Readings: Ezekiel 1:1, 21-5; Mark 6:1-13
"A time is coming," said the desert dweller saint Anthony, "when [people] will go mad, and when they see someone who is not mad, they will attack [them], saying, 'You are mad, you are not like us.'" It sounds like an Orwellian, or sci-fi perspective: the world going so crazy that it perceives madness as truth; wisdom as insanity. But this is not Orwell, nor 20th century science fiction, it’s St. Anthony in the 3rd century. Perhaps things don’t change.
Maybe even in Anthony’s times, the confusing of wisdom with folly was well entrenched. For certainly, his sainted actions could be seen as crazy. An “uneducated Copt born in 251 AD into a Christian family of peasant farmers, [Anthony] was eighteen, [when] his parents died, leaving him to care for his younger sister. Six months later, the gospel reading in church one Sunday was Matthew 19:2: "If you would be perfect, go, sell what you possess and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven." Anthony put his sister into the care of nuns, sold his possessions, and attached himself to an ascetic on the fringe of his village. Later, he went deep into the desert alone. [But] people followed him there for advice; and for a while he [provided a form of 3rd century spiritual direction]. Later still, he returned to his life of solitary spirituality in the vast loneliness of the Egyptian desert.” [1] Were his actions crazy? I imagine plenty of his contemporaries thought so – and a number of us today would agree.
Just a few centuries earlier, the one they called Jesus of Nazareth seemed to have a similar problem; his actions were also considered crazy. They’d known him since he was little; they knew his family; they’d played together as children; their mothers and fathers knew his mother and father; they had him sussed, this local boy; he was just the village carpenter. Where did he get all his airs and his so-called wisdom? In some ways, this morning’s reading is a repeat of what we read four weeks ago in Mark chapter 3, where we heard how his family and the scribes from Jerusalem had each separately come to the conclusion that Jesus was out of his mind. You will remember how his family tried to take him into their custody – to protect him from his own madness and its inevitable outcomes. And, now in today’s reading, as Mark, the gospel writer puts it, those who knew him best – the people with whom he had grown up, patronised him, refused to listen and ‘took offence at him’ - literally, they were scandalised by his behaviour. His family didn’t believe in him; his neighbours thought him insane; the religious leaders said he was a glutton and a drunkard who mixed with the wrong people; those on the edge of society seemed to get his message more clearly than those in the centre; and that message provided a threat to the establishment; it’s not all that surprising he was executed.
This One, whose actions and teaching seemed to many people to be plain madness, this is the One on whose life we pattern our own. How wise is that – or, are we too insane? (Risk management strategy almost compels me to put up a hazard-warning sign at this moment – for the gospel is extremely dangerous territory)
There’s a story told about “a colony of ants with only five legs. Whenever they walked, they went ONE-TWO-HITCH, ONE-TWO-HITCH, all along the path. These ants lived on decayed banana leaves and nothing else. I shouldn’t say they lived, for many of them died. Banana leaves, especially in their rotten state, are rather hard to find, and so the ants had a very hard life. Many of them died young from over-exertion and starvation.
Now, it happened one day that a very strange ant was born among them. This ant had six legs. All the ants clicked their tongues in consternation. Many tried their best to console the parents on their child’s deformity. Some suggested that for the good of the community they ought to kill him in infancy, but the mother pleaded hard, so they let him live.
Strangely enough, this little ant was soon rushing around faster than his elders. And, worse than that, he had a very awkward way of walking. “Look,” they tried to tell him, “You don’t know how to walk correctly. You have to go ONE-TWO-HITCH, ONE-TWO-HITCH. Now, try it properly.”
