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Commentary on Mark 6:1-6

Jesus returns to his home town in the company of his disciples. On the Sabbath day, as was his right, he began teaching in the synagogue. His listeners, who all knew him since he was a child, are staggered at the authoritative way he speaks, and by what he says:

Where did this man get all this? What is this wisdom that has been given to him? What deeds of power are being done by his hands!

He had no more education than any of his fellow-villagers. But the point is that they do recognise his wisdom and his power to perform miracles. Yet, he is ‘only’ the son of a carpenter and of Mary, related to James and Joses and Jude and Simon, and with “sisters” as well.

And because they knew him so well, because they were so familiar with him, they could not accept him. They deliberately chose not to see what was happening before their very eyes. This, of course, is the irony of the whole situation—they did not know him at all. They were blinded by their superficial familiarity.

This trap of familiarity is one we can all fall into very easily. How many times have we failed to recognise the voice of Jesus speaking to us because the person is someone we meet every day, a person we may not like or may even despise? But God can and does talk to us through all kinds of people, Catholic or not, relative, friend, colleague, our own children, total stranger, educated, uneducated and many others.

Jesus says to them:

Prophets are not without honor, except in their hometown and among their own kin and in their own house.

This is a saying known in other cultures and an experience all too often repeated in our own day. In comparing himself to the Hebrew prophets who went before him, Jesus foreshadows his ultimate rejection by many of his own people. We have already seen his problems with his own family, and now with his townspeople—and it is not the end.

As a result of the townspeople’s deliberate blindness, we are told Jesus:

…could do no deed of power there, except that he laid his hands on a few sick people and cured them. And he was amazed at their unbelief.

He could not help those who had no faith in him. Jesus never forces himself on us. Jesus waits patiently and works only when we cooperate and open ourselves to him. Mark often says how amazed the people are at Jesus’ teaching. Sadly now, as the last line reads, it is Jesus’ turn to be amazed at his hometown’s lack of faith and trust in him.

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Commentary on 2 Samuel 24:2,8-17

Today we have our last reading from the Second Book of Samuel, where we are coming to the end of David’s life. The reading comes from the final chapter of 2 Samuel. It seems that the material was originally part of chapter 21, where we are told that there had been three consecutive years of famine.

David gives a command for a military census to be made of the whole country from the far north (Dan) to the very south (Beer-sheba). However, as soon as it was done, David deeply regretted what he had done. The preceding verse (not in our reading) implies that David’s decision was the result of God’s anger against the people and would result in a lot of suffering.

The census does not appear to have been prompted by any external threat. Since he wanted to “know how many there are”, it is evident that his action was motivated either by pride in the size of the empire he had acquired or by reliance for his security on the size of the reserve of manpower he could muster in an emergency or, more likely, both.

The mere taking of a census was hardly sinful (there were precedents in the past), but in this instance it represented an unwarranted glorying in and dependence on human power rather than the Lord (not much different from Israel’s initial desire to have a king for their security, see 1 Sam 8-12). In those days a census was often considered impious because it usurped the prerogative of God to whom alone it belonged to give increase to family and nation. The act in many ways was uncharacteristic of David.

The result of the census found that in Israel (the northern part of the kingdom) there were 800,000 men fit for military service and in Judah (the southern part) there were 500,000. Even by today’s standards for a large country, they would be huge figures, so we can take it they are highly inflated. This, of course, only makes clearer the taking of the census as a kind of hubris.

Almost immediately, David could see the whole exercise as a not so subtle act of arrogance, of pride in the size of his kingdom, and of the material resources he had to deal with any enemies. In other words, it seemed to turn the focus away from the Israelites’ real source of strength and security, namely, the Lord God, and towards themselves. David now begs God’s forgiveness for what he has done.

And indeed God seems to concur with David’s view. The following day, Gad the seer is sent with a message. David is offered a choice of three forms of punishment: three years of famine, to be on the run from his enemies for three months, or endure a pestilence for three days. The three alternative judgments were all included in the curses that Moses said would come on God’s people when they failed to adhere to their covenant obligations (see Deut 28:15-25).

