Saved from death

My nephew was eight months old when his father, my brother, died in a tragic accident in 1991. He turned 18 in April. He has an elder brother and a sister, by all accounts wonderful young people and a mother who is utterly devoted to them. My mother and my many brothers and sisters have provided a familial network and my nephew has grown to be an upstanding young man.

My sister-in-law’s tenacity as a mother is second to none. She has given everything she has to ensure that her children have what they need.

Death places huge, unexpected challenges before us. None of us can be shielded from death, nor can we escape it. In the history of humanity there have been many attempts to explain what lies beyond it. Some argue that death brings extinction of the self, others suggest a cycle of lives before reaching one’s highest potential or that there a continuation of the self after death. Still others proclaim a unity with creation that sees the self extinguished.

The Christian explanation is complex, for while it builds on the Hebrew experience it is strongly influenced by Greek philosophy. Christians link life after death to salvation: that is, because we are separated from God by sin, we need to reunited with him. God took human form, the person of Jesus, to save humanity by the way he lived, died and the rose from death. His resurrection became a foretaste of what awaited the faithful. The Christian scriptures advise that on the last day all will be judged and the righteous will be raised. Many modern Christian thinkers propose that all humanity will ultimately be saved. In the post-modern world, our loved ones ‘live forever’ in our hearts.

Mark (5:21 - 43) relates two interconnected stories, both well known. One is known as Jairus’ daughter, and the other, the Woman who touched Jesus’ cloak. Each story is a story about life, hope and the healing power of Jesus. In Jairus’ daughter a court official asks Jesus to heal his desperately sick daughter. Before Jesus can get there, the girl dies. Jesus tells the family that she is only asleep and bids her to wake. Now what held Jesus up was that on his way to Jairus’ home, was a woman who suffered from terrible haemorrhaging touched Jesus’ cloak in the hope of being healed of her disease. Jesus asks that whoever touched him declare themselves. The woman steps forward and Jesus recognises her faith.

The raising of Jairus’s daughter, like the story of Lazarus is a clear reminder of God’s power over death, of the promise of eternal life, of the offer of salvation for those who have faith. Both these stories speak to our deepest need for hope, that there must be, that there is such hope and salvation.

I dream that my nephew will come to know his great dad, not only through the stories passed to him by his family, but because ultimately, one day, he too will share with his father, eternal life.

Calming the storm

At the beginning of the holidays my daughter, our last child at home, moved out to flat with a friend. She hasn’t moved far. Next door in fact. Yet she now has a power bill in her own name, buys her own groceries, and with her flat mate, she cleans bathrooms, cooks and does her own dishes. She still visits regularly to use the internet and joins us for a family meal on Sunday evenings.

We have a long corridor that leads to five bedrooms. But for our room, the four other bedrooms are empty, their occupants now moved on, and perhaps never to return permanently. It’s a quiet ache. Tidy bedrooms don’t make up for children who have to grow up and start looking after themselves.

This is, after all, what we as parents aspire to. It’s our job. We have faith in our children, in the way we have taught them.

One of the richest, allegorical texts of Mark’s Gospel (4:35 – 41) is the story in which Jesus’ calms the storm. It has been understood as a picture of the confusion of the early church. Jesus’ questions his disciples, ‘Why are you so frightened? How is it that you have no faith?’ The disciples had failed to recognise Jesus’ presence, thinking him ‘asleep’. It is no surprise, that at the heart of this story, there is a story about who I am. It is no trouble being a person of faith when the going is good, but when my life is thrown into turmoil I struggle to see God walking with me. Notionally I know he is there, but in my anxiety doubt grows. Mark clearly tells us that his presence is constant and real, we need but call on his name.

And while this story still has an application to the life of the church today (clerical abuse, women and married priests, left-wing radical theologies, right-wing ‘traditionalists’, etc.) it is applies equally to letting our children go, to make their own decisions, to be independent, and trusting them to do right. They will experience life in a turbulent world, have enormous ups and downs, but in the end, we trust that they will know that you are there to love and support them. And, it’s your job. For the duration of your life. And as we live in Christian hope for life eternal, it’s forever.

This Sunday the cycle of our Church’s calendar returns to Ordinary Time. Isn’t it time too that you returned to join this cycle?