The Compassion of the Kingdom

There are many different opinions about the progression and impact of the COVID19 pandemic, but I think it’s universally accepted that the pandemic revealed a great deal about the character and flaws of our society. One surprising truth that the pandemic revealed about our society is the fact that we aren’t as rational as we thought we were. Before the pandemic, it was generally accepted that America had moved beyond superstition. It was believed that we had long ago entered the age of reason, and that everything could be explained through science. Gone were the days when it was assumed that someone faced a malady because they were sinful or had a demon. We knew better, that is, until a new virus with mysterious origins and no apparent remedy began to spread through our population. Something else began to spread with COVID19: blame. At first, people were genuinely concerned for those who got the virus, because, after all, it wasn’t their fault. But, as the pandemic ground on, assumptions were made. Some assumed that, if you came down with the virus, it was because you didn’t mask properly, or you failed to social distance, or you didn’t take care of yourself, or you didn’t get the vaccine. There were even people who celebrated, on social media, when unvaccinated people died from COVID19, saying they deserved to die because of their unwillingness to go along.

All of this shows that we aren’t as enlightened as we thought we were. It also reveals how quickly we can turn on each other. One of the things that I mourned the most during the pandemic was the general loss of compassion and the suspicion around everything. Children were no longer treasures to be nurtured and discipled, but repositories of disease to be avoided by adults – especially their grandparents. The elderly were locked away in their homes or care facilities, accelerating their deuteriation. We treated each other, not with love and respect, but with distrust and shame.

This attitude towards disease did not rise out of the pandemic, though. It is an assumption that is as old as humanity. In some way, you could say that it is a justified assumption. After all, as we saw last week, disease is a result of the Fall of Adam and Eve. So, disease is always a result of sin – though not always a result of our own personal sins. Because, through the fall of Adam, we are separated from the blessings of God, the suffering of disease is a reality of this life. Even the OT law confirms this. The Book of Leviticus establishes a system of “cleanness” that deals with everything from the handling of dead bodies to autoimmune diseases to the normal processes of reproduction. Cleanliness, in the OT, was not firstly a concern for hygiene, as we might think of it today. Rather, the cleanliness laws served as analogies of how sin affects the whole life of a person and the community. For example, the handling of a dead body made an Israelite unclean. Now, there was no sin in handling a dead body – it was something that had to happen to properly bury someone. Yet, death is a result of sin (Rom. 6:23). So, any time an Israelite handled a dead body, they had to go through a ritual of cleansing, which served as a reminder of the reason death happens in the first place. It also pointed to the fact, that if we were to be right with God, we would need to be cleansed, both physically and spiritually, of our sins and their effects.

For Israel, there was no greater example of this than the disease called leprosy. Leprosy, in the Levitical law, was any visible skin disease, from eczema to melanoma to Hansen’s disease. The Law had various means of diagnosing leprosy and dealing with it. Yet, any form of skin disease was grounds for being declared unclean, and if you were diagnosed with the chronic versions of leprosy, you were immediately and permanently branded as “unclean.” This branding was devastating, because it required that you should live outside of the city, could no longer touch another human, and could take no part in the spiritual or social life of Israel. Leprosy garnered such a strong reaction, not because the Jews viewed it to be contagious, but because of the spiritual analogy it held. You see, leprosy is like sin, because it starts as a speck. It begins as a white flake or scale on your skin, but as the disease progresses, it spreads to cover your entire body. In the end, your appendages fall off from loss of feeling. Sin is the same way. It starts with a curiosity, a suggestion, a flirtation, but in the end, it engulfs the whole of your life.

It is easy to assume, when someone has such a terrible disease, that they must have done something to deserve it. It is easy to assume that, because they deserve it, we do not owe them any pity or compassion. Yet, that is not the way Jesus viewed such people, and praise God, it is not the way he views our sin. Jesus is the compassionate king, and his kingdom is characterized by its compassion for the outcast and despised. To see that, read Mark 1:35-45 with me. From this passage, see two points today: the persistence of Jesus, and the pity of Jesus.

First, consider the persistence of Jesus from verses 35-39. This passage picks up the next morning after Jesus has worked all evening, blessing the people of Capernaum through the power of his healing. His disciples were so excited by the power they saw in him that they ran throughout the town gathering people in need to come and be healed, and Jesus patiently worked with each as they came. You might think, as Jesus’ disciples did, that this was his moment. His fame had skyrocketed overnight. As we would say today, he went viral. All he had to do was just keep doing what he was doing. If he were to keep casting out demons and healing people in this major city, situated on an important trading route, he could bring the world to his doorstep. Yet, in the midst of that fame, Jesus does two things which are totally unexpected. First of all, he withdraws, early in the morning, to pray. This was the consistent pattern of Jesus’s ministry. The Gospels tell of numerous times when he withdrew from the crowds, and even from his own disciples, to pray. In Luke 6, we are even told that he prayed all night. In prayer, Jesus communed with his Father and was strengthened to continue in his ministry. Brothers and sisters, if the Son of God sought out prayer for strength and renewal, then how much more should we? Jesus’s prayer life should serve as the model for our own prayer life. Not only that, but it also reveals to us where the true power of the church’s ministry rests. Jesus did not get off by himself so that he could strategize. He did not seek solitude to develop a new program. Jesus was dependent on prayer to guide him in his ministry, and our church should be, too.

