Sermon from October 22, 2000
I have been reading the Gospel of Mark for almost 40 years now. I have preached through it about once a decade, this time being the longest and most leisurely exposition. I have taught it two times at the Philadelphia College of the Bible. I have memorized it. I have been sustained by its presentation of Jesus Christ in ways that kept me from ruin as a young man and nourished my life and faith all along the journey. Mark's subtlety and power invite a continual rereading of the story he has told about Jesus.

One particularly challenging way to read Mark is to ask how different groups of people might have heard it. For example, how might a Jew (like Mark or Peter), who believed in Jesus have heard it? How might a Jew who did not believe in Jesus have heard it? What would a Gentile seeking to know more about Jesus find attractive in this most attractive story? What might women call attention to? What would people marginalized by Jewish, Roman or American culture want to hear again and again? Once you start listening like this, you will appreciate the enduring power of the Gospel. Maybe I can help you listen like this a little better as we read the rest of Mark 5:21-43.

Remember what is driving Mark 5-8. The authority of Jesus dominates the first four chapters of Mark. Chapter one presented His demonstration of authority, chapter four His authority to judge. Chapter four ended with the story of a storm at sea, an epsiode that serves as a kind of hinge for the story Mark has told. If the first four chapters have to do with the authority of Jesus, the next four have to do with His identity. I know you remember the question that ended chapter four. "Who is this? Even the wind and the waves obey him!"

That is the question that haunts the next four chapters of the Gospel of Mark: Who is Jesus Christ? Those men could never be disciples in the fullest sense until they knew the true identity of Jesus. Neither can you and I. How well do we actually know the Man we sing about and pray to and profess to trust for the eternal well being of humanity? Let's see how Mark presents Him to us in verses 21ff.

They crossed the lake again, and in the middle of verse 21 we see a familiar sight. A large crowd gathered about him. And as usual something urgent came up. Verses 22-23 report it. One of the synagogue rulers, named Jairus, came there. Seeing Jesus, he fell at his feet and pleaded earnestly with him, "My little daughter is dying. Please come and put your hands on her so that she will be healed and live."

It was another circumstance that had gone out of control. As such it belongs to a pattern in this sequence of miracles: the disciples' boat in the storm, the uncontrollable demoniac and now a dying child. So, says verse 24, Jesus went with him. The mandatory mob followed. In the mob was a woman whose out-of-control circumstances fits right in with the others in this series. Verse 26 describes her.

She had suffered a great deal under the care of many doctors and had spent all she had, yet instead of getting better, she grew worse. Her situation had become desperate, a situation like that which drives modern people to alternative medicine and faith healers and to secret treatment centers in Mexico or worse. Her act of verses 27-28 was desperate.

When she heard about Jesus, she came up behind him in the crowd and touched his cloak, because she thought, "If I just touch his clothes, I will be healed." What was she thinking? Try for a moment to hear this story as a first-century, Jewish woman might have heard it. First of all, it was highly irregular for a woman in any ancient culture to take the initiative to touch a man's clothing in such an uninvited, public way. How Jesus responded will be what matters. Second, in a Jewish culture this woman with her chronic bleeding was ceremonially unclean. For her to touch another person was to render that person also ceremonially unclean. Personal inconveniences went with uncleanness. Being declared clean again might also have cost money. There may also have been conscience issues involved. Again, what impact did all this have on Jesus?

In rapid succession two events took place that answer these questions. First, she was healed and knew it. Verse 29: Immediately her bleeding stopped and she felt in her body that she was freed from her suffering. Second, verse 30 says that at once Jesus realized that power had gone out from him. He turned around in the crowd and asked, "Who touched me?" This is one of the few insights we have into Jesus' self-consciousness. He sensed power leave His body and go to someone else. Only Mark gives us this highly personal information about Jesus.

His disciples were not impressed. They were the hardheaded realists on that occasion. Verse 31: "You see the people crowding around you," they answered, "and yet you can ask, 'Who touched me?' C'mon!" Our sympathies as we read the story are all with Jesus. Our sympathies as we live are all on the side of the disciples. We fancy ourselves the realists. We ask the hard questions. Nobody is going to take us in by any sleight of hand.

