About three-quarters of the way through the Gospel of Mark (Mark 12:13-17) an unholy alliance of Pharisees and Herodians, sent by the Jewish leadership, comes together to try to trick and trap Jesus – one of several such attempts to find a way to get rid of this rabble-rouser, by making him publicly state something self-incriminating. Jesus is in Jerusalem at Passover time. Big crowds are hanging on his every word, hoping for some hint that now is the time for him to reveal himself as a conquering Messiah backed by the irresistible power of God, to rid them of the Romans and restore Israel to its rightful place in the world.

Many influential Pharisees are offended that Jesus doesn’t take the Law of God as seriously as they think one should. Especially someone who is teaching and influencing so many. The Herodians are only interested in keeping Herod, their source of status, privilege and wealth, hanging on to his tenuous position as “king.” Herod, son of Herod the Great, ruled the outlying territories of Galilee and Perea. (And those Galilean’s, like this Jesus, were constantly causing headaches – drawing negative attention from Rome). If the Romans become upset or displeased with Herod, his days (and theirs) at the top of his tiny heap are finished. They’re afraid that Jesus will start a riot, or worse, a rebellion, and Herod, responsible for Galilee, will look incompetent as a ruler.

This band of emissaries, oozing with hypocrisy, comes to Jesus and begins with a ridiculous attempt to butter him up. “Rabbi (you can almost hear them choke on this word) we know that you’re a straight-shooter and that you don’t give a fig about anyone’s opinion. You teach God’s way according to truth. Tell us then, is it against our holy Law to pay taxes to Caesar? Help us understand. Is it right for us to pay taxes to Caesar, or not?” Jesus responds, “What’s the point of this test? Show me the coin with which to pay taxes.” So they huddled up and produced from their purses the silver coin, the value of a day’s wages for a simple worker, and brought it to him. Jesus proceeds to ask them, “Whose image, and whose inscription is on this coin?” “Caesar’s,” they respond.

Here’s the rub. The Caesars had decided and declared that they were divine – like, you know, a god. To have the image of a false god would be idolatrous for an Israelite. How humiliating for them! The Israelites were forced to carry around and use this filthy symbol day in day out.

Jesus states, “Okay, pay back to Caesar what belongs to him. But pay to God what belongs to God.” What belongs to Caesar? What can he claim as his own? Some coinage? What belongs to God? In what can we see God’s image? How about all of creation? Everything that is good, true, loving, beautiful, harmonious, united! The Book of Genesis declares that each and every human being is handmade in the image and likeness of God. What do we owe to God?!?

Christians have long pointed to the Feast of Pentecost as the day that the Church was born. For some time after Jesus had completed his post-Resurrection appearances and returned to Abba-God, his followers, along with Jesus’ mother, continued to gather to pray and to wait for what would come next. Jesus had promised that they would know through the gift of the Holy Spirit.

Pentecost is another of the celebrations borrowed, and reinterpreted, from their Jewish roots. It came 50 days after Passover, and was also known as The Feast of Weeks – originally to give thanks for the wheat that was ready to harvest. For Christians it marks the launch of their mission as Church – a different kind of harvest.

Luke’s account in the Acts of the Apostles (Acts 2:1-13) is filled with symbolism. For Luke, the mission needs to begin from Jerusalem – the capital of the People of God (as they referred to themselves). The city is overflowing with pilgrims who came to commemorate the Feast together. Suddenly, where Jesus’ little community is gathered, there comes the sound of a strong wind. Then something like flames of fire appears over the heads of those in the room. These are signs from the Hebrew Scriptures of God coming down with power on the people at Mount Sinai.

These people are filled with the Holy Spirit, the Spirit of God, the Spirit of Love. And this Spirit impels them to begin to speak to the pilgrims about God and Jesus and the need to change their way of seeing reality, and their way of life. The pilgrims, from so many nations, hear and understand the Galilean speakers’ message. How can this be? God must be at work! Of course, there are some who attribute this charismatic event to the speakers having indulged in too much strong drink – and so early in the day!

This gift of hearing and understanding would call to mind the mythic story of the Tower of Babel (Genesis 11:1-9). In the story, people all shared a common language, and they decided, one day, to build a tower to heaven. Because of the shared language, this enterprise was doable. They didn’t need any divine assistance to achieve heavenly bliss. They could bypass the god or gods and do whatever they pleased. So, God, looking down at the construction project, decides that humanity’s arrogance has gone too far and proceeds to confuse the languages. The people start babbling and are no longer able to understand and cooperate. They separate and scatter into smaller groups around the world.

This is another example of an origin story. Imagine a child asking an elder, “Why are there other peoples, and why do they speak strange words?” It makes for a wonderful nomadic campfire tale. And the Israelites, having seen the high, stepped towers, like the ziggurats, during their exile in Mesopotamia, attribute this gross and sinful attempt to their enemies in Babylonia. Only pagans would try such a stunt!  

