The gospel story we just heard is actually two stories, in which one story is
interrupted by another story. In the
story that comes before these stories in chapter five of Mark, one that the
lectionary skips over, Jesus has been over on the other side of the Sea of
Galilee, in Gentile territory, where he performs an exorcism and interferes with the local swine-based
economy,
until the local folk beg him to get out of town.
Now, people
who are comfortable with a nice, domesticated Jesus might find the stories
in this part of Mark‘s gospel pretty uncomfortable—if they get what the stories
are about.
Some folk would like to hear these stories from Mark as
stories about how Jesus was able to miraculously cure people that nobody else
was able to heal. But the stories aren’t
just about Jesus’ power to heal. It’s also
about whom
he chooses to heal.
Jesus has
crossed back across the lake to the western side of the Sea of Galilee, and a
great crowd gathers around him. One of
the leaders of the synagogue named Jairus comes and falls down at Jesus’ feet
and begs
him repeatedly to come home with him and heal his young daughter. “She is at the point of death. Come and lay your hands on her so that she may be made
well and live!
Jesus sets
off to go with him. A large crowd
follows along and is pressing in on him.
But then
that story gets interrupted. As Jesus is
making his way through the crowd, he senses that power has gone forth from him,
and he turns to find out who has touched him.
It wasn’t
just the crowd pressing in on him, but a woman—a very specific woman. This woman had been suffering from hemorrhages
for twelve years. She’d gone to doctor
after doctor, and had spent all her money on them, trying the treatments they
prescribed. But none of it had done any
good, and she still bled.
In addition
to the effects on her physical health, her bleeding had other profound effects
on her life. It made her ritually unclean. She couldn’t go to the Temple to
worship. Anyone who touched
her, or lay on a bed in which she had slept, or sat on a chair where she sat
would be considered unclean as well.
Imagine the
kind of isolation this woman must have experienced over those twelve long
years. Imagine being unable to attend
services and rituals in the Temple.
Imagine people shying away from you, being unwilling to touch you. This woman was an outcast.
Unlike Jairus’ daughter,
she apparently has no male relative to plead her case.
If this
nameless woman had pushed through a crowd to touch a scribe or a priest or a
Pharisee, I imagine she might have gotten a different reaction. “Get away from us, you unclean old
woman! Why aren’t you more careful? Now I’m going to have to waste hours getting purified
before I can continue my religious duties!”
But this
woman has heard reports of the power at work in Jesus, and that has given birth
to hope
and faith. So—in desperation and great faith—she works her
way through the jostling crowd and approaches Jesus from behind and touches his garments.
She might
have thought, “I don’t need to bother him.
I don’t need to slow him down with a lot of chatter. All I need to do is touch the edge of his
garment. Then I will be healed.”
But things
don’t go exactly as she planned. No sooner
does she touch his clothes than Jesus turns around and says, “Who touched me?”
Jesus
refuses to let the woman remain invisible.
He insists on personal contact and on drawing the woman into relationship. And so the woman falls down before him and
tells him the whole truth.
Jesus says
to her, ‘Daughter, your faith has made you well.
Go in peace, and be healed of your disease.’” The New RSV translates this verb in terms of
healing. But, as some scholars note,
this translation of the verb fails to capture the sense in which the physical
cure results in a fuller restoration.[1] It might be a better translation to hear
Jesus saying, “Daughter, your faith has saved you.” Your faith has made you whole.
As we reach
the conclusion of the inner story, we can discern that the miracle involves far
more than physical healing.[2] It includes entry into a ‘saving’ relationship
with Jesus himself. The woman is no
longer alone. Jesus calls her “Daughter,”
claiming her as family, and restoring
her to community. She is told to “go in
peace”—shalom, which involves
health… wholeness… and salvation.
Jesus doesn’t
seem to mind that the woman has touched him.
He also doesn’t seem to worry
about the ritual purification. After he
sends the woman on her way, healed and whole, he doesn’t stop off at the baths
or send the disciples off for water, so he can wash. It doesn’t seem to matter to him.
For Jesus,
there is no such thing as an unclean person.
The society he lives in may try to keep certain people outside of their
boundaries, but Jesus keeps reaching out to them. He keeps welcoming people back inside the
circle of God’s love and healing and community.
Time and time again, he welcomes people who have been cast out…or he
moves outside the boundary himself, to meet them where they are.
The other
story in today’s gospel lesson shows a similar pattern.
Some people
come from Jairus’ house to say, “Your daughter is dead.
Why trouble the teacher any further?”
After all,
you could hardly ask Jesus to deal with a dead body. Dead bodies were considered unclean. Touch a dead body, and you become unclean.
But Jesus
overhears and says to Jairus, “Do not fear-- only believe.’ He takes Peter, James, and John and they go
to Jairus’ house where they find a commotion of loud weeping and lamenting. They’ve already started mourning .
“Why do you make a commotion and weep?” Jesus
says. “The child is not dead but
sleeping.” Jesus sends them all
outside. Then he takes the child’s
parents and the three disciples and takes the child by the hand and tells her
to get up. The girl begins to walk. Everybody is amazed! Jesus gives them orders not to tell anybody
about this, and tells them to give the girl something to eat.
So-- what’s going on here, in these two stories,
one story sandwiched inside the other in typical Mark fashion? As I reviewed some of the stories that come before
them in the gospel, I became convinced that purity regulations are an important
backdrop to the story. The distinction
between “clean” and “unclean” is an aspect of first-century Jewish
consciousness that our modern minds may have trouble grasping, but I think they
can help us understand what’s going on in the story.
