“Made For Each Other”
Nineteenth Sunday after Pentecost
October 3, 2021
Genesis 2:18-25
Mark 10:1-16
You might be surprised to discover that this gospel passage is really not about divorce. It’s about a whole lot of things, but despite the heading in the Bible, the least of this is divorce. Let’s go a bit deeper.
First, I want to put this passage in its proper Biblical context. [Catechism #1—Context matters.] In Chapter 9, Jesus took three disciples up a mountain where he was changed before their very eyes. And they were joined by Moses and Elijah—the Law and the Prophets. And while they wanted to stay in this moment longer, they were sent down again—among the hurting people.
From there, they encountered the boy with an evil spirit that no one but Jesus could heal, after which he began teaching them again about his own death and resurrection. That the Messiah didn’t come to win a minor battle with the Romans but the whole war with death, itself.
They end up in Capernaum where the disciples argue about who is greater. Here, Jesus takes a child and holds it close. Anyone who welcomes a child—a marginalized and vulnerable person—welcomes Jesus. This becomes a theme as we move forward.
John tells Jesus he encountered someone teaching and healing in Jesus’ name. Which was apparently more than the disciples had been doing. And John wants it to stop. But Jesus says that anyone who is spreading the good news of the coming kingdom isn’t a threat. However, if anyone gets in the way of one spreading that good news, Jesus says, “one of these little ones”, they would be better off being thrown into the chaos and danger of the sea. In fact, anything that causes someone vulnerable less accessibility to God’s good news should be plucked out like an eye or cut off like a foot.
Again—we hear about vulnerability, purpose, and the power of the good news. And as they leave Capernaum, people again surround Jesus looking for this good news. One can assume this crowd included children and women, as well as men. It would have included those who have been divorced and those who have been rejected. It would have included those forced into prostitution and those begging not just for good news but for bread.
That’s where the Pharisees catch up with Jesus to test him. Really, any question would have worked. But they ask him a general question about the Law concerning divorce. And Jesus responds like any good teacher—with a question. “What did Moses command you?” Now, this is where it gets interesting. This takes us to Deuteronomy 24:1-4. There, Moses gives a hypothetical situation. Let’s suppose, he says, that a man enters marriage, but the woman doesn’t please him. He’s dissatisfied. So, he gives her a certificate of divorce and sends her away. She leaves, and he goes off to marry someone else’s wife.
And let’s suppose that this second man doesn’t like her either, so gives her a divorce and sends her out of his home. Her first husband who had sent her away is not allowed to take her back in. That’s the situation. Moses didn’t command anything aside from the fact that the first guy can’t have another go at her. All else is a given. It’s a given that a man can give a divorce, and that both may get married again.
So, why did the Pharisees ask the question of Jesus in the first place? Probably because they wanted to pin down which midrash tradition Jesus leaned toward. You see, not all Pharisees and Talmudic leaders were united. There was a lot of infighting between the traditions of Hillel and Shammai. It’s not clear which side these particular Pharisees were on, but they wanted to know where Jesus landed—whether they should support him or challenge him.
In answer to Jesus’ question about Moses’ command, these Pharisees condense the passage from Deuteronomy by saying, “Moses allowed divorce.” And I imagine Jesus taking a deep, calming breath and giving a very simplified response—the only reason Moses allowed divorce is because it was going to happen, regardless. People are fickle and cruel. And sometimes, divorce is better than the alternative.
Why is that? Let’s look at the cultural context. [#2—Context matters.] In those days and for centuries after—really only until recently—marriage was a business deal. A contract between families. Parents not only had to approve of the union, they sought out socially beneficial unions for their children. They looked to keep or gain land or social standing. Sometimes they hoped to secure more finances. And, of course, they wanted to be sure their family and tribe didn’t die out.
Not only that, but a woman’s body and sexual function was not her own. She was merely property—first owned by her father and then, once daddy signed the marriage contract, she became the property of the husband. And if hubby decided he was tired of her—or he didn’t like how she talked—or he wasn’t sexually satisfied—or any other number of reasons, he could write a certificate of divorce and release her from the contract.
