Mark 10:2‑12 ‑‑ Jesus teaches about marriage and divorce
Among the many comments you offer me after worship, my favorites are “I needed that,” and “that really makes me think,” and “your sermon made me squirm.”
Scripture sometimes makes us squirm because it tells the truth about us – not always in the details but in the deep-flowing reality about our experiences of brokenness and healing and wholeness; our encounters with God and with each other.
We’ve been working our way through the Gospel of Mark for ten months, now, and like so much in the Gospels, today’s lesson has the feel of a political press conference where the reporters are trying to trip up the candidate. “Jesus,” say the Pharisees, “is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife?” It was a trap, of course.
In his wise response, Jesus first asked what they read from scripture, and then explained that God’s law through Moses was a divine acknowledgment that human hearts are often hard. Put another way, sometimes we’re blessed in finding that partner and sometimes we’re not; sometimes we can make that commitment last a lifetime and sometimes we can’t. In Jesus’ time and place, men were permitted to write a bill of divorce and put the woman away – cast her out, quite literally, with little or nothing of her own.
But Jesus was also saying to the Pharisees – “don’t be so self-righteous. Life is messy, and all about brokenness and discovering God in the midst of pain and sorrow and loss; every one must do his best, her best to keep covenant and to find wholeness.”
The Gospel speaks the truth and today stares us in the face with the hard question of divorce. A marriage can break down for many reasons. The umbrella term these days is “irreconcilable differences,” that point at which one or both says there’s no chance of healing and reconciliation – that the relationship has deteriorated over time and neither has single-handedly broken it beyond repair.
But that’s not always the case. October is Domestic Violence Awareness Month, and we should also name aloud the tragedy of spousal and partner abuse. Divorce may also be the wisest resolution of an impossible situation.
You’d have no reason to know my dear wife Andrea was abused in her first marriage. She gave me permission to share that with you, in part to help us confront our temptation to say it’s “out there,” and our reluctance to imagine it’s really “in here.” Epidemics can’t be fought by silence.
For more than five years she lived with the daily danger of what might trigger it. Thirty-five years ago there was little public knowledge or awareness; few resources, and limited understanding, especially in a small town in Vermont where she was the pastor. Surely someone could see what was happening. Maybe they thought what so many think: It mustn’t be that bad; no one would put up with it. As we now know, isolation is one of the tools of the abuser.
Finally she escaped with the support of family and friends. She divorced and over time she rebuilt her life. But she still remembers one relative who remarked: “it’s really too bad that God must intend for you to be alone the rest of your life; after all scripture says a woman who divorces and then remarries commits adultery.”
Is that what we believe? Is that what Jesus really said? It’s true that divorce used to be quite rare. Today about 75% of us will be touched by divorce somewhere in our immediate family ‑‑ you yourselves, your parents, your children, or your siblings have gone through the wrenching failure of a marriage declared legally ended.
Divorce was also familiar to Jesus and his disciples. What did he think of it? Today’s Gospel from Mark 10 reminds me of the old Vermonter who told a neighbor that he’d heard a rousing sermon at a tent revival the evening before in the town square. His neighbor said “well what did he preach about?” “Sin.” “And what did he say?” “He was against it.”
So, it seemed, was Jesus. Mark tells us the Pharisees, men of the law, came to Jesus with a question about how the scriptures dealt with divorce. “How do you read it?” said Jesus and they replied that the scriptures permit a man to divorce a woman if she has acted shamefully. They perhaps expected Jesus to interpret the law much more liberally.
To their surprise he said the law was written only because human hearts are so hard. Divorce laws, then as now, acknowledge that we’re not able to live with each other according to God’s intentions.
Jesus wasn’t soft on divorce or adultery or oppression or selfishness. But, he was firm about the nature of grace. We need Jesus’ guidance because we all have sinned and fallen short of God’s holy purpose. Truly there’s not a righteous person among us.
Seeing the crowd ready to kill a woman caught in adultery, Jesus said “let the one among you who is without sin cast the first stone.” They all went away in silence.
Human nature, being what it is, can comfortably condemn someone else’s sins while excusing our own. Do we believe that God intends a woman to remain in a marriage when her husband abuses her or their children? Do we believe it’s best for a man and woman to live cold, quiet, separate lives, year after year under the same roof in order to maintain an outward appearance of a healthy marriage? The answers to such questions used to be always “yes.” For some that’s still and always the answer – divorce can never be right. For others divorce can be the more moral and loving choice.
I know from experience that while we all see the public side of a divorce and form our opinions, there’s a hidden, private side that no one can see from the outside. It’s known only to the partners and to God. It’s not our place to judge.
Instead I suggest a single question: when our lives are broken, when our sins do overwhelm us, do we trust that God’s forgiveness is enough to change our lives, to lift us up, to heal us and to redeem us? That’s the God we claim together, isn’t it?
I clearly remember a man who came to me in a previous parish. He’d been active in a Wisconsin Synod Lutheran Church – more conservative even than the Missouri Synod. When news got around that his wife had moved out the pastor had called Jerry – not to offer support but to tell Jerry he was no longer allowed to take communion – ever. No wonder that when I now told Jerry that he was welcomed to the Lord’s supper in our church, he wept.
Are we ready to believe that this table really was never intended to be a barrier but rather a place of welcome? For what greater sign of love and forgiveness can there be than to remember that Jesus gave his life for ALL – for those who pretend to be saints and those who know themselves to be sinners?
On this World Communion Sunday we look again at the big picture. We look at the Body of Christ that’s broken and wounded by the divisions; some of which have come from doctrine, but many more from those times we judge others as unworthy and cast them aside as fallen and lost. If God truly joins us together, no human power can pull us apart.
We look at our own congregation in which our diverse opinions and values draw us in many different directions; yet our covenant is stronger. If God truly joins us together, no human power can pull us apart.
We look at our families in their celebrations and sorrows, their failures and successes. If God truly joins us together, no human power can pull us apart.
We look within ourselves at our deepest hopes and fears and longings. If God truly joins us together, no human power can pull us apart.
So we come from north and south, east and west to this table, sign and symbol of Jesus’ redeeming love and God’s amazing grace, knowing that it welcomes all.