“Now Simon’s mother-in-law was in bed with
a fever, and they told him about her at once. He came and took her by the hand
and lifted her up. Then the fever left her and she began to serve them.” (Mark 1:30-31)
Don’t you feel sorry for Simon’s
mother-in-law in our Gospel lesson for Epiphany 5 (Mark 1:29-39)? The poor old
gal has just been healed of a fever, and BAM! They expect her to get up and
start cooking dinner for her son-in-law, his brother, a couple of fishing
buddies, and the weird new rabbi they’ve dragged home with them. Don’t you
wonder why it’s always the women who get put upon? I mean, why couldn’t Simon
or Andrew slap a few cold cuts on a plate for their guests?
It’s always tempting to interpret a
Biblical text in light of our own experience and values. It might be more
helpful, however, to look at this text in light of the world and time in which
it was written. You’ll note that Simon lives with his brother and his
mother-in-law (The text says nothing about his wife. She could be deceased for all we know as life expectancy in
the First Century was as pretty iffy proposition). It wasn’t uncommon back then
for extended families—particularly peasant families—to live together in multi-generational
and multi household compounds. Every
member of the clan counted, and everyone had their own job to do to keep the
place running.[i]
If someone fell ill, it was a disruption to the household. For the sick one, it
wasn’t just the discomfort of illness but the loss of his or her place in the
community. When Jesus restored Simon’s mother-in-law he not only restored her
to health but to her purpose and identity within the family.
One of the rottenest aspects of the
COVID-19 pandemic has been the plague of layoffs. Most folks, I feel certain,
really like knowing they’ve been of value and have earned their bread. Sitting
on the sofa watching Maury Povich—even if you’re getting an unemployment check—has
to make you feel pretty lousy. We’ve all heard of guys who’ve worked all their
lives, finally retired, and then dropped dead of boredom within six months. Having
no purpose really stinks, and it’s pretty darn easy in such a state of limbo to
get depressed and lose faith.
The restoration of purpose and identity might
be the link which hooks the Gospel lesson to the First Reading (Isaiah
40:21-31) for Epiphany 5. (I always wonder what the compilers of the Revised
Common Lectionary were smoking when they put these readings together!) Isaiah
40 is part of the Exile story. For some reason, we never seem to dwell too much
on this narrative even though it takes up a huge chunk of the Bible. All the
same, I think this story can resonate with us in our current circumstances.
Just to review: Judah got herself whooped by the Babylonians around 598 BC. The
conquerors destroyed Jerusalem, tore down the Temple, and kidnapped the Brain
Trust. The kings of Judah should’ve seen this coming. The prophets warned them,
after all. Nevertheless, they arrogantly weakened their country by ignoring the
poor folks while believing God would protect them from the consequences of their
own stupidity. The Jews not only lost their country and their center of
worship, but they were pretty sure their Most Favored Nation status with God
was also in the dumper.
50 years later, at the time in which
Isaiah 40 was composed, things started to look up. The mighty Babylonians were
getting their butts kicked by the Persian Empire, and it would only be a matter
of time before there was a new sheriff in town who would let the exiles (by
this time the kids of the original exiles) go back to Judah and rebuild their nation.
The prophet writes this beautiful poem which essentially says, “Don’t you guys
know we have a really, REALLY big God—a God so vast and wonderful and creative
and powerful we can’t even wrap our brains around who this God is. But this
awesome, mind-blowing I AM—this God of the enormity of the universe and the infinitesimal
nature of matter, time, and space—knows who you are. This God sees you, and has
never forgotten you. If you trust in this God, you will be restored.”
When I read this lesson and Psalm 147
appointed for this Sabbath observance, I want to challenge everyone to
contemplate their idea of God. I have to wonder if some of us still hang on to Sunday
School notions of God—some old man up in the clouds who is separate from us. A
cosmic Santa Claus dispensing pain or blessing. I’m much more compelled by
Isaiah 40:28. God’s ”understanding”—that is, the knowledge we can have of God—is
unsearchable. The I AMness of God remains a wonderful mystery, but a mystery
worth contemplating. How is God both unimaginably vast and yet intimately close
to us? In truth, we can never have a mature discussion of theology until we can
come to an agreed-upon definition of the word “God.”
The message in both of these lessons, I
think, is that God is a healer and a restorer. It is God’s purpose to bring us
back to ourselves—our best selves. It’s important that we know our exile or our
fever are only temporary moments in God’s eternity. We are always seen, we are
always known, we are always loved, and we are always called.
Peace be with you, my friend.
[i]
There’s a really good depiction of this first century Middle Eastern compound
structure in Sue Monk Kidd’s wonderful novel, The Book of Longings. It’s a pretty good read if you’re interested
in the time in which Jesus lived.
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