Only Believe
Sunday, July 2nd, 2006
Pentecost 4
Jerusalem Baptist Church, Emmerton VA
Mark 5:21-43
The stories are two of the more familiar ones of the gospels: the woman with the issue of blood, and the healing of Jairus’ daughter. As with so many other vignettes we find throughout the Gospels, each story has its own ‘name’ or title, as it were, to identify it. For simplicity’s sake, it makes it easier to refer to the events in shorthand, and the details fill themselves in, if you are familiar with the stories.
If, however, you are NOT familiar with the events and the stories and the background of each scene, you would more than likely become disoriented, at best, disengaged at worst. So in the interest of bringing everyone onto the same page, here’s the situation: if you remember from Leslie’s study in the Gospel of Mark some time ago, this is actually an example of one of those ‘Markan Sandwiches’ – a story within a story – in other words, one story bracketed by another – the exact term is ‘chiasm’ – that we find throughout the Gospel of Mark. The first – the ‘outside’ one, is the story of Jairus’ daughter.
Jairus is identified as one of the leaders of the synagogue – the term used to describe him as a ‘leader’ gives the sense that the position he held was more of an administrative one, rather than one of the positions that would more readily be associated with the spiritual aspect of synagogue worship, maybe something like a minister of administration in some of our larger churches found around the country today. In any case, his position is established and his need is underlined – he is coming on behalf of his daughter, who is gravely ill – to the point of death.
The scene unfolds as follows: Jesus has crossed BACK over the Sea of Galilee with his disciples, and almost immediately a crowd formed around him. After all, word is spreading like wildfire that ‘the doctor is in’ – people are likely rushing to the area from miles and miles away in the hopes of hearing what he has to say, or watch him perform one of his miracles, or … be healed …
And it seems to be THAT thought that the writer of the Gospel decides to follow, after setting the scene with Jairus coming to Jesus and asking him to come with him to his daughter’s bedside, to ‘lay … hands on her, so that she may be made well, and live.’
Rather than get Jesus through the crowd and on to Jairus’ house and his daughter, the writer of the Gospel PUTS Jesus in the middle of the crowd, with people pressing in on every side, and describes a woman who has, for as long as Jairus’ daughter has lived until now, been suffering from a persistent hemorrhage, she’s been to as many doctors as she could find, or perhaps, PAY, and none of them were able to help her. She is, at this point in her life, destitute. The reason for this is simple. You’ve heard the modern term ‘uninsurable’ in reference to someone who has a chronic condition that has required significant medical effort to treat, if not eradicate, and at some point the person has lost their medical coverage, if indeed they had any to begin with. The policy is that, once the condition is discovered by another company, that company – along with any other company that watches it’s income vs outgo – will refuse to insure the person because it simply does not make sense to take on a client whom you know from the beginning will cost your company more to take on and cover medical expenses for than the company will be able to earn from premiums paid by the customer.
The term that would probably apply more closely to this woman’s condition would be ‘unredeemable’. You see, according to Jewish Law, a woman is ritually unclean during her menstrual cycle. The uncleanness is contagious – if someone were to touch her while she was bleeding, they would likewise become ritually unclean, and would be required to go through another round of ritual baths and cleansings in order to regain their ‘redeemability’. You see, though to varying degrees uncomfortable, to be considered unclean – temporarily – is bearable. If you know that in another week or so you will again be able to reengage in the daily routine of the society you live in. You can put up with a lot. People put up with a LOT of discomfort if they KNOW it is only a temporary situation. Imagine if you will, this woman, who has been suffering what for other women is a monthly recurrence of a few days’ duration FOR TWELVE SOLID YEARS? To be frank, I cannot. I can speak about it, and describe it and put words together that might tug at your heart, but I have no way of knowing – really, REALLY knowing – what it must have been like for this woman.
To be the object of rejection, to be shunned, and ostracized, to be marginalized consistently for twelve long, tortuous years, seems unimaginable to most of us – MOST of us. Knowing human nature, though, I have a suspicion that somewhere among us, on some level, one or more of us in this room this morning can completely identify with this woman. Identify more fully than we are even able to admit to ourselves.
What is it in your life that has pushed you to the edge of society? Is it income? Education, or lack thereof? Family background? Is it perhaps where you were born? Or WHOM you were born TO? Is it some other aspect of your life? Choices made that were perhaps hard for others to understand and/or accept? Or was it something deeper, something over which you had no control whatsoever, which seemingly forced you into the place you are today, away from the center, away from the worship, from the very life of the family and community that raised you?
The story of Jairus’ daughter triggers a series of responses – “poor child – look, see how much the father loves his daughter, I should learn to be so loving … so bold as to walk up to a complete stranger and ask him to come heal my daughter …”
But wait, just what and who are we talking about in the story? In the daughter, are we talking about a little girl, or are we talking about a nation, a humanity, that was near death, if not in the very act of dying, when Jesus stepped in and revived her with a holding of the hand and a simple word of life?