It was a very difficult choice, but David chose the last of the three—three days of pestilence and said:

Let us fall into the hand of the Lord, for his mercy is great…

David, who knew both God and war, knew that even in his anger God was more merciful than man let loose in the rampages of war (see Ps 30:5).

It may have been only three days, but it coincided with the time of the wheat harvest. The death toll throughout the nation was 70,000 people. But as the plague was about to destroy Jerusalem, God relented and stayed the hand of the avenging angel. He stopped at the threshing floor of Araunah the Jebusite. This was located on Mount Moriah, immediately north of David’s city and overlooking it. Later it would become the site of the Temple.

Characteristically, David takes responsibility for the sin that had been committed. The sin was his and not that of the people. It was David’s decision to have the census. They should not have had to suffer:

I alone have sinned, and I, the shepherd, have done evil, but these sheep, what have they done? Let your hand, I pray, be against me and against my father’s house [but not against his people].

The people of Israel were certainly not without guilt; in fact, it was the Lord’s anger against them that led David to order the census for which they would have to pay the price. Even so, David characteristically assumes full blame for his own act and acknowledges his responsibility as king for the well-being of the Lord’s people.

The story reminds us of the subtle arrogance that can rule our lives. We can set so much store by our intellectual or academic abilities, by our professional skills or status, or by the material goods we have accumulated. And we forget how really vulnerable we are and how little we can do without God’s help.

There is also our constant tendency to lay the blame on others when things go wrong. We don’t find it easy to follow David’s example. Let us reflect today on where we put our day to day security and where God fits into our lifestyle.

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Commentary on Mark 5:21-43

Today’s passage illustrates a feature of Mark’s Gospel—inclusion, where one passage is contained inside another. Today we have two miracles, with one of them narrated inside the other. Again we are told of large crowds gathering around Jesus on the shore as once again he crosses the lake.

A synagogue official, Jairus, approaches and begs Jesus to lay his healing hands on his daughter who is very ill. Jairus was a person responsible for conducting services at the synagogue and keeping order. Sometimes the position was honorary, without any administrative responsibility.

Jairus asks Jesus to come and lay his healing hands on his daughter, as he has done for so many others. As Jesus makes his way to the house followed by a large crowd, there is a woman who had been haemorrhaging for 12 years. She had tried every kind of medical treatment in vain, and she was getting worse. Apart from the distress caused by the ailment, her bleeding rendered her ritually unclean. If the people around her knew of her condition, she might have been attacked. Hence she felt great anxiety about approaching Jesus without being identified or drawing attention.

She had this tremendous faith that, just by touching the hem of Jesus’ garment, she would be healed. And she was—immediately. In both cases, there was a deep conviction that physical contact, together with faith in Jesus’ power to heal, would bring about a cure. It is important for us to recover the connection between physical touch and healing.

Jesus knew something had happened:

Immediately aware that power had gone forth from him, Jesus turned about in the crowd and said, “Who touched my cloak?”

His disciples naturally wondered why he would say this when so many people were pressing in on him.

In fear and trembling, probably more afraid of the crowd than of Jesus, the woman identified herself. She then hears the beautiful words:

Daughter, your faith [i.e. your total trust in me] has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease.

Peace indeed. Not only was she physically cured, but she could now mix freely with people again. She was fully restored to society and her community, without the shame that a woman of that time would feel, and without having to hide.

After this, we resume the first story. Messengers come to say that Jairus’ daughter has died. There is no need to bother Jesus any more. Jesus urges Jairus to keep believing. As he approaches the house, he separates from the crowd and brings only Peter, James and John with him as witnesses to a very special event. The house is full of mourners, wailing and weeping in the customary way.

Why do you make a commotion and weep? The child is not dead but sleeping.

In so speaking, Jesus is not denying the child’s real death, but it is an assurance that she will be wakened from her sleep of death. Death in the Old Testament is often described as sleep. And we, too, read on gravestones that so-and-so “went to sleep in the Lord”.

