As a supporter of the Revised Common Lectionary (sorry you narrative lectionary fans) I will occasionally take some time to comment on the upcoming readings or past ones as new thoughts come to my mind. Some times they will be profoundly theological, digging into the depths of the gospel of Jesus Christ for you. Other times, it will be more like this one: bringing up things that will likely never make it into the Sunday sermon, but are fun to think about. Enjoy the posts, read the scriptures yourself, think more about God. Sometimes with the seriousness of the profound truth that God would become man for us, sometimes with the incredible fun that only comes with armchair theology.
So this coming Sunday's reading begins with these words (from the NRSV): From there he [Jesus] set out and went away to the region of Tyre. He entered a house and did not want anyone to know he was there. Yet he could not escape notice,
Now to most this is just a trasitionary verse. Something to get Jesus quickly from one scene to another. But does anyone wonder how odd it is that Jesus goes into a strange town and just lets himself into someone's house? Of all the talk of coming like a theif in the night the second time, he came like a theif here. Christ is breaking and entering, in today's lingo.
And he isn't even good at it. What's that, Jesus not good at something. He hides in some strange house (the owner of whom we hear nothing of) but is caught in the act.
Now it is worth noting how much more transparent and hospitable the early Palestinian culture would be as compared to a Western private world, where if an out of towner helped himself into a neighbor's house and was caught it would be the cops, not a desperate mother, who would be seeking him out. And since the text says nothing of its owner, we can do nothing but speculate as to how welcome Jesus would be.
But it is odd. What is it that causes Jesus to go into a private home? And to think that this was written with no apparent need to explain these odd circumstances. If nothing else it can remind us how different of a cultural world Christ came into.
At the same time, it also perhaps carries a theme that keeps recurring in Mark, namely, that Jesus cannot help being Jesus. While some Gospels (especially John) emphasize the intent and control of Jesus, in Mark Jesus at times looks almost out of control. Like when the Spirit drives him into the wilderness (1.12) or when a woman takes healing power from Jesus by snagging his robe as he passes by (5.29-30) this story has an air of things happening outside/apart from Jesus intentional ministry. And this little prelude gives us a glimpse of this. Jesus means to hide, but "he could not escape notice". Within Mark, when people need Jesus, that is what they get. When people are seeking him in faith they will in fact find him. And Jesus will give himself to them. Even when he intends to be alone, people find him. The same that happens here happened in the previous chapter. And just as when Jesus could not help being Jesus for those people, even when he meant to be alone. Here it happens again. To the woman who finds him, Jesus shows no intent to help this woman, in fact likens her to a dog wanting to sit at the family table. Yet in the end, against his intent to be alone and his words of his intent to minister to the people of Israel, here again he cannot help but be the miracle, the Savior, the Jesus she needed.
These words are not just a transition. They are odd, in that they show Jesus being a creeper into some random home. They are life for us, who like this woman, find that we need Jesus.
Well I thought this was supposed to be a comic only, armchair theology post. Oops. But it's my blog anyways. So deal with it.
And when you need Jesus, remember that Mark testifies that the kingdom of God has come near, and is available to those who need it. When Christ seems far, he is merely hidden. And when the eyes of faith seek him, they find he's been breaking and entering into our own lives, dwelling in our own home. And when you need Jesus, you know that is no mere transition. That is life itself.
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