She Began to Serve Them

Many years ago, when R and I lived in North Carolina, one of my uncles died in retirement in Virginia. My parents were still alive then and planned to attend the funeral. However, it was winter and they were driving from Pennsylvania. A terrible ice storm blew in and they decided not to risk it. Because I lived closer I went anyway, managing to arrive after several hours of skidding along highways in our little blue Volkswagen. Perhaps that was training for eventual life in Iowa!

When I arrived, my aunt’s small apartment was already full of relatives. She was immediately solicitous – I must have looked pretty spooked after the harrowing ride – and I knew instinctively that in her grief she needed the distraction of looking after someone. So I accepted all of her offers of food and drink and even agreed to stay with her that night. I could tell that she deeply appreciated having someone around during that difficult time.

For a woman of my aunt’s generation, serving others (especially men!) was the expected thing to do. It could bring normalcy to a time of great distress. That’s how I interpret the curious episode we will hear in this Sunday’s Gospel reading. Jesus goes to the house of Simon and Andrew, where Simon’s mother-in-law is lying in bed with a fever. Jesus is told about it, and immediately goes to see her. He takes her hand, lifts her up, and she is healed. At once she heads to the kitchen and starts serving them. It is all so very domestic.

Perhaps that’s the point. Previously Jesus had cast out an unclean spirit in a very dramatic and public way in the synagogue. This healing is quite different, much more private, using touch rather than words. In fact, everyone in Mark who is sick is healed by touch, whereas those whose unclean spirits shout at Jesus have the demons cast out of them through words. The difference is magnified in Sunday’s story by its simple, homey ending. One gets the feeling that if this had been England, Simon’s mother-in-law would have made them all tea.

Word gets out, and soon a steady stream of people come to be healed by Jesus. Finally he’s able to get a few hours sleep. But he’s up again long before daylight and goes out to a deserted place to pray. When his disciples finally find him, he’s ready to move on to the next town – not to heal but to preach, to proclaim the kingdom of God, “for that is what I came out to do.” It’s a kingdom where they deaf hear, the lame walk, and feverish mothers-in-law find the strength to make dinner. It’s a place where miracles happen – but the miracle may be as simple as freeing someone to live their everyday life once again.

Recently one of my cousins remarked on the kindness that I showed his mother on that day so long ago. I was astonished that he thought it memorable. It just seemed like the right thing to do. In a way it was a miracle, a miracle that I arrived safely, a miracle that God gave me the grace to know what to do. For my aunt it was a miracle too, a small bit of normalcy in the midst of upheaval. God gives joy in small ways as well as grand ones. So it doesn’t surprise me in the least that a healed woman should get up and serve the healer in gratitude.

[Epiphany 5: Mark 1:29-39.]