The crowd, often portrayed as so supportive of Jesus, is here shown as incredulous. They laugh at him. So everyone is put out of the room except the child’s parents and Jesus’ three companions. Then:

Taking her by the hand, he said to her, “Talitha koum,” which means, “Little girl, get up!”

The words suggest resurrection to new life. Immediately the girl got up and began to walk around. She was just 12 years old.

Those present are “overcome with amazement” and are told not to say anything to anyone. They are also reminded to give the poor girl some food. This is another step in the unfolding of Jesus’ true identity, while at the same time, he does not want that identity to be made public at this stage. It is another indication of Jesus’ mission:

I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.
(John 10:10)

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Commentary on 2 Samuel 18:9-10,14,24-25,30—19:3

Once again David surprises us by his reactions. The tables are being turned on the rebellious Absalom and a huge army goes out against his supporters. David himself, on the advice of his commanders, stays behind. Already they suspect his gentle attitude towards his son. As they set off, David told them:

Deal gently for my sake with the young man Absalom.
(2 Sam 18:5)

Absalom, now in flight on his mule, gets his long hair caught in branches as he rides under a tree. The mule rides on and Absalom is left hanging in mid-air (the mule apparently was the normal mount for royalty in David’s kingdom). We were told earlier that Absalom, who was stunningly handsome, had such an abundance of thick hair that he had to shave his head every year. Presumably, then, it was this hair which got entangled in the branches of the tree. Whatever the cause, it was the young man’s beauty which was his undoing.

Absalom hanging from the tree was immediately reported to Joab, the general leading the army. In verses not part of today’s reading, Joab asked the man why he had not struck Absalom down and received a reward. The man replied that even if he had 2,000 pieces of silver in his hands, he would not lay a hand on the king’s son, whom David had ordered his officers to protect. The soldier who had found Absalom told Joab:

…if I had dealt treacherously against his life [Absalom’s] (and there is nothing hidden from the king), then you yourself would have stood aloof. (2 Sam 18:13)

Joab then himself went and thrust three spears into the heart of the helpless Absalom, still hanging alive on the tree. In Joab’s view, the rebellion is now over and the threat to David’s throne has been removed.

The battle is now called off. Absalom is taken down from the tree and thrown into a deep pit in the forest. A pile of stones is set up as a marker for his grave.

Meanwhile, Ahimaaz, the son of the priest Zadok, offers to bring the good news of the victory to David. Joab tells him he is not the man to do it because, in fact, for David it will not be good news with his son dead. Instead an anonymous Cushite is sent to bring the message. Then Ahimaaz again pleads with Joab to let him go. Joab tells him:

Why will you run, my son, seeing that you have no reward for the tidings?

But in the end Joab lets Ahimaaz go. He runs after the Cushite and he actually overtakes him and is the first to reach the city wall.

A lookout on the city gates saw Ahimaaz running alone. David said:

If he is alone, there are tidings in his mouth.

A large group of fleeing soldiers could only have meant disaster. Then the second runner is seen and again David says it must mean good news. As the runners get closer, Ahimaaz is recognised as one of them. Said David:

He is a good man and comes with good tidings.

Ahimaaz then, in the presence of David, reports:

Blessed be the Lord your God, who has delivered up the men who raised their hand against my lord the king.

But David has only one question:

Is it well with the young man Absalom?

Ahimaaz, suddenly realising the significance of the question, is immediately cautious and, in fact, does not say what he knows:

I saw a great tumult when the king’s servant Joab sent your servant, but I do not know what it was.

David then put Ahimaaz aside until he heard the Cushite’s report. The Cushite too at first only gives a general report:

Good tidings for my lord the king! For the Lord has vindicated you this day, delivering you from the power of all who rose up against you.

Again, the king has only one concern and asks if Absalom was safe. But the indirect response of the Cushite says it all:

May the enemies of my lord the king and all who rise up to do you harm be like that young man.

Far from being overjoyed at the removal of his rebellious son, David takes refuge in a room over the city gate and is overcome with grief:

O my son Absalom, my son, my son Absalom! Would I had died instead of you, O Absalom, my son, my son!

