Deconstructing the text of faith
Epiphany 5B | Mark 1:29-39
Why did Jesus go to Simon and Andrew’s house?
This is a simple question. But it isn’t addressed directly in the text.
We aren’t missing something here, because it isn’t said. They were in the synagogue in Capernaum. And now they’re going to Simon and Andrew’s house. And it is here that Jesus will heal Simon’s Mother-in-law. Which opens a whole bunch of other questions the text isn’t about to answer.
And I want us to think about this for a second.
The Text and the Margin
The text gives us some information and also withholds other parts of information.
We make assumptions from this about what is important and what isn’t. And with the gospel, we ask what we think Jesus thinks is important and what isn’t.
We do this naturally.
Through a philosophy of deconstruction, Jacques Derrida, describes the margins as being just as important as the text. Precisely because it reveals that difference. Let us not assume that the absence makes it not significant. But that our sense of missing it—feeling the absence of that clarity, reveals to us what we’re taking for granted.
Like the possibility that Simon is married.
In the most obvious ways we can imagine, that information is utterly irrelevant. Because at this point, he is following Jesus now.
And yet that possibility causes distress for us, doesn’t it? That there may be a wife—kids?—at home. And the sincere likelihood that he has abandoned them.
And also, in knowing this, we are suddenly questioning the moral character of the man, the movement, the very idea, aren’t we? I’m sure most of us would begin to judge Peter for this.
At the same time, the call was to abandon their very lives and follow him. What do we think that meant? The very stakes of this?
This isn’t spelled out for us because if it were, it would draw our attention away from the gospel; from following Jesus.
And in this case, following Jesus from the synagogue into Simon and Andrew’s house.
Why are they there?
There are infinite possibilities, but the two most likely are that either Jesus knew or someone invited him.
And in this same margin, we are invited to see two likely possibilities for why they are there. That Jesus is being hosted and stumbles upon the Mother-in-law in need or he is invited because she is in need.
These questions are not that important. But what they help us work through is what we take for granted and what the evangelist might want us to take for granted.
Which is, of course, that
Simon thinks Jesus can heal his Mother-in-Law.
This isn’t stated in the text but found in the margins of it. And seeing this in the margin is important for us because Jesus hasn’t healed anyone yet.
Which means that Simon believes Jesus can do that.
He hasn’t seen it, and yet he believes.
And the reason he believes is because (if we think of Jesus himself as “the text” [he is The Word] then) he’s reading it in the margins. He saw something in Jesus that made him drop his net and follow. Then, at the synagogue, they saw his authority.
And so it is unsurprising that Jesus can heal his Mother-in-Law. For us, too, it is unsurprising. Because we are reading the text including the margins.
So then the stuff not in the margins begins to pop.
That Jesus must silence the demons because they only know half of the story. And the people need to discover the truth in time. As Simon is.
And we see all of these people bring people to Jesus. We can’t all seek him out alone. We must go together. Serve each other. Share in the Light of Christ.
This is what following Jesus looks like.
Reading the text and margins of our lives. Seeing where Jesus is in them. And bringing with us those who need that light.
The astounding love of Jesus changes lives. It brings us back from the corruption of evil, helps us heal when our bodies can’t be cured, and calls even the most uncredentialed people to join us on this journey.
Isn’t this what we do? Reaching out to friends in the midst of their need? And when it is us who need, we long to be brought to someone who can help us? A drive to the doctor’s office or someone to sit with us through a difficult diagnosis?
We know these things are loving. Generous. And we see this kindness as virtuous and good. And even these are only part of the story.
Because we don’t take a person to the doctor’s office and leave them there. I did my good thing for the day! And walk off. We also drive them home after the visit. To be there should they receive a frightening diagnosis. And sit with them as they recalibrate their future expectations. And then we have countless more encounters in the days and months ahead.
We walk with one another. And help one another walk this way with us.
The Gospel’s Turn
There’s something in the margins of that praying Jesus does in this passage. When he gets away alone. Prays. And the disciples are searching for him. Clearly the people are hounding them. They want to find Jesus and assume they know.
There’s something there, if we look for it. An assumption on their part. About the need and the desire. Of the people searching for Jesus and bringing loved ones to him for healing or exorcisms.
You can sense it, right? That they assume things. About Jesus and his work. That he is there to take care of everyone. And everything. Quite literally. And probably for all time.
It is as if the response is for the disciples to build a hospital and Jesus would just be there for this town whenever they need him. And for everything.
And the praying comes as a moment of discernment—of listening to God and wrestling with the ministry ahead. Because when he meets up with the disciples, there is a new mission. Not to be the private healer for one community.
Something a whole lot bigger.
This, too, reflects the greater mission of God. Not only to the healing, but to the reconciling, the sharing, and the bringing. And before that, to the believing and the turning.
That our assumptions about the pedestrian character of our lives too frequently lacks the transforming vision of the Good News.
I think it’s because we desire to translate the gospel into tangible doing—material actions that tell us we’re doing good. Praying with people, giving to those in need, and calling on the sick. That we, like the pious young man, might collect these actions as an accounting for our goodness to God.
Or because we don’t like dealing in hypotheticals. We want actions to do.
But Jesus doesn’t give a hypothetical response to the pious young man. He tells him to rid himself of possessions, make a tangible difference in the lives of the poor, and follow Jesus on his Way of Love.
And that still remains the most transgressive call in the gospels. Because it is an invitation to change our own lives and the lives of others. And to do so in community with others.
This Way of Love is beyond our own needs.
It is beyond our family’s needs. Beyond our neighborhood’s needs. And it is beyond our community’s needs. It is a big mission to the world.
And it is a mission for us in our context. To live with and serve this community and this neighborhood with love, faith, and hope.
It gets to be both.
And it takes our grounding ourselves in Christ. Not only in being good or doing good. But in making those things of the same substance in our own lives. And in our way of seeing the world around us.
Living and loving with grace and joy. Inviting and sharing. Listening and crying. Praying and singing. Because it isn’t one thing. It is all of it at once.
And together we can do it all.