But that didn’t mean that she now belonged to herself. No. If divorced, she became common property, placed in a position of vulnerability to anyone who would take advantage of her. Remarrying was her only hope of security and stability. But this, Jesus says, is NOT what God had designed us for. We were designed to be equal partnership. We were created to b help-mates. We were intended for healthy relationships—not this twisted system of property, domination, and injustice.
Hear me very clearly. This isn’t about morality. It isn’t about purity. It isn’t about our skewed concepts of ‘traditional marriage.’ This is about justice. About mutuality. About trust. About equal rights and equal responsibilities to care for each other and be cared for. To give and gain from one another—to grow together. That is the purpose of all relationships. But instead, we treat relationships like commodities—we’re together as long as I get what I expect or want. Once that’s over, the contract is done.
But God doesn’t work in contracts. God works in covenants. Sacramental and sacrificial.
What happens next is really quite phenomenal. But you have to understand what’s happening in the reading. It says that Jesus and the disciples went inside to discuss the matter further. And he says that anyone who divorces his wife in order to marry someone else commits adultery against her. Not against her father, who signed the contract. Against HER. According to Jesus, she is her own person. She has a stake in this. And quite frankly, it was rare that any man was ever charged with adultery. It was always the woman. Jesus breaks the mold of his culture to say what he says.
And then he goes on! He says that if SHE divorces her husband to marry someone else, she commits adultery against him! Imagine that—Jesus recognizes her humanity enough to give her the power to divorce her husband. That wasn’t a power given to women of that time.
But he doesn’t stop there. Again he welcomes the children—particularly as his disciples are trying to keep these pesky and inconsequential kids away from him. Remember, kids weren’t deemed human until they were able to contribute to society. Much like women. And Jesus says, “Let them come. They, of all people, belong first and foremost in God’s kingdom. And only when you welcome the kingdom like you welcome the most vulnerable will you be able to enter the kingdom.”
How you care for the vulnerable is how you engage the kingdom. The systems which we put in place to care for the vulnerable says everything about how we consider God and God’s kingdom. So, let’s take a look at our own context. [#3—Context matters.] In reality, very little has changed—and what has changed is only a very recent change. Up until recently, our systems and tradition regarding marriage, divorce, children, and the vulnerable in the world were systems designed by white men. I’m not trying to disparage white men. I’m in love with a white man. But this is the reality. Without a balance of voices from a variety of people, the systems designed by white men have favored white men.
Can you imagine—it was rare for a woman to be able to hold property. They couldn’t work outside if they were married—unless the family lived in deep poverty. Women couldn’t hold credit cards in their own names. They couldn’t sign for a loan on their own. Not to mention promises made and broken to Indigenous people, freed slaves, and so many more immigrants—even now.
And while many of the original system-designers were compassionate, well-intentioned individuals, it was still rare for a different voice to make its way in. Consider the vulnerable people we’re only still learning about—the Indigenous children taken from their homes, placed in schools to teach them how to be white Europeans, and disposed of so easily. Six thousand, five hundred and nine bodies found in North America. And counting.
Consider the debate over abortion. What so many women are fighting against isn’t what decision should be made but who gets to make it. Who gets to make the decisions about her body? Consider how so many divorces have been dealt with by the courts—the ways in which children are used as leverage by either or both sides. The most vulnerable again just a pawn in a larger battle for power.
So, I’ll say it again. This passage isn’t about divorce. It’s about something bigger—how we care for one another. How we see each other as people instead of commodities. How we build relationships that are designed to lift up the other instead of tear them down. And how we pray for and support each other when a relationship dies. It’s about what true partnership looks like—between friends, between lovers, between parents and children, between students and teachers, between pastors and parishioners.
It’s about God’s love, glory, and call to ALL people, regardless of ethnicity, gender, orientation, marital status, faith, and so much more that we use to divide ourselves. It’s about God’s healing over our relationships—which begins here at the Lord’s Table and extends to the tables in our homes, our work places, our cities, and across the world.
Pastor Tobi White
Our Saviour’s Lutheran Church
Lincoln, NE
