The
Old Testament reading set for Holy Communion today is the account, from 1 Samuel 17, of David and Goliath. Goliath is a seasoned warrior, an expert
in close-quarter, hand-to-hand fighting; whom the young David defeats by
choosing ballistics.
In
its telling, the story focuses on David’s hands. We are told that he sets out
against the giant with his shepherd’s staff in one hand and slingshot in the
other. That, in response to the Philistine’s taunts, he declares that “God will
deliver you into my hand;” that he put his hand into his bag, took out a stone,
and slung it into Goliath’s forehead; that he prevailed over the Philistine
with no sword in his hand — but that he then grasped Goliath’s sword, drew it
out of its sheath, killed him, and cut off his head with it.
The
irony of the tale is that king Saul, himself a giant of a man, who cowered
before Goliath, was from a tribe that was renowned for its skill with the
slingshot. But Saul was caught in a story he could not break out of.
The
account is paired with a Gospel passage, Mark 3:1-6, in which Jesus
heals a man with a withered hand on the Sabbath. The man’s condition is
underlined. Jesus instructs the man to stretch out his hand — potentially
exposing his weakness, to ridicule or shame — and when he did so, his hand was
restored.
The
Pharisees, however, are incensed. They are trapped in a story they cannot break
out of, that it was not lawful to heal (a form of work) on the Sabbath.
People
regularly tell me the same stories. I don’t mean older folk who are getting
forgetful, and don’t remember that they have told me this already, not ten
minutes ago. I mean stories told me week by week or month by month, stories
they seem unable to break free from. Often, stories that portray someone else —
or an institution — as a bully to be overthrown, and yet who still exerts
control over their imagination.
But
they will never see breakthrough unless they are able to see the situation from
a different perspective.
When
we come to receive Communion, we stretch out our hands, to take hold of Jesus.
And in this simple act of faith, it is just possible that our perspective
shifts just enough, and for just long enough, that we might see the world from
his perspective. Possible, but not inevitable.
What
has a grip on you, restricting your freedom, your ability to take hold of life
in all its fullness?
The
breakthrough you need today might just be to hand.
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