#AbolitionLectionary: Proper 22

Mark 10:2-16 

Almost everything to do with divorce is messy, which is probably why Jesus’ opponents have chosen the topic to test Jesus in this week’s gospel lection. Jesus has just returned to Herod’s territory, who has already beheaded John the Baptist over a public confrontation about Herod’s own divorce and remarriage. His interlocutors may be hoping to catch Jesus up in that controversy by asking whether it is lawful for a man to divorce his wife. 

In Mark’s context, it was much too easy for men to abandon their spouses through divorce, leaving them and whatever children they may have in a very vulnerable position. Some rabbis even taught that a poorly cooked meal was sufficient grounds for a man to divorce his wife. At the same time, it was nearly impossible for women to be granted a divorce under any circumstances. The question posed to Jesus doesn’t even acknowledge the possibility. This may have been rooted in the assumption that only men could be wronged in marriage. If a married woman had an affair, her husband was the victim. If a married man had an affair, the other woman’s husband (if she had one) was the victim. Women were rarely seen as victims in marital misconduct, only potential causes of strife. 

Jesus’s response to the question, however, rejects that rationale and highlights the way that marriage irreversibly intertwines at least two lives, including that of the married woman. Where some circles seemed to treat divorce as if a man was discarding an item that had lost its appeal, Jesus tells us that two people have become one flesh. Households have merged, families have mingled, finances have mixed, living space has become shared, children may have been created, emotion has been poured out, and a whole host of other habits, plans, and realities have fallen into place. Separating all of those things is like ripping a body in half. Imagine what it takes just to cut off an arm – sawing through bones, muscles, ligaments, tendons, and blood vessels, and then somehow dealing with all of those hanging bits, no longer connected to anything. Amputation may be possible in dire circumstances, but it is risky and, well, messy. 

Jesus calls upon his listeners to recognize what they are doing when breaking up a household. He demands that we recognize the wound we might be creating as we pull two lives apart that have been deeply interconnected with one another. While this should give folks pause as they consider leaving a spouse, too often this passage has been used to frighten people in bad and abusive marriages away from getting help, or to condemn people who are already reeling from the wound of a broken home life. 

Instead, maybe this passage should be considered more deeply by those who would break up a household from the outside. Perhaps judges should consider this before sentencing someone to years in prison, tearing a leg off of a household without even bothering to plan how to close the wound. Perhaps police officers should think about Jesus’ words, “What God has joined together, let no one separate” before putting someone in handcuffs and dragging them away from everything and everyone they know. Perhaps policymakers should consider the consequences of legislation that would result in more household carnage, more open wounds, and more traumatized communities. Perhaps mayors should think twice about criminalizing homelessness, ripping off freshly formed scabs from deeply wounded bodies again and again. 

There are far too many ways that things like poverty, economic disparity, mass incarceration, and violence tear apart families and other essentially connected community members. Let us continue to work toward keeping bodies and relationships from being torn asunder, toward communal healing from already-broken relationships, and toward meeting Christ and one another in our collective woundedness.  

Chris Nafis is a Nazarene Pastor and hospital chaplain in San Diego, CA. 

#AbolitionLectionary: Proper 21

James 5:13–20

“Are any among you suffering? They should pray.” James 5:13

A consistent theme in this week’s lections is trust in God over and against other sources of security. Psalm 124 extols the saving power of God, claiming that death would have become Israel “if it had not been the LORD who was on our side” (v. 1, 2). One of the Old Testament readings sees the Israelites weeping at the lack of some foods, ignoring the manna right in front of them (Numbers 11:6). In the story from Mark’s Gospel, the disciples’ insecurities lead them to question others doing good deeds in Jesus’ name, instead of trusting in God’s power apart from them. In James, most of all, we have a litany of instances in which we should trust God. 

From the first commandment to this passage toward the end of the New Testament, Christian faith always involves trusting God. Carceral systems, however, do precisely the opposite. Particularly in the United States, the carceral system is an intricate and formidable complex of retributive punishment designed to keep us apart from one another. The prison-industrial complex, too, justifies this labyrinthine monstrosity with the claim that it keeps us safe. 

