, they took up the sword and sided with the imperial power. [The Hebrew word for “boots” is an Assyrian loanword—the uniform of the empire.] But this brought them nothing but oppression as the imperial power ruled them as well. It rendered Judah a mere vassal.

Judah lacked hope. There was no light at the end of the tunnel. They yearned for a Midian-like liberation. The “day of Midian” lived long in the memory of Israel. They remembered how God delivered Israel from the hands of the Midianites through Gideon and three hundred non-combatants (Judges 7). The Lord fought for Israel that day; God won the battle as the Midianites self-destructed.

Isaiah announced hope. He says to Judah that a day will come when they will see light at the end of the tunnel. Moreover, they will bask in the light of God’s liberation. They will rejoice like at the harvest, like on a day when they divide the spoils of battle.  They will rejoice because they will burn their GI boots and uniforms.

How can Judah rid themselves of their warrior posture? Are they not still in danger of the empire? Do not enemies surround them? How can fear let go and Judah simply trust Yahweh?

Isaiah provides the reason:  a child is born. A new king will take his seat on the throne of David. His reign is described. It is a vision of the future; a future where peace, justice and righteousness are permanent—not only permanent but eternal.  This king is named or—as some think—the God of the king is named. Either way, the reign of God is described.

These names are probably royal titles—titles that perhaps Hezekiah himself might wear as the one through whom God delivers Judah from Assyrian power. But I think we must also lift our horizon to the distant future to a time when light came to the regions of Galilee in the person of Jesus (Matthew 4:12-17).  Hezekiah typified the coming reality of the kingdom of God in Jesus—a child who was born in Nazareth of Galilee where the light first dawned just as it was the place where the darkness first descended. The child of Isaiah 9 is the same as the one named “Immanuel” in Isaiah 7

• Wonderful Counselor!   A king whose wisdom, counsel and plans produce wonder among the people. They are amazed by the king’s guidance and direction (cf. Isaiah 28:9).
• Mighty God!  A king whose power and strength comes from God. He reigns with divine right and by divine power (cf. Isaiah 10:21).
• Father Forever!  A king who rules like a benevolent father—a father who will never abandon or forsake his people (cf. Isaiah 63:16).
• Prince of Peace!  A king who will reign with peace; he will ensure peace and bring peace to his reign (Isaiah 11:6-9).

A child is born! A king reigns! In Jesus, God has come to reign. He comes to bring justice, righteousness and peace. Fear dissipates; darkness is lifted. Light has dawned.

How do we let go of fear? Fear drives us to places where we never imagined we would go. Fear leads us into addictions where we hope to escape our fears and pains. Fear creates worry and worry drives us to do things we would not normally do. Fear drives us to self-interestedness; it drives us to violence. Fear motivates us to violate our own moral and ethical boundaries as we try to create our own stability.

We are now entering a new political season. In less than one year we will elect a President. Fear fills the air as we accuse and excuse political leaders. We become consumed with the idea that the fate of the nation is in the hands of whoever we elect to the Presidency. We worry and we argue. We are afraid—afraid of who might get elected or who might not be reelected. We fear that the world is falling apart and that darkness—whether economic gloom or terror/war—reigns. Fear puts trust in princes and empires but faith trusts God.

How do we let go of this fear? We trust that the zeal of the Lord will accomplish his purposes. God will liberate. God will bring justice. God will bring peace.  We trust the king.

Hear the word of the Lord, my friends:  “a child is born.” This child is our king; this one is our hope. Here is where our allegiance lies.  Our allegiance is primarily to the kingdom of God rather than the kingdom of the United States.  We pledge allegiance to the kingdom of God—we seek first that kingdom of God.

Jesus is the Prince of Peace. This allegiance is primary. It seems to me that this is an exclusive allegiance since to serve the empire (state) with the sword is to prioritize the state over the kingdom of God. It is to side with the empire rather than with the Prince of Peace.

A child is born. Born to transform our lives. Born to change the world. Born to burn uniforms.  If Jesus is the “Prince of Peace,” how can we pursue a warrior agenda?

Jesus leaves the shores of the Galilean lake and enters the Galilean hills east of the lake. Numerous Jewish villages, as well as a few Greco-Roman cities (like Sepphoris), dotted the hills of Galilee. One of those villages was Jesus’ own home town of Nazareth (Mark 1:9, 24). This is not necessarily the first time Jesus returned to his origins, but if this is a separate incident from Luke 4, it had a very similar result. One might imagine that Jesus would visit his mother and family on occasion, especially as he ministered nearby.

