Scripture Reflections Seeking Understanding

 This week we mark Palm Sunday – a unique celebration in that there are two Gospel readings, not the usual one. And as I read them again, I am struck by the contrasts between them.  In the first we hear the account of Jesus' triumphant entry into Jerusalem, in the latter His rejection, humiliation and crucifixion.  In the former He is met by crowds cheering and waving green branches. They throw their cloaks on the ground as He passes, carried by a humble beast of burden.  In the latter His own clothing is stripped from Him, and the crowd jeers as he carries the burden of the cross, crowned with thorns and our sinfulness.  As the crow flies, from the Palm Sunday road to Calgary is a little over a mile. By contrast the distance between the cries of ‘Hosanna, Lord save us’   and  ‘If you are Son of God, save yourself’ feels more like an eternity. But the bridge between the two is the wood of the cross and the willingness of Christ to lay down ...

This Sunday we are presented with the story of Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead. It is a story regarded by many as a prefiguring of Jesus’ own resurrection, but a comment made by a prominent Jewish biblical scholar has made me look at this story in a new light. We have come across Mary and Martha before, two strong willed and independent women that John tells us hold a special place in Jesus’ heart. Together they live with their brother Lazarus, but he is not the head of the household, Martha is. She is the one that goes out to meet Jesus as he approaches. She is the one in Luke’s Gospel that offers him the hospitality of their home. She is the one that accompanies Him to the tomb.  So, where does this leave Lazarus in this family?  We never hear Lazarus speak. And unlike others whose lives have been touched by Jesus, he doesn’t become a witness proclaiming Him as Messiah.  All we know is that he is deeply loved, and that his passing causes Jesus, Mary and Martha g...

This Sunday we hear the account in John’s Gospel of Jesus healing the blind man. ‘He spat on the ground, made a paste with the spittle, put this over the eyes of the blind man and said to him, ‘Go and wash in the Pool of Siloam’. So the blind man went off and washed himself, and came away with his sight restored.’ We are all familiar with the story in Genesis’ second account of creation that the Lord formed the first man from the earth. As we hear this account, we know that Jesus’ disciples would have been familiar with it too. So, when Jesus bent down and created a paste from the dust on the ground the symbolism would not have been lost on them. This too is a moment of creation, in which the man who has been blind from birth is made anew. What joy he must have felt, to be made whole. And what joy his parents must have felt – at least that’s what we would expect. But the story tells us that they were in fear of what might happen to them if they were to acknowledge the miracle...

This Sunday we hear the story of the Samaritan woman at the well. Like many stories from the Gospel, this one has become so familiar over the years that it is easy to gloss over what is happening in the narrative and move straight to Jesus’ declaration that he is the Messiah. But sitting with the passage this week I have been struck by the encounter this un-named woman has with Jesus before he makes this declaration. The writer of this story tells us very specifically that she has come to the well in the middle of the day, when no-one else is around. She is not seeking an encounter. She is going out of her way to avoid one. And when Jesus first speaks to her, she immediately draws a boundary between them. I am a Samaritan – you are a Jew. She expects (or maybe hopes) that this will put an end to any further conversation between them. But Jesus persists – at first speaking to her of God and then, most surprisingly, about herself.   One thing that I notice is that there is a ...