Law Questions and Gospel Questions

Text: Mark 10:2-16

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

            If you’re not familiar with the short stories of O. Henry, you really should be. His most famous is “The Gift of the Magi,” which I wager more than a couple people here are familiar with. But I’ve also always appreciated his short story “A Cosmopolite in a Café”. In this story the narrator meets a very well-cultured man in a red tie who he is immediately impressed with. This dashing character is a cosmopolitan, a citizen of the world, having seen everything and appreciated every culture he’s come across, without prejudice or attachment to any one place. I hate to give away the ending, but suffice it to say that by the end, the narrator learns that this cultured cosmopolitan is willing to get into a knockdown fistfight over someone bashing the lousy sidewalks in his middle-of-nowhere hometown in Maine. As it turns out, no one is immune from hard words striking close to home.

            No one—no matter how genteel or cultured we think ourselves, no matter how sophisticated or evolved we think we might be—no one likes it when things strike too close to the places we live. It makes us uncomfortable. It makes us defensive. It forces us out of the role of spectator and makes us part of the situation. It puts a magnifying glass on us. It takes us out of the comfortable position of judge and makes us a defendant. I wager that more than a few of us gathered here today bristled a bit at our Gospel reading—and that’s because it hits awfully close to the home life of so many.

            But as uncomfortable as it makes us, Jesus speaks to us in places that show our vulnerability, those sore spots that we would rather not admit exist, that we would rather He politely ignore, like a gentleman in a café. But His words today speak head-on about our homes.

            Of course, Jesus’ words in our reading come as a result of the Pharisees’ question. The Pharisees were experts in the Law given through Moses at Mount Sinai, the Law that would make Israel unique among the nations and set them apart. But the Pharisees had an axe to grind with Jesus. He’d demonstrated that in spite of all their knowledge, they had somehow missed the heart of Scripture. And so at every opportunity, they tried to trap Him, asking questions that seemed to have no right answer, or that were about too touchy of a topic. So the topic they bring up today is divorce, one that is still a little prickly and difficult. “Is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife?” they ask. “Is it permissible under the Law given from God for this to happen?”

            But here’s the thing: When you ask Law questions, you get Law answers. Jesus knows that they know the legal answer. They were experts in it. So He asks them what the letter of the Law says: “What did Moses command you?” And they have to answer with the legal code: “Moses allowed a man to write a certificate of divorce and to send her away.” It’s all within the Law—the question, the answer, and the ultimate answer that Jesus gives—that this was never God’s intention for life together. He never wants division; He loves and rejoices in people being brought together in holy unions. And so Jesus gives a hard answer that it’s only because our hearts have been hardened that this loophole has been created. It doesn’t excuse us. In fact, it shows us a part of ourselves that we don’t like looking at. It shows the murkier corners of our hearts and actions.

            But when we ask Law questions, we get Law answers. And the whole purpose of the Law is not to show how great and perfect and holy we are. If we try to live by the Law, if we try to find our holiness and worthiness in the Law, it will turn against us. That’s its main purpose—to show us how God intends His creation to work properly and how we, as fallen humans who make too many mistakes to count, mess it up.

            And that’s uncomfortable, being shown that side of ourselves. But as uncomfortable as it is, that’s good. It gets us on the right track. It teaches us to stop looking to ourselves for our holiness, for our purity, for our righteousness; and to look to God and God alone. And that brings us to the second half of our reading.

            This second half also touches on the home. But it moves the camera a bit. “And they were bringing children to Jesus that he might touch them, and the disciples rebuked them.” The disciples told the parents and children how busy Jesus was. Couldn’t they see that He was in a debate with the experts? That His reputation and lifelong work was on the line? Didn’t they realize that He was tackling complicated difficult issues, wrestling with the important teachers of the Law? He didn’t have time for them and their little concerns. He was far too busy, too important, too tied up to stop and speak a couple words to them.

            But when Jesus saw them trying to send the children away, He was indignant—righteously and rightfully angry. “Let the children come to me; do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of God. Truly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it.” These children are the models of what the recipients of God’s kingdom look like—not the Pharisees, not the teachers of the Law, and not the disciples in that moment of self-important busyness. So if the first lesson of our reading is about Law questions and Law answers, then the second lesson in our reading is about Gospel questions and Gospel answers.

            Here, Jesus points to children as the picture of what faith in their Lord looks like. They’re not receiving the kingdom because of their expertise in the Law or splitting hairs about what will make them a little holier than someone else. They’re not earning anything on their own. They’re not winning their spot before Jesus, or the right to get anything from Him; they’re not even looking to their own childlike innocence. They’re just showing up, trusting that He’ll bless them. And to further hammer this home, St. Mark includes a beautiful detail: “And Jesus took them in his arms and blessed them, laying his hands on them.” These were not just older children, getting ready for adulthood and all its complicated navigations. These included children that were small enough to be taken up and held in Jesus’ arms. These were infants and toddlers. These were children who had nothing but faith. They had the pure faith of a baby that knows only when it’s being held by its parent or a stranger and reacts accordingly. These children were the picture of faith that receives, that has nothing to trade, nothing to sell, nothing to purchase blessings with. Only trust. And Jesus blessed them.

            Ask Law questions and you’ll get Law answers. You already know those questions: “Is it a sin if I…?” “Is it allowed if I do this or that?” “Does the Church, or the Bible, or God, say it’s wrong if I…” If you’re asking it so that you have an excuse, or a loophole, or because you’re trying to salvage your own holiness or goodness or status or whatever, then it’s a Law question. And you’re only going to get Law answers—and those will always sting because they’ll always take away your excuses and show how much you need to be saved.

            But ask Gospel questions and you’ll get Gospel answers. “Will you forgive me? Will you bless me? Have you, Jesus, died and risen again, even for me?” And for those Gospel questions, Jesus loves to give Gospel answers—“Yes, and yes, and yes.” He will take you in His arms, He will encircle you with His body and blood, with the water of your Baptism, with the arms of those around you through whom He works, and He will bless you. He will give the kingdom to one such as you. In the name of Jesus, who lays His hand on you and blesses you. Amen.