Surrender and Defiance
by Jeffrey Pierce

In the entire scope of the Gospel of Mark a single passage, Mark 1:40-45, captures the path, challenges, and calling of Jesus more completely than any other excerpt of scripture. The 1984 retranslation of the New International Version reads:

The challenge that we face in understanding The Bible is revealed with the two key tools we've discussed to this point: conservation of language and embracing the individual character's unique perspective. At first glance, this is a simple story: a man with leprosy comes to Jesus to be healed; Jesus subsequently heals the man and sends him on his way.

That interpretation doesn't even begin to scratch the surface of what is happening in this scene. What's more is that this particular segment of scripture isn't so much about Jesus as it is about the leper and the mechanism for manifesting change in our own lives. In our fast-paced world, we simply drive on by without seeing any of it.

The Leper

The word "leprosy" is used throughout The Bible with the footnote, "The Greek word was used for various diseases affecting the skin - not necessarily leprosy," but God's commandment against any such skin diseases is clearly laid out in Leviticus 13:45-46. "Anyone with such a defiling disease must wear torn clothes, let their hair be unkempt, cover the lower part of their face and cry out, 'Unclean! Unclean!' As long as they have the disease they remain unclean. They must live alone; they must live outside the camp."

This is where the concept of conservation of language comes in. The leper's plight isn't expanded upon because the audience that this passage was written for immediately understood his situation. In our modern culture, if we introduced a character as, "A convicted murderer awaiting parole," we would have at least a cursory knowledge of the fact that the man had been arrested, tried, convicted, and had served out at least a portion of his sentence behind bars. In a similar manner, the character described simply as "a leper" carried his own back story.

With that gap before us, let's frame this portion of the story in a way that we can all relate to and understand. Imagine that you wake up one morning to find that there's something wrong with the skin on your arm. After a couple of days, the problem doesn't seem to go away, so you make an appointment with your doctor. The diagnosis? "It's a skin disease."

That would be enough to unsettle any of us, but imagine there was more. Instead of being given a prescription and a course of treatment, your doctor gave you the following orders: "You are now defiled and unclean in the eyes of God. You are to immediately leave your job, walk away from your family, and you aren't allowed inside the city under any circumstances. You're no longer welcome at church and you aren't allowed to wear clean clothes. What you're wearing now? Tear your clothes. Put holes in them. Do not launder them no matter how horrific they become. That's what you're living in from now on - and technically you're not even allowed to wear them until you've first ruined them. Then get out of here. Once you're outside the city, if you see anyone approaching you, you are ordered to call out, 'Unclean! Unclean!' so they can avoid you and not become defiled themselves simply by coming into contact with you."

Forget about the disease for the time being; imagine what that would do to your psyche, to your self-esteem. You can't see your family. You can't talk to your friends. You are defiled - dirty, rotten, polluted, foul - in the eyes of the Divine. You aren't allowed in the city because you are a threat to pollute others. You can't seek comfort in the church. You are so horribly impure, that even clothes without tears and holes in them are too good for your current condition. What's more is that whenever you see someone approaching, you have to call out your impure state to them as a warning so that they don't become like you.

Some of us would succumb to the weight of that sentence; others would seek any way to make things better again.

In our current culture, we have adopted the perspective that change simply happens - it's one of the reasons why we tend to repeat the same lessons over and over again. We have phrases like, "The winds of change," as if the transition from one point in our lives to the next is as ethereal as the changing weather. However, we have the ability to dramatically change our lives at any point in time - we simply have to take one of two very concrete steps to do so.

Two Ways to Change

Change typically comes in one of two flavors: defiance or surrender. Determining which is the correct action for us to embrace isn't about where we want to go on our path so much as it is about where we're at right now. Each of us has a path at our very core. What's ironic is that it's amazingly easy to find - and just as easy to stray from it without us realizing it.

Imagine that you were sitting alone with a wise spiritual elder who truly loves you. As the conversation unfolds, after small talk or necessary venting, you find a space where you are not only comfortable speaking honestly, but you are also able to receptively listen. That space, where the rest of the world fades away, is your center. Finding your center is a process that I refer to as being present. When you're present, it doesn't matter if you're a star athlete or spend your days in the unemployment line, whether you're a homemaker or a soldier, whether you're an honored Teacher or a discarded leper - you're on your path. Our paths will move forward. By its very definition, the path we walk changes with each step. Our lessons, interests, and focus will change - and that is not only a very natural process but an appropriate one for us to embrace.

However, as you live that path, things will come along that will move you from the place where you are capable of listening clearly and speaking honestly and the outside world doesn't exist. When this occurs, we replace simple, open, honest truth with a structure that both limits us and pulls us farther from our center. It happens to all of us. It happened to Jesus, as we'll see, and his journey from center, to being completely out of balance, and coming back again is clearly illustrated for us in the Gospel of Mark. However, Jesus also knew that when stray far enough from our center that simple daily adjustments and embracing our lessons no longer provide a solution, there are two ways to find that center once again.