Words that have echoed down the centuries as one of the most moving expressions of a father’s love. And that in spite of all that Absalom had done against his father. It reminds one of the way that God loves us, even at our most sinful.

And what should have been a triumphant victory is turned into a day of mourning for the whole army.

As the text continues beyond our reading, we are told that the generals and soldiers had mixed feelings about David’s reaction. They wondered if Absalom, who was out to destroy his father, had lived and they had died, would David have been happier? In that, they may have been unfair. For it is only a parent who knows the feeling of having a child, even a rebellious child, lost in this way.

Once again, we see the deep humanity of David. He did what we often fail to do. He made the clear distinction between the person of his son and his actions. He was opposed to his son’s actions, but he deeply loved his son. We sometimes express that by saying that we love the sinner, but not the sin. So often, however, our hate is directed so that both forgiveness and reconciliation can be very difficult.

Jesus, of course, as the image of his Father, also set us an example in this regard. As men, filled with hatred, nailed him to the cross, he prayed:

Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing. (Luke 23:34)

And, of course, every time we take advantage of the Sacrament of Reconciliation, we expect that God will forgive us no matter what we may have done or how often.

Let us remember, though, that as Christians we need to take on the same attitude as Jesus. Every time we pray the Lord’s Prayer we say:

Forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us.

It is a dangerous prayer to make and we should think twice about its meaning before we let it trip so easily off our tongues.

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Commentary on Mark 5:1-20

Today we see Mark at his best—a story full of drama and excitement. Compare this to a much more bland version of the story in Matthew where, for some reason, there are two men. It takes place in the “region of the Gerasenes”, which was gentile territory.

There was a man who was possessed by several “unclean spirits”, i.e. demons (“My name is Legion, for we are many.”). He was absolutely uncontrollable, could smash through chains and lived in isolated places, an outcast and a source of fear to people everywhere.

But when Jesus appears, it is the demons’ turn to fear. They begged not to be sent out of that district (as gentile territory it was fertile ground for their activities—perhaps even a demon’s paradise). They offer a deal. They ask to be allowed to enter a herd of pigs. Clearly, the presence of pigs indicates this was gentile territory. Jesus grants their request, and once possessed:

…the herd, numbering about two thousand, stampeded down the steep bank into the sea and were drowned in the sea.

To the thinking of many today, this seems like a terrible waste of good pigs! How could Jesus do such a thing? But we need to remember that this was written in a Jewish context where pigs were regarded as unclean and to be avoided at all costs. We remember how the Prodigal Son was condemned in his hunger to get a job tending pigs and even to eating their food. For a Jew, this was the very lowest any human could go in terms of humiliation and degradation. So getting rid of these pigs was a case of good riddance. A better place to put evil spirits could not be imagined!

On the other hand, the swineherds were naturally upset at losing their means of livelihood and went back to the towns to announce what had happened. Subsequently, the people from those towns came out to see this extraordinary happening. They found Jesus and the man, perfectly composed and fully dressed—and they were afraid. Naturally, they realised that, in Jesus, they were in the presence of someone very special who had such powers. They were also very upset that their herds of pigs had been destroyed and, not surprisingly, they begged Jesus to go elsewhere.

The man, however, asked to follow Jesus. Jesus’ response is interesting:

Jesus refused and said to him, “Go home to your own people, and tell them how much the Lord has done for you and what mercy he has shown you.”

This was, in fact, another kind of following and is a message each of us can hear.

Some of us think that following Jesus means spending a lot of time ‘with Jesus’ in religious activities or joining the priesthood or religious life. For most of us, our calling and our following of Jesus takes place right where we are. It is there that we need to share with others our experience of knowing and being loved by Jesus.

Let us go home and tell others what Jesus means in our lives. And, like the people in this Gospel, they may be amazed.

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Commentary on 2 Samuel 15:13-14,30, 16:5-13

Today’s First Reading is a strange narrative that shows the humility of David and has much to say to us. First, David is told that his son, Absalom, has rebelled against him and is acting as king. David, realising that Absalom has won over the majority, decides to flee from Jerusalem. He did not want to fall into the hands of his son and have a bloodbath in the city. At the same time, he did not altogether despair of the situation because he had left supporters behind. He sent Zadok the priest and Abiathar with the Ark back to the city. He also left ten of his concubines there. But, as he was caught between rebels from both the north and south parts of the kingdom, he decided to make a strategic withdrawal (see 2 Sam 15:27 and 34).