We could spend hours dissecting exactly how that claim is a lie. We could consider the destructive effect incarceration has on families and communities, demonstrating that it probably does more harm than good. We could wonder about the studies that show incarceration is associated with an increase in recidivism.[1] We could address the study that found sentencing someone to prison had “no effect on their chances of being convicted of a violent crime within five years of being released from prison.” We could question, too, how much money (tens of thousands of dollars per year) it costs to imprison someone compared to how much other methods of justice-seeking would cost. [2]

We could spend hours dissecting all those things to realize that “prisons make us safer” is a lie, but Christian faith shouldn’t even need to go that far. Any promise that pledges safety and security in exchange for brutalizing other human beings is not a promise of God. Instead, we should trust in God for what we need, not a sprawling profit-seeking industrial complex. Prison is an idol, one in which we cannot afford to place our trust. 

James puts forth a brief glimpse of a model of community justice. He proposes that when your sibling wanders from truth, that you bring them back (v. 19). You don’t hide them away in a capitalist’s modern plantation. You don’t inflict suffering on them, supposing that more injustice will right a wrong. No, you bring them back. And bringing them back “will cover a multitude of sins” (v. 20). 

Restorative justice and other models of justice-seeking are obviously more complex than two verses in James; however, many of the passages in the lectionary for this week propose an alternative starting point every Christian should consider. Trust in God for safety and justice, not prisons. 

[1] https://www.yesmagazine.org/social-justice/2021/04/19/prisons-dont-make-us-safe

[2] https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/do-prisons-make-us-safer/

Wesley Spears-Newsome (he/him/his) is a writer and Baptist pastor in North Carolina.

#AbolitionLectionary: Proper 20

Mark 9:30–37

Jesus catches his disciples in the middle of an argument. He has just told them what is going to happen. He has just shared about his coming arrest and execution, but also how death will not contain him. They did not understand and began squabbling among themselves about who is the greatest. The disciples missed the point. They were focused on Jesus being a good teacher among other teachers. They wanted to position themselves in the school like kids focused on their class ranking before college. They think they are setting themselves up for important positions in the world when the world is about to be turned upside down and they have already been told this directly.
Jesus says, “whoever wants to be first must be last of all.” In this passage in Mark, Jesus uses the example of a child. A child was deemed unimportant by society. A child was forgotten, ignored until they came of age. Out of sight, out of mind. In our day, those suffering within the prison-industrial complex are out of sight, out of mind.

Since the days of Constantine, Christians have struggled with what to do with criminal justice in light of Jesus Christ. Justinian’s codes brought many systems together. Some rulers have taken Romans 13 to justify anything they want to do. Christians were a major part of the development of the modern prison system, many with the best of intentions. Each trying to show how great they are at reform or justice — or whichever phrase they wish to use. All of it seems a bit like arguing about who is the greatest after Jesus just spoke of resurrection. We miss the fact that the world has been turned upside down and God is calling us to live into a new reality. God is calling us to welcome even a child. God is calling us to welcome even those who are currently in prison. God is calling us to not jockey for position in a self-righteous crusade, but to serve and receive in light of resurrection.

Rev. Wilson Pruitt is a Methodist pastor and translator in Spicewood, TX.

#AbolitionLectionary: Proper 19

Mark 8:27–38

In this famous passage from Mark’s gospel, Jesus first admits that he is the messiah — and then immediately declares his intention of solidarity with those who are criminalized.

Perhaps we are used to seeing Jesus’ injunction to “take up your cross” in more spiritualized terms, as a call to self-giving love or selflessness. Yet what Jesus is describing is his imminent imprisonment and execution. As Dr. Nikia Smith Robert puts it: “Jesus died a criminalized person — but transcended criminality on the cross.” It is the truth of his criminalization, conviction, punishment, and death, that causes Peter to rebuke him — solidarity with the incarcerated, perhaps, unpopular then as now. (You can read a deep dive on Robert’s “liberation theology for lockdown America” here.) Solidarity is dangerous, and powerful.

What does it open for us in the text to read this familiar line about “taking up the cross” in light of solidarity with incarcerated people? How might it help us resist the ways this notion has been used to promote “redemptive suffering,” especially for marginalized people? What if solidarity is the fundamental reality behind the words of Jesus that so many are “ashamed of” (Mark 8:38)?

This is the inversion of the gospel, the inversion of every sort of respectability politics and the insistence on divine solidarity with the criminalized, punished, incarcerated — whether innocent or guilty, likeable or not. Divine solidarity with those who are punished and imprisoned is the basis of Christian support of abolition and the shocking truth about the messiah.

Hannah Bowman is the founder and director of Christians for Abolition.