The contrasts between Capernaum and Nazareth are significant. Jesus taught in both synagogues on the Sabbath (1:21) and both audiences were “amazed” (1:22). However, that is where the similarities end. While in Capernaum they marveled at this teaching authority, in Nazareth they questioned his audacity. While in Capernaum huge crowds followed him, in Nazareth they were scandalized by his presence and teaching. While in Capernaum Jesus healed all the sick brought to him (1:32), in Nazareth he only healed a few.

The hometown folks are unimpressed. They recognize him as a common carpenter (a wood-worker) and the son of Mary. Perhaps Joseph was already dead at this point and thus Mary is the focus of his parentage. (Another textual tradition in Mark calls him the “carpenter’s son” but the better reading is “Is this not the carpenter, the son of Mary?”) The question, however, is disparaging and demeaning. Jesus is not only a blue-collar laborer but his mother is Mary who conceived Jesus before she was married–we might imagine a stigma might still be attached to her. Jesus is not simply “one of us”—like his brothers and sisters—but his origins are perhaps considered shameful. Jesus is no one special and he certainly does not have the authority to call these hometown folks to “repent and believe” (1:15).

Apparently, the family of Jesus is part of the synagogue audience or at least well-known in the environs. Mary, four brothers (named as James, Joses, Judas and Simon), and an unidentified number of sisters are referenced by the synagogue attendees. In the late fourth century, Jerome suggested that these “brothers and sisters” were actually cousins and Epiphanius at the same time suggested that they were Joseph’s children but not Mary’s. But there is no biblical reason why they could not be the children of Mary and Joseph after the birth of Jesus and thus Jesus’ younger siblings.

Jesus’ response to the reaction of the synagogue’s audience includes his family, most likely his siblings rather than his mother (though we cannot rule out that she thought him a bit “out of his mind” as in Mark 5:21, 31. The proverbial line that a prophet is not without honor except in his own country (city of Nazareth) is extended to include his relatives and his house (where he lives). It seems true everywhere, “you can’t go home.” The memories of childhood and old stereotypes remain, and those hinder any recognition of how a hometown child might have excelled.

Mark characterizes the synagogue’s response as “unbelief.” Whereas Jairus believed and the woman who touched Jesus believed, his hometown does not. Faith was a key ingredient in the Galilean stories in chapter five but is lacking here. Just as many marveled at the witness of the demoniac in Mark 5:20, so Jesus marveled at the unbelief of his hometown folks.

Why does not Jesus conduct a healing ministry here? It would be unwise to read Jesus’ inability here as some sort of metaphysical reality, that is, he did not have the power to heal in this situation. It is perhaps better to read this as a decision by Jesus. Since his message was rejected and he was personally demeaned, Jesus refused to conduct a healing ministry in Nazareth. Jesus is not interested in being a side-show or a crusading miracle-worker which might only solidify their unbelief and harden their hearts in any event. In this sense, he cannot heal in Nazareth. Where there was no receptivity, Jesus moved on (as he counseled his disciples in 6:11); but even this is not absolute here since he did heal a few.

Leaving Nazareth, Jesus becomes a “circuit rider” preacher. He travels around the Galilean villages teaching about the kingdom of God (cf. 1:14, 28), just as he had done in Nazareth. Given the context, Jesus is not only widening his Galilean ministry but is also apprenticing the Twelve which enables him to widen it even more.

Jesus called the Twelve “apostles” (“ones sent”) in Mark 3:14 because he intended to send them into the field in order to participate in his mission. Jesus now widens his ministry by sending the Twelve out in pairs. They will extend the mission of Jesus from village to village. Six pairs can cover more territory in Galilee than one group led by Jesus.

The Twelve fully share in the missional ministry of Jesus—they “herald” the good news of the kingdom in order to turn the people toward repentance. They proclaim the same message as Jesus: the kingdom of God is near; repent and believe the good news (Mark 1:14-15). The Twelve fully share in the missional ministry of Jesus—they demonstrate the presence of the kingdom of God by exorcizing demons and healing the sick (Mark 1:34). The Twelve were given “authority over unclean spirits” just as Jesus had authority over them—Jesus shared the authority of the kingdom of God with the disciples (Mark 1:27; 3:15). The Twelve are full participants in the kingdom ministry of Jesus.

