Preaching Paths 6 October 2024 Proper 22

Sally A. Brown, Professor Emerita, Princeton Theological Seminary

In today’s Gospel reading (Mark 10:2-16), some Pharisees ask Jesus to vote up or down the lawfulness of divorcing one’s wife. Their motive may be less than innocent; they may hope he will answer in a way that draws the attention and ire of Herodias, who married Herod Antipas after divorcing his brother. Not long ago, Herodias silenced John the Baptist’s criticism of her divorce and remarriage by having him beheaded. Might she do the same to Jesus–? Jesus unmasks the ploy; he asks these specialists in Jewish law what their own law says. They cite Deuteronomy 24:1. Divorce, strictly a male prerogative, is lawful, but the rejected wife must receive a “certificate of divorce”—proof that she is an innocent victim. Jesus points out this law is a concession to human “hardness of heart” (v 5), and then shifts the debate to higher ground: divine intent. God intended that marriage partners become “one flesh;” they should not be “set apart.” He cites no exceptions; in fact, inside the house with his disciples, he calls divorce that leads to remarriage, “adultery” (vv 10-12).

The divorced and the remarried in our pews will find this text hard to hear. We owe it to them to take it seriously, and at the same time, help them to understand its historical-cultural and literary context. First, marriage in the ancient world was not based on mutual love; it was a transaction between households that strengthened them economically and forged webs of social alliance. Second, while Roman women could instigate divorce, Jewish women could not. Further, Jewish men could divorce their wives for trivial reasons, leaving both ex-wife and children economically vulnerable. Unattached to a household, divorced women and their children faced lost status, poverty, and shame.

The literary setting of Jesus’ words on divorce is noteworthy. Mark sandwiches Jesus’ teaching on divorce between passages about welcoming and protecting children. Children were the ones put at greatest risk after a divorce. In other words, Jesus’ high standard for marital stability is interwoven with his over-all concern for his society’s most vulnerable persons: women and children. This concern will help to guide our preaching. In light of the emphasis Jesus places on protecting the vulnerable, it becomes unthinkable that Jesus would ever counsel an abuse victim to remain “one flesh” with a toxic emotional, sexual, or physical abuser. One needs to leave a household that has become unsafe.

The theme of care for the vulnerable continues in vv 13-16. Telling his disciples not to push the little children away, Jesus declares that the reign of God belongs to “such as these.” Might “such as these” include other under-valued ones–immigrants and refugees, those with limiting conditions of body or mind? V 15 is ambiguous: do we receive the kingdom as a child would, or receive the kingdom as we would a child?  How can we do either, when the reign of God asks so much of us? Perhaps it means simply confessing that our aspirations exceed our endurance. Like children, we need help.

In a planning session with a couple who had asked me to perform their wedding, the groom expressed dismay at the language of the vow: “to have and to hold, ‘til death do us part.” He tentatively suggested substituting, “as long as love shall last.” I don’t recall how the conversation went; did he choose to embrace the liturgy, or go in search of a more flexible officiant? But I do remember saying I didn’t blame him for finding it daunting. God bless him!—he understood human weakness. Fortunately, so does God. We may fail. Others may fail us. But grace? Grace endures.