The Intersection of Two Worlds in the Healing of Peter’s Mother-in-Law (Mark 1:29–31)

The Gospel of Mark is not like any other book. This book’s story has the power to bring readers into the epic drama of reality itself, entirely changing their lives in the process. In my last article, I argued that Mark doesn’t just convey information about Jesus but draws us into a relationship with him through a narrative flow made up of six interconnecting stories. Having introduced the reader to the overarching way in which Mark communicates, I would like to now look at one of the suppliant stories in detail to illustrate how we can best interpret Mark’s Gospel in light of his overall project. We will see that Mark is not only a book to exegeted and dissected, but a narrative that we must enter. When we read Mark, the reading experience can be described as the intersection of two worlds.

Mark describes the world of Jesus amongst first-century Israel, set within the first-century Graeco-Roman world. In many ways, it is a very different world from ours, and there are things that any reader of Mark’s Gospel throughout the ages would find strange and different from their own culture. However, at the level of what is truly significant, all human beings share exactly the same problem: we are living in a world that is under the shadow of death, because human beings have rebelled against our Creator. And because we live in this world, we are held in slavery all of our lives to the fear of death (see Heb. 2:14–15). We are estranged from our God, our world, each other, and even ourselves, because of our sin and God’s answering judgment. There is, therefore, a profound commonality between human beings of all cultures and times. This is the world displayed by the suppliants in their various struggles under the shadow of death, and this is the world that Jesus came into in order to bring people into the kingdom of God through dying as a ransom for many.

But as a person reads the Gospel, they bring their own world to the reading experience as well. In order to get the most out of the story, they need to enter the story-world and see things through the eyes of those within it. Several minor characters in Mark’s gospel (the suppliants)^[1] play a key role in bringing us from our own world into the world of the story, so that, in turn, our own world might be transformed by encountering Jesus in his world.

1. The suppliants are thirteen minor characters in Mark’s gospel, and each one is presented in such a way that readers are drawn to them and are likely to identify with them. See Part I of this piece for a fuller explanation.


2. Peter G. Bolt, Jesus’ Defeat of Death: Persuading Mark’s Early Readers (SNTSMS 125; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003 [Paperback: 2008]), 74–89.

This process can be illustrated by examining one of the Suppliant stories, the cure of Simon Peter’s mother-in-law from a fever (Mark 1:29–31).^[2]

Setting the Stage

Mark’s narrative opens dramatically with a statement which immediately directs the reader to its content: “The beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of God” (Mark 1:1). This should be taken, not as an introduction to the next paragraph, but as a title for the whole narrative to follow.^[3] The word ‘gospel’ refers to a spoken message of great victory, so good news, and Mark is particularly concerned with the good news of the victory of Jesus Christ, the Son of God. This gospel message would already be known to Mark’s readers, for they had heard it—or at least heard of it—from others already, but now, through the reading of Mark, they have the opportunity to hear the beginning of this gospel message. Mark is about to tell them how the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, came about. His book tells its readers where it all began.

3. Bolt, Jesus’ Defeat of Death, 44–45.

Immediately, Mark dives into a fast-paced narrative that is both well-told and well-structured. There is a relentless movement forward: there are dramatic characters; there is a plot; there are counter-plots; and through the network of interacting characters, the drama of the narrative intensifies as one scene builds upon another towards a great moment of climax near the end, when all threads come together.

After the title and prologue (Mark 1:1–13), the ministry of Jesus begins with the dramatic announcement that is an introduction to, and a summary of, his abiding message first to Israel and then to the world (cf. Mark 14:9): ‘The time is fulfilled; the kingdom of God has come near. Repent and believe in the good news!’ (Mark 1:14–15). Without going into detail, from that point, the flow of Mark’s narrative can be described in five movements, and each of those movements has clear narrative markers, and each can be given a content-led description:^[4]

4. This narrative flow forms the organising principle for the chapters in Jesus’ Defeat of Death, see, e.g., 48, 131, 217, 244, 254; and for Peter G. Bolt, The Cross from a Distance. Atonement in Mark’s Gospel (NSBT 18; Leicester: IVP, 2004), see, e.g., 18–19, and then its further development in the rest of that work.

