Sermon Mark 10:2-16 Jesus and Divorce

Intro: this sermon was preached at University Lutheran Church on 10-7-18. My hope in sharing my own story is 1) to remind us that we do not know what others carry--grief, pain, shame, guilt--so we do well to be kind. Always; 2) to remind us that pretty much everything is more complex than we'd prefer and that in oversimplifying we re-inflict injustice and injury; and 3) to demonstrate my commitment to hearing and believing women who are struggling with abuse, neglect, assault, harassment, trust, and lack of safety, be it emotional, physical, sexual, mental, verbal, or social, due to gender, age, relationship, orientation, whatever. In the sermon I struggle not to be hetero-normative or marriage-centric. I did not struggle with vulnerability, because I trust those who heard it; but I did struggle with shame rearing its head yet again. If you read on, please know I hear you, I see you, this is real and it sucks, but it does not get the end, or even very much of, your story.

Mark 10:2-16 
2 Some Pharisees came, and to test him they asked, "Is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife?" 3 He answered them, "What did Moses command you?" 4 They said, "Moses allowed a man to write a certificate of dismissal and to divorce her." 5 But Jesus said to them, "Because of your hardness of heart he wrote this commandment for you. 6 But from the beginning of creation, "God made them male and female.' 7 "For this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, 8 and the two shall become one flesh.' So they are no longer two, but one flesh. 9 Therefore what God has joined together, let no one separate." 10 Then in the house the disciples asked him again about this matter. 11 He said to them, "Whoever divorces his wife and marries another commits adultery against her; 12 and if she divorces her husband and marries another, she commits adultery." 13 People were bringing little children to him in order that he might touch them; and the disciples spoke sternly to them. 14 But when Jesus saw this, he was indignant and said to them, "Let the little children come to me; do not stop them; for it is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs. 15 Truly I tell you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it." 16 And he took them up in his arms, laid his hands on them, and blessed them.

Sermon Mark 10:2-16 

I was able to begin seminary in September of 1989

because I left an abusive marriage.

It was a terrible way to begin anything new,

certainly something as challenging as graduate school that required faith and character formation along the way.

I was only married for 2 years, but it was enough time

to have attached my identity to my partner,

trusting him to show me who I was.

But after awhile, I realized he was wrong.

I was not unworthy, unloveable, incapable, or wrong—

the things he was showing me.

Two years of living with him undid two decades

of a solid and loving life with my family and with God,

so that I lost myself almost completely. Almost.

There was just enough “me” left to realize divorce was my only option

for being myself, the person I believe God created me to be.

So I began seminary feeling like I had a big scarlet letter on my chest:

D for divorce.

Many things happened to tattoo that letter permanently,

including the policy at the time that divorced people couldn’t actually be accepted to seminary.

But more importantly, a hope I was clinging to was confirmed:

God really did love me, even if I was divorced,

even if I was broken, even if I was embarrassed and ashamed

at having made such a bad choice in a partner.

Even if I didn’t know who I was any more, God did,

so that’s where God and I started to collect the pieces

of my broken heart and reconstruct Lori.

This story from Mark came up in class one day, of course,

threatening to shatter everything I had tenuously rebuilt of myself.

I don’t remember what the professor said, exactly,

except that I was not convinced or comforted when he said

Jesus is not condemning people who are divorced.

Knowing how that feels makes me very cautious about preaching today.

I know I am not the only one in the room who is divorced.

I know that that part of identity fades into the background eventually,

but doesn’t really go away,

even after decades of being blissfully married to the right partner.

I know the pain of parents divorcing,

the effect on children and families whose realities are so sharply shifted;

and friends who divorce, leaving you wondering

how it could happen to them, and how to be friends now.

I know there are very good, justifiable and court-approved reasons

to divorce, abuse, adultery, abandonment, and addiction

at the top of the list.

And I know that no one wins, even when divorce is the best option.

So, how do I, a divorced and remarried woman,

respond to Jesus accusing me of adultery?

It’s so easy to read the story that way, of course.

For me, I have to think about what God wants in marriage,

to even begin to understand Jesus here.

When the Pharisees are trying to trip Jesus up in a legal dispute,

he sails right past them and Moses, all the way back to creation.

In the Genesis story, God has created an earth-creature from the earth,

a human from the humus,

and God sees that the earth creature needs a partner.

God tries the same approach, making all the other animals

from the same dust the first earth creature came from;

but none of them is right.

God cannot duplicate the earth creature closely enough

to have a satisfying partner, a mighty helper.

So God puts Ha Adam to sleep and takes half to make into a new creature.

We read “rib” in our translation, but it really means “side”—

God takes one side of Ha Adam and makes something entirely new and different, and very much the same.

This one is not like the other creatures made from dust;

this one is made from half of the first one.

And these two halves together make a whole.

I don’t think this depends on gender, by the way.

God sees that it is not good for a human to be alone,

and that the human is not complete without a partner,

without another half to complete them.

Together they are whole, together they are the image of God.

Together they know divine love, not to mention partnership,

companionship, security, and safety.

Together they know who they are and who God is.

Wholeness does not require marriage,

but in relationship with other humans,

long-term friendships or a committed, intimate relationship,

whatever that might look like,

we have a deeper understanding of what it means to be human,

created by God.

And I think that is precisely what Jesus is warning about

when he speaks of this so many centuries later.

Another person can connect us to God and to ourselves

in a way we can’t do on our own.

Think of what you learned about yourself when you fell in love.

Or what you learned about love when you had a child.

Or how you’ve seen God through someone else’s eyes and prayers

when you couldn’t find God yourself.

It is the breaking of that fullness that is so hard in a divorce,

the cleaving apart of something that was joined together.

Hearts are broken, and families are broken, social structures,

bank accounts, self-esteem, and trust –all broken.

So what is somewhat helpful in reading this is to focus not on

what God does NOT want—all that brokenness—

and see instead what God DOES want.

God creates us for relationship,

to know we are whole when we are in relationship with others.

Being OUT of relationship is the unusual thing—

which is, perhaps, why divorce hurts so much;

we find ourselves outside of relationship,

  not knowing how to get in again, with friends, family, lovers, or God.

There is grace in remembering what God does NOT want—

all these bad things that hurt so much, that take away life bit by bit.

God does not want that, and Jesus doesn’t want us creating a loophole

so we can inflict that on someone else.

God does want wholeness, and life, and love, and being known. Sometimes that’s what we get in marriage, but sometimes it is not;

sometimes we get it through divorce.

If this story hurts you, or makes you feel guilty or vulnerable,

            I’m sorry. I’m not sure what to do with that.

But I hear you, and I share your pain-- I feel that way, too. 

 After this sermon we will share communion.

At that holy table, we are all invited, welcome, loved, no matter what;

single, married, divorced, widowed, gay, straight, cisgender, transgender, nonbinary, adulterers.

We are all welcome because we are all valued and loved

by the one who meets us here.

Jesus’ death and resurrection remind us that there is nothing

that is not redeemable by God,

and that includes marriage, divorce, and the unhelpful ways we think,

talk, and make judgments about them.

What God wants for us is wholeness, all of our dust holding together. 

Trusting God, receiving that grace at this table,

is where our lives begin and end.

This is healing for all that hurts, wholeness for all that is broken. Amen.