Divorce & Abiding in Love

Homily for The Twentieth Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 22b

Saint Peter's | Arlington, VA

Mark 10:2-16

As a small consolation, I like to imagine that somewhere out there is an arranger of the

lectionary just delighted with themself after having successfully lined up the story of Job

alongside Jesus’ teaching on divorce. There’s just no way this is coincidental.

On it’s surface, the pharisees pose a question about the legality of divorce. But starting a

conversation in good faith is really anything but what they’re interested in. This is a

question about far more than social ethics...

Everything about the way this sect lives is shaped by concern for restoring the favor of

God to Israel—and what will most efficiently and effectively do so. So, upholding a

rigorous ethical code in both personal lives and in governance is of utmost importance.

All of this fixation on moral purity is fueled by a kind of existential angst...

Will God love us? Who is good enough to be loved? And for the pharisees, the answer is quite simple: only those who maintain the letter of the law are worthy.

But it is simply too easy to elevate ourselves above the pharisees. Truthfully, we see this

same impulse in our lives, too—whether it be in attempting to ban certain books from

schools or in preserving proper liturgical observance.

Jesus sees all of this fundamentally different from the pharisees premise—which sounds

much like the demand to “do better” so prevalent in our own current discourse. Living in

light of God’s love is about far more than moral absolutes.

However, it would be a mistake for us to move on too quickly... Because as much as we

might prefer a comforting word from an all-affirming wellness gurus on social

media, Jesus doesn’t let us off the hook so easily. To live into the joy Jesus comes to make known to the world, we first need to confront some rather uncomfortable truths.

In the creation story of Genesis, God sees two persons in relationship and says that it is

“very good.” It’s unsurprising and really not that radical. Because after all our faith claims

that the very essence of God is relationship: three persons existing in relationship as one.

The theological term for this is perichoresis—which translated from Greek suggests to a

kind of “rotation.” God is a cyclical movement of the Godhead, Son, and Spirit all

existing in a relationship of reciprocity with one another.

The very nature of faith is to enter ourselves into this “divine dance,” as some call it. To

abide in relationship is very good—so may no one or anything separate us from what is

joined together by God.

For as difficult as it may be to say, divorce is a tragedy. Because no in good faith stands at

an altar and enters into the sacrament of marriage with the intent it will one day end in

separation. It’s understandable though that we may might want to soften things for the

sake of those we love, or perhaps ourselves. To suggest the unraveling of a marriage is

anything less though would be to trivialize all vows. And what’s more, if we cannot name

the situation for what it is—because it causes too much discomfort to do so—we leave

those in the wake of divorce to face their pain alone.

Now, divorce is many other things, too—and the circumstances of each are endlessly

different from one another. So, to be abundantly clear: sometimes divorce is necessary.

What I can attest to from my own life is this: resurrection can only follow after a death

takes place. But new life is possible. Even though it may come with great fear and

trembling, it is an act of deep faith to trust the words of Jesus, that he comes that we

might know life and have it more abundantly. Sometimes divorce may even be good,

perhaps even a reflection of God’s desire for us.

But nevertheless, the question the pharisees ask has a way of hanging in the air. Who is

good enough to inherit the Kingdom of God? Are any of us worthy to be loved?

It is not only in the wake of divorce that this concern surfaces. We all confront it at one

time or another—perhaps over and over again throughout our lives.

Whatever the circumstances that pose the question, Jesus responds: look to the children.

If you want to see what it looks like to love God and be loved in return, look to the children. If you want to learn how to live in God’s world as we were intended, look to the children.

Here’s a humbling thought for all of this to try on: the children are our teachers.

The life of faith is not about successfully achieving and preserving holiness—however we

may define it. This is actually quite the opposite of faith—and it has absolutely nothing at

all to do with whether or not we are worthy of God’s love. No matter what shortcomings,

tragedies, or wounds we may carry with us, we are all met with the grace of God.

The authoritative source for what defines a faithful life is the presence of an innocence

dependence on something outside ourselves—and the willingness to accept it. So, as the

theologian Dr. Barbara Holmes muses, “Suppose our passage into the next life will not be

determined by the amount of holiness pursued; just joy.”

We are loved—and there’s not really anything we can do about that. So, like a child

trusting the provision of a good parent, we need but only receive this grace—and live in

light of the freedom it invites us into.

Thanks be to God.