5. I.e., the ‘watch’ of a sentry or a soldier, see Mark 13:32–37.

Text to Reader

From the Synagogue to the House

Jesus immediately moves from the synagogue to Simon and Andrew’s house (Greek: euthys, Mark 1:29), with James and John. The naming of these four men recalls their enlistment (Mark 1:16–20), and Jesus’s promise to make them ‘fishers of men’. Their absence from the scene before (Mark 1:22–28) suggests to the readers that Jesus is only now rejoining them after they were called and entered Capernaum with him (Mark 1:21). Although there is some ambiguity, there is nothing to suggest that they knew of the events in the synagogue, which therefore becomes shared knowledge between readers and Jesus only.

The narrator tells the readers the necessary background data that Simon’s mother-in-law was lying ill with fever (Mark 1:30a), before the disciples tell Jesus (Mark 1:30b), which gives them a position of privilege over all the characters. This is Mark’s first mention of sickness. In terms of extraordinary abilities, the readers know only of Jesus’s confrontation with the spirits of the dead (Mark 1:21–28). Although there was no hint of any spirits being involved in the narrator’s description of the woman’s condition, which is described simply as a fever, this information raises the question: if Jesus can deal with the unclean spirits, what can he do with a fever? What will he do now, when he learns of this woman already on her bed from a fever?

The second ‘immediately’ (euthys) continues the frantic pace of events; as soon as he arrived in the house, they told him of the woman’s situation (Mark 1:30b). This seems to be a case of simply mentioning a matter of concern for the household, for there is no indication that they expected that he would (or could) do anything for her. This adds to the readers’ pleasant sense of privilege: the disciples may end up surprised, but the readers certainly won’t be!

From Bed to Service

Alerted to her problem, without a word, Jesus raised the woman (Mark 1:31a): “and going to her, he raised her, after seizing her hand.” The consequences of his action are narrated just as starkly, conveying the sense that it was achieved with simplicity and ease “and the fever left her” (Mark 1:31b). As confirmation that the cure was instantaneous and complete, the story ends with the woman, who had begun on her bed (Mark 1:30a), serving them (Mark 1:31b).

The Woman and the Implied Reader

How does this supplicant connect with the implied reader? A common mistake in Gospels interpretation would be to 1) assume that the gospels are primarily about us (the readers) and then 2) immediately identify ourselves with the disciples. In search of nurture for their spiritual life, Christian readers across the centuries have tended to read the Gospels in a ‘moralistic’ way: that is, we search for models we can ‘identify’ with, usually Jesus, and/or the disciples. J.F. Williams provides an example of this common error when, instead of explaining the main point of the story in terms of the encounter between Jesus and the woman, he states that its purpose is “to reveal the trust of Jesus’s four followers.”^[6] But this kind of moralistic reading actually misses the way the Gospels work on the reader, and so destroys the reading experience proper to Mark’s narrative. Although the disciples play an important role in Mark’s communicative dynamics, they are not there simply to provide a model to imitate. Even more importantly, it must be said that the Gospel of Mark never encourages its readers to imitate Jesus. Mark does not call his readers to imitate Jesus, but to see what he said and did. He never calls upon his readers to be like Jesus, but to like Jesus, so that we can understand what Jesus has done for us and be drawn towards putting faith in him.

6. Joel F. Williams, Other Followers of Jesus: Minor Characters as Major Figures in Mark’s Gospel (JSNTSup 102; Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1994), 94; cf. 182 n.1.

This scene provides a good example of how Mark’s narrative works, and it shows that it does not intend readers to identify with the disciples. Although the four men provide continuity with the preceding scenes, they function here merely as the means by which Jesus is brought to this needy woman. The readers enter the scene with the group from the synagogue (Mark 1:29), but are then provided with a narrative comment that directs their attention to the woman on her bed (Mark 1:30a). Because it is Mark who informs the reader of the woman’s situation prior to then telling the reader that the disciples told Jesus about her, the readers are not closely aligned with the disciples, but they are observers of them, not even hearing the disciples’ actual words. The readers do not see things through the disciples’ eyes.

This distance between readers and characters more closely aligns the readers with the Implied Author through the supply of privileged information. By making the Implied Readers privy to the woman’s condition, the Implied Author has focalized the scene for them through the fevered woman. By knowing the secret of the fevered woman on her bed, the Implied Readers have been led to view the action from her perspective.

