A Homily on Mark 10:2-26
Let me start by saying:
I am so sorry if today’s story
of Jesus arguing about divorce
touched a raw nerve for you.
Maybe this theme caught you off-guard:
You didn’t expect to be hurt,
here, on a Sunday morning, of all places!
Please bear with me.
Look after yourself.
Know that you are loved.
As I was preparing for today’s tough gospel passage,
I came across an interesting remark:
“The best proof of Jesus’ celibacy
is him completely forbidding divorce—
because no married man would ever do that!”[1]
Jokes aside,
how do you feel about today’s reading?
Our reactions are intimately interwoven
with our own life’s story,
our religious convictions,
the culture we grew up in,
the experiences our loved ones have had.
Whatever your story,
whatever your stance:
It’s unlikely this passage
will have left any of us
cold and indifferent.
Setting the Scene
So, what do we do with all our mixed feelings, you ask?
I suggest we start with a short excursion
into 1st century Palestine. 1
As all Mediterranean societies at the time,
mainstream Judaism widely accepted divorce.
It was seen as a painful and difficult,
yet natural and necessary part of the social codex.
Marriage was, after all,
a private contract,
often influenced by economic considerations.
And, you guessed it,
in a deeply patriarchal culture like this;
it certainly wasn’t the wife who wore
the proverbial breeches in the house.
Jesus’ words in our passage
may suggest equal rights for both sexes,
yet historians are convinced that in practice
female-lead divorce was not a thing.
The man was firmly at the centre
of the equation.
He could divorce his wife
for failing to produce a male heir,
or even cooking mediocre meals.
Even adultery was perceived purely
as an offence against a married man.
It went as far as him, the man,
being considered the injured party
if his wife was sexually assaulted,
while his own visits with prostitutes
went unchallenged.
A wife, however, could be accused for adultery
even for offences like
looking at a man who was not her husband.
One Flesh
This is the backdrop for today’s story.
We read:
‘Some, testing him, asked,
“Is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife?”’
We do not know what prompted their question.
Whatever it may have been,
here were Jewish men
asking Jesus, a Jewish rabbi
a question on Jewish divorce.
They throw him a curveball
and Jesus surprises them.
He publicly opposes not only
common lived divorce practice,
but, shockingly,
also the highly revered Torah law.
No other gospel story records him doing so.
His reference point is farther back than Moses,
Jesus goes all the way back
to the ancient creation narrative.
As he quotes,
‘the two shall become one flesh.’
he makes clear
that committed relationships are special,
perhaps even sacred.
Two human beings.
One flesh.
Intimately connected.
Sharing a place in time.
Sharing life.
And when this ‘one flesh’ tears apart,
when it separates,
it hurts like hell.
But it equally hurts
if that ‘one flesh’
no longer functions as such,
when insurmountable inner division
slowly creeps in.
And even greater is the pain
if physical or emotional violence are present.
This is the reality.
It’s the reality Jesus acknowledges.
The reality Moses’ law addressed.
The reality ancient and modern societies
were and are aware of.
The reality the Christian church,
starting with Paul,
wrestled with throughout the ages.
The reality many here
have experienced personally
or very close-up.
The Legacy of this Passage
At times, today’s passage has helped couples
to diligently work on their relationship
when the going got tough.
The commitment to Jesus’ words
saved homes and families,
and keeps on doing so to this day.
Hallelujah!
And yet, the truth is,
that, on a grand scale,
this message also worsened
the painful, awful reality
of breaking relationships.
It has been used to shame those
who were already hurting.
This text has been weaponized
to exclude from churches
those who desperately needed
community and the sacraments.
It was and is a means
to guilt especially women to remain
in abusive and humiliating relationships.
I’m convinced that I’m not the only one
who has shook her fist at Jesus
for saying all this stuff,
and at the Holy Spirit
for making sure it ended up in our bible!
Jesus and the Powerful
Let’s look at our story from a different angle.
Did you notice that the conversation here
does not start with a real-life situation
of deep heartbreak or marital abuse?
It starts with a theoretical trick question
plucked out of thin air.
A question by men:
the sole benefactors
and decision-makers on all things divorce.2
So, seen through the lens and 1st century reality
of patriarchy, Jesus’ harsh response
is actually very typical for him.
He often gives the powerful
something to chew on:
like telling the rich man
to sell all his possessions
or chiding the political elite
for their hypocrisy and power abuse.