The second way we see the persistence of Jesus is in his singular focus. Verse 36 tells us that his disciples came out to search for him. The Greek word for “search” there means to aggressively hunt. The tenor of that statement suggests that the disciples were mad with Jesus that he had left the crowd and the fantastic opportunity that he now had in the city. They thought he should make hay while the sun was shining. They complain to Jesus, “Everyone is looking for you, and here you are, off by yourself, praying.” In response to this complaint, Jesus says, “It’s time to go on to the next town so that I can preach there, because this is the reason I came.”  Jesus would not be distracted from his purpose, even for the sake of a large crowd. In fact, one consistent pattern of his ministry was to turn away from the crowds at the very moment when his popularity soared. As with prayer, this should teach us something about the priority of Christian ministry. I must say, as Baptists, we can be all too obsessed with numbers. Baptists tend to justify our efforts based on the three B’s, Baptisms, Budgets, and Buildings. We can mistakenly think that if a church isn’t growing in number, then we are not “alive”. Now, there are certainly times in the Bible when we find the explosive power of the Gospel (as on the day of Pentecost in Acts 2), but we should not read those examples as definitional to the ministry of the church. The ministry of the church should be defined by faithfulness to the calling of God to preach the Gospel and make disciples. Sometimes that looks like 3000 people who respond to the Gospel in Jerusalem. Other times, it looks like ten people who start a church in Lydia’s house in Philippi.

  With that in mind, let’s consider my second point: the pity of Jesus, from verses 40-45. As Jesus is preaching through the towns of Galilee, he meets a leper on the road. At face value, there is nothing unexpected about this encounter. It was common to pass by a leper when walking out on country roads. But, it is certainly unexpected what happens next. Notice, first of all, the unexpected behavior of the leper. As I mentioned earlier, lepers were outcasts from society. They were legally required to shout out “unclean” as people passed them. And, they were not allowed to greet others on the way because, in those days, when you greeted someone, an embrace was expected. Yet, this leper breaks all protocol. He starts by coming to Jesus and imploring him. He doesn’t shout “unclean” or pass by with no salute – he rushes over and falls at Jesus’ feet and begs, “If you will, you can make me clean.” This statement in itself is also controversial, because only a priest can declare someone to be clean. Remember, cleanliness laws pointed to the curse of sin, and especially with leprosy, it was assumed that the person who had it was sinful. So, to say that Jesus had the power to make this man clean was to say that he could absolve the man, not just of his disease, but of his sin guilt.

Jesus’s response to the man is just as unexpected. Oh, what beautiful words come at the beginning of verse 41 – “moved with pity.” The Greek word for “pity” there literally means, “turn of the stomach.” Jesus was moved with compassion for this man to the point that his stomach turned. Then, Jesus takes a controversial act. He reaches out and touches him. Literally, he embraced him. In that moment, he declares, “I will, be clean”, and immediately, the leprosy is gone. Oh, what amazing compassion does the Son of God have for those who suffer the burden of sin! Jesus is our all-compassionate savior! He does not look upon us as we deserve. He does not turn us away because of our uncleanness. He reaches down, in the mire of our sin, touches us, and cleanses us from all unrighteousness. As 1 John 1:7 says, “…the blood of Jesus cleanses us from all sin.”

This is the type of compassion we are called to, as followers of Jesus. James 1:27 says that pure and undefiled religion is to care for orphans and widows in their time of affliction. True and faithful religion is seen in the care of the least, the outcast, the despised. James goes on, in chapter 2, to say that we prove whether we really understand the Gospel by how we treat those that society despises. If we honor the rich man in our church but ignore the lowly, we have not rightly understood what Christ has done for us.

This is the reality of the kingdom of God – that it is for the poor in spirit, the meek, and the mournful. In Matt. 25, Jesus tells the parable of the sheep and the goats, which pictures the Great White Throne judgment at the end of time. There, Jesus sits as judge over all of humanity, and to his sheep he says, “Enter into the kingdom prepared for you… for I was hungry, and you fed me, I was naked, and you clothed me… as far as you have done it to the least of these, you have done it unto me.” In the kingdom of God, the first are last, and the last are first. So, as believers, may we exhibit the compassion and love of Jesus as we care for the least.