Mark 1: 29-39

Sisters & brothers, grace to you and peace from God our Creator, Christ our Redeemer, and the Spirit our Comforter.  Amen.

We don’t even know her name.

St. Mark only refers to her as “Simon’s mother-in-law.”

Because, like everything else in his gospel narrative, Mark hurries through the details to get to the main point.  The first words of this morning’s Gospel are toned down a little in the translation.  “As soon as” maybe sounds less frenetic than “immediately” but “immediately” is what Mark means to say.  And remember: we’re still only in chapter 1 of Mark’s Gospel which skips Jesus’ birth altogether and goes “immediately” to his baptism, and then “immediately” to his temptation in the wilderness, and then “immediately” to the calling of the same 4 gentlemen who are named in today’s gospel, fishermen called to follow Jesus, and then “immediately” from their boatworks and their networks they go with Jesus to Capernaum where in the synagogue he teaches as one with authority, rebuking and finally exorcising a demon.

Which brings us “immediately” to this morning’s text.

It’s a domestic scene, in the home of brothers Simon and Andrew, who may well have left their boats and nets behind, but take note:  not the mother-in-law!     Perhaps Mark is subtly telling us here that the call to follow Jesus doesn’t excuse us from our familial cares and concerns but in fact begins at home with those who know us best, with our foibles and idiosyncrasies and all.  And who better an example in that regard than a mother figure — even moreso — a mother-in-law?!

St. Mark continues racing with his narrative, telling us that this nameless woman, identified only in relationship to her son-in-law, is sick in bed with a fever.  “Immediately” Jesus is told about her, and what follows are twelve words which capture the essence of Jesus’ ministry.   Mark’s words from verse 31 are there on your bulletin cover:  “Jesus came and took her by the hand and lifted her up.”

Let’s briefly dissect those three clauses, because in them we see our calling as the body of Christ as well.

First, “Jesus came.”  In other words, Jesus showed up. I’m reminded of those words made famous by Woody Allen, “Half of life is just showing up.” Jesus didn’t stay away from nor avoid places and people that could be complicated.  He entered not only the house, but he also entered into the fabric and fray of her life. When invited, Jesus responds and comes.  First of all, Jesus came.  He showed up.

Second, “and he took her by the hand.” Jesus comes in direct contact with people. Throughout the Gospels we hear of the power of Jesus’ touch, for with it and by it, as he comes and reaches out his hands, there is healing, deliverance, blessing, forgiveness, new life.  Taking another by the hand is a powerful gesture.  It means you are not alone.  It means that there is one who is very present with you.  It means you are being attended to, accompanied on your journey, wherever you are at any given moment along life’s way: vulnerable, needy, lost, confused, grieving, brokenhearted, ill, in pain or distress.  Jesus came and took her – fever and all — by the hand.

Third, “and lifted her up.”  The verb here translates literally “to be raised,” and so Jesus raises her, gives her a glimpse of glory divine when on the last day he will raise her again from the dead. Jesus lifts her up, raises her up from one of the many little deaths all of us experience along the way on our way to our final death and resurrection.

Perhaps you caught the report yesterday on NPR which told about the aging animation community in Los Angeles which gets together once a year around this time to remember its members who have died in the past year.  Because many animators are able to work well into their elder years, their professional association represents the entire age spectrum with many who animate well into their advanced years, so it ends up they are a closely-knit group of folks with a very specific and unique craft.  A representative of the organization which holds this event said in the report that they have this event once a year, rather than gathering each time another of their animator colleagues dies, in order to avoid what he called “grief fatigue”.

That phrase “grief fatigue” grabbed my attention. At first I thought “What a bunch of wimps!” Until I realized what an accurate description it is for most of us:  fatigued by the griefs of life, worn down by the woes of this earthly journey which can overtake us at times, “wearied by the changes and chances of life,” as a prayer from our Lutheran tradition aptly puts it.

Into those moments Jesus comes, takes us by the hand, and lifts us up. Into those moments, we as a community of followers of Jesus are also called to enter, to accompany, and to “lift up” – to bear the burden with those who are experiencing “grief fatigue” or maybe just “life fatigue.” As St. Paul wrote in his letter to the church in Galatia, “Bear one another’s burdens and so fulfill the law of Christ.” (6:2)

What happens next in the story, as Mark puts it, is that “immediately” the fever left her and “she began to serve them.” While some interpreters can’t get past the heavy-handedness of a patriarchal society which begins oppressing her the minute she is healed, demanding she serve, her response is truly a faith reflex.  Her gratitude for Jesus’ having shown up, taking her by the hand, and lifting her up ignites  a genuine spirit of servanthood.  The verb here for serving is DIAKONOS — the same root as in the word deacon.  In effect, this unnamed woman becomes the first deacon of the church, called upon by Christ himself, and raised up to be a servant among the very first servants of the Gospel of Jesus Christ – before there were even 12.

Sisters and brothers, this is the ministry of Jesus Christ to which we have all been called by our baptism into his life, death, and resurrection, and to which this congregation has been summoned by the Gospel. This gospel moment from Mark’s account reveals to us the standard by which we can evaluate the mission and ministry for which we as a community have been set apart.

To whom and where are we being summoned? May it be said of us “They came.”

Who is alone, rejected, sick, suffering, and grief-fatigued?  May it be said of us, “They took her by the hand.”

Who has been beaten down, put down, looked down upon?  Who is downtrodden, bowed down in oppression, walked on, and low in spirit?  May it be said of us, “They lifted her up.”

On this day as we gather to worship, as the congregation meets for its annual meeting following this liturgy and, as we (in the words of the  bulletin announcement)  “move forward in mission,” our gospel text today offers us an epiphany, a manifestation of the mission of Jesus:  to come, to take a hand, and to raise up those whose are bowed down and whose courage falters.

May we, like that woman whose name we will never know, and who — like her — have experienced the healing grace of Jesus, may we too be raised up in grateful service to our neighbor in need. Hear the words spoken which you will sing in a moment:

“Then let the servant church arise, a caring church that longs to be a partner in Christ’s sacrifice and clothed in Christ’s humanity.”

And finally, “We have no mission but to serve in full obedience to our Lord, to care for all without reserve, and spread God’s liberating word.”

Amen.