Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. Amen
The text for this meditation is written in the 1st Chapter of the Gospel according to St Mark: Verses 29 – 39:
As soon as they left the synagogue, they entered the house of Simon and Andrew, with James and John. 30 Now Simon’s mother-in-law was in bed with a fever, and they told him about her at once. 31 He came and took her by the hand and lifted her up. Then the fever left her, and she began to serve them.
32 That evening, at sunset, they brought to him all who were sick or possessed with demons. 33 And the whole city was gathered around the door. 34 And he cured many who were sick with various diseases, and cast out many demons; and he would not permit the demons to speak, because they knew him.
35 In the morning, while it was still very dark, he got up and went out to a deserted place, and there he prayed. 36 And Simon and his companions hunted for him. 37 When they found him, they said to him, “Everyone is searching for you.” 38 He answered, “Let us go on to the neighbouring towns, so that I may proclaim the message there also; for that is what I came out to do.” 39 And he went throughout Galilee, proclaiming the message in their synagogues and casting out demons.
There are many Christian churches across the world that are home to many remarkably rich works of art. Spectacular biblical insights can be captured through art, art that faithfully depicts deep truth and inspires the heart and mind. In a church in Sweden, (Sofia Albertina Kyrka) in Landskrona, there is a painting above the altar in this church that beautifully captures the divine reality of our Gospel lesson from St. Mark. One can see, huddled around the risen messianic figure of Christ is a multitude of people in various states of anguish. The painting is by Carl Bloch, a Danish artist who used his considerable talent to portray the Lord Christ in various episodes of his life. The title of the painting in the Landskrona church is Christus Consolator (Christ the Consolator). A consolator is “one who consoles.”
Consolator, as a word, is obsolete, according to the Merriam-Webster Dictionary. It’s true; we don’t hear that word anymore. The word we do hear is consolation, a modern word that is almost synonymous with the word ‘loser’. Who here has ever received a consolation prize? Tell me, were you ever genuinely consoled by a “consolation prize”? You just lost in front of a crowd of people and someone gives you a yellow ribbon—not blue, not red, not white, but yellow. Go home and console yourself with this yellow consolation prize; you lost.
There was a TV commercial many years ago that is seared into my memory. A father and son were leaving the Soccer field. The announcer introduced young Peter, still in his gear. He was the goalie who let the ball get by him and his team lost the game. The dad, who felt his son’s anguish but who also knew that life is much more than Soccer, offered his son a Life Saver lolly. The son grudgingly took what his dad offered. The dad told his son that when he, as a lad, lost his high school’s big game, it took a whole roll of Life Savers to make him feel better. The son turned to his dad and smiled and asked him if he had a whole roll. The dad consoled his son by reminding him there would be other games. Then the scene ended, and the announcer told the viewer that Life Savers are a part of life.
A roll of Life Savers lollies may be useful for some occasions, but the people in the Christus Consolator painting don’t strike me as those who could make do with a lolly. A prisoner in chains is looking for relief from his sins. A cripple has seemingly lost the will to live. A man so poor and skinny wonders where he can find hope. A widow huddles beneath the fold of Christ’s garment. An orphan looks out at us, forlorn. A doubting-Thomas type wrestles with his scepticism. None of the figures in the painting is a biblical character. Instead, they are representatives of the countless people through the ages who have encountered Christ the Consolator. (Mt 11:28) “Come to me, all who labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest”.
We find refuge in him, the Consolator. And the delightful image in that church pairs twin realities that blend into one: the Divine Consoler is welcoming the distressed, and the painting hangs directly above an altar. That is precisely where our consolation is found; that is precisely where Christ the Consolator welcomes us, where we find rest, where he affords us the supreme comfort of his love, his forgiveness, his death and resurrection, his life, and his heaven. That painting belongs above an altar. That painting makes sense hanging over an altar.
