Reflection: To Lead and Live Humbly (4th Feb, 2026, Year A)

Readings

2 Samuel 24.2, 9–17 – So the king said to Joab and the commanders of the army, who were with him, ‘Go through all the tribes of Israel, from Dan to Beer-sheba, and take a census of the people, so that I may know how many there are.’ Joab reported to the king the number of those who had been recorded: in Israel there were eight hundred thousand soldiers able to draw the sword, and those of Judah were five hundred thousand.But afterwards, David was stricken to the heart because he had numbered the people. David said to the Lord, ‘I have sinned greatly in what I have done. But now, O Lord, I pray you, take away the guilt of your servant; for I have done very foolishly.’ When David rose in the morning, the word of the Lord came to the prophet Gad, David’s seer, saying, ‘Go and say to David: Thus says the Lord: Three things I offer you; choose one of them, and I will do it to you.’ So Gad came to David and told him; he asked him, ‘Shall three years of famine come to you on your land? Or will you flee for three months before your foes while they pursue you? Or shall there be three days’ pestilence in your land? Now consider, and decide what answer I shall return to the one who sent me.’ Then David said to Gad, ‘I am in great distress; let us fall into the hand of the Lord, for his mercy is great; but let me not fall into human hands.’ So the Lord sent a pestilence on Israel from that morning until the appointed time; and seventy thousand of the people died, from Dan to Beer-sheba. But when the angel stretched out his hand towards Jerusalem to destroy it, the Lord relented concerning the evil, and said to the angel who was bringing destruction among the people, ‘It is enough; now stay your hand.’ The angel of the Lord was then by the threshing-floor of Araunah the Jebusite. When David saw the angel who was destroying the people, he said to the Lord, ‘I alone have sinned, and I alone have done wickedly; but these sheep, what have they done? Let your hand, I pray, be against me and against my father’s house.’

Mark 6.1–6 – He left that place and came to his home town, and his disciples followed him. On the sabbath he began to teach in the synagogue, and many who heard him were astounded. They said, ‘Where did this man get all this? What is this wisdom that has been given to him? What deeds of power are being done by his hands! Is not this the carpenter, the son of Mary and brother of James and Joses and Judas and Simon, and are not his sisters here with us?’ And they took offence at him. Then Jesus said to them, ‘Prophets are not without honour, except in their home town, and among their own kin, and in their own house.’ And he could do no deed of power there, except that he laid his hands on a few sick people and cured them. And he was amazed at their unbelief. Then he went about among the villages teaching.

Reflection

In our two readings today we meet a difficult and uncomfortable theme: the misuse of power, and the cost that follows when leaders forget their dependence on God.

In the reading from 2 Samuel, King David orders a census of Israel. On the surface, it sounds like a sensible, administrative act. Leaders need information; numbers matter. But the text is clear that something deeper is going on. David wants to count his people in a way that shifts trust from God to human strength. The census becomes a symbol of control, security, and self-reliance. Even Joab, hardly a moral compass, senses that something is wrong.

After the census is completed, David is struck with remorse. He recognises that he has sinned—not simply by counting, but by forgetting who truly sustains Israel. What follows is deeply troubling: the consequences of David’s decision fall not on him alone, but on the people he leads. A plague comes upon the land, and many die.

This passage confronts us with a hard truth: the choices of those in power matter, and they often affect the most vulnerable. Yet it also shows us something vital about God’s character. When David throws himself on God’s mercy, he discovers that mercy is indeed greater than punishment. At the threshing floor of Araunah, judgment is halted. God’s compassion interrupts destruction.

That threshing floor, a place of judgment turned into a place of mercy, will later become the site of the Temple—a reminder that worship begins with humility, repentance, and grace.

Turning to the Gospel reading from Mark, we meet Jesus in his hometown. Here, power takes a very different form. Jesus comes not as a king, but as a carpenter, a familiar face. And because he is familiar, he is dismissed. “Where did this man get all this?” they ask. Their amazement quickly hardens into offence.

Mark tells us that Jesus “could do no deed of power there,” not because his power was limited, but because their lack of faith closed them off to what God was offering. This is not divine punishment; it is human refusal. God does not force transformation upon those who will not receive it.

Placed side by side, these readings offer a striking contrast. David overreaches—grasping at control that does not belong to him—and people suffer. Jesus, by contrast, refuses to impose himself. He respects human freedom, even when it leads to missed blessing.

Both readings ask questions of us.

Where do we place our trust? In numbers, strategies, and self-sufficiency—or in God’s mercy and guidance? And how do we respond when God comes to us in familiar, ordinary forms?

In the life of the Church, we can be tempted toward David’s census: measuring success by attendance, budgets, and statistics. None of these things are unimportant—but they become dangerous when they replace trust in God rather than serve it. Leadership, whether in church, community, or family life, always carries responsibility. Our decisions can heal, or they can harm.

At the same time, the people of Nazareth warn us about another danger: becoming so accustomed to God that we stop expecting anything new. Jesus is present among them, teaching with wisdom and authority, yet they cannot see beyond what they think they already know.

Perhaps the invitation of these readings is this: to lead and to live humbly, knowing our dependence on God; and to remain open, expectant, and receptive when God speaks—especially when God speaks through what feels ordinary.

In both judgment and rejection, mercy is still at work. God stops the plague. Jesus keeps teaching in other villages. God does not give up. And that, ultimately, is good news for us all.

Amen.

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