Why does Jesus restrict their travel baggage? They are forbidden to take extra clothing (tunic), food, money (and begging for money, that is, the beggar’s bag is excluded), but they are permitted sandals and a walking staff. In general, we see an emphasis on total dependence. The Twelve are to trust God for their provisions. The disciples are on probation; they are hereby tested.

However, more is going on here. Going out in pairs may reflect the requirement for truthful testimony in the Torah (Deuteronomy 17:6), but the significance of their sending and the restrictions mirrors God’s instructions to Israel as they left Egypt. In Exodus 12:11 Israel is instructed to eat with tunic, sandals and staff in hand for their flight out of Egypt, and then in the wilderness they depend upon God’s provision. The disciples, as new Israel—a remnant of Twelve, go out among the people to herald a new Exodus which is the inbreaking of the kingdom of God.

The Twelve are also given a criterion for staying or leaving in a particular village. If they are welcomed, they stay and practice the kingdom of God by heralding and healing. If they are rejected, they leave for another village. To shake the dust of the feet was a symbolic gesture of disassociation and judgment. If the village rejects God’s missionaries, they heap upon themselves their own judgment.

Jesus himself faced rejection and unbelief. The disciples will face the same. Not everyone will accept the message. If they will not listen to Jesus, they will not listen to the disciples. As we follow Jesus, sometimes we are welcomed and sometimes we are rejected. Nevertheless, we have a mission as Jesus has invited us to participate in his redemptive mission.

Almost comically, Jesus is ferried back to the western side of the lack (presumably near Capernaum) apparently just after he arrived on the eastern shore. He was asked to leave and he left, but he finds himself again in the middle of a “large crowd” on the western shore. It seems as if Jesus can find no respite.

A desperate leader named Jairus emerges from the crowd to beg Jesus for the life of his daughter. He is a prominent person—one of the officials in the local synagogue. He is described in this way four times as if to emphasize his role in the community. Despite his public persona, the ruler prostrated himself before Jesus and begged him “greatly” (excessively or intensely). Jairus fears for his daughter’s life but believes Jesus can reverse her fortunes. Jairus begs Jesus to, literally, “save” her so that she might live. To snatch another from the jars of death is to “save” them—Mark does not use the word for healing, but for salvation. More on this in a moment.

As Jesus walks with him to his home, the huge crowd pressed him on every side. We might imagine the picture of a rock star attempting to move through paparazzi from the car to the hotel. Jesus is surrounded, perhaps jostled, by the crowd. They may want to see what will happen at the house of Jairus. But some, at least one, had another motive. She just wanted to touch Jesus.

Mark slows down the narrative to give us a thorough description of this woman’s situation. She is diseased, impoverished and unclean. Her condition grows worse as her resources and hope diminish. She, too, is desperate. She had exhausted her resources on “many doctors” who could do nothing for her. Her frustration was no doubt great as well as her fear. Her condition involved some kind of constant bleeding which made her continually impure or unclean. Having heard about Jesus, and no doubt having heard that others had been healed by touching him (cf. Mark 3:10), she just wanted to touch Jesus.

And she did, and she was saved (5:28) which is immediate freedom from her suffering (literally, plague or misfortune). She was healed and relieved. She knew it immediately and so did Jesus. He stopped, turned around and asked who touched him–a question the disciples found incredulous.

Why is Jesus so curious about who connected with his “power”? Perhaps he wanted her to witness to the healing for the sake of the crowd. But is it not likely that there were more than just this woman who had been healed by touch? Perhaps there was something particular about this woman that significantly reveals the kingdom of God at work. Perhaps Mark calls attention to this healing because it further illuminates a theme in this section of his Gospel.

She is unclean, just as the demonic spirits were in the previous story. Though healed, she is afraid, just as the disciples were afraid after the calming of the storm and the public was afraid of Jesus after the demons destroyed the pig herd. But in contrast to those two stories, she has faith. She believed that Jesus could heal her and her faith, literally, “saves” her—in both body and soul. Just as Jesus restored peace to the demoniac, so he restored peace to this daughter of Israel.

What is salvation? In this story it is the renewal of peace, the healing of the body—freedom from suffering, and the restoration of human dignity as this woman will no longer live in isolation and fear due to her uncleanness. Salvation is holistic; it is the reversal of all that is broken and the renewal of all that God intends for human beings.

Inviting our hearts to celebrate this healing, the narrative immediately turns desperate again. Messengers announce that Jairus’ daughter has died.