Jesus strides into a sickroom. Peter’s mother-in-law is suffering with a “great fever,” according to St. Luke—a high fever. In those days, before antibiotics, such fevers were a genuine and immediate threat to life. This woman is left nameless. This is a surprise, but not an accident. Early Church Fathers, those who were taught by the disciples, say that Mark was closely associated with Peter. Of course, St. Mark knows Peter’s mother-in-law’s name; yet he does not use it. Why? Mark is telling us something. Mark is telling us that the Lord Christ attends the anonymous, the forgotten, the nameless, faceless individual who is in need of consolation. She offers no prayer, she makes no approach toward the Lord, yet he comes to her. He is the one who takes the initiative with us, to serve us, to extend life to us. He does not grow faint or weary in his pursuit of us. Nor does he turn away when the road to serve us becomes perilous. He comes to us in our “back rooms,” suffering with our own perilous fevers.
An exchange takes place: her sickness and his health. He takes what is ours and gives to us what is his. Sickness, demon-possession, disease, sin, and death—he came to take it all. No magic wand, no incantation, no great gestures or show. He simply took her by the hand and lifted her up. The fever left her. More than one biblical writer tells us about this blessed exchange. Isaiah writes, (Is 53:4) “Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows”. Matthew writes, (Mt 8:17) “He took our illnesses and bore our diseases”. Paul tells us that Christ became poor with our poverty, he became sin with all of our transgressions, he became dead with the death of the whole human race. He takes what robs us of our humanity, and he restores us with his virtue, his blessing, his victory, his truth, his love. That is consolation.
This life is very often not pretty, not comfortable, not fun. People look for consolation. People hunt high and low for every conceivable way to cope with trouble in life, and they desperately grasp somethings that they think will turn things around. An adulterous relationship, a bottle, gambling, clothing, makeovers, food, shopping sprees, travel, philosophy, endless entertainment—vanity, vanity, vanity. Looking for consolation in these things not only doesn’t help but very often makes the problem worse. It may deaden the pain temporarily, but it does not console. Our Lord brings us something more.
Jesus took the woman by the hand and lifted her up. That exact same phrase is used one other time in the Gospel narratives: for Jairus’s daughter, his dead daughter. She, too, had no name. She lay in the back of the house, a twelve-year-old, lifeless. The situation was not one that a Life Saver lolly could resolve for Jairus and his wife. Christ Consolator moved directly to the child’s side, took her by the hand, and raised her up: (Lk 8:54)“Child, arise”. Resurrection is consolation.
(Jn 10:10) “I came that they may have life and have it abundantly”. Jesus the Consoler said that. He served Simon’s mother-in-law with his life. She received it, and then she got up to serve others. What better way to understand your life? What better way to understand what takes place in this Divine Service and then what takes place out there, in that world where we will walk? He serves us, here. Christus Consolator serves us through the Word, the preached Word that we hear, at this altar where he gives us his body and blood. He consoles us with his resurrection and sends us out to serve our fellow dwellers on this earth. The great fever of our sin is not on us. We are forgiven. Our shame has been removed; our guilt atoned for. We are embraced by the Father, through the Son, in the Spirit. We have been made new in Christ’s blood. All this is consolation of the highest order.
On the holy cross, as he bore the fractious weight of mankind’s horrible deeds, there was none to console him. Sacred head, horribly wounded, with grief and shame weighed down. In that act, in that sacrifice, our eternal consolation was in view. To bless us and sustain us, he died; the Son of God Almighty died. To console us in whatever grief this world brings, the Lord of heaven and earth died. Receiving his consolation, we mount up; courage is born of his consolation—courage and strength and fortitude and hope. His consolation provides momentum; we walk toward heaven, each day closer to consolation in a cup that runneth over. We shall run in this life, the race marked out for us; we shall run and not be weary. We walk toward heaven. We will not faint. Christus Consolator is with us. Amen.
The love and peace of our Great Triune God that is beyond all human understanding, keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Amen
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