Having provided the proper perspective from which to view the scene, the distance between the Implied Reader and the main characters is quickly closed. The four disciples reveal they know about the woman; they tell Jesus of her situation (Mark 1:30b), and the close relationship between the readers and Jesus is restored. The readers then travel with him to the bedside to observe what happens (Mark 1:31). The lack of mention of the four creates the sense that it is only the readers and Jesus who now stand at the bedside of the woman, encouraging an intimacy between these three parties. The finite verb which supplies his action does not focus upon her healing per se, but on the fact that ‘he raised’ (egeiren) her.^[7] In this way, Mark emphasizes the contrast between Simon’s mother-in-law lying ill and being raised, rather than simply relaying the fact that she was healed.

7. Greek has a number of words for “to heal,” but Mark uses none of them here. Instead, the verb is “to lift up,” or “to raise.” By contrast, many other healings in Mark use an ordinary verb for “to heal”: e.g., therapeuō, Mark 1:34, 3:2, 10, 6:5, 13; iaomai, Mark 5:29).

Thus, the focus of the scene is not upon the four disciples, but upon the encounter between Mark’s main character and a woman with a fever. Viewing the scene from the woman’s perspective, the reader learns that, despite her fever-stricken condition, Jesus raised her.

Reader to Text

As the first healing miracle in Mark, the raising of Simon’s mother-in-law has a position of some significance. However, of all the miracles, this one is probably one of the least impressive for modern readers who know the benefits of antibiotics and paracetamol! In the interests of understanding the impact of this story upon Mark’s early readers, it is therefore necessary to attempt to recover the ancient perspective on fever and so on its cure. From this perspective, Jesus’s cure of Simon’s mother-in-law is no minor matter; instead, it would be regarded as Jesus casting back the shadow of death itself.

For the people of the first century, fever was not a symptom; it was a disease. It was extremely common and greatly feared. Without the benefit of post-WWII medicine, fever was very severe and was a known killer. If a fever came into your family home, you had seven days to know if you would live or die. Fever was such a painful malady that magical curses regularly called upon the underworld gods to inflict fever on enemies. Because fever was a killer, occasionally these curses called for a fever that would kill the enemy. Not only that, but first-century magic was thought to use the powers of the dead. So, fever (and the associated magical curses) was thought of as the power of the dead inflicting deadly suffering upon the living. In other words, fever was the shadow of death itself.

Today, we have records of ancient medical case studies that show that the doctors looked for signs that indicated how severe the fever was, and then indicated the prognosis for the afflicted person. One of the signs that receives regular comment is here in Mark’s account: if a fever had already forced a person to lie upon their bed (as in Mark 1:30), then this was a very severe fever and the patient’s days were numbered.^[8]

8. For copious sources, see the chapter entitled “The Kingdom is Near (Mark 1.14–4.34)” in Bolt, Jesus’ Defeat of Death, 48–130.

With this social background, the first-century person hearing Mark’s account of Jesus’s first healing would have been alarmed by the condition in which Simon’s mother-in-law was suffering. Fever was the biggest killer in the ancient world, and this poor woman had been cast upon her bed by it. Her death was imminent.

Two Worlds Changed by Jesus

What is the effect of bringing the world of the text and the world of the reader together?

The early readers of Mark would have realized that Simon’s mother-in-law was at death’s door. As a woman, she was automatically in a high-risk category for illnesses that physicians found difficult, and, by the time the readers hear of her, she had already succumbed to her bed with fever (Mark 1:30a), which raises the prognostic question: will she ever arise again? As readers, Mark has already set us up to expect a “yes.” In the Capernaum synagogue (Mark 1:21–28), Jesus already demonstrated his ability to deal with the spirits of death, who in this magic-ridden world may well be behind a fever. And so, when Jesus heals this woman, we are not surprised. Mark draws us in to trust Jesus as the one who can repel death’s shadow and then demonstrates that Jesus will not disappoint that trust. In fact, Jesus so completely dealt with the woman’s fever that she began to serve them. She was no longer in bed, under the specter of death; she is fully restored to ordinary life. Now we can fully appreciate the way Mark describes Jesus’s action: ‘he raised her’ (Mark 1:31a). The early reader would recognize that here was a woman who had been brought back from the brink of death.

