Redefining Family

Mark 3:20-35

“Who are my mother and my brothers?” In our passage from the Gospel according to Mark this morning, Jesus poses a startling question. “Who are my mother and my brothers?” This section of the Gospel is packed full of twists and turns and characters, and it is important for us to notice each one if we are to understand the question and answer that Jesus offers.

We will first notice that Jesus and his disciples have been overcome by a crowd of people so desperate to hear Jesus’s words and to feel his healing touch that they have swarmed him, preventing him from resting or even sitting down to eat a meal. The great multitude have come from far and wide, crowding his small hometown and troubling his neighbors. With them have also come the scribes of Jerusalem, representatives of the establishment tasked with protecting the faith and history of Israel. The scribes too are troubled, afraid that his displays of power might come from an evil place. Jesus’s own family, his mother Mary and her other children, are deeply troubled by the news of their loved one’s fame and what it might mean about his mental state and safety. Out of their concern for him, Jesus’s mother and brothers and sisters come to the place where he is teaching, intending to restrain him.

And so, we must take a step back and see this entire cast of characters, all converging on a single wandering preacher. The twelve apostles are present, as well as a great crowd- many of whom are sick or racked by demons. The scribes of Jerusalem are present, as well as Jesus’s family of origin. And at the center, Jesus himself, teaching and healing and offering responses to the accusations and admonishments of those who insist on misunderstanding his work. The stage is very crowded, and we join an audience that is waiting with bated breath for the next healing, the next lesson, the next challenge. Today we are not disappointed, as Jesus rattles off three separate teachings which could each warrant their own sermon.

First, the scribes hurl at him accusations of evil, as if his ability to grant freedom to those held captive by demons indicates a wicked heart and not God’s own will being done in the world. Jesus rebukes them, pointing out the flaws in their logic and the fear that has led them to such slander.

Next, Jesus offers a teaching on sin and forgiveness, a moment of grace for those who fall into sin and a moment of warning for those who would choose to twist Jesus’s teachings for their own gain rather than repent and turn humbly toward the Holy Spirit’s power.

And finally, Jesus redefines in a moment what it means to be family, what it takes to belong. He is told that his mother and brothers and sisters are waiting for him outside, waiting to pull him away from his followers and to warn him of the dangers of his current path. In response to this news, Jesus asks one question.

“Who are my mother and my brothers?”

This is not a moment of amnesia, or a rejection of the people who raised and protected him in childhood. This echoes with the same intent as the question “Who is my neighbor?” This is a moment of teaching, a sermon. Jesus asks this question of his followers, and he asks it of us. Who are Christ’s mother and brothers and sisters and siblings? Who belongs to the family of God?

Much as it matters to us now who our ancestors were and where our homeplaces are, Jesus walked through his earthly ministry in a time and place where who your father was, where your parents were from and what they owned, defined you. This mattered so much that when introducing themselves, people of this time period would give the name of their father and the name of their hometown. Who and where you came from were as important back then as your own name. For Jesus, as he hears his mother and siblings calling for him, to name his friends and followers as his siblings, his family, is to name himself. When Jesus

introduces these people as his family, he’s introducing himself to the world. He’s saying “This is me, these are my people.” Jesus is defining himself by the people who love him, all the weird and different and lost ones who he’s found along the way.

Jesus answers the question for us. “Looking around at those who sat around him, he said, Here are my mother and my brothers! Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother.” Jesus looks at the faces of his young disciples, the faces and bodies of the ones he has healed, and the crowds still pining for his loving touch, and sees imperfect people desperately trying to submit to God’s will for their lives. These are people who, unlike the scribe who accused him, see his power to heal as a gift, not a threat. These are people who, unlike those who accused Jesus of having an unclean spirit, know that their own spirits are in need of cleansing and their hearts in need of turning. These are children seeking a home, siblings seeking a family.

The people whom Jesus claimed as his family were people like you and me, people in need of healing and forgiveness and instruction. Our triune God knows what true belonging means, and he wants to make sure everyone else knows too. Jesus came to show the people he loved so dearly how best to love one another, as he has loved us. Jesus came to show us how to be family. Not a kingdom, not a nation, not even a denomination, but a family. A family that we choose. God’s is the family that chooses us, over and over, even when we mess up, even when we ask for the wrong things or walk away for a while. Jesus told his friends that they were his brothers and sisters. Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister. Whoever tries to serve God, whoever does God’s will even when it’s hard, even when it makes them different, is my brother and my sister. That’s the family that Jesus invites us to choose, every day. That is the heritage we share, the only allegiance that God asks of us. There’s no citizenship test, no specific family name or background required. Just a choice. Choosing to be different. Choosing to be like Jesus, even when it means not being like everybody else. Especially then. Because that’s what we were made for. That is what we are called to be. A family beyond biology and gender and race and nationality and language and politics. A family completely defined by transforming love. The family of God.