Reflection - Jellyfish

By Steve Hall

http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/082220.cfm
Ezekiel 43:1-7
Matthew 23:1-12

I’ve had some formal education in Scripture studies. Certainly not at the professorial level, but still sufficient to gather more than a basic understanding of what is written. Whether that qualifies me to teach Scripture to others is an unlikely proposition. It’s possible for me to assist in understanding or interpreting the text on occasion. It’s also useful at times for me to offer a bit of cultural background to clarify events. And its always reasonable for me, along with every other Christian, to share how any given passage speaks to them — provided, of course, that some time has been spent in prayer and reflection about the passage. Nevertheless, certain passages, or even certain books, expose my personal limitations. For understanding these, the assistance of true Scripture Scholars is invaluable. Such is the case with the current passage from Ezekiel. However, what has draw my attention as these verses are read, is not the meaning of the passage, per se, but rather the vision which inspired Ezekiel to write these words.

Ezekiel’s vision is not one of the ‘fantastical’ ones that we find in some parts of Scripture. There are no beasts or mythic figures. Nevertheless the vision described is neither fiction nor fantasy. Ezekiel was struggling to put into words an experience that was very real and to describe something that is awkward to describe.

“In the twenty-fifth year of our exile, at the beginning of the year, on the tenth day of the month, in the fourteenth year after the city was conquered, on that very day, the hand of the LORD was upon me, and brought me, in the visions of God, into the land of Israel, and set me down upon a very high mountain, on which was a structure like a city opposite me.” (Ezekiel 40:1-2)

The description begins with chapter forty and continues into chapter forty-four. Our current passage is found at the beginning of chapter forty-three.

My three and a half year old grandson is fascinated by heavy duty construction equipment; and he knows the names of each. He even provides appropriate correction when we improperly name pieces of equipment working around us. Among the more interesting of these corrections is one that came recently. A back-hoe, fully outfitted, has the digging arm on one side and a scoop on the other. However, it’s not correct to call the machine a back-hoe if the digging arm is not attached. In that case it is most properly designated a front loader. “No grandpa, it’s not a backhoe; it’s a front loader.” Words are important.

Linguists tell us that human awareness is such that we cannot really talk about something until we have a word for it. A strange looking marine animal washes up on shore and initial descriptions labor to find comparisons. “It has arms like an octopus — only more of them.” “We couldn’t see eyes anywhere.” “It was strangely transparent, or semi-transparent — like jello.” “It was bigger than a breadbox and smaller than a house.” And so forth. Then a marine biologist comes along. He takes one look, announces that it is a jellyfish, and proceeds to determine the specific species. The gawkers quiet down, then slowly leave, mumbling “it’s just a jellyfish.” The details of their observations suddenly have an experiential context. Before we just had similarities and dissimilarities. Before we talked in similes and metaphors.

So what is a visionary to do with a mystical experience? He is going to describe the vision by drawing on the experiences of his life. That is what he knows and what his readers/listeners know as well. That is also why portions of the descriptions seem indeterminate or ambiguous. Ezekiel is given a vision which stretches the limits of both experience and imagination. But, is that necessitated stretch really different from what was required of those who heard Jesus speak in parables? Understanding the Word of God takes both prayer and reflection. Sometimes it also demands research and study.

Much of Scriptural writings tell a story. Other parts are given as poems, or prayers, or instructions for life. Still other parts seem to primarily be critiques of the events of the day. But no matter which portion we are reading, we may rest assured that the verse, or passage, or book is neither just story, or just history, or just poetry, or just anything else in our catalogue of literary types. 

Here are the closing words of today’s Gospel passage:

“As for you, do not be called ‘Rabbi.’
You have but one teacher, and you are all brothers.
Call no one on earth your father;
you have but one Father in heaven.
Do not be called ‘Master’;
you have but one master, the Christ.
The greatest among you must be your servant.
Whoever exalts himself will be humbled;
but whoever humbles himself will be exalted.”

Can anyone readily and clearly state Jesus’ message without prayer? Without some degree of investigation into what the Jews of the time understood by the word ‘rabbi’? Without some meditation on the paradox of master being servant? We can only fully receive God’s Word if we are willing to listen to the explanation of the Spirit who is it’s author.