In the bleeding woman, are we talking about an individual or, again, speaking of a people who at some point in their history knew and communed with and followed God, but somewhere along the way got separated, got confused, got sidetracked in the business of taking care of regular, daily, monthly or yearly rituals?
What does this mean for Jerusalem Baptist Church at Emmerton? Are we in danger of being considered, like Jairus’ daughter, dead by all those who know us, and have watched us grow over the years? Are we going to be referred to as “the church that used to be at the corner of Mulberry and Route 3”, and never have an impact again in a society that has moved on from what has always been a part of what ‘BEING CHURCH’ MEANT at Jerusalem?
Are we going to be viewed as an aberration, a throwback to times that have not been for a long, long, LONG time?
How ready would we be to step out and touch the hem of Jesus’ robe – just a tassle – if we only believed that it would TRULY make a difference in our lives, and not JUST our lives, but the lives of those who live so near us physically, but from whom we are worlds away at the end of the service each Sunday or Wednesday night?
So our question again becomes what are we willing to risk … or perhaps, like the woman with the issue of blood, we realize that at this point we don’t have anything to lose, if we really look at the situation?
The message of the Gospel is simple. Jesus will heal, Jesus will make whole, and Jesus will reconcile – us with God, if we only accept his touch.
Let’s pray.
Sunday, July 2nd, 2006
Pentecost 4
Jerusalem Baptist Church, Emmerton VA
Mark 5:21-43
21 When Jesus had crossed again in the boat to the other side, a great crowd gathered around him; and he was by the sea. 22 Then one of the leaders of the synagogue named Jairus came and, when he saw him, fell at his feet 23 and begged him repeatedly, “My little daughter is at the point of death. Come and lay your hands on her, so that she may be made well, and live.” 24 So he went with him. And a large crowd followed him and pressed in on him. 25 Now there was a woman who had been suffering from hemorrhages for twelve years. 26 She had endured much under many physicians, and had spent all that she had; and she was no better, but rather grew worse. 27 She had heard about Jesus, and came up behind him in the crowd and touched his cloak, 28 for she said, “If I but touch his clothes, I will be made well.” 29 Immediately her hemorrhage stopped; and she felt in her body that she was healed of her disease. 30 Immediately aware that power had gone forth from him, Jesus turned about in the crowd and said, “Who touched my clothes?” 31 And his disciples said to him, “You see the crowd pressing in on you; how can you say, ‘Who touched me?’” 32 He looked all around to see who had done it. 33 But the woman, knowing what had happened to her, came in fear and trembling, fell down before him, and told him the whole truth. 34 He said to her, “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease.”
35 While he was still speaking, some people came from the leader’s house to say, “Your daughter is dead. Why trouble the teacher any further?” 36 But overhearing what they said, Jesus said to the leader of the synagogue, “Do not fear, only believe.” 37 He allowed no one to follow him except Peter, James, and John, the brother of James. 38 When they came to the house of the leader of the synagogue, he saw a commotion, people weeping and wailing loudly. 39 When he had entered, he said to them, “Why do you make a commotion and weep? The child is not dead but sleeping.” 40 And they laughed at him. Then he put them all outside, and took the child’s father and mother and those who were with him, and went in where the child was. 41 He took her by the hand and said to her, “Talitha cum,” which means, “Little girl, get up!” 42And immediately the girl got up and began to walk about (she was twelve years of age). At this they were overcome with amazement. 43 He strictly ordered them that no one should know this, and told them to give her something to eat.
The stories are two of the more familiar ones of the gospels: the woman with the issue of blood, and the healing of Jairus’ daughter. As with so many other vignettes we find throughout the Gospels, each story has its own ‘name’ or title, as it were, to identify it. For simplicity’s sake, it makes it easier to refer to the events in shorthand, and the details fill themselves in, if you are familiar with the stories.
If, however, you are NOT familiar with the events and the stories and the background of each scene, you would more than likely become disoriented, at best, disengaged at worst. So in the interest of bringing everyone onto the same page, here’s the situation: if you remember from Leslie’s study in the Gospel of Mark some time ago, this is actually an example of one of those ‘Markan Sandwiches’ – a story within a story – in other words, one story bracketed by another – the exact term is ‘chiasm’ – that we find throughout the Gospel of Mark. The first – the ‘outside’ one, is the story of Jairus’ daughter.
Jairus is identified as one of the leaders of the synagogue – the term used to describe him as a ‘leader’ gives the sense that the position he held was more of an administrative one, rather than one of the positions that would more readily be associated with the spiritual aspect of synagogue worship, maybe something like a minister of administration in some of our larger churches found around the country today. In any case, his position is established and his need is underlined – he is coming on behalf of his daughter, who is gravely ill – to the point of death.
