The Domestic God


The Domestic God © Jan L. Richardson

Reading from the Gospels, Epiphany 5, Year B: Mark 1.29-39

So we had a lovely little celebration on Saint Brigid’s feast day last Sunday. I invited my sweetheart Gary and our friend Linda over for tea that afternoon. Like me, Linda is an oblate of Saint Brigid of Kildare Monastery. We three had time for a cup of jasmine tea, a slice of cappuccino cheesecake (Brigid would’ve loved cheesecake if she’d known of it), and a few strawberries before the next phase of our celebration: a conference call with a bunch of other folks from the Saint Brigid’s community. Scattered across a physical distance that stretches from California to the Dominican Republic, we joined together for a feast day liturgy that brought us close across the miles.

Then Linda and Gary and I had more cheesecake.

I don’t do a huge amount of entertaining. This owes to a combination of factors including my need for copious amounts of solitude (especially with a book deadline coming up this summer) and the fact of my wee living space, which tends to discourage the gathering of more than, say, a half dozen folks at once (and that’s if some of them sit on my futon). My cozy studio apartment has an efficiency kitchen that Gary calls my yoga kitchen, as getting something out of the tiny refrigerator that sits under the sink sometimes involves doing contortions. Since I’m not wildly domestic, my two-burners-and-a-toaster-oven arrangement suits me okay, most days.

Still, when I get my act together to invite even a friend or two over for a cup of tea or a meal, I love sharing my home and receiving the gift of a loved one’s presence in my quiet space. At times such an occasion feels like a miracle. In the cup, in the conversation: sustenance and grace.

I sometimes tend to overlook the ordinary miracles that unfold in the domestic realm. So often do I take it for granted that on a daily basis, several times a day, there will be something to fill my hunger, and that I will be able to reach for it. But this week, with Saint Brigid’s festive tea lingering with me (along with the stories of the domestic provisioning for which she was especially known, including wondrous feats involving bacon and butter and beer) and with this Sunday’s gospel lection on my mind, I’m paying particular attention to what’s going on the everyday sphere of home, looking to see where the mundane gives way to the miraculous.

This Sunday’s gospel leads us straight into a home, that of Simon (Peter) and Andrew (Matthew and Luke refer to it solely as Simon/Peter’s house). Jesus has come straight from the synagogue, where he cast out the unclean spirit of last week’s reading. Once inside the house, he learns that Simon’s mother-in-law is in bed with a fever. He goes to her, takes her by the hand, lifts her up. In his gesture of reaching toward the woman, touching her, Jesus crosses with great intention into her condition, her realm, her world.

Here we see the domestic Jesus, the intimate Jesus. Crossing from the house of worship into the home of Simon, standing at the bed of a woman whose body has been disordered by illness, Jesus conveys with his outstretched hand that there is no sphere that he does not control, no suffering that is beneath him to heal, no place where he does not desire wholeness and peace. He makes clear that his power is present in every realm, the home no less than the synagogue. He extends his healing to all, the woman in the grip of a fever no less than the man in the clutch of an unclean spirit.

There is no place, no person, unworthy of a miracle.

In response to her healing, Simon’s mother-in-law begins to serve Jesus and his companions. Where other stories of healing sometimes end with the recipient offering a verbal testimony to what Jesus has done (as we will see in next week’s gospel), this story does not ascribe any words to the woman. Whatever she may have said, if anything, the act of her serving Jesus and his companions, her ministering to them in this basic, bodily way, provides eloquent testimony in the vocabulary that she has at hand. That her act falls squarely in the realm of what society sometimes, wrongfully, denigrates as “women’s work” does not minimize its grace. Rather, it unveils the holiness present—and sometimes hidden—in the everydayness of domestic life.

In her commentary on this passage in The Women’s Bible Commentary (Carol Newsom and Sharon Ringe, eds.), Mary Ann Tolbert points out that the word denoting the woman’s action, rendered in the NRSV as serve (from the Greek root diakoneo, related to the word for deacon), is the same word used to describe what angels do for Jesus at the end of his forty days in the wilderness. The choices of some translators, however, have elevated the service of the angels over that of the woman; for instance, translating the action of the angels as “ministering” to Jesus—a more overtly sacramental act—and the woman’s action as “serving” him, which gives a subservient cast to her gift. “The author of Mark,” Tolbert observes, “by using the same word for the action of the angels and the action of the healed woman, obviously equated their level of service to Jesus. What the angels were able to do for Jesus in the wilderness, the woman whose fever has fled now does for him in her home.” Tolbert goes on to note that the door of the woman’s house “becomes the threshold for healing for all in the city who are sick.”