So the little ant would try to put a little hitch in his step, but every time he tried, that sixth foot would come down [without a hitch] and he’d leave his teachers far behind. They gave up in disgust. When he was half-grown, his elders noticed another peculiarity. He was eating breadcrumbs. ‘Stop’ they cried. “They’re poison. You mustn’t do that. If you eat even two little pieces you’ll die.” But the little ant continued eating. They waited for him to fall over dead, but nothing happened. Instead, as the days went by, he grew strong and big, bigger even than the biggest of grown-ups. This was outrageous.
But the real crisis didn’t come until he was fully grown.
The colony had been told to move quickly from their home to another place, for the dreaded driver ants were marching against them. The job of moving was very slow, for in order to move the nest, an egg had to be loaded on the back of an ant. Then two other ants climbed on his back, holding the egg in place. They had to keep it from rolling off at every hitch, you see. So the egg was carried along and the ant under the egg would be more dead than alive when they arrived.
They had just started moving their eggs when they noticed the six-legged monstrosity coming towards them at a rapid rate. “Hurry up, you lazy thing,” they cried between puffs, “You have work to do.” They had barely got the words out of their mouths when he passed them on the double and was back again carrying an egg between – of all places – his two front feet. “You can’t do that,” they screamed, “You’ll break it. And anyway, you’ll never get there.”
“I’ve already been there and back twice,” he replied, “and I haven’t broken one yet. Let me show you how to do it.”
This was the last straw. Almost choking with rage, they dropped their eggs in a heap and rushed at him. “He has a devil,” cried his enemies. “He is perverting the peace. He is spoiling the nation. He is teaching others this treason. It is better that he should die than that our whole nation should perish. Away with him. Kill him.”
“There,” they growled in grim satisfaction some time later, “he’ll never try to teach us again. We’ll solve our own problems, thank you.”
Then they went back to work.
ONE-TWO-HITCH, ONE-TWO-HITCH ONE-TWO-HITCH.....[2]
As people of faith, seeking to live out the Way of Wisdom, these stories of St Anthony, Jesus and, yes, also the Ant colony, challenge and confront us. They bring us to a compulsory stop – demanding that before we proceed, we consider where in our lives we catch glimpses of this ONE-TWO-HITCH-like madness attempting to supplant gospel wisdom. Where are the places in our culture, our government, our families and our church that lead us into madness – even as they lay claims their way to be of the Truth? Is it possible that, without realising it, our life patterns might be more aligned with Jesus’ family, his village, his faith community, the religious leaders of his day than with Jesus himself? Could it be that we have been seduced into confusing wisdom with insanity?
Where does the Christ-wisdom reside?
In an innocent and vulnerable baby, watched over by peasant folk,
gifted by foreigners, recognised by the very old
– a child who will bring destruction for some but liberation for many.
Speaking in the synagogue, preaching from the prophets,
discovering how his words do not please religious people.
Who does he think he is? We’ve heard quite enough!
Show him the door! Show him the hill!
He’s walking through the streets which most decent folk avoid.
Listening to the cries of all those who go unheard.
Touch me ... heal me ... let me see again ... make me well again .... it’s my child!
He’s confronting his fiercest critics. They have tongues as sharp as razors.
They have plans in case their tongues are not enough.
Why do you eat with the riff-raff? Why do you violate our traditions?
Why don’t you take us seriously? Judas, Judas, we’ve got a job for you.
That’s him,
from Bethlehem to Bethany,
from Jerusalem to Jericho, from Capernaum to Calvary,
from Golgotha to the grave, from heaven to hell and back again; saying
I am the Way – follow me
I am the Truth .. believe me;
I am the Life ... receive me.[3]
I am the antithesis of madness, I am Holy Wisdom – come walk my way...
[1] http://www.journeywithjesus.net/index.shtml Dan Clendinin, “They Took Offense at Him" Losing Your Mind to Find Your Way
[2] “Parable of the Ant” Stories for Sharing, Charles Arcodia, 1991, p.30-31
[3] “Behold the Lamb of God” Wild Goose Worship Group Present on Earth: Worship resources on the life of Jesus, 2002, p21-23. adapted .
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