The scene unfolds as follows: Jesus has crossed BACK over the Sea of Galilee with his disciples, and almost immediately a crowd formed around him. After all, word is spreading like wildfire that ‘the doctor is in’ – people are likely rushing to the area from miles and miles away in the hopes of hearing what he has to say, or watch him perform one of his miracles, or … be healed …
And it seems to be THAT thought that the writer of the Gospel decides to follow, after setting the scene with Jairus coming to Jesus and asking him to come with him to his daughter’s bedside, to ‘lay … hands on her, so that she may be made well, and live.’
Rather than get Jesus through the crowd and on to Jairus’ house and his daughter, the writer of the Gospel PUTS Jesus in the middle of the crowd, with people pressing in on every side, and describes a woman who has, for as long as Jairus’ daughter has lived until now, been suffering from a persistent hemorrhage, she’s been to as many doctors as she could find, or perhaps, PAY, and none of them were able to help her. She is, at this point in her life, destitute. The reason for this is simple. You’ve heard the modern term ‘uninsurable’ in reference to someone who has a chronic condition that has required significant medical effort to treat, if not eradicate, and at some point the person has lost their medical coverage, if indeed they had any to begin with. The policy is that, once the condition is discovered by another company, that company – along with any other company that watches it’s income vs outgo – will refuse to insure the person because it simply does not make sense to take on a client whom you know from the beginning will cost your company more to take on and cover medical expenses for than the company will be able to earn from premiums paid by the customer.
The term that would probably apply more closely to this woman’s condition would be ‘unredeemable’. You see, according to Jewish Law, a woman is ritually unclean during her menstrual cycle. The uncleanness is contagious – if someone were to touch her while she was bleeding, they would likewise become ritually unclean, and would be required to go through another round of ritual baths and cleansings in order to regain their ‘redeemability’. You see, though to varying degrees uncomfortable, to be considered unclean – temporarily – is bearable. If you know that in another week or so you will again be able to reengage in the daily routine of the society you live in. You can put up with a lot. People put up with a LOT of discomfort if they KNOW it is only a temporary situation. Imagine if you will, this woman, who has been suffering what for other women is a monthly recurrence of a few days’ duration FOR TWELVE SOLID YEARS? To be frank, I cannot. I can speak about it, and describe it and put words together that might tug at your heart, but I have no way of knowing – really, REALLY knowing – what it must have been like for this woman.
To be the object of rejection, to be shunned, and ostracized, to be marginalized consistently for twelve long, tortuous years, seems unimaginable to most of us – MOST of us. Knowing human nature, though, I have a suspicion that somewhere among us, on some level, one or more of us in this room this morning can completely identify with this woman. Identify more fully than we are even able to admit to ourselves.
What is it in your life that has pushed you to the edge of society? Is it income? Education, or lack thereof? Family background? Is it perhaps where you were born? Or WHOM you were born TO? Is it some other aspect of your life? Choices made that were perhaps hard for others to understand and/or accept? Or was it something deeper, something over which you had no control whatsoever, which seemingly forced you into the place you are today, away from the center, away from the worship, from the very life of the family and community that raised you?
The story of Jairus’ daughter triggers a series of responses – “poor child – look, see how much the father loves his daughter, I should learn to be so loving … so bold as to walk up to a complete stranger and ask him to come heal my daughter …”
But wait, just what and who are we talking about in the story? In the daughter, are we talking about a little girl, or are we talking about a nation, a humanity, that was near death, if not in the very act of dying, when Jesus stepped in and revived her with a holding of the hand and a simple word of life?
In the bleeding woman, are we talking about an individual or, again, speaking of a people who at some point in their history knew and communed with and followed God, but somewhere along the way got separated, got confused, got sidetracked in the business of taking care of regular, daily, monthly or yearly rituals?
What does this mean for Jerusalem Baptist Church at Emmerton? Are we in danger of being considered, like Jairus’ daughter, dead by all those who know us, and have watched us grow over the years? Are we going to be referred to as “the church that used to be at the corner of Mulberry and Route 3”, and never have an impact again in a society that has moved on from what has always been a part of what ‘BEING CHURCH’ MEANT at Jerusalem?
Are we going to be viewed as an aberration, a throwback to times that have not been for a long, long, LONG time?
How ready would we be to step out and touch the hem of Jesus’ robe – just a tassle – if we only believed that it would TRULY make a difference in our lives, and not JUST our lives, but the lives of those who live so near us physically, but from whom we are worlds away at the end of the service each Sunday or Wednesday night?
So our question again becomes what are we willing to risk … or perhaps, like the woman with the issue of blood, we realize that at this point we don’t have anything to lose, if we really look at the situation?
The message of the Gospel is simple. Jesus will heal, Jesus will make whole, and Jesus will reconcile – us with God, if we only accept his touch.
Let’s pray.
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