Jesus’ reassurance to Jairus further illuminates the narrative. “Don’t be afraid; only believe.” Faith alone—trust me, Jesus says. Death is no obstacle any more than diseases or demons are. Fear disrupts the peace of the kingdom of God but faith is the means by which the kingdom breaks into the world. While the disciples are learning to trust, learning to believe, the diseased woman and the grieving father exhibit authentic faith. The ruler leads Jesus to his house.

Interestingly, Jesus separates himself from not only the crowd but from the Twelve. He only takes Peter, James and John with him to Jairus’ home. This is the first indication of an inner circle among the disciples; we might call these Jesus’ intimates. These three share experiences with Jesus that the others do not. They not only go to the house but they are also present in the room when Jesus speaks to Jairus’ daughter. Everyone, even Jesus, needs human intimacy in the form of close friendships.

Mourners (perhaps professional mourners?) are already present when they arrive at the house. Mark describes the scene as a “commotion” or uproar (what officials feared in Mark 14:2) filled with wailing and weeping. And yet when Jesus assures them that there is no need for such a scene because the girl is only sleeping, they ridicule him. The contrast between mourning and scornful laughing is stark. But their emotions will soon move to astonishment–a Greek word from which we derive our English word “ecstasy.”

Jesus, alone with the parents and the three disciples, speaks to the girl in Aramaic which Mark translates for his readers—“Little girl, get up.” Immediately the twelve year old girl obeyed, just as the demons obeyed and just as the winds and the waves obeyed. Jesus reigns over death, demons, diseases and natural chaos. The kingdom of God—the reign of God—is present in Jesus.

Jesus “saves” two daughters of Israel. One is healed of a disease; the other is raised from the dead. Both were unclean and Jesus purified them. Who is this that heals diseases and raises the dead? He is a savior; he is the redemptive presence of Yahweh in the midst of Israel.

Who is this? The disciples asked the question in 4:41. Mark’s narrative answers the question. The God of Israel saves through Jesus. The kingdom of God has come near and it reigns over evil and chaos. The reign of God saves.

Mark’s action-soaked narrative testifies to the identity of Jesus. Who is Jesus? He calms storms, exorcizes demons, heals diseases, and raises the dead. The question the disciples raised after Jesus calms the storm is answered by a demon named “Legion.”

Ferried to the eastern side of the lake, “the region of Gerasenes,” Jesus encountered a demon-possessed man immediately after getting out of the boat. Mark describes the behavior and condition of this demoniac in great detail; in more detail than he does anywhere else. Mark uses this story to say something important about demon possession.

This demon-possessed man lived among tombs, presumably carved from the caves the line the hills that rise up from the shore of the lake. He lived in isolation. He practiced self-mutilation which is a form of self-destruction or self-hatred. He apparently had abnormal strength since he had broken chains with which others had attempted to restrain him. Whether the restraints were merely for his own protection or he was also a threat to the community is open to question. When healed in 5:15, he was calm (sitting), clothed, and in his “right mind” (able to exercise self-control and moderate his passions). This contrast indicates that his conduct previously was just the opposite: hyperactive, naked and disconnected from reality. He lived a self-destructive, isolated and miserable existence.

Demon possession dehumanizes a person. It reverses the dignity of a human being created in the image of God to enjoy life. Isolated, they cannot experience community. Self-destructive, they live with pain and degradation. They hate life and hate themselves rather than loving life. The demoniac power undermines the divine intent for human life; it destroys what it means to be human.

Whether or not actual demon possession is an ongoing reality in our present world (some think it was a measured, divinely permitted expression of Satanic activity for the sake of revealing the kingdom of God in the ministry of Jesus and in the ministry of the early church), any dehumanizing power is ultimately demonic or Satanic in origin. Dehumanization is an expression of the principalities and powers that are hostile to the kingdom of God.

This hostility is evident in the text. Indeed, the word Mark uses to describe the meeting between Jesus and the demoniac is sometimes used to describe the meeting of hostile powers on the battlefield (5:2). Whether it means that here is questionable, but the context underscores the hostile relationship that exists between Jesus and demons. The demoniac shouted at Jesus, “What is it between you and me” (5:7; my translation). The demon fears that Jesus will “torture” him.

The demon knows he is in trouble because he knows the identity of Jesus. The demon answers the disciples’ question in 4:41, “Who is this?” The demon acknowledges: “Jesus, Son of the Most High God!” The answer reminds us how Mark titled his narrative (1:1). This acknowledgement, unconfessed at this point by any disciple or human being, reminds us that the identity of Jesus is more than simply Messiah.