The coming of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost creates the possibility for humanity to come together, to hear and to understand one another, no matter the nationality. It undos the fiasco of the Tower of Babel. We now have the opportunity to unite in building up God’s Kingdom, as God desires. We can join forces to end all the divisions that weaken our efforts to make this world better for all. Meanwhile, our broken and divided world continues to babble.

 It’s amazing what we humans are able to get used to. We develop a great tolerance for what we’ve experienced over  time. We form habits, and the longer we live with them, the harder it is to grow beyond them. We can even begin to believe that these habits are part of who we are, and how we are meant to act. They’re not. They’re just habits we picked up along the way and have become comfortable with. But what if something happens to us and we suddenly realize that there’s more to life than our habitual modes?

The town of Bethsaida (literally, the house of fishing) is about two miles north of the Sea of Galilee, and east of the Jordan River. It’s known as the home of the apostles, Peter, Andrew and Philip. In the Eighth Chapter of the Gospel of Mark (Mark 8:23-26), Jesus has just crossed the sea, as he often did getting around Galilee. In the boat, he has just had another frustrating exchange with his closest disciples. Jesus tried to warn them against the way of influence of the Pharisees (using the Law to lord it over people) and of Herod (using power to keep control and maintain his privileged status).The disciples didn’t get it. For them, power, privilege, and religion were all good means for achieving a “righteous” end. Wasn’t that what the Messiah was supposed to do?

Jesus disembarks and heads with his little band into Bethsaida. Right away, some of the townspeople bring a blind man to Jesus to apply his wonderful touch and cure him. Jesus gently leads the man by the hand outside of town. He walks slowly, making sure the man doesn’t stumble over the rough ground, perhaps conversing with the man: What’s your name? Where’s your home? Tell me about your family. What work do you do? When and how did you become blind? What do most miss seeing? What are you doing in Bethsaida?

Then Jesus describes what he is about to do, and asks the man if this would be okay with him. The man, who had been a bit apprehensive at first, is now at ease with Jesus and allows him to proceed. Jesus, using a very basic healing substance, applies spittle to the man’s unseeing eyes and gently places his hands on them. Jesus asks, “What do you see?” The man replies, “I see people, but they look a bit strange, like trees walking around.” Jesus places his hands on the man’s eyes a second time, and the man can see clearly. He is healed and can now see everything plainly with no distortions. Jesus invites him to return to his home and family – those who know and love him, and says, “Don’t go back into the town.

Wow! There’s so much in these few verses. Why did the people in the town ask Jesus to deal with the blind man?  Remember, it wasn’t the blind man who sought out Jesus. Was it concern that moved them to bring him to Jesus, or just an attempt to remove an uncomfortable civic annoyance? Was he bothersome, sitting in the marketplace day after day, begging for his living? Yes, it is one of the “good works” to give him some little alms, but… He had lost the ability to do his life work (fishing?). He had become a label – that blind man, the beggar – with no dreams, desires, family, home… Did he become the town’s burden?  Of course we who are enlightened wouldn’t treat a beggar like that, would we?

Jesus treated him as a someone, human, not a problem, beloved of God, not accursed, as some thought and taught. And his healing? Sometimes we don’t see reality clearly right away. It can take a second correction and a second look. The healing of our blindnesses takes time. First we need to realize how much we cannot see. (Awareness precedes change.) Jesus stays with us until we can see fully and well. Then he advises us, don’t go back to your old ways, go to those who love you, who desire that you be completely whole, your best self.

One would think that anyone who has lived fifty years or more on this earth would have figured out some basic truths. The hard places, struggles and challenges just to get by, much less live well, are like water rushing down a mountain stream during the spring melt-off. Anything standing in the way surely gets worn and shaped, or washed away. Even the huge granite boulders can’t resist the impact. For humans, quite often, the wear and tear of the years softens some of our rough spots and carves away some of our arrogance. We go with the flow, or we are broken.

In the past few years I’ve become aware of some people who refuse to accept this reality. They live as if they can control the force of the rushing torrent. They might give lip-service to the fact that there is a God who is sovereign, but their behavior loudly proclaims another allegiance. They live under the seductive illusion that they can manage their lives on their own terms. It’s almost as if they are claiming (with Frank Sinatra) I do it my way. Isn’t this a bit like the terrible twos? We are NOT in charge!

Jesus, in the section of Matthew’s Gospel known as the Sermon on the Mount, begins his teaching with this fundamental statement, Blessed are the poor in spirit (Matthew 5:3). Everything flows from this. Those will have a chance to be peaceful, content, grounded, well, who know that they cannot do it alone. They know their place in the grand scheme of things. They need God. They need others. 

We, especially in the United States, hate the thought of being dependent on anyone or anything. We consider dependence of any kind as a weakness. Yet a majority of us profess to be a people who believe in God – maybe as long as God doesn’t interfere with our plans or our lifestyle. For some of us bull-headed types, accepting the obvious truth of our poverty, our neediness, may take awhile. But life goes so much better when we do.