But he was brokenhearted over the turn of events. As he went up the Mount of Olives (clearly he had not gone far from the city), he wept constantly, with his head covered and walking barefoot, as did his followers. This was the usual mourning ritual but came to be used as a sign of deep sorrow in general.

A little later, as David was approaching Bahurim, which was on the eastern slope of the Mount of Olives, he was approached by a man who started cursing the king. The man’s name was Shimei, son of a man called Gera and from the same clan as Saul. He also began throwing stones at David and at the royal guards, who were on either side of him. He shouted at the king:

Out! Out! Murderer! Scoundrel!

The term he used was belial, a name used for Satan and hence the personification of evil and lawlessness (Paul uses the term in 2 Cor 6:15). He called out to David, saying that David was only suffering the consequences of his actions, especially his bloodshed against the family of Saul.

We are told later on that David agreed to avenge the sufferings of the Gibeonites at the hands of Saul by delivering into their hands seven of Saul’s sons, who were dismembered and killed. Because of a promise, the son of Jonathan was spared (see 2 Sam 21:1-14). For all his humanity and sensitivity, David was a product of his age.

In addition, said Shimei, David had lost his kingdom to his son Absalom:

See, disaster has overtaken you, for you are a man of blood.

The story of Uriah and Bathseba was also public knowledge.

Naturally, David’s followers were all for killing the man who spoke in such an insulting way to their king. Says Abishai (one of the court officials with David):

Why should this dead dog curse my lord the king? Let me go over and take off his head.

In that culture, one could hardly use a worse insult than call a living person a “dead dog”.

David, however, wondered if the man was only doing the Lord’s bidding. After all, he was not saying anything that was untrue. If Absalom, his own son, could turn against him, why not a man of Saul’s family? David told his followers:

It may be that the Lord will look on my distress, and the Lord will repay me with good for this cursing of me today.

David and his followers continued on their journey, but Shimei went on taunting them by cursing and throwing stones and dirt.

To round off the full story (which is not in the reading’s passages), some time later, Shimei approached David and apologised profusely for what he did that day in cursing the king. Although Abishai was for killing him, David held his hand and made an oath to protect Shimei. However, when giving his final instructions on his death-bed, David said Shimei should not go unpunished for what he did, but he left the form of punishment to his successors (see 2 Sam 19:18-23 and 1 Kgs 2:8-9).

It would have been so easy for David, using his kingly prerogative, to wipe out the man who cursed him. In a similar situation, how would we – plebeians that we are – have acted? How do we feel when people speak critically or abusively of us?

In this story we have here a very good example of turning the other cheek (very rare in the Old Testament – not to mention in contemporary life!).

Our hitting back does not protect our dignity, but rather reveals our insecurity. When people say bad things about us, either they are true or they are false. If true, we can accept them; nothing new is being said. If they are false, we can ignore them.

Of course, there may be situations where, for serious reasons, we might have to defend our reputation. I might lose my job because of false accusations, or I might even find myself unjustly being charged with a crime.

But much of the time, our reaction is an indication of our touchiness and an inner sense that we really deserve even more than is being said. So we go on the defensive.

Apart from David’s example, we can look at Jesus, especially during his trial. He met his accusers with a dignified silence. In doing so, he towers over them in dignity and strength.

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Commentary on Mark 4:35-41

After the passage on the parables, Mark continues by narrating four miracle stories, two of them put together in an ‘inclusion’. There are two messages in today’s story of the calming of the storm at sea.

The first is that the calming of the sea indicates the true identity of Jesus; he has the power of God himself.  This question of Jesus’ identity is a major theme of Mark’s Gospel.

He speaks to the sea as if it were a living thing, an instrument of the devil, an evil thing. No wonder that the disciples are filled with awe.  Their question contains its own answer:

Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?