Jesus commands the winds and the waves, and he also commands demons. I say demons because when questioned, this demon sayings his name is “Legion, for we are many.” A Legion is a military grouping that could have four to six thousand men. Whether the many is possessed by literally thousands of demons or whether the name is a hyperbole for “many,” the point is that Jesus is commanding a larger number of demons. He is not simply doing battle with one demon but a “Legion” (or “many”). And the military term “Legion” underscores the hostile nature of the encounter. Jesus defeats demons, even when he is outnumbered.

When demons are exorcised, where do they go? Presumably, they roam the earth to do battle with the kingdom of God. The demons did not want to leave the region where they were but they sensed that the presence of Jesus meant they would have to flee. They beg to stay and go into a herd of pigs feeding “on the nearby hillside.”

“So,” Jesus ruminates, “you don’t want to leave, then, ok, go among the herd of pigs.” So, they did, and 2,000 pigs drowned themselves in the lake. Just as the demoniac pursued self-destructive behavior, so the pigs rushed to self-destruction. Demoniac powers are hostile to God’s kingdom, including God’s creation. They oppose and seek to destroy whatever good exists within God’s creation.

Why did Jesus do that? Some have thought that Jesus, a good Jew, did not like pigs anyway. While the Torah prohibits eating pork, there is no hatred of pigs in the Torah. This is not about Jesus’ Jewishness. Rather, it is about demoniac hostility to God’s creation. It reveals what the hostile powers intend for God’s creation. Jesus permits the demons to show their true colors. Even when unclean spirits go into unclean animals they are destructive. God is always permitting demons (and Satan) to do their work–God could rid the world of demons with a single fiat. But God does not do that; God permits them to pursue their hostile agenda, just as Jesus did here on this occasion.

Of course, the owners of the pigs did not appreciate Jesus’ permission. They saw Jesus as a threat. He healed a demoniac and, as far as they were concerned, he destroyed their pigs. No wonder they were afraid. They had the same fear that the disciples had after Jesus calmed the storm; at least Mark uses the same word to describe both (5:15 with 4:41). They, too, were likely asking the question, “Who is this?” Whoever he is, however, they want nothing to do with him. For all they know he might be a danger to their region. They begged him to leave; using the same word that the “many” used (5:17 with 5:10, 12). The people in the Decapolis (a Gentile region east of the Galilean Sea defined by ten cities) stand in the same relation to Jesus as the demonic “Legion.”

Jesus leaves but he also leaves a witness. The healed man begs (same word in 5:19 as in 5:17) to go “with him” (Jesus). He begs to be with Jesus while the people begged for Jesus to put some distance between him and them. The healed man wants to become a disciple of Jesus. To be “with” Jesus is technical language for intimate discipleship, perhaps becoming one of the Twelve (see 3:14 where Jesus chooses Twelve to be “with him”).

But Jesus denies his request. Rather, Jesus wants him to stay behind in the Decapolis to bear witness to God’s mighty act of healing and the mercy God bestowed. This raises several questions. Why does Jesus direct him to tell the good news of his healing while he asked others to remain quiet? Why does not Jesus say “follow me” to this grateful believer?

The answer probably lies in the geographical and social context of the healing. The Decapolis is a Gentile region. There is no need to keep a Messianic secret here since the danger of a militant, Jewish uprising does not exist. More than likely, the healed man was himself a Gentile and thus could not be one of the Twelve ministering among the people of Israel. His witness was best utilized in his homeland, and his witness was effective. When the people heard it, they were “amazed.”

Jesus sailed to a Gentile land, perhaps to escape the Jewish crowds on the western shores of the lake. He entered an unclean land, encountered an unclean man living in unclean tombs and possessed by an unclean spirit, and sent the unclean spirits into unclean animals. Jesus enacted the kingdom of God as he purified what was unclean and defeated hostile powers. Jesus demonstrateed the kingdom of God among the Gentiles.

Jesus restored the dignity of a human being to whom the good news of the kingdom of God was announced and enacted.

As we read this story, it calls us to place ourselves within it. Perhaps we are the unclean human who needs the good news, or having received healing must bear witness to the mercy of God. Perhaps, however, we are the people of the land who, fearful of the amazing work of God, resist commitment to the kingdom of God. Perhaps, most importantly, we are called to follow Jesus and restore the dignity of human beings whenever we find people mistreated, isolated or marginalized. Perhaps we find a little of all three in ourselves. May God have mercy.