The
biblical laws of purity, which are set forth in Leviticus and Numbers, sought
to preserve the holiness of the Temple—the dwelling place of God on earth
and the center of the Jewish religious life.
They spelled out the conditions under which persons could approach the
divine presence. A person became
ritually impure through contact with a human corpse, certain unclean animals,
or genital discharges. Observing the purity laws was an effort
to preserve proper worship in the Temple
and holiness of the community of faith. Some sectarian groups within first-century Judaism
promoted observance of the purity laws at all times and places.
In the Gospel
stories, we hear how Jesus repeatedly does things that seem to transgress biblical
purity regulations and holiness codes.
He touches a leper. He heals on
the Sabbath.
So… it’s’ hard
to avoid the impression that a lot of Mark’s story has to do with ritual impurity. Earlier in chapter 5 of Mark, Jesus goes into
Gentile—and therefore unclean--
territory and enters a graveyard.
There he encounters a demoniac with a legion of unclean spirits, whom he drives into a
herd of two thousand pigs.
Then Jesus
is touched by a woman with a continuous flow of blood…and takes a dead girl by
the hand. I agree with scholar David
Rhoads when he argues that “The issues of purity are writ large across the
pages of Mark’s story.”[3] Rhoads maintains that Mark believes that God
is holy, but represents an alternative view:
“In contrast to the view that people are to attain holiness by separation
from the threatening force of impurity, Mark presents the view that people are
to overcome uncleanness
by spreading wholeness.”
The
religious community in Jesus’ day and through much of history has often gotten
in the way of healing. But the gospel
story we heard today from Mark tells how God works through Jesus, who is
empowered by the Holy Spirit to touch impurity—to reach out with a healing
touch.
God’s
holiness comes to remove and overcome uncleanness, working through Jesus and his followers to
spread the life-giving power of the kingdom into the world wherever people are
receptive to it.[4]
So…when
Jesus welcomes the woman who has been hemorrhaging as “daughter”—a term of endearment-- and touches a dead girl, we have what Marcus Borg has
summarized as “The politics of purity” being replaced by “a politics of compassion.”[5]
Instead of
drawing back from the unclean woman, Jesus deliberately reaches out to her,
welcoming her back into the human family, back into the community from which
she had been isolated. Instead of
avoiding contact with the dead girl, Jesus reaches out and takes her hand and
restores her to life.
Jesus
reaches out in an invitation of pure love…an invitation to bring our own bleeding
bodies and spirits to the only One who can offer us true healing…the only One who
can welcome us into true community when our ties with that community have been
broken.
The story invites
us to follow Jesus’ example. It invites
us to look at the suffering ones in our own midst, the ones who have been shunned
or marginalized or turned away…to listen to their stories, to reach out and
touch them, and lift them up. It invites us to call them “daughter”… “Son”…
“Sister”… “Brother.” Above all, it invites them to welcome them home.
It seems to
me that Jesus did some of his best work with the people whom his society was
trying to exclude—the people who were outside of the boundaries that were meant
to separate the good, religious people from those who were outcasts: tax collectors, lepers, prostitutes, the
poor, and anyone the purity laws deemed to be unclean.
The
good news of the gospel calls us to live out our faith in ways that invite all--
not just some-- to be touched and healed
by God’s love… and to become a real part of the community.
The
good news calls us to become a community that in its wholeness truly embodies
the shalom that Jesus bids the woman when he says “your faith has made you
well…go in peace…”
So… what do
we hear this passage saying to us today?
Many of us have been grieving what happened in
Charleston, SC and other events in what some have called a season of racial
unrest, and some of us are very concerned about gun violence. Now we hear
there are at least three predominately African-American churches in the South
that have burned down Some of us are tired of grieving the latest
loss and would like to find ways to join together to work for a more just and
peaceful world.
Last week, Colleen Nieman—the pastor at St. Paul
Lutheran-- and I met for lunch and were sharing our pain, our hopes, and a few
ideas.
One idea we talked about as a possibility would be to form
a group of people of goodwill from our various faith communities that would
meet maybe once a month-- people who share our concerns and want to do
something more than mourn the latest deaths. Perhaps we would prepare and
share a very simple meal together, and then have intentional conversations.
We thought we might start by gathering some people for an
informal bring-your-own sandwich supper at a local park, to talk about our hopes and ideas for how we
might make a difference together. The first gathering is just to get some
ideas and plan for another gathering in the near future.
If you’re interested, let’s talk.
Jesus calls
us to live out our faith out to live our faith in ways that invite all to be
touched and healed by God’s love… and to embody God’s peace.
And so… may
we never be content to rest within our safe walls. May we move out to where ministry with Jesus
takes place, where we receive God’s blessings, and where we can be a blessing
to those who need to know that God’s love is even for them.
May our
faith make us all well and whole.
Amen!
Rev. Fran Hayes, Pastor
Littlefield Presbyterian Church
Dearborn, Michigan
June 28, 2015
[2] James L.
Bailey and Lyle D. Vander Brock, Literary Forms in the New Testament: A
Handbook (Westminster/John Knox, 1992), p. 142.
[3] David
Rhoads, “Social Criticism: Crossing Boundaries,” in Mark and Method, p. 147,
cited in Frances Taylor Gench, Back to the Well: Women’s Encounters with Jesus
in the Gospels (Westminster John Knox, 2004), p. 40.
[4] Ibid.
[5] Marcus
Borg, Meeting Jesus Again for the First Time: The Historical Jesus and the
Heart of Contemporary Faith (Harper, 1994), p. 58.
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