This is clear from passages in the Old Testament, especially in the Psalms:

• You silence the roaring of the seas,
  the roaring of their waves… (Ps 65:7)
• You rule the raging of the sea…
  when its waves rise, you still them. (Ps 89:9)
• More majestic than the thunders of mighty waters,
  more majestic than the waves of the sea… (Ps 93:4)
• …he made the storm be still,
  and the waves of the sea were hushed. (Ps 107:29)

The second message lies in the symbolism underlying the whole story. It is a story of the early Church.  The boat represents a church community (our Church is a community of churches). The surrounding sea is the world.  Jesus gets into the boat “just as he was”, that is, a man looking no different from his disciples. There were other boats too. That is, other church communities. Then a violent storm arises and waves threaten to swamp the boat and sink it. This is just what was happening to so many little communities surrounded by hostile elements bent on wiping out the Christian faith.

Where was Jesus during all this?  Asleep!  Not in the least worried.  The disciples scold him:

Teacher [not yet Lord], do you not care that we are perishing?

How often that complaint must have risen from those tiny, battered communities wondering where their Lord was in all their troubles!  Jesus wakes up and:

…he rebuked the wind and said to the sea, “Be silent! Be still!”

And calm returns.

Now his disciples are scolded:

Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?

That is, why do they not trust in Jesus’ caring for them.  Of course, the real calm is not so much in the sea as it is in their hearts when they realise that Jesus is not far away, not asleep or absent, but is with them all the time.

Let us pray for that inner peace that comes from knowing Jesus is always very close to us, no matter what may be going on in our lives.

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Commentary on 2 Samuel 12:1-7,10-17

Today’s First Reading speaks to the consequences of the terrible crimes of infidelity, deceit and murder that David committed when he had Uriah killed in order to have Bathsheba as his own. If he thought he would escape notice or punishment, he was deeply mistaken.

Hardly had Bathsheba given birth to the boy when David is confronted by the prophet Nathan:

…and the Lord sent Nathan to David.

Prophets are primarily people who bring a message from God. We met Nathan before when David complained to him about his discomfort of living in a house of cedar while the Ark of the Covenant was still in a tent (2 Sam 7:2). Here the prophet comes to proclaim God’s judgement against the king he had set over his own people.

The message is uttered through one of the most striking parables to be found in the Old Testament. Nathan tells David about a rich man, the owner of large herds, who takes for his own table, not one of his own many sheep, but the single ewe lamb of a poor peasant in order to entertain a visitor. Not only was this the only sheep the farmer owned, but “it was like a daughter to him” and shared the little food that he had.

On hearing the story, David was filled with indignation and declared that the rich man deserved to be executed:

As the Lord lives, the man who has done this deserves to die; he shall restore the lamb fourfold because he did this thing and because he had no pity.

Repaying four times was a requirement of the Law (see Exod 22:1). It reminds us of what the chief tax collector, Zacchaeus, said to Jesus after their encounter:

Look, half of my possessions, Lord, I will give to the poor, and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I will pay back four times as much. (Luke 19:8)

Nathan then quietly says to David:

You are the man!

Nothing more had to be said. What David had done was, in fact, many times worse than taking a lamb from a poor man. He had stolen a man’s wife and then cold-bloodedly had him killed.

Nathan then goes on (not part of our reading) to list some of the things that David had received from the Lord, including the wives and harem of his predecessor, Saul:

I gave you your master’s house and your master’s wives into your bosom and gave you the house of Israel and of Judah, and if that had been too little, I would have added as much more. (2 Sam 12:8)

Yet, in spite of being surrounded by so many women and so much power, he goes and steals another man’s wife and then has Uriah killed by the Ammonites, the enemy they were fighting. Of course, it was really David who had killed Uriah; he was no tragic victim of battle.

Speaking in God’s name, Nathan spells out David’s punishment: violence and death will come to his own family: three of his sons, Amnon, Absalom and Adonijah will all die violent deaths. As well, Nathan tells David that God:

…will raise up trouble against you from within your own house, and I will take your wives before your eyes and give them to your neighbor, and he shall lie with your wives in broad daylight. (2 Sam 12:11)

All this took place during the rebellion of David’s son Absalom, when David was forced to flee his palace, but left behind ten concubines. David’s wives would be taken just as he had taken the wife of Uriah. Finally, what David thought he had done in secret becomes public knowledge.

