Jesus, it turns out, was probably an embarrassment to his family. They’ve heard that Jesus “has gone out of his mind,” so they have come to “restrain him,” according to earlier information in Mark. Perhaps the family has been listening to folks like the Pharisees who speculate that Jesus is possessed by demons. That accusation would reflect badly on the entire family. Taint their standing in their community. Perhaps even mark them as suspect.
Think about it. Even today we may be concerned with how our family reflects on us.
Despite their concerns, Mary and her other children can’t get into the home to see Jesus. He’s surrounded by too many people. But word gets to Jesus; his family is outside and wants to speak to him. He seems not to care. Those who do God’s will comprise his family.
A statement like that would have offended and shocked many of his listeners. In ancient times family meant everything: it determined social status, economic position, networks of friends and acquaintances, geographic location. Spurning family was tantamount to sacrilege. Those surrounding Jesus would have been shocked to hear blood family denied like that. Family members themselves would have been alarmed. Heartbroken. Angry. Worried. Jesus had just shown that he was, in fact, “out of his mind” by most standards. Family members would have left the scene in grief, shock, and disappointment. It seems possible that others joined them, unable to fathom such a statement.
In this time and place, though, it’s not unusual to express ambivalence about family structures and relationships. Patterns of abuse and violence often get passed through families. Parents aren’t necessarily kind or responsible. Children often don’t stick close to home. Domestic violence is acknowledged as a problem even though it’s still often ignored. Parents still kick children to the curb if they come out as queer in any way. Children still leave parents for countless reasons. And so on. Family is no longer thought of as an unqualified good. So it’s not unusual for people to speak of chosen family—circles of friends who provide company, care, and love when biological family falls short.
Even so, our laws, customs, and social structures are built to encourage and support biological families. Coupled, heterosexual, cisgender parenting is still overwhelmingly considered the norm; non-conforming families are increasingly under attack. And laws don’t serve to support vital relationships in other ways. For example, a woman I worked with in Chicago declared a child in her apartment building as a dependent on her tax return. She was the adult that fed, cared for, and clothed the child the most. That really rankled the part of me that cares about rules and laws, but the more I learned and the more I thought about it, the more my coworker’s position made sense. I only hope the IRS never troubled her. The reality did not match up with the rules.
In the meantime, politicians argue about which of them best benefits and supports families. We collectively debate definitions of family. As a concept, blood family remains very important in our culture. No one would publicly propose entirely challenging its importance.
But that’s what Jesus does (and not only here).
And a challenge to family structures is a challenge to economic structures, gender roles, prevailing social roles, and cultural assumptions. Still.
In this scripture, we’re not Jesus, spurning our birth families and proclaiming primary kinship with those who do God’s will.
In this scripture, we’re not Jesus’ family of origin, concerned about his behavior and our well-being and getting turned away at the door.
In this scripture, we are listeners; we’re in the crowd hanging out with Jesus, trying to figure out what to do with his teaching and healing ministry. So what do we do with this story?
We can ignore it, I suppose.
We can remember it as a lesson to not automatically follow the demands of biological family; there are other obligations in the world.
We can rationalize it and declare that Jesus was using hyperbole to make a point.
We could, I suppose, use it as a reason to leave our families out of dedication to the gospel. Others certainly have done that.
We can take it as a model for challenging all sorts of institutions that we formerly thought of as essential to a functioning human society.
Or we can hear it as an urging to reshape all our relationships after the pattern of Christ.
Hear it as a reminder to discern and do the will of God, regardless of standard expectations. That might mean that folks who matter to us will think we’re a little “out of our mind,” as folks thought that of Jesus. Out of our minds:
- Seeking to expand our circles of love and compassion
- Taking time to relax and pray and delight in the gifts of creation
- Loving God and self and neighbor
- Extending generosity
- Forgiving each other and ourselves
- Desiring and enacting healing
- Working toward honesty and accountability and good humor in our commitments
- Dissolving rigid social barriers and structures that no longer serve well
- Pointing toward the Divine reign of justice, shalom, harmony
None of that is easy. None of that, unfortunately, comes within standard notions of normal. But we sit today, in a crowd listening to Jesus. We’ve just heard that the basic frameworks we depend upon—including notions of family—must be reworked, rethought, reimagined, rebuilt. May we have the courage and trust to do so and join Jesus in being “out of our mind.”
Scripture: Mark 3: 30-35
-Rev. Ruth Moerdyk