In the name of God- Father, Son and Holy Spirit.
In
the spirit of the upcoming celebration of Independence Day, you might entitle
this sermon “In God We Trust.” It’s printed on our money and assumed as our
national motto. But what does trusting in God actually mean?
Our
reading from the Gospel according to Mark deals with this issue of trust,
especially as it relates to healing. It seems that both trust and healing are
in short supply. We are distrustful of so much. Thanks to the internet, anyone
can be an “expert” on any subject without knowing anything; tv networks do a “Fact
Check” segment after a politicians speak; and as the trial of Jerry Sandusky reminds
us, trust is too easily broken.
And healing is something of which there is more
demand than supply. We all need to be healed from some ill- whether it be
physical, emotional, or spiritual. If you don’t think you need to be healed,
then perhaps your illness is being too sheltered or the inability to recognize
brokenness. The wars that rage on around the world and children dying of hunger
are ills that we all suffer from. We need more healing, and we need more trust.
These two issues are
addressed by Jesus today. This reading is an example of what scholars all the
Marcan sandwich- it’s a story in the middle of story. So the encounter with Jairus
is the bread, and the hemorrhaging woman is the peanut butter. When you read
through Mark, you’ll find sandwiches all over the place, and often these
sandwiches involve a contrast between the circumstances but a harmony in meaning.
So what does today’s sandwich
offer us? Well, we start with Jairus, who, as our text says, is a leader of the
synagogue. Today, you might call him a bishop or a senator. He was well known,
powerful, and had lots of resources at his disposal. So we start with him coming
to Jesus and begging that his daughter might be healed. The story is then
interrupted.
On the way there a woman
who had been bleeding for 12 years comes to him for healing, but in a different
way. This woman would have been a societal outcast because her bleeding made
her unclean. She would have gotten dirty looks from everyone, people would go
out of their way to avoid walking by her on the road. So she knows that she
cannot dare approach Jesus and speak to him. She walks up behind Jesus and
touches his cloak and was healed. Jesus catches her in this radical act of
faith and tells her that her faith has made her well.
We then find ourselves
back at Jairus, going from the lowest rung of society, back to its upper echelon.
And it appears to be too late, as the girl is dead. This little incident with
the woman slowed Jesus down and he missed his chance. Jesus goes into the house
and tells her to get up, and she does.
The contrast between this
unnamed woman and Jairus couldn’t be any starker, and that is part of Mark’s
point in using this sandwich technique. Two people who would never cross paths,
who would never be mentioned in the same sentence are now linked for all
eternity in the proclamation of the Good News. They have different truths in
their life- different lifestyles, different socio-economic classes; in many
ways, they didn’t even live in the same world. But they also shared a very
powerful truth- they both experienced the healing of Jesus through their trust
in him.
They both trusted in the power
of Jesus and his healing touch. Jairus comes to Jesus and asks him to lay hands
on his daughter, and the woman just wants to touch the hem of his robe. We all
know the power of touch in our lives. Touch, in the form of a slap or punch,
can destroy relationships, or in the form of a hug, can build up. Touch can
violate boundaries, or it can initiate a relationship in a handshake. I’m
reading in baby books the importance of the loving touching of a newborn, but
we also remember the ways touch has been used to exploit young children by
predators. Touch can nurture and touch can tear apart. Some of the most
powerful experiences I’ve had as a priest have come at the touch of hands. When
I was ordained and had hands laid upon me, I felt as if I was in the throne
room of heaven. When I touch the bread and wine at Eucharist, I feel a great
sense of awe. When I anoint the sick with holy oil, both parties are greatly
moved. When I distribute communion, I find the touch of hands and bread to be powerful.
And while I understand the need for Safe Church policies, I really lament that
sometimes we have to throw the baby out with the bath water when it comes to
touch.
Jairus and this woman
both understand the power of touch. The thing about touch is that it requires
us to be very close to one another. You can’t touch each other through a video
chat or letter in the mail. There is something about being with each other that
is powerful. But to be close enough to each other to touch, we must have a
trusting relationship with one another. To be touched is to be vulnerable, but
often healing only comes through touch, so we must trust.
I was struck by the line
in Mark where it says that the woman knelt down to Jesus and told him her whole
truth. The text doesn’t say it, but this very well might be first instance of
Confession in the gospels. Confession is one of those sacraments that doesn’t
get very much play in the Episcopal Church, but it should. The old adage about
Confession is that “none must, some should, all may.” The Confession that we
say before in the service each Sunday is really meant as to be a communal
confession, not as a replacement for the sacrament of Confession.