In a spirit of deep remorse and repentance, David totally acknowledges his sin. His feelings are beautifully expressed in Psalm 51, part of which forms today’s Responsorial Psalm:

For I know my transgressions,
and my sin is ever before me.
Against you, you alone, have I sinned
and done what is evil in your sight… (Ps 51:3-4)

But Nathan tells David that his sin is forgiven. He will not die for it (as the law demanded), but he will lose the child of his adultery. The boy fell sick and David was devastated, refusing to eat and sleeping on the ground wearing sackcloth—the sign of repentance. And despite the urging of his courtiers, he refused to get up from the ground, nor would he eat. He was heartbroken not just because of the death of his son, but because of the circumstances in which the child had been born in the first place. This was the price of his sin.

It is not our sins which condemn us in God’s eyes, but our refusal to repent and change our ways. Once we genuinely express our sorrow and show it by a ‘conversion’, God’s mercy is there and waiting. Jesus spelt this out so clearly in the parables of the Lost Sheep and the Prodigal Son. God does not desire the death of a sinner, but that he should have life:

Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world…[He] came that they may have life and have it abundantly. (John 3:17; 10:10)

Let us look at our own lives. First, let us openly acknowledge our sinful acts, especially those where we have hurt others, and take full responsibility for them. Then let us turn to our God and ask for his healing, that we may be made whole again.

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Commentary on Mark 4:26-34

Here we have the two last parables told by Mark in this part of his Gospel.  They are both images of the Kingdom of God, of God’s truth and love spreading among people all over the world.  They are both taken from the world of agriculture, a world that would have been very familiar to Jesus’ listeners.

In the first parable, God’s work is compared to a farmer planting seed.  As in the parable of the Sower, the seed is the Kingdom.  Night and day, the process of growth continues without any human intervention.  Whether the farmer is awake or asleep, the process of growth continues.  The seed sprouts and grows and the farmer does not know how.  The outcome is certain. Once the seed is ripe, it is for the farmer to bring in the harvest.  And that is our task—to bring in the harvest which has been planted in the hearts of people.  In the words of the other parables, it is up to us to shine the light which helps people see the truth and love of God already present in their deepest being.

In the second parable, the Kingdom is compared to a mustard seed.  Although one of the tiniest of seeds, it grows into a sizeable shrub in which even birds can build their nests.

Both of these parables are words of encouragement to a struggling Church living in small scattered communities and surrounded by hostile elements ready to destroy it.  How amazed would the Christians of those days be if they could see how the seed has grown and spread to parts of the world of whose very existence they were totally unaware! Today, we still need to have trust like theirs, and confidence in the power of the Kingdom to survive and spread.

Mark says that Jesus spoke many parables, or even that he spoke only in parables.  But the full meaning of his teaching was explained to his inner circles of disciples. Those staying ‘outside’ were not ready to take in the message.  They are the ones who were not ‘hearing’, as Jesus told his disciples to do.  How sensitive is my hearing?

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Commentary on 2 Samuel 11:1-4,5-10,13-17

Although David is unquestionably one of the outstanding characters of the Old Testament and a key figure in salvation history leading to the appearance of Jesus as Messiah, King and Saviour, one must admire the honesty with which David’s weaknesses are described. It is difficult to think of any other Old Testament leader who is given such ‘warts-and-all’ treatment (although some of the patriarchs come pretty close!). But it is what makes David such an attractive personality. It is very easy to identify with him. And in fact, it is through the very weakness of David—as in the case of the Apostle Paul—that God’s power and wisdom are revealed.

The story begins by telling us that David had sent his army out under Joab. They attacked their enemies, the Ammonites, and laid siege to Rabbah, the Ammonite capital. It would now be about 10 years since David established himself in Jerusalem. It was also the time of year “when kings go out to battle”, directly after the grain harvest in April or May. However, while David’s army was out in the field fighting the nation’s battles, David decided to stay at home.