What Jesus later says of a woman who blesses his body with an anointing, we can say of this woman who blesses his body with her domestic gesture: she has done what lay in her power (Mark 14.8, New English Bible). Can the same be said of us? In the places in which our lives unfold, what lies in our power to do? What ordinary miracles hide out in the rhythm of our days, beckoning us to see them or to help enact them? What miracles might Christ be inviting our participation in, as a response and witness to his presence? What’s going on in your home, and how might Christ be wanting to show up within it?

Wherever you live, may Christ bless you there.

jan-linda
With Linda on Saint Brigid’s Day

[To use the “Domestic God” image, please visit this page at janrichardsonimages.com. Your use of janrichardsonimages.com helps make the ministry of The Painted Prayerbook possible. Thank you!]

10 Responses to “The Domestic God”

  1. Carolyn Says:

    What a nice end-of-post surprise! It is good to see both of your smiling faces! Blessings.

  2. John D. Palmer Says:

    Your story of gathering in your home reminded me of another time you invited folks into your place. On that day you served grilled Tuna steaks that had been sent to you from your brother I think. My Arkansas tastebuds had never experienced tuna in any other form than out of a can mixed with mayonaise. I was suspicious but willing, and to my delight was indelibly marked with a new entre. I have to admit I haven’t been able to duplicate that dish to anywhere near the satisfaction of that day. Thanks for inviting me that day, it was a good day.

    • Jan Richardson Says:

      Thanks, Carolyn and John!

      John: What a good memory you have; thank you for reminding me of that occasion. My brother still co-owns that seafood shop (I’m glad to say!) and I continue to be the fortunate beneficiary of seafood goodness when I pass through Gainesville. Come on over to Florida and we’ll tuna you up again.

  3. Sunrise Sister Says:

    Your comments about “receiving the gift of a loved one’s presence in your space” moved me very deeply. I imagine entertaining more than I/we actually get around to doing but when we finally pull the entertaining bit together we are NEVER sorry. It is a blessing to entertain friends/loved ones in one’s space. We are having a small dinner party this coming Friday night and I must say you pretty much summarized the feelings that I’ve been having about the upcoming evening – a gift to me/us – the blessed gift of love and friendship. Thank you for sharing your thoughts about the intimacy and grace of friendship.

  4. phyllis Says:

    On the other hand, I found a twinge of guilt as I read your piece, knowing how I often choose not to entertain even though I have the space. I too, love solitude and am quite happy to not have lots of people around nor to plan all the shopping, preparations that it takes to invite people in. You’ve reminded me, though, that a cup of tea/coffee and fellowship is enough and the rewards are gift-giving and allow God to show up. Perhaps I need to see what miracles God is inviting me to experience. Want to come for tea? A happy photo!

  5. Erin Says:

    What a lovely post. You’ve set my brain going in a bunch of directions and now I need to completely rethink my sermon for Sunday. I really enjoy your writing and your art. Thank you for sharing it all.

  6. Jan Richardson Says:

    Thanks much, Sunrise Sister & Phyllis & Erin.

    Sunrise Sister: Enjoy your dinner party! May it be a splendid time of savoring the gifts of love and friendship.

    Phyllis: Tea, yes! First you can come over here for that tea we’ve been talking about (it’s been on my mind; soon!), and then I’ll come to you!

    Erin: Blessings as you prepare to preach on Sunday. Don’t rethink too hard! :-) When I was serving as a congregational pastor, I liked to think of sermons as part of an ongoing conversation, rather than my last word on the subject, or the only opportunity I would have to address a particular text or theme. I work at remembering this in blog posts as well; hard not to say everything I want to say! That’s one of the gifts of the lectionary: it’ll come around again… (Though I recognize that preachers don’t always stay in the same place!) And thank you for your own blog.

  7. sarah Says:

    thankyou for your site – looking at it has greatly improved my day!

  8. thymekeeper Says:

    Jan, This is thymely for me as well but with regards to creating “home” wherever we are rather than entertaining. I’m moving this week, to a temporary home, quite different from where I’ve lived but I’m eager to receive the gifts it has to offer. It has been empty, used mostly for hospitality and retreat, and I’m yearning for that kind of space physically and spiritually.
    And I too was delighted to see you in the photo ~ thank you for sharing another part of yourself with us!

  9. Erin Says:

    Jan, the sermon went well and people really connected with your insights – I passed on your blog address to one of the women who wanted to read more of you after what I had said. Thanks too for what you’ve written for tomorrow’s gospel reading. I really do love your insights!
    Thanks so much on feeding me and my preaching!

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