Only Believe

 

Mark 5:21-43

June 27, 2021

 

            In her novel, My Sister’s Keeper, author Jodi Picoult tells the story of parents, especially the mother, who are desperate to save their daughter, Kate. Kate was diagnosed with leukemia when she was only three, and her parents exhaust every possible treatment, every possible avenue trying to save her life. What Kate needs are stem cells, but her older brother is not a match. So, the parents consult with a genetic engineer and have another baby, genetically designed to match Kate’s stem cells. That baby is Anna, and the rest of the story centers around her desire to be her own person, not spare parts for Kate.

            But Anna was born as a desperate attempt to save Kate. She was conceived and delivered to be the miracle Kate needed. That’s how far her parents were willing to go to save their daughter, despite the consequences to their actions. Their desperation for their child drove them.

            Every month now I give myself a shot of a medicine that keeps my migraines at bay. I have to work myself up to the shot, mentally, and remind myself that the anticipation is far worse than the actual shot. But I do it, because before I started these injections, I would have migraines that would go on for three days. I would manage to reduce the pain for a while, only to have it return with a vengeance. I would do my best to function as normally as possible during these bouts. I have moderated session with a grueling migraine, cooked plenty of meals, kept the house up, and even stood in the pulpit and preached. But there were many times, the pain would get so bad, I would just want to do anything, anything to make it stop. There were times when the pain was so acute, if I had heard of a man wandering around town performing healings, I would have sought him out. I would have risked anything I had to risk if it would have made the pain go away. I was desperate to be healed.

            Desperation. That’s what our gospel lesson is filled with this week. Desperation. The woman who has been hemorrhaging for twelve years was desperate to find healing and relief, and Jairus was desperate to find healing for his young daughter. Jairus was a leader of the synagogue. He had standing in the community. It was probably far more shocking than we realize for him to seek out Jesus directly. There were plenty of people of less importance who would have gone to Jesus for him. But Jairus went to Jesus. Jairus fell down before him and begged for Jesus’ help. He was probably putting his reputation and religious career on the line by doing what he did, but he was so desperate I imagine all concern for dignity, reputation, and standing were forgotten. Jairus’ daughter – his little girl, his child – was deathly ill. He was willing to go to any length to save her. Jairus, a man of authority and power, was powerless before his daughter’s illness. In his helplessness, he was completely vulnerable and made himself more vulnerable still by rushing to Jesus for help. Jairus knew; he knew that if Jesus laid his hands on his daughter, she would be made well. So as soon as he saw Jesus he fell at the teacher’s feet and pleaded with him to come and heal his little girl. His actions show the depth of his desperation and his belief that Jesus could make his daughter well.

            As Jesus was making his way toward Jairus’ house, another person came to Jesus in desperate need; a woman who had been hemorrhaging for twelve years. Twelve years! She had been living with misery for as long as the little girl had been alive. There is no reason given for why this woman bled for so long, but we do know that she spent every cent she had on physicians and doctors. Yet none of them could make her well.  None of their treatments worked.  The text tells us that she had “endured much under many physicians.”  I suspect that means that she was given every test, every treatment, and every cure known to a doctor of that time. Still nothing worked. She had only grown steadily worse.

            When Jesus stepped into that crowd by the sea, this desperate unnamed woman knew that if she could only touch him, if she could just grasp his clothing for a fleeting second, she would be cured. All would be well.

            She did just that. I imagine it was her desperation that gave her the strength to push through that large crowd. Being ill for so long, she must have been anemic and weak. But her desperation and her belief that Jesus could heal her gave her the strength and the courage she needed to make her way through that crowd and touched Jesus’ cloak before the throngs of people surged against her, pushing her back and away. She did it. She reached Jesus and touched his robe, and as soon as she did this her bleeding stopped. She knew that something was different. She felt it in her body. The bleeding stopped. She was healed.

            All of this is amazing. We could stop the story right here and know that a miracle happened. Outside of knowing the fate of Jairus’ daughter, nothing more would need to be said.  It is a miracle! Yet another twist of the story occurs after the woman has touched Jesus’ robe and is healed. As the surging, pressing crowd reached for him, grasped and groped for him, Jesus perceived that someone had touched him. Jesus felt this rush of power leave him.

            So, he stopped where he was and called out, “Who touched me?”

I’ll be honest, I share the reaction of the disciples.

Huh? What do you mean, “Who touched you?” Have you seen the size of this crowd?  There are about a gazillion people trying to touch you, reach you. Folks are coming at you from all sides, how can you possibly know that one person touched you when all of these people are trying to lay hands on you?

