Let’s begin with a survey. Who thinks today’s gospel (Mark 10:2-16) is about marriage and divorce? Who thinks it’s about something else? Not much response to either. Who’s going to just wait and see? That’s what I thought.

The reason I started with that is because I recently read again a line from the psychologist James Hollis. In his books he often writes, “It’s not about what it’s about.” He is “urging us to inquire more deeply,” (Hollis, Living Between Worlds, 37) to look beyond the presenting issue or symptom, to not just deal with the question but to ask, “What’s behind that question?”

Let me give you a couple of examples. Let’s say I go to my doctor and she asks, “What’s going on?” I say, “It’s about my cough. It keeps me up at night and I can’t catch my breath.” She does an exam, listens to my lungs, takes chest x-rays, and says, “You have pneumonia.” It’s not about what it’s about. She inquired more deeply and moved beyond what I thought it was about to what it’s really about. Isn’t that what we want our doctors to do? What if we also did that?

In our upcoming presidential election immigration, the economy, abortion, healthcare, and crime are often listed as some of the top issues for voters. But what if “it’s not about what it’s about”? What if those are just the presenting symptoms? What if the deeper questions are about the values we want to shape and guide our lives, the way we want to be with and relate to one another, who we want to be and become? 

I think today’s gospel is another example of “It’s not about what it’s about.” The religious authorities ask Jesus, “Is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife?”

They’re not inquiring on behalf of a woman in an abusive or dangerous situation. They aren’t asking about a young couple who through illusion, immaturity, or naiveté made a mistake in choosing to marry. They are not dealing with a marriage that has become spiritually dead, not only devoid of life but maybe even destructive of life. They are not concerned with the spiritual or emotional well being of the couple, or the sanctity of marriage. 

Their’s isn’t a pastoral question about divorce. I don’t think today’s gospel is really even about divorce. Mark says they asked their question “to test Jesus.” They’re not looking for an answer. They already know and tell Jesus that “Moses allowed a man to write a certificate of dismissal and to divorce [his wife].” They are looking to trap Jesus. 

They want to know Jesus’ view on the state of the law. Is divorce lawful? Can it be done? Jesus is clear, however, that the issue isn’t about the state of the law but about the state of their hearts. “It’s not about what it’s about.” He tells them, “Because of the hardness of your hearts [Moses] wrote this commandment for you.”

What if the state of our heart is always the deeper question? In what ways have our hearts also become hardened?

Maybe that’s the question we ought to be asking ourselves as we prepare to vote. Maybe that’s the question we ought to be asking ourselves when we struggle with a relationship. Maybe that’s the question we ought be asking ourselves when we are in conflict or disagreement with someone, when we see injustice or hear the cries of another, when we consider our response to the needs of Uvalde following the Robb School shooting. 

I don’t think any of us want to see or admit our hard heartedness. Most of us, I suspect, have been told or come to believe that hard hearted people are bad, mean, and wrong. And we don’t want to be that. 

But maybe it’s not that simple. What’s really going on when our hearts harden? I wonder if hard heartedness is really about being stuck and encountering some sort of blockage to the life we want to live and the person we want to be. Maybe Jesus isn’t making a judgment about the religious authorities but is making a diagnosis.

Haven’t there been times when you were stuck? Where are you stuck today? Where do you see stuckness in our community or country? And what’s that about? 

When I’m stuck there is no possibility of newness. I become resistant. “No” becomes the refrain of my life, and I rarely say “yes.” There’s no movement in my life, no openness. I’m not getting anywhere. I do, think, and believe the same old things. I listen to the same old voices within me and outside of me. I repeat old patterns and behaviors. It may not be working for me but I’ve gotten very good at doing what doesn’t work. (Ibid., 39)

I get stuck when I let my past, what has happened to me, or what I’ve done and left undone define me. I identify with my wounds, grief, and losses. They aren’t just things that have happened to me, they’ve become who I am. 

Out of fear or anxiety I stick with what is safe, familiar, and predictable rather than risk the uncertainty of something new. 

Sometimes I don’t take responsibility for myself and my life. I convince myself that other people or circumstances are why I’m stuck. If they would just change, I’d be better.

Does any of that sound or look familiar in your life today? 

Ultimately, our stuckness reveals that “we have been robbed of the courage or power to think an alternative thought” (Brueggemann, Prophetic Imagination, 39) and imagine the possibility of something new and not yet experienced.

I wonder if that’s why at the end of today’s gospel Jesus says, “Whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it.” Children have the best imaginations. They don’t ask “whether it’s realistic, practical, or viable” (Ibid.) they just imagine what might be. “Questions of implementation are of no consequence until the vision can be imagined.” (Ibid., 40) 

When I was growing up I had a friend who would say, “Pretike.” It was his way of imagining. He’d say to me, “Let’s pretike…” He would “pretike” this and “pretike” that. He was trying to say “pretend like” but it came out “pretike.” He was always “pretiking” something big, wild, and new.

What about us? Can you and I “pretike” a world in which “what God has joined together” no one separates? I hope you know that’s not about what it’s about. It is about so much more than just marriage and divorce. 

What are your best imaginings for your life today, for Uvalde, for our country? “Pretike, pretike.”

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Image Credit:
1. Photo by Jr Korpa on Unsplash.
2. Photo by Jr Korpa on Unsplash