But, the truth is, more often than not,
all of us here are slow
to identify with those whom Jesus challenges.
It’s surely not us who are the abusers of power,
the stingy rich ones, or the hypocrites, right?
Normally Jesus’ sternness
leaves us somewhat cold and detached, right?
But here, with the divorce argument,
all the sudden he strikes a chord in us
because the issue is close,
too close, to our lives.
Because it is, naturally,
very emotionally charged.
Both the institutional Church
and individual believers
have often hastily taken
Jesus‘ teachings on divorce
as reasons for condemnation or self-reproach.
Maybe it would benefit us,
our fellow-humans, and the planet
if we’d invested this same zeal differently?
Perhaps this zero-tolerance for excuses
that some streams of Christianity
apply to divorce would be in order
for other things close to Jesus’ heart?
How about taking issues
like physical possessions, power abuse,
or religious hypocrisy as seriously?
Jesus and the Weak
Jesus does not shy away
from a confrontation!
Equally, Jesus does also not shy away
from embracing!
Over and over again
he confronts those in power,
and embraces the marginalised.
The second half of today’s gospel reading
is one of the most beloved examples for this:
People are bringing children to Jesus,
who were at the time especially powerless.
He confronts those
who exclude and judge the little ones.
He embraces the children
and even holds them up
as a blueprint for true virtue and belief.
Or think of that other instance
of men putting Jesus to the test
– also over a marriage question:
That time it was more
than a theoretical argument,
but a real-life scenario
of someone about to be executed:
a woman, quote, ‘caught in adultery’.
(…and we just heard what
kinds of minor offences
such an accusation could be based on!)
Here, again, Jesus does not accuse,
but loves.
Another time, by a well,
Jesus broke all conventions
by talking to a foreign woman,
who had had her own fair share
of relationship heartbreak.
Again: no blame, just love.
Ideal vs Reality
But, still, we are left with the question:
why, oh why, are relationships sometimes such a hot mess?
Why do marriages fail?
Why are families torn apart?
Why do people who were once madly in love
end up hurting each other?
Why do Christians
– individually and collectively –
often blame and shame
couples going through heartbreak?
I wonder if it is due to a fundamental clash
of ideal and reality.
Jesus talks about the ideal,
about ‘not separating
what God has joint together’.
Yet Jesus also acknowledges the reality,
humanity’s ‘hardness of heart’, as he calls it.
Maybe it’s the relatively modern ideal
of the nuclear family
clashing with the reality
where family members face intense pressure to maintain harmony,
juggle multiple roles, and ensure success?
Maybe the, again very recent, ideal
of ‘love marriages’,
as opposed to pragmatic unions,
clashes with the reality
of humans growing and changing over time?
These and other ideals
have badly wounded people:
those in braking relationships,
as well as singles,
couples suffering from infertility,
LGBTQ folks,
and anybody else who doesn’t fit the mold
of idealism.
Our Response
Society, the Church, and we individually
must ask ourselves
where we have been
instrumental or complicit
in wounding those already in pain.
We must practice humility.
We must follow Jesus’ command
to ‘not judge’.
Like him, we must embrace the suffering
with dignity, integrity and love.
We must bravely and honestly
face double standards.
We must, like Jesus,
call out power abuse and hypocrisy.
Especially those of us
who are in and surrounded by
fairly harmonic families
must practice listening to and feeling with
those who are not as fortunate.
We can’t cure others
from their relationship troubles,
but we can help them to lead healed lives.
If you are one of those
hurt by the Church’s judgement,
then I am so very sorry.
Please know that you are loved.
If you carry wounds from broken relationships,
understand that Jesus makes healing,
no matter how slow, possible.
Please know that you are loved.
If Jesus’ words in today’s passage
still don’t sit right with you,
please keep on being honest with God,
and carry on probing and wrestling.
Please know that you are loved.
Amen.
- An interesting background story: Jesus and his friends
had just arrived in a region called Judea, which had recently seen some scandals among the ruling class. At its centre was a tabloid-worthy case of passion, divorce, public denunciation, and even execution: The Judean princess Herodias had divorced her husband, and married his half-brother Herod Antipas, before scheming to have her arch-enemy John murdered. Oh, what delightful times! ↩︎ - Just a quick note: Men may seem to get a bad rep here, but that’s based on the 1st-century patriarchy (and sadly, it still exists today). I’m not here to blame men or make women victims! In reality, both sides can feel deep pain, especially in today’s world. ↩︎