One afternoon as he walked on the flat roof of his palace, after his afternoon rest, he caught sight of Bathsheba, the wife of Uriah, the armour-bearer of Joab, David’s leading general, bathing. He found her very beautiful. On making enquiries about her identity he was told that she was Bathsheba, the daughter of Eliam. Later in 2 Samuel there is mention of an Eliam, who was a member of David’s personal bodyguard and a son of his adviser, Ahithophel. Bathsheba was a Hittite. The Hittites were a people from Asia Minor, but the term was used of non-semitic people living in Palestine. (Her not being an Israelite further increases the seriousness of what is going to happen between her and the king.)

Filled with desire for her, David sent for her to be brought to his house, had sexual relations with her and, as she soon told him, made her pregnant. They both knew that, according to the law, they could be condemned to death for their act. That was David’s first sin—lust followed by adultery. However, there is no indication that Bathsheba was an unwilling partner in the affair.

The comment that she “was purifying herself after her period” is significant. She had just become ceremonially clean after the seven-day period of monthly impurity following menstruation. This makes it clear that she could not have been pregnant by her own husband when David took her. The child was unquestionably David’s.

In letting David know that she was pregnant, she left the next step up to him. The law prescribed the death penalty for both of them, but then, of course, he was the king.

Now comes David’s second serious sin. He tried to cover up what he had done. (Was this due to a sensitive awareness of wrongdoing or just to keep himself free from the application of the Law?) He summoned Uriah from the battlefield back to Jerusalem on the pretext of finding out how the fighting was going on. Uriah reported that the fighting was going very well.

David then, in an apparent show of deep consideration, urged Uriah to go down to his house and relax for a while. What he does not say specifically is what is most important, but it was well understood by Uriah. Clearly, he hoped that Uriah would also sleep with his wife.

The king also sent a portion from the king’s table. David wanted Uriah and Bathsheba to have a really enjoyable evening together with more implications of what that would mean.

The next two verses in the original text are omitted in our reading. In them, Uriah, who clearly understands all that David is hinting at, asks how he could go home, eat with his wife and have sexual relations with her, when Joab and the army and even the Ark of the Lord are out in the battlefields. It was also a religious obligation for soldiers in war to practice abstinence, and Uriah refuses point blank. David’s actions are now looking even worse than ever. Even the Lord is out in the battlefield while David is at home indulging in behaviour for which he should be deprived of his life. David’s plan had failed miserably.

But David had not yet given up. He persuaded Uriah to stay over at least for another day. On the following day, Uriah was again invited to share David’s table. There was a lot of wine and David managed to get Uriah drunk, obviously hoping that, in that condition, he would fall into his wife’s bed. But instead of going home as expected, Uriah slept with the servants in the king’s palace—failure of ‘Plan Two’.

David now played his last and most terrible card. He sent Uriah back to the battlefield and told Joab to put Uriah where the fighting was fiercest. At the critical moment, the soldiers were to be pulled back, leaving Uriah exposed to the enemy. This plan worked and Uriah was killed. Having failed to make it look as if Uriah was the father of Bathsheba’s child, he got rid of Uriah altogether and could now enter a quick marriage with Bathsheba. It is difficult to think of a more reprehensible way of behaving.

David is guilty of adultery, deception and finally murder. It is a sad record for a man who was chosen by God and anointed three times to be king and leader of God’s people, and to be the founder of a dynasty that would never end. It is another example of how good can emerge from the most evil actions. For David is the direct ancestor of Jesus, the Son of God. Bathsheba will soon be the mother of Solomon from whom the rest of the Davidic line would continue. Hence she is also an ancestor of Jesus.

Before we condemn David, we need first, to read the rest of the story and then to look at our own lives. We could recall Jesus’ words to the Pharisees:

Let anyone among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her. (John 8:7)

In our time, we seem to be so quick to condemn people’s wrongdoings, especially public figures. We use them as scapegoats to cover our own shortcomings. Did God condemn David for what he did? Let us wait and see as the story unfolds.