I wonder if that is why we need to lose control of our own circumstances from time to time. It opens up new possibilities for us as it did for the woman. In any case she knew what had happened to her, and she made herself known to Jesus and told Him the whole truth. It is worth noting her emotional state at this time. Verse 33 reports it. She too came to Jesus and fell at his feet, trembling with fear. 

After all, what would He say? Would He be angry? Would He humiliate her for her uncleanness and for implicating Him in her uncleanness? Would she have the presence of mind to ask, "Who are you that heals my body and knows my touch out of all the rest?" Jesus' benediction in verse 34 brings the episode with the woman to an end. There is no humiliation, no reproach, no questions even about her highly irregular act. On the contrary: He blesses her. He said to her, "Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace and be free from your suffering." 

A writer for Time Magazine once wrote in an exuberance of heresy, "Man inhabits a smallish planet of an ordinary sun in a garden-variety galaxy that occupies the tiniest corner of a universe whose scope is beyond comprehension." Of course he was right astronomically; his heresy coiled in what he implied about humanity. His sentiment was a slur on human humility and human dignity. For neither our humility nor our dignity is a matter of size. We learn that from the desperate woman in the milling mob. For in that Galilean crowd Jesus knew that out of all the nudges, bumps and clasps one touch differed from all the rest. The rest pawed with curiosity. Her hand held His cloak in faith. The vastness of our universe only magnifies the attention of our Great Savior to human details.

What fate do you think this story would have among the sewing circles and coffee klatches of Galilean life? What do you as a woman think about Jesus Christ after hearing this episode? More than once I have pointed out that Jesus came to show Israel a new way of being Israel. It apparently included a new attitude toward women, even ceremonially unclean women.

Something else about this episode with the woman might elude us. We have abused our powers of imagination too often. We treat the four Gospels as we treat the distance to the next motel – a distance to be covered as quickly as possible. But only the dullest of heads can read what happened next and not at least stub his toe on the volcano of emotion about to erupt.

We begin at verse 35. While Jesus was still speaking (to the woman), some men came from the house of Jairus, the synagogue ruler. Jairus! Had you forgotten Jairus? That nameless woman had drawn attention away from the desperate father and his dying child. But Jairus had not forgotten. Can you imagine his emotion when Jesus stopped to ask, "Who touched me?"

You can just see the man straining with all his power to keep himself from taking Jesus by the sleeve and saying, "Good night! That can wait! My daughter is dying! Let's go!" But they had not gone. The whole procession had stopped, stood, stared and stayed until Jesus had satisfied Himself about the woman. By then it was too late for Jairus' daughter. The heralds of untimely death had arrived from Jairus' house. "Your daughter is dead," they said. "Why bother the teacher any more?"

"Why couldn't this woman have waited? Just one more hour, maybe less! Twelve years she had had that living death. Surely, one more hour would not have mattered. My little girl was twelve years old. This woman had suffered as long as my daughter had lived. Untreated, she might have lingered on for years, but my daughter didn't have another hour to spare. Why couldn't Jesus see that?"

Did Jairus have thoughts like that? Who knows? Circumstances were out of control, and anguish such as that could not be too far behind. But he never had a chance to utter it. His forming fury held its peace at what came next. Verse 36 says, Ignoring what they said, Jesus told the synagogue ruler, "Don't be afraid; just believe."

We could understand it if Jarius had answered, "Just believe what?"

Jesus' answer would have been, "Just believe me. Trust me."

"Trust you to do what?"

"Trust me to be in control in these terrible moments. Trust me to carry out my plans in spite of your circumstances." This time Jesus dispersed the crowd. Verse 37 says, He did not let anyone follow him except Peter, James and John the brother of James.

When they finally got to the house, Jesus saw a commmotion, with people crying and wailing loudly. Then He did it again. He went in and said to them, "Why all this commotion and wailing? The child is not dead but asleep." 

That sounds cruel. Verse 40 says they laughed at him. We might paraphrase the verse, "They laughed bitterly at him." After he put them all out, he took the child's father and mother and the disciples who were with him, and went in where the child was. He took her by the hand and said to her, "Talitha koum!" (which means, "Little girl, I say to you, get up!"). Immediately the girl stood up and walked around (she was twelve years old). At this they were completely astonished. I guess they were astonished.