Mark’s account shows Jesus as someone powerful enough and compassionate enough to raise a person up; to bring them out from under the shadow of death and cause them to live again. And since the reader has been sympathetically engaged with the woman, seeing the story through her eyes, the story also offers a promise to the reader that Jesus might also bring them out from under the shadow of death, if only they trust him. And this promise then provokes them to read further into the Gospel, to see how this might come about; how Jesus might change their world.

A Cross-Shaped Message

The conclusion to this story, like the rest of Mark’s gospel, drives us toward the cross. As Mark draws us towards Jesus and as we wonder how he might change our world, we are continually pressed toward the narrative’s climax. Our questions can only be partially answered until we reach that climax, and so we must read on.

As we continue to read this gospel, it becomes clear that Mark’s message is all about the cross.^[9] The cross is the clear climax of the narrative, and it is the point where all the threads of the narrative come together as the Gentile centurion recognizes Jesus for who he truly is: ‘surely, this man was the Son of God’ (Mark 15:39). The fact that Jesus is recognized as the Son of God at the very moment he was crucified demonstrates the point of Mark’s narrative. Jesus, the Son of God, was crucified for sinners. This is the climax and point of Mark’s message.

9. See Bolt, The Cross from a Distance.

But even before it reaches the cross, Mark’s narrative carefully prepares for the moment that Jesus will die. Mark explains Jesus’s death as part of God’s plan, so that when it comes, the reader already knows why it happened. In three passion predictions, Jesus declares that his death is an absolute necessity in bringing God’s plans for the world to their proper conclusion (Mark 8:31; 9:31; 10:33). When Jesus takes some of his disciples up on the mount of transfiguration, he reveals the nature of this necessity. His death is the final great event that must occur before the kingdom of God can come (Mark 9:9–13). Later on, the bickering between his disciples about which of them was the greatest became the occasion for him to reveal the final, climactic piece of the puzzle. It is impossible for anyone to be saved and to enter eternal life in the coming kingdom unless God makes it possible (Mark 10:27). And he has made it possible through sending his Son into this world, who would give his life as a ransom for many (Mark 10:45). That is why he must die: so that his life can be given in exchange, so that we might be forgiven and receive the gift of eternal life.

So when Mark 15 at last recounts the events of the crucifixion, this is the climax and maximal point of engagement between Mark’s text and Mark’s reader. But even here, we are not simply being given information about Jesus; we are also being tangled up in those events ourselves. Mark not only informs his readers that Jesus died “as a ransom for many” (Mark 10:45), but his story also transforms the reader to actually feel that Jesus died as their ransom.^[10] As the narrative moves towards the cross, Mark opens up an increasing distance between Jesus and the reader. Although the reader wants to be with Jesus, they feel that they are pushed away. Just like he tells his disciples, the readers also cannot go through what he has to go through. One man must die for the many. And the crucifixion scene shows this with great poignancy. The reader is forced to gaze upon the cross, not participate in it. And there, as they gaze upon the cross, the theological point of Mark’s narrative comes home: through the death of the Son of God for us, on our behalf, we can now receive forgiveness and securely enter the coming kingdom.

10. See Peter G. Bolt, “Feeling the Cross: Mark’s Message of Atonement,” RefThR 60.1 (2001), 1–17.

Following this moment of great climax, on the third day, the grave is found empty and the angel informs the women: ‘he is not here. He is risen’ (Mark 16:6). At that point, the world changed forever. And because the world had changed forever, it was now the time for the world to hear the good news of the victory of Jesus Christ. Now that Jesus had risen, it was time for the proclamation of the gospel. The women were told to tell his disciples, so that they could get going.

But they were silent, because they were afraid (Mark 16:8).

So what are you going to do, dear reader? You can see that the disciples should have said something. But you can understand why they didn’t. Tell me, you who also know that Jesus has risen from the dead: what will you do? You know where the gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, began. You know that Jesus once changed the world forever, and the kingdom of God is now here. The next time you are afraid in this intimidating and fearful world, what are you going to do? Will you be silent? Or will you speak? For as the gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, continues to be spoken, that is how the world will continue to be changed.