The Art of Surrender

The first is surrender or submission. This lesson, as Jesus taught it, is the challenge that the wealthy face as they seek to embrace a spiritual path. In Mark 10:17-29, Jesus is approached by a man who, when presented with a list of the commandments, responds with "all these I have kept since I was a boy." Mark 10:21-22 records our Teacher's response: "Jesus looked at him and loved him. 'One thing you lack,' he said. 'Go, sell everything you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.'"

"At this the man’s face fell. He went away sad, because he had great wealth."

When this passage is taught in church, we typically consider the concept of wealth; we look at the man's sadness and the fact that he walks away from Jesus; we even consider the philosophical concept of "treasures in heaven." What we miss - and something that the application of conservation of language reveals - is one simple phrase that captures the much deeper meaning of this entire passage. It's not a surprise that we miss it. We've all strayed from our center and see very little clearly without stopping to consciously reclaim our center. We've all stepped away from that place where we can receptively listen and speak honestly.

Seven simple words change our entire understanding of this passage: "Jesus looked at him and loved him." (Mark 10:21)

Looking even deeper, two Greek words are used - emblepo (look) and agapao (love). Emblepo isn't a simple glance, but means "to look at with the mind, to consider." Agapo isn't a romantic love, but means to be so well-pleased by something that your emotional response strays into the realm of love. To capture the full meaning of this sentence - and the author of the Gospel of Mark placed so much meaning on this interaction that he set it apart as a single, self-contained sentence - let's rewrite the sentence using the definitions of the Greek words and see what truly transpired between these two men.

The reason why this interaction stands out from all of the other people who came to Jesus for insight and advice (and, as we will see, Jesus spent a massive amount of his time teaching and interacting with the people) is because Jesus not only instantly loved the man, but he asked the man to become one of his disciples. The Greek word for follow in this passage, akoloutheo, means "to join one as a disciple."

The man's response when Jesus looked at him with love for the man and asked him to be a disciple?

"At this the man’s face fell. He went away sad, because he had great wealth." (Mark 10:22)

When something in our life has grown to such importance - such as the man's wealth - that it keeps us from our center, we need to surrender and let it go in order to embrace our center once more. The man, who "Jesus looked at him and loved him," was no longer capable of simply listening receptively and speaking honestly. There would always be a part of him that was held in reserve, a part that was captured by his wealth and his lifestyle and held away from his core. Imagine that a spiritual teacher, the very epitome of love, who openly works miracles, singles you out and says to you, "I would love for you to leave your material world behind and come walk at my side" - and you can't bring yourself to do it. Many of us instantly scoff at such things. Imagine that it wasn't wealth that Jesus was asking us to leave behind, but our ego. Our need to be right. An addiction. A habit or hobby that has firmly become a part of our world but isn't a part of who we truly are. That's why Jesus told him to give up his wealth. It wasn't the abundance of financial resources that was the problem; it was that his wealth had pulled the man from - and kept him from returning to - his center.

Remember, this isn't a path about checking boxes, memorizing phrases, or reading the right books. If you are truly a unique expression of the Divine, then your center is literally sacred. To put it in the language of the Church, your center, your heart, your soul - whatever you want to call it - is created by God. To say it's flawed is to call its craftsman flawed. Literally all you have to do is to live that center. That's it. If your very center was created by the Divine then all of your answers are waiting to be found by continually embracing that part of you. Everything else we add on ourselves. It doesn't matter if its dogma or addiction, all of that is created by people who have strayed from that center.

Jesus actually addresses this exact concept in Mark 12:28-34, something that we will be looking at in great detail as we approach that portion of the story before us.

The Act of Defiance

The leper in the first chapter of Mark was at the other side of the spectrum from the rich man, but pulled equally from his center. If we were watching a documentary of two men who began as childhood friends before life took them in opposite directions, there would be a scene of them as children, perhaps best friends, sharing a moment of simple openness and honesty together. In that moment we would see the spark of who they truly are at their center - the spark still immature, but filled with promise. With each step, their life unfolds a little more, either straying from that center or more fully embracing who they truly are at their core. As our camera returns to them, years later, viewing them through the eyes of Jesus, we would see that the spark was still there, deeply buried, but still present.

When approached by the rich man, "Jesus looked at him and loved him;" when approached by the leper, "Filled with compassion, Jesus reached out his hand and touched the man." Remember, the leper hadn't been touched since he had been declared unclean. He lived outside the city, exiled "outside the camp," and was forced, by law, to call out, "Unclean! Unclean!" whenever another person approached.

Jesus responded to the two men - one wealthy and well-dressed, the other filthy, unkempt, and wearing torn garments - in the same way. He met one with love; he met the other with compassion and a human touch.