In the Prayer Book, you’ll find that it’s called
Reconciliation, which is what it’s about all about- restoring relationships so
that we can be closer to God and each other, close enough to touch each other
without being afraid. It is such a powerful sacramental experience because it
doesn’t talk about some vague promise of forgiveness, but rather is about
having an actual experience of being restored and renewed. Forgiveness is not
the rewards for changing your life, but rather it is the source and condition
of that change.
So I want to take this
opportunity to uphold the ministry of reconciliation to you all, and invite you
to participate in the holy work of Confession. And unlike the movies, you don’t
have to be a mobster who just whacked someone to come to Confession. We all
have a truth to tell, and Confession is a great way to tell that truth in the trust
and confidence of the Church of Jesus Christ. In being forgiven, we come closer
to God and closer to God’s healing and saving touch.
In this reading today,
Jesus says “do not fear, only believe.” But that’s not always easy to do. It’s
especially tough when we long for healing and don’t find it. Sometimes I really
wish I could rewrite parts of the Bible. Or not so much rewrite, but add some stories
about Jesus. I really wish there would have been a time where Jesus went to
heal someone, but they died instead of getting up and walking. Because, that’s
life. I read this story about Jairus’ daughter, and part of me really doesn’t
understand why it is that she gets to live and so many others don’t.
Before I was born, my parents had a happy and
healthy baby girl. But an unexpected medical emergency came up, and she died in
surgery when she was two days old. I bet my parents prayed as hard as Jairus
did, I bet they begged God just as much as he did; they wanted healing as much
as the woman did. But my sister stayed dead.
Preachers often talk
about how healing doesn’t always equal a cure, but sometimes I really wish that
we had a story about Jesus encountering that reality. Wouldn’t it be nice to
have Jesus take a stroll through Moses Cone and send everyone home happy and healthy?
But it doesn’t work that way.
And this where fear comes
into play. We fear that miracles aren’t possible; or that they were possible in
Jesus’ day, but not here and now. Or we wonder if our sins have precluded us
from experiencing this sort of healing. But as I’ve already said, we are
forgiven, we are loved. Or perhaps we fear that we don’t have enough faith. And
as Paul suggests in today’s epistle, we are judged based on what we do have,
not what we do not have. Faith is not a contest, nor is there anything such as
too much or too little faith. Perhaps you have the faith to move a mountain,
and that’s great and wonderful. Maybe you have faith that struggles to move a
piece of paper during a windstorm, and that’s okay too. Don’t beat yourself up
over having enough faith. So what gives? Where’s the healing?
Fear
is a tough thing. As Jesus says, “don’t fear, but have faith.” That is, don’t
be afraid, but instead live in trust, and live in love. The renowned preacher
Peter Gomes once wrote that “fear is the absence of courage and poverty of
imagination.” When we fear, we are unable to act; we are unable to feel God’s
touch. When we are afraid we act out of our lowest possible emotional
intelligence. Fear casts out things such as reason, hope, joy, and wonder. Fear
can crush the spirit and closes the door to opportunity. Gomes also says that
we fear what we don’t know and the mother of fear is ignorance.
So
Jesus cautions us against fearing. When we are ignorant, or unaware of, the
touch of God going on around us, it’s awfully hard to be healed. When we are
blind to the needs of others, it’s quite hard to help them out. If we focus on
our sin, we cannot live freely in our forgiveness. If we fear that miracles are
impossible, we probably won’t see them when they do happen.
Sometimes
I wonder if Jesus was ever afraid during these healings. Did he ever think to
himself “what happens if the girl doesn’t get up? Then I’m going to be in
trouble.” If Jesus did have that fear, it certainly didn’t show. Perhaps this
is because the opposite of fear is not courage, but instead is compassion; and
Jesus was a man full of compassion. We cannot fear what we love, and so compassion
leaves no room for fear in our doing of God’s work.
When
you’re the new kid at school, your fear can get you eaten alive. And if you
show too much courage, you’re treated as the kid who’s full of themselves. But
the kid who comes in and is full of compassion will often fit right in. It’s
hard to be afraid of someone who is nice; and if you’re focus is on loving others,
it’s tough to be afraid of them.
Now
will compassion bring the dead back to life? Probably not. But if compassion
ruled in every interaction, there would be a lot more healing in our world, and
that would be miracle enough for me.
Well,
I hope that this Marcan sandwich was enough to hold you over until brunch. We
are all in need of healing, and we yearn to trust in something that will not
let us down. Whether we relate best to Jairus or the hemorrhaging woman, we
come to Jesus seeking his healing touch in our lives. We are invited to tell
our whole truth, in order to restore relationships; that we might trust each
other enough to be close enough to touch. Jesus demonstrates that fear is cast
out by compassion. So that in seeking to follow the example of Jesus’
compassion, we are given the opportunity to abound in the healing power of
Jesus.
In God we trust. Amen.
