The church of Jesus Christ began in houses, in follower’s homes. The first hearers of the stories that what would become Mark’s gospel were likely gathered in houses. So it is that house churches were significant in early Christian history in birthing the assemblies that would later gather in more magnificent public settings. But it all began at home.

And here we are at home. Home worship is what we call it during this season of pandemic. We seek not to attempt to replicate in video and other resources what we do in the nave of our church building, but what we can authentically do in our own homes. Yes, we are called to worship at home, our domestic church.

Depending on the circumstances, our homes, our houses, can be places of safety from a cruel and dangerous world outside. Our houses, our apartments, can also sometimes feel like prison, places of confinement which blocks our wider engagements. Our homes can additionally create circumstances that strain the relationships with those who are at home with us.

So, the word “house” conjures up all sorts of meanings depending on the circumstances. It’s a powerful word. Take a moment to reflect on what house and home mean to you right now.

Next, there’s “bed.” Simon’s mother-in-law was sick in bed. The bed, likewise, is an overdetermined word, rich with multiple meanings and experiences. Bed is a cozy place of repose and rest, giving the blessed balm of sleep – especially appealing on cold, wintery nights and mornings. Bed is also where efforts at procreation often begin. But when sleep does not come, bed can additionally feel like a prison when the hours of sleeplessness drag on for a seeming eternity. And when we’re sick in bed, it is not a pleasant place to be. Then there’s the finality of our death bed – it’s a place where life often ends.

Again, “bed” is a powerful word with which we associate many different meanings and experiences. Reflect now on what “bed” means to you currently. What memories of experiences come to mind?

Then, finally, there’s “fever.” Simon’s mother-in-law had a fever. Fever is one of the main symptoms of the coronavirus becoming the potentially deadly and dreaded Covid-19. We all have our experiences of fever in our own lives and the lives of our loved ones. Fevers can make for frightening, hellish times.

Extending fever to the realm of metaphor, we might also say that mother earth has a fever with climate change, often called global warming. The planet is literally on fire in many places. Ice is melting. Heat waves are becoming more frequent and deadlier.

Thus, “fever,” too is an evocative word and set of realities. I invite your reflection on how fever has variously manifested itself in your lifetimes. There may not be many positive associations with fever as there may be with house and bed….
So, we have house, bed, fever. It’s these common, blessed, and sometimes fraught realities into which Jesus enters, both in the story from Mark and in our lives.

Jesus came to Simon’s house and to his mother-in-law in bed with a fever, and “took her by the hand and lifted her up.”

That’s when the fever left her. That’s when the bed stopped being a place of unpleasant confinement. That’s when the house was returned to a state of serenity and safety.

Jesus “took her by the hand and lifted her up.” Note that in Mark’s telling of it, Jesus offered no words. This was not a dramatic, theatrical moment, but a gesture as ordinary as could be, taking someone by the hand to give assistance to get out of bed.

This simple deed is very much in contrast to some of the faith healers we see on TV who are often all about the drama, slaying people in the Spirit, full of words that often make exaggerated claims.

But it’s also true that Jesus’ intervention with Simon’s mother-in-law is very much in contrast with how we in our more staid churches enact rites of healing with lots of words and prayers and laying on of hands and anointing with oil.

Jesus’ approach here in Mark, again, was common, ordinary, unremarkable, taking a stricken person by the hand to help her up.

Yet, again, this unremarkable intervention made all the difference in the world for her. You might say the fever left her immediately – “immediately” being a very significant word in Mark – for she then started serving Jesus and the disciples.

Jesus “took her by the hand and lifted her up.” An image that comes to mind for me is a common depiction in Christian Orthodox iconography of Jesus “harrowing hell,” the resurrected Christ lifting people out of the abyss of death and hell. Perhaps you’ve seen such icons. Try Google Image for “Christ Harrowing Hell” to get a visual sense of what Christ Jesus does for us and for all of God’s people.

Another image that comes to mind is baptism by immersion, where the presiding minister fully dunks the baptized into a pool of water and then lifts the person out of the deep, soaking wet.

My own son had such a baptism in a pool, the large, granite baptismal font at Saint Peter’s Church in Manhattan – a fully naked baby dipped three times into that living water, and lifted out to be clothed in his white baptismal garment.

Christ harrowing hell, the baptized being lifted out of the deep in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit – these simple but profound acts cure the fever in our blood so that we might become balm for the world.

When Jesus takes us by the hand and lifts us up, in baptism, in prayer, in study, in worship, in holy conversation with each other, that’s when we, to echo in paraphrase the words of the prophet Isaiah in today’s first reading, are given power when we are faint, that’s when our strength is renewed and we mount up with wings like eagles, and shall run and not be weary, walk and not be faint (cf. Isaiah 40:29-31).

To continue with the story in Mark, Simon’s mother-in-law served Jesus and the disciples after Jesus took her by the hand and lifted her up. The Greek word there is diakonia, a hugely significant word in our Christian life together which encapsulates in a word a whole range of ministries of service, sometime that of our church’s deacons, ministers of Word and Service, but also all of our ministries and those of our Social Ministry organizations.

Jesus takes us by the hand, lifts us up, the fever leaving us, so that we are empowered to serve our neighbors in Christian love.

Our many and varied acts of service, of diakonia, happen because Jesus, through one means of grace or another, took us all by the hand and lifted us up. As he did with Simon’s mother-in-law, as he did in the baptism of his own death and resurrection, as he has done in each and every one of the billions of baptisms that have taken place in the length of Christian history.

Jesus’ own ministry of service, of diakonia, had to have been exhausting. Today’s gospel suggests as much with indications of the “whole city [being] gathered around the door” of the house so that Jesus could cure the sick and cast out demons. The crush of the crowd had to have been overbearing, overwhelming.

In his humanity, which we must take seriously if indeed we fully affirm Christian truth, Jesus needed occasions of rest and renewal, which he sought out. In the case of today’s gospel reading, he got up very early in the morning, when it was still dark, to seek out a deserted place to pray.

So, too, we. The needs and opportunities of our broken world can be overwhelming. In keeping with the apostle Paul in today’s second reading, who became all things to all people, that he might by all means save some (cf. 1 Corinthians 9:22b), we may find ourselves stretched to the breaking point in our efforts to serve diverse populations with widely divergent needs. Our efforts to meet these human needs in our own ministries of service will make for burn-out if we also do not seek out occasions for time apart in prayerful renewal in the context of which we may rediscover Jesus taking us by the hand to lift us up, again, and again, and again.

But then the world’s need and opportunity present themselves to us yet one more time, breaking in on our prayerful repose, even as Simon and his companions hunted for Jesus because everyone was searching for him. And then they went on to the neighboring towns to proclaim the message, to teach, to heal, to take others by the hand to lift them up.

We likewise soldier on during these difficult pandemic days. May the image and reality of Jesus taking us all by the hand to lift us up make for the power for us to “run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, who for the sake of the joy that was set before him endured the cross, disregarding its shame, and has taken his seat the right hand of the throne of God.” (Hebrews 12:1b-2) Thanks be to God. Amen.

And now for your reflection and holy conversation at home:

• Return to the images of house, of bed, of fever and your memories of your experiences of these realities. Imagine Jesus finding you in those places in your times of need.
• Recall occasions when you have in effect experienced Jesus taking you by the hand to lift you up.
• Anticipate ways in which you may take someone else’s hand to lift them up.