5th Sunday in Ordinary Time 2021
Healing is front and centre of Jesus’ ministry. Healing from the perspective of the gospel, however, is never effected simply by attention to physical disease. We know healing is not simply a physical phenomenon. It is a far more profound experience. Some writers would go so far as to suggest that all illness is a psychosocial reality – i.e., it places the person in a new relationship with their society – a relation which can either isolate a person further and compound the effect of illness, or relation that places the person at the centre of the community’s concern and, thus, in no small way, redeems the person’s particular disease. The most negative aspect of disease, in fact, is not the illness itself, but the dis-relation that can result from the disease – a dis-relation which is the deepest agony for us. And so, healing in the ministry of Jesus, itself, occurs when whatever might occasion alienation is overcome, and when a new sense of belonging and community is experienced.
This is powerfully illustrated in the story that we have heard this Sunday, the story of the cure of Peter’s mother-in-law. Regretfully, our English translation does not do justice to the radical character of the account. As the scholars of Scripture highlight, there are two very unusual aspects to the story. The first is the mention of the one who bears the title of ‘mother-in-law.’ We are used to referring to our mothers in law – even if not always in a flattering way! However, in no other ancient text does the term appear. In the ancient world the mother of the wife had no status in the household. They were without significance, and they were not counted. They were without status. And yet, in this household, Peter’s household, she is unusually identified. Jesus’ ministry from its very outset is concerned with the ones who are on the edge, who have no importance in the ordinary scheme of things. But the second curious thing in the story is the use of the term ‘fever’. From the original Greek, we know that this did not mean that she was simply suffering the flu, as we might understand the term ‘fever.’ Rather, the term that is used signified that she had a highly infectious disease. The only remedy that the ancient world had to deal with such infection was to abandon such a victim out into the desert, to die away from others. And yet, rather than being abandoned, this mother-in-law – the one who had no status or importance in any event – is at the very centre of the story, touched, and restored to the circle of her relationships. Therefore, through its unusual allusions the story highlights the meaning of healing in Jesus’ ministry. Jesus heals most deeply by creating a sense of community amongst those who would otherwise be cast to the margin, whether by the condition of their illness or the embarrassment of their shame. By his presence to others, he creates a sense of belonging that maintains a person’s dignity with all the hope and possibility that flows from such dignity.
Jesus does this by touch. He also does this by his words: words that invite, which encourage, that call forth. He himself is the Word given to us, the Word that reveals the nature of God, and the truth of ourselves. It is the Word that enables us to celebrate now even in the face of our distortions; the Word that enables us to hope even in the midst of our sadness; the Word that enables us to love even in the cloud of our fears. And this Word for which we long, the Word that opens our hearts, that sets us free, that calls us into a new horizon, is given to us in our Scriptures, proclaimed each time we gather for the Eucharist. We gather to hear the Word of God, and to receive this Word made flesh in the Eucharist.
Together we long to hear the Word that will heal our lives. We do this together, even though we might also do this in the privacy of our rooms. George Miller, the Australian film producer, once observed the continuing popularity of cinemas even though we can watch a movie at home. He suggested cinemas as the covert cathedrals of our time, because, as he said, he have forgotten the need of people to gather to listen to a story – a story of redemption, a story of love. Our Scriptures are such an extraordinary story, and these we proclaim each time we gather.
To enable us to be mindful of this, Pope Francis has instituted a Sunday each year called Word of God Sunday: “a Sunday given over entirely to the word of God, so as to appreciate the inexhaustible riches contained in that constant dialogue between the Lord and his people”.[1] We are celebrating this in Australia on this weekend. As Pope Francis writes, “As Christians, we are a single people, making our pilgrim way through history, sustained by the Lord, present in our midst, who speaks to us and nourishes us. A day devoted to the Bible should not be seen as a yearly event but rather a year-long event, for we urgently need to grow in our knowledge and love of the Scriptures and of the risen Lord, who continues to speak his word and to break bread in the community of believers. For this reason, we need to develop a closer relationship with sacred Scripture; otherwise, our hearts will remain cold and our eyes shut, struck as we are by so many forms of blindness.”[2]
Jesus touches us; he speaks to us. As the story of the cure about which we hear today, Jesus comes to the one, and also that part of our own lives, we do not consider with significance. With a touch and a word, he restores us to a sense of belonging, He gives us dignity so that we, in turn, might bring a word of healing to others. Of this Word may we never tire of hearing.
[1] Pope Francis, Aperuit Illis: Instituting the Sunday of the Word of God, Motu Proprio, (30 September 2019).
[2] Aperuit Illis, n.8.
