Mark 6: 45-52 – Wednesday after Epiphany or 9th Jan. (Audio Bible, KJV, Spoken Word)
45 And straightway he constrained his disciples to get into the ship, and to go to the other side before unto Bethsaida, while he sent away the people.
46 And when he had sent them away, he departed into a mountain to pray.
47 And when even was come, the ship was in the midst of the sea, and he alone on the land.
48 And he saw them toiling in rowing; for the wind was contrary unto them: and about the fourth watch of the night he cometh unto them, walking upon the sea, and would have passed by them.
49 But when they saw him walking upon the sea, they supposed it had been a spirit, and cried out:
50 For they all saw him, and were troubled. And immediately he talked with them, and saith unto them, Be of good cheer: it is I; be not afraid.
51 And he went up unto them into the ship; and the wind ceased: and they were sore amazed in themselves beyond measure, and wondered.
52 For they considered not the miracle of the loaves: for their heart was hardened.
Immediately following the feeding of the 5000, the miracle of the multiplication of the loaves and the fishes, Jesus tells his disciples to get into a boat, so that they may get away from the multitude, while Jesus himself remains to disperse the multitude, and then to go alone into the hills, to a mountain, to pray.
Mark’s Gospel does not give Jesus’ reasons for acting so. John’s Gospel points out to us that the Jewish people had been expecting, as a sign, that the Messiah would repeat the miracle of Moses, feeding the multitude in the wilderness. This is a temptation to Jesus – the people might want to make him a king, according to their own preconceptions of the Kingdom. It is therefore necessary that Jesus withdraw himself, so that the Kingdom may be properly accomplished. Jesus does so, to spend time with his Father in prayer.
It seems a wonderfully symbolic moment: Jesus goes up to the mountain alone to pray, as if he is ascending into heaven, while the disciples are left in the midst of the sea, to try as they might to advance when confronted with contrary winds. It is so very late and the disciples are tired and struggling so hard. It is as if they have lost sight of Jesus in a spiritual sense, because when the disciples see Jesus walking on the water they suppose that he must be a spirit, and such a spirit as to make them very afraid.
Jesus would have walked past the disciples, but seeing their need he stops to reassure them. In doing so, he identifies himself in a similar way to that in which God the Father identified himself: it is I. We recall God’s naming himself, with a name that is also a refusal of a name: I am; I am being; I am that I am. It is I, be not afraid.
The contrary wind now ceases: Jesus is here, with us now. Still, however, the disciples do not understand what is happening. Their hearts are hardened. To read Mark’s Gospel especially is a wonderful lesson in recognition and misrecognition. So often, the disciples do not know that God is with them. It is as if the disciples, as Mark’s Gospel relates the events, are determined not to know Jesus, and instead to cling to the reality they thought they knew. This is a great lesson, when we find ourselves clinging to what we thought we knew, and so denying admittance to Jesus. We may scoff at the disciples of Mark’s Gospel, and yet the Gospel is an invitation to us to examine how readily we discover Jesus as God in our daily lives.
God our Father, light of all mankind,
make our hearts radiant with the spendour of that light
which long ago you shed on our fathers in the faith,
and give your people the joy of everlasting peace.
Through Christ our Lord.
Faith, then, is far from being a denial of reality – indeed it is the opposite; it is a meeting with reality, and where we are at our most real. Jesus asks us to be careful that our faith be not a kind of escapism. We are to ask ourselves how we are doing as Christians [ … ]
Christian Art | George Herbert | The Temple | The Church | The Sinner George Herbert | The Temple | The Church | The Sinner Lord, how I am all ague, when I seek What I have treasur’d in my memorie! Since, if my soul make even with the week, Each seventh note by right is due to thee. I finde there quarries of pil’d vanities, But shreds of holinesse, that dare not venture To shew their face, since crosse to thy decrees. There the circumference earth is, heav’n the centre. In so much dregs the quintessence is small: The spirit and good extract of my heart Comes to about the many hundredth part. Yet Lord restore thine image, heare my call: And though my hard heart scarce to thee can grone, Remember that thou once didst write in stone. George Herbert | The Temple | The Church | The Sinner The poet reflects on his spiritual state, describing a struggle with weakness, sin, and the desire for divine alignment. The poem opens with the poet addressing God, expressing discomfort, likened to an ‘ague’ (fever or chill), when he searches his memory for spiritual treasures. This ‘ague’ suggests both a physical and spiritual unease, revealing the tension the poet feels in self-examination. The second line conveys a sense of regret as the poet searches for ‘treasur’d’ holiness in his memory. He recognizes that, although he might strive to keep his soul ‘even with the week’, dedicating every seventh day to God, he falls short. This phrase reflects the expectation to honour the Sabbath, but the poet’s efforts are met with disappointment in their perceived spiritual emptiness. The poet goes on to examine his inner self, describing ‘quarries of pil’d vanities’ that dominate his mind. Here, ‘quarries’ implies an overwhelming quantity of earthly or superficial concerns, while ‘vanities’ suggests that these concerns are meaningless in the context of divine expectation. In contrast, he finds only ‘shreds of holinesse’, fragmented attempts at righteousness, which he hesitates to bring forward as these elements are ‘crosse to thy decrees’, or in opposition to God’s laws. This imagery underscores the poet’s internal conflict and recognition of shortcomings. Further, the poet contrasts earth and heaven, saying that ‘the circumference earth is, heav’n the centre.’ This phrase symbolizes the poet’s focus on worldly concerns (the circumference) that orbit around a neglected spiritual core (the heavenly center). The poet reflects that his life is filled with ‘dregs’, the lesser, unrefined aspects of his being, while ‘quintessence’, or the purest part of himself, is scarce. This ‘quintessence’ is described as the ‘spirit and good extract’ of the poet’s heart, amounting to a ‘many hundredth part’ — a small fraction of life’s essence. The poet realizes that, despite attempts to cultivate holiness, his internal state largely lacks spiritual substance. The final lines shift to a plea for restoration. The poet calls on God to ‘restore thine image’, asking for renewal and transformation. This restoration request implies a yearning to reflect God’s nature more fully, as humanity is believed to be made in God’s image. The poet acknowledges that his heart ‘scarce… can grone’ to God, reflecting the difficulty he feels in truly connecting with or petitioning the divine. The poem ends with reference to the biblical account of the Ten Commandments, when God ‘didst write in stone’. This allusion serves as both a reminder of God’s past willingness to communicate directly and a plea for a similar intervention to etch divine law into the poet’s heart. The poem examines themes of introspection, human fallibility, and a longing for divine transformation. The poet’s self-examination reveals struggle to balance earthly concerns with spiritual commitments, culminating in a plea for God’s direct action to restore spiritual integrity.
While Heaven is depicted as a place of eternal life, joy, and fellowship with God, Hell is described as a place of eternal separation from God, where people will experience great suffering and torment. Do we choose Hell as a rejection of love? [ … ]
