Mark 5: 21-43

February 2, 2020

   I had to take the van into the dealership on Friday.

  It was time for its semi-annual maintenance É at least that was the message on the dashboard kept telling me.

  It was time (actually, it was 1,000 km past the time) for me to get the oil changed and the filters checked. It made me miss the days when changing the oil on your vehicle didn’t require a computer programming degree and special keys to reset the warning lights. It was a time when your car didn’t nag you everytime you got behind the wheel.

  My first car was a ‘69 Nova that was handed down to me by my mother É being all of five-foot tall, the Nova was a beast for her to handle and she almost had to sit on a phonebook to see over the dashboard.

  The floorboard in front of the passenger seat had rusted away … a piece of plywood under the rubber mat served as the floor.

  I got the car when my mother upgraded – if that’s the right word (to a Vega) I car I used to refer to as The Pig, because it all the power and maneuverability of a pig in the mud.

  Being financially prudent high schooler (which is one way to say that I didn’t have much money) I would change the oil every few months.

  I’d crawl under the car (pull the drain plug, let the oil flow into an old wash basin) change the oil filter and pour in a fresh batch of oil. For the life of me, I can’t remember what I did with the old oil.

  It was messy work and I’d usually leave a handprint or two somewhere between the driveway and the sink in the laundry room where I’d clean up.

  Mom would see an oily handprint on the wall or on a doorknob – and I would learn a new Finnish curse word … even though it wasn’t my fault that the walls were painted white.

  Today’s passage from Mark (like others we’ve heard during the past month) is about healing and restoration … and the different dimensions of healing. It’s about what can happen in those coming-to-Jesus moments.

  Today, there are two stories about women É both of whom need Jesus’ intervention to be restored Ð one to the community and one to life. 

  One woman has been bleeding for 12 years and the other is just 12 years old and is near death.

  Jesus has crossed the Sea of Galilee and returned to a predominately Jewish area.

  A crowd gathers around him on the shore – they want to see this teacher and healer that has been gaining a reputation throughout the region.

  One of the community’s leaders – a leader in the synagogue É comes to Jesus because his daughter is near death. Jairus wants Jesus to lay hands upon her and make her well just as he had done to untold others so far in his ministry. He is so desperate for help that he falls down in front of Jesus and begs for help.

  As Jesus begins to travel to the Jewish leader’s home, he feels his power flow out from him.

  A woman had reached through the crowd of people and touched Jesus’ robe. The hemorrhaging she had suffered for twelve years stopped.

  When Jesus turned and looked to see who had touched him, the woman came forward and told the truth É she confessed É testified É and was forgiven.

  Jesus said to her, Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease.

  In the meantime, Jairus’ daughter has died – people in the crowd tell Jairus not to bother Jesus any further because it’s too late.

  Jesus tells the father, ‘Do not fear, only believe.’ After he dismisses the crowd, Jesus goes into the girl’s room with her parents and three disciples É takes the girl’s hand and tells her to get up É to awaken. She opens her eyes, gets out of bed and begins to walk around the room.   No doubt, in the time ahead, the girl will be a walking and talking example of God’s power.   Today’s stories from Mark are stories of pain.   The woman’s pain … and the pain of the parents who believe they have lost their daughter … are both very public and serve to isolate them from the community … either physically, emotionally or spiritually. Pain and grief create confusion and doubt.     For some, it’s easy to hear this passage and argue that the woman was considered unclean or that the girl died because they had sinned … or that the parents suffered grief because of something they had done. And that … I think … is some pretty dangerous theology.   It makes God’s love dependant on our actions.   Nowhere in the stories of these two women does it mention sin. Their pain and God’s response to that pain are the focal points of these stories … and that’s where we find the grace in this passage.   And the effects of grace go beyond simply stopping the bleeding or bringing the daughter back to life.   Society’s rules kept the hemorrhaging woman excluded from fully participating in the life of the community. Worse, the system took advantage of the woman’s situation and bled her dry financially. Giving her hope for a price … and delivering nothing.   To touch her was to become unclean yourself … and to be shunned until you were ritually cleansed according to tradition.   As one Lutheran scholar put it: ‘If a body is oozing, flaking, bleeding, or dead, you probably don’t want to touch it.’   This is why the woman had to sneak through the crowd … making sure she wasn’t noticed … as she moved toward Jesus … fearful that she would be recognized and that her presence in the crowd would spark fear or anger.   Jesus didn’t just heal the women – physically heal them of the hemorrhaging and death – there is something more to Jesus’ cleansing and healing.   Acknowledging the woman’s faith speaks to her past … to what she endured … when Jesus tells her to go in peace … he is speaking of her future … sending her into a new life of well-being (of community) of belonging.           Through his loving act … through his affirmation of the woman’s faith and the parents’ beliefs … Jesus heals a number of wounds.   To call the woman ‘someone who society deems unfit or as someone who should be shunned’ ‘daughter’ is to transform her identity and to change her relationship with the world.   She is seen as a person (as part of the family (that she has worth) value. She experiences acceptance.   By making her private pain public … Jesus gives the crowd a lesson that they need to hear … that the woman had not made them unclean by moving among them. That she has become clean by coming to Jesus … and others are invited to follow suit.   Biblical scholar Timothy Geddert once wrote that the woman’s humiliation had been public knowledge, so her healing … her restoration … must be public as well.   This provides the opportunity for the crowd’s perspective of her to be altered.   So where are we in these stories?   Do we see ourselves as the woman … as a member of the crowd … maybe as Jairus or his wife?   Is our pain private or public? And what do we do when we’re faced with other’s pain and illnesses?   The natural impulse is to pull away … to avoid the pain … to avoid the awkwardness of the moment … the inability to come up with something profound to say … to give pain a wide berth.   But in those moments … when pain is very real … when grief and its sadness hangs on to each moment … that’s when our faith … our presence is in the lives of others is a sign of grace.   It is when we – like Jairus – come to Jesus on behalf of others.   It is in these moments when we proclaim our love for one another and even though the act might not address the physical issue É it does ensure the relationship remains in place É it ensures that the person is not left alone.   It is when pure love … wipes away things like … the isolation … the loneliness … when it overcomes our preference to step back … and serves as a healing balm.   And it is through these acts of love when that come-to-Jesus moment is fully realized.   May it ever be so.     AMEN