Taken by the Hand

Taken by the Hand--January 17, 2019

“As soon as they left the synagogue, they entered the house of Simon and Andrew, with James and John. Now Simon’s mother-in-law was in bed with a fever, and they told him about her at once. He came and took her by the hand and lifted her up. Then the fever left her, and she began to serve them." [Mark 1:29-31]

Pay attention to Jesus’ hands.  There is something wonderful about Jesus’ hands.  Pay close attention….

Anytime I am reading a story in the Bible, I find it worth asking, “Why was this story held onto in the first place, and why might it have been remembered in the way it was?”  Why are some details remembered and held onto like precious stones, and why are other details lost in the mists of time?  The Gospel-writers are, after all, a lot like movie-makers, choosing the angles and scene breaks as they tell the story that has been given to them.  Why does one director’s version of the Robin Hood story seem so campy and lighthearted, and another’s seem so dark? Why does one choose to start the story with Robin already a popular folk hero, and another tells an elaborate back-story for how Robin became the person he was?  If we are allowed to ask these questions about movies, it’s fair to ask them about the way the biblical writers tell the stories they are passing onto us.  After all, the gospel-writers think that the story they are telling is a matter of life and death, of history-changing good news—so it’s worth it to take a moment sometimes and to ask why the story goes the way it does, and why some details stick.

Take this short little story from Mark's Gospel for a moment. It’s not a long one at all, but at the same time, you almost wonder why Mark even bothered to tell it, given that he had no problem skipping over the first thirty years of Jesus’ life from the opening sentence to Jesus’ appearance in the story.  All sorts of interesting questions we might have—what was Jesus like as a young boy? What was his first word?  How did he come to recognize his calling as God’s Messiah?  and surely many more—go unanswered, but Mark stops his camera and parks it on this moment, for this short exchange with Jesus and Simon Peter’s mother-in-law.  Why? (Surely, it’s more than to tip us off that at least some of the disciples were married, which seems to poke some gaping holes in the idea that leaders/pastors/priests are not allowed to be married if they are going to be leaders in the community of Jesus.)

While we’re stopping to ask questions, doesn’t this scene come across as a little anti-climactic compared to other miracle stories in the Gospels?  For example, right before this scene with Peter's mother-in-law there's a powerful scene with a demon-possessed man, in which the unclean spirit speaks and is dramatically cast out by Jesus.  There was tension, there was something supernatural, and there was a clear and present danger.  Here, with Simon Peter’s mother-in-law, it’s just a fever.  By comparison, that just seems like small potatoes up against a story of demon possession.  If Mark were just telling us this story about the fever to impress us with Jesus’ amazing and miraculous powers, wouldn’t the demon-exorcism have done the trick?  This miracle barely seems miraculous, really—no lightning or thunder, no twelve baskets of leftovers. There are no "special effects" in this scene.  There’s not even the drama of seeing Jesus’ mere words bring about the miracle.  With the demon-possessed man, there’s an added wow-factor that Jesus didn’t even have to touch the possessed man to send the spirit out—he just spoke, and the demon left.  Now that leaves us feeling pretty impressed.

But this scene is different.  And it may just be that there is a method to Mark’s madness here.  Jesus touches Simon’s mother-in-law.  He “took her by the hand and lifted her up.”  Curious detail to hold onto, isn’t it, Mark?  You could have just said, “Jesus healed her, and she got up.”  But Mark mentions touch.  He shows us Jesus offering his hand and taking this woman by her hand, and helping her to her feet. Why?

Well, consider this:  obviously, Jesus doesn’t have to touch people to make them well.  The way he cast out the demon in the last story with just his words showed us that.  Jesus’ power is not like magic—it’s not about having the right technique, in other words, to get it “right.”  So if Jesus doesn’t have to touch someone with his own hand to heal them, but he chooses to anyway, like in today’s story, what does it mean?  It means Jesus chose to come that close.  It means that Jesus doesn’t worry about the most efficient way to be the Messiah—a quick spoken healing here, a speedy verbal exorcism there—he is willing to take people by the hand.  That’s what the Gospel is all about, after all—the God who comes close to us in our own human life, the God who wears our skin, the God who can take us by the hand, through the human hands of Jesus.  It didn’t have to be this way—that means Jesus chose to take Simon’s mother-in-law by the hand.  It means that Jesus is willing to come that close to heal us, too. Not just a booming voice from a distant heaven, but a God who comes and takes us by the hand.

Perhaps in this day, healing will come in little gestures, too--the holding open of a door, the hand on a shoulder, the offer of a hug, the holding of a hand.  Perhaps you and I will be able to give someone else a glimpse, too, of the God who comes close and chooses to offer a hand.

Come close to us, Lord Jesus, and let us know we are in your good hands.