The word for compassion that is used in this passage is splagchnizomai, which means, "to literally be moved to ones physical core." Jesus loved one man so much for who he was that he asked him to be a disciple; the other inspired so much compassion that he caused an emotional response in Jesus that was so strong it physically moved him.

The question is, "Why?" Why did the leper have such a profound impact on Jesus?

Because the leper represents the other path to change.

Jesus didn't go outside the city and come upon a leper that lived there alone, one who called out, "Unclean! Unclean!" as Jesus approached him. The leper came to Jesus. In other words, the leper wanted so badly to change that he was willing to throw off the shackles that bound him. By coming to Jesus, the man defied religious law - which means that he defied the authorities, he defied the equivalent of the Church at the time, and he defied the will of God as it had been passed down in the scriptures throughout the ages.

And Jesus saw all this in the man and responded with compassion so deep that it moved him to his core.

We aren't sure where Jesus was when the leper came to him. Our last indication of his location is the previous verse, "So he traveled throughout Galilee, preaching in their synagogues and driving out demons." (Mark 1:39)

In my mind's eye, the leper is alone when he hears of Jesus. Everything in his culture, in his law, and even what is handed down from his God tells him that he is unclean, that he must stay apart, and that he is unworthy of approaching such a holy man. But the leper wants to change. He wants to change so badly that he's willing to defy all of that to embrace the life he once lived from his center.

I imagine the people's response when the leper came walking into center of town, the looks of panic and disgust in the eyes of the crowd that recoils from his presence, not wanting to become unclean simply by contacting the man. I imagine the cold, hateful remarks, the orders to return to his exile, the authorities unsure of how to enforce the law without touching the defiant leper and defiling themselves.

Jesus turns toward the commotion, toward the hole the man leaves in the crowd, and Jesus sees the man's filth, rags, and desperation. Stopping before Jesus, the man drops to his knees before our Teacher, an entire crowd, an entire society telling the leper that he can't even be there. The leper doesn't ask. Asking isn't an act of defiance. It doesn't throw anything aside. Asking is a request that something be given to you and a passive response as you await the answer.

The man came to Jesus and "...begged him on his knees, 'If you are willing, you can make me clean.'" This wasn't a miracle salve that would make his skin clear up; it was a belief, so strong, that said, "You can take me from being the unclean person I am - a person who is not allowed a family, a job, a place in my community, a person who is looked upon by God with disgust - and you can give me my life again."

As with countless words, the verb "willing" that is used in this passage has more than one definition. My favorite of the Greek word thelo has Jesus moved to his core with compassion, reaching out, touching the unclean man, and saying, "I would be delighted to make you clean."

The key? An act of surrender is required when we have placed our shackles on ourselves; an act of defiance is required when something outside of ourselves has placed the shackles on us.

The Next Step

The rich man turned and walked away, sad, leaving us with two characters left in our tale.

The leper - and Jesus.

"Jesus sent him away at once with a strong warning: 'See that you don’t tell this to anyone. But go, show yourself to the priest and offer the sacrifices that Moses commanded for your cleansing, as a testimony to them.' Instead he went out and began to talk freely, spreading the news. As a result, Jesus could no longer enter a town openly but stayed outside in lonely places. Yet the people still came to him from everywhere."

In simple terms, Jesus said, "You have your life back. Your life contains certain rituals and certain cultural expectations. While you've defied them to rediscover your core, if you intend to be a part of that culture you need to go and pay it the honor and respect that it is due."

But there's a reason why Jesus sent the leper away with "a strong warning" - Jesus could see what was about to unfold. The crowds were already gathering. In Mark 1:28 we see that, "News about him spread quickly over the whole region of Galilee." In verse 33, "The whole town gathered at the door." And by verse 45, "As a result, Jesus could no longer enter a town openly but stayed outside in lonely places. Yet the people still came to him from everywhere."

Jesus knew that, just like the leper or the rich man that would one day come to him, Jesus himself had a center that had to be maintained. The demands placed upon Jesus by the masses of people that follow him, even "...in lonely places..." where "...the people still came to him from everywhere" would pull at him as surely as a rich man's wealth or the laws placed upon a leper. The author of the Gospel of Mark points out these demands three times in the first chapter alone and further details both the demands placed upon Jesus and his attempts to mitigate those demands as the story continues to unfold. Here, in the first chapter, we see Jesus at his best. The chapters ahead are filled with lessons he offers us where he teaches, where he thrives, where he takes conscious steps to maintain his own center and, when the demands become too much for even the most compassionate of teachers to shoulder, he stumbles and falls. This, Mark 1, is my favorite part of his story. My second favorite is at Gethsemane, just before his arrest and eventual death, when Jesus shows us how to recapture our heart and our center. The steps in between are things each and every one of us can relate to, some of which we strive to reach when we're at our best - and some we would take back if we could rewind time and try again.

Excerpted from the upcoming book, Word and Deed: A New Perspective On Jesus by Jeffrey Pierce.

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Originally published in Old Ways on January 29, 2012