But Jesus knew. He knew something was different. He knew something had happened.  He felt the woman’s healing just as she did. This poor woman must have been terrified beyond belief. Certainly, she must have felt a thrill of fear that Jesus could sense the power that had moved between the two of them. But her fear must have gone beyond the fact that she touched this rabbi. Her twelve years of bleeding meant that she was ritually unclean. Not only had she dared to touch Jesus, but she also surely touched a whole lot of other people in her push to reach him. For twelve years she would have lived an outsider’s life. For twelve years she would have been banned from full participation in the life of the synagogue. Contact with her would have contaminated others. Her uncleanness would have been contagious. So, she should have been nowhere near a great crowd such as this one, and certainly nowhere near a teacher such as Jesus.  Her very presence there was a violation of the Law.

            I’m sure she was afraid. I’m sure she was shaking at the potential punishment and the consequences for her actions. But she was in desperate need, and that need outweighed everything else. She needed Jesus. Jairus needed Jesus. This woman occupied a much lower place in society than Jairus did, but their need for Jesus was an equalizer. It bridged the distance that society and status placed between them. They were both willing to be completely vulnerable to receive the healing they so desperately needed. How far would you go to save your child? How far would you go to save yourself?

            The consequences for this woman’s actions would have been great indeed. But despite her fear and dread, she owned up to what she did. She stepped out from the others, out from hiding. She fell before Jesus and confessed what she had done. However, instead of reprimands and rebukes, Jesus said to her, “Daughter your faith has made you well. Go in peace and be healed of your disease.”

            This woman believed. She knew Jesus could heal her. She was in desperate need and had faith that her need would be answered. She knew that all she had to do was touch his robe be cured. She was right.

            But Jesus’ healing didn’t stop with this woman.  Lest we forget, her healing was an interruption to Jesus’ original purpose. He was on his way to Jairus’ house to heal his little girl when the woman interrupted. She seemingly distracted Jesus from his initial intent. As Jesus once more moved toward Jairus’ house, some others who were waiting came to Jairus and informed him that his daughter was dead. There was no point in bothering Jesus any longer.

            Jesus overheard them and told Jairus, “Do not fear, only believe.” Only believe. Jesus and a small contingent of the disciples went to Jairus’ house. The mourners were gathered. Despite their wailing and weeping, they couldn’t contain their laughter when Jesus announced that the little girl was not dead, only sleeping. Their laughter did not deter Jesus. He took the girl’s hand and said, “Talitha cum.”  The text interprets this as, “Little girl, get up.” She obeyed. She stood up. She was healed!

It was desperation that made both Jairus and the long-suffering woman willing to be vulnerable. In their need, they went to great and even dangerous lengths to seek Jesus’ help. In their need they turned to Jesus, and Jesus responded, directly and indirectly. Not only did Jesus answer their need, but Jesus also stepped across boundaries to do so.

An unclean woman touched him, but instead of chastising her, he called her “daughter.” He restored her place in the community. Jesus touched a girl who was dead, making him unclean, but that boundary of social propriety did not stop him. Her need, her father’s need was greater than any wall social mores could construct. Jesus was unafraid of defying social boundaries because suffering also defies boundaries. These intertwined stories bear that out. Suffering does not respect status or boundary. Need does not care about social niceties. Here is the good news. Neither does Jesus. Jesus meets us where we are. Let all of God’s children say …

And yet, and yet, Jesus crossed boundaries to relieve the suffering of the woman and Jairus’ daughter. But Jesus did not put an end to all suffering. Suffering is profoundly real today. The stories coming from the collapse of the condo in Florida bring this home. There is great desperation on the part of the families and friends waiting for news of their loved ones. There is, I think, desperation on the part of the responders trying to find anyone left alive.

The suffering there and everywhere is real. People are desperate for healing, for help, for wholeness. Jesus overcame death through resurrection, but death still walks among us. That woman, healed of her bleeding, eventually laid down her mortal coil and died. And the young girl, perhaps she grew to an old age, but she too left this earthly life through death.

When I read stories such as these from Mark’s gospel, I am renewed in my faith, but I am also renewed in my questioning. If you can heal the suffering of some, Jesus, why not all? If you can raise from the dead one, why not all? We are all so desperate to be healed, Jesus, and we believe and we believe and we believe, but it would seem to be to no avail.

And yet, while our questions are not answered, we also know that God in Jesus is with us in our suffering – not bringing it to an end, but with us. With. Us. Holding us, comforting us, grieving with us, loving us. Our faith that Jesus is with us does not bring suffering to an end, but we believe, we believe, that we do not suffer alone, and we do not suffer in vain. We believe, even when it seems foolish to do so. We believe, and we give thanks.

Let all of God’s children say, “Alleluia.” Amen.