Verse 43 is a bit astonishing itself. He gave strict orders not to let anyone know about this, and told them to give her something to eat. How could He hope to keep it quiet? And why? And isn't that last statement heartbreakingly good and also not a little bit astonishing? He told them to give her something to eat. He who can raise the dead has presence of mind to remember that resurrection might make a body hungry. His tenderness to her again magnifies the attention of our Great Savior to details.

It also magnifies again the priority of people. To touch the dead also rendered a person ceremonially unclean under Jewish law, but Jesus had taken her by the hand. You wonder, however, if anyone would have raised the point with that young girl munching on her post-resurrection snack.

Have you noticed how curtly Jesus has been treated in these four episodes in which life went out of control for people? On the sea His own disciples said with some irritation in their voices, "Don't you care if we drown?" The Gerasenes began to plead with him to leave their region. In the mob His disciples took Him to task, "You see the people crowding against you, and yet you can ask, "Who touched me?" And at the house of Jairus they laughed at him. 

I never hear people say more terrible things about God than when life has gone terribly and unexpectedly wrong for them. If we are right that to watch Jesus is to know what the invisible God is like, then we have cause to hope that God is compassionately patient with our heart-broken outbursts against Him. I mean, did you detect any wounded pride in Jesus' response to the people in these episodes who spoke so curtly to Him? Did He lash out at their shortsightedness or rebuke them for failing to understand Him? I don't think so.

But He did calm the sea. He did heal the demoniac. He did feel the woman's touch in the mob and heal her. He did raise Jairus' daughter from death. When life went out of control, He was in control. No wonder the disciples were terrified. No wonder the Gerasenes were afraid. No wonder the woman came in fear and trembling. No wonder the family was completely astonished.

And through all four episodes there is the call to faith in Jesus. To the disciples: "Do you still have no faith?" To the disappointed ex-demoniac: "Go home to your family and tell them how much the Lord has done for you and how he has had mercy on you." To the woman: "Your faith has healed you. Go in peace and be free from your suffering." To the heartbroken father: "Don't be afraid; just believe."

That brings us back to the question that haunts Mark 5-8: Who is this? Who is He that He should have power to calm the sea, cleanse the man, cure the woman and wake the child from death? One clue to that comes from the Old Testament.

First-century Jews would be far more alert to this possiblity than we are because of their familiarity with the Old Testament. They would know that one of the marks of the great prophet, Elisha, was his wonder-working. He too had healed a leper. He too had brought a young boy back from death. We will see more evidence of this later, but it is right to say that Jesus was doing works on a par with the great prophets of Israel such as Elisha. Whether He is more than that belongs to a later part of the story.

Meanwhile, it is worth exploring one more time the idea that Jesus Christ says to us in terrible times, "Believe me. Trust me."

We too want to say in those times, "Trust you to do what?"

Christ says to us, "Trust me to be in control of these terrible moments. Trust me to carry out my plans in spite of your circumstances."

And we say, "Jesus, I did call to you in dreadful circumstances. But my sea didn't calm, my demons did not leave, my sickness to not heal, my loved ones were not spared death. Were my pleas so different from those of your disciples or of Jairus or the woman with the issue of blood? Didn't I have as much faith as they did?"

Jesus replies, "Of course you did, my child. I never said you did not. I have not responded to your faith as I did to theirs. That does not make your faith less real. It requires that your faith be more real. It is your faith in me that matters, not my immediate granting of your heart's desire."

Learning to have that kind of faith in Jesus Christ requires that we too go through circumstances that we no longer control. We are going to have to look for Him in those circumstances to wake Him up to our danger. We are going to have to come up behind Him in some mob and clutch in desperation at His garments. We are going to have to fall before Him and plead with Him. We may have to go with Him to some hopeless house of death.

Suffering is not optional in this life. Suffering of body and soul, whether inflicted by nature, our fellow man, or ourselves, belongs to the human condition. The only choice is what meaning we put on it. We can believe that God is in control and can make suffering work for good; or we can become atheists and look upon suffering as a meaningless absurdity. By holding to the Christian teaching about God there is hope of somehow finding meaning and justice in our suffering. Atheists have no one to see about that. So, let us hold fast to Jesus as we have seen Him today in the Gospel of Mark: attentive, compassionate toward our griefs, and powerful to act when hope is gone.