Christianity
started out as an outlaw religion—which is really kind of cool. I think we lost
a bit of our groove when Constantine made us legal back in 325. Fortunately, in
our so-called “post-Christian” culture, we have the opportunity to get back in touch
with our radical roots and appreciate Jesus for the wonderful rule-breaker that
he is.
In
the story the Revised Common Lectionary appointed for Pentecost Five (Mark
5:21-43), we get a chance to see Our Lord smash through some barriers and love
some folks who shouldn’t be loving him.
The
story starts out with a pretty important guy named Jairus who was a leader of
the synagogue. Back in chapter three of Mark’s Gospel, if you’ll recall,
religious leaders weren’t too keen on Jesus. They didn’t like that he healed on
the Sabbath (3:6) and they even suggested that he was demonically possessed
(3:22). So this dude really has no business getting involved with Jesus, except
it seems that his little girl is deathly ill. At this point denominational and
cultural differences go out the window. The guy is a parent, and as a good dad he’s willing to fall at Jesus’ feet, beg,
grovel, and eat dirt off a rusty spoon if only his child can be made well. Jesus
doesn’t hold the disdain of the other high muckety-mucks against Jairus, and
agrees to go immediately to see the sick little girl. As always happens with
Jesus, a big crowd tags along to see how this will play out.
While
this parade is marching to Jairus’ place, a lady who has been suffering from
hemorrhages for a dozen years takes this opportunity to sneak up on Jesus and
try for a healing of her own. Any decent person reading this story today would certainly
have pity for this gal. In the world of the text, she was already a second
class citizen just because she was a woman, but layer that with the fact she’d
been bleeding like stuck pig (making her ritually impure in Jewish eyes because
she was in contact with blood), and the common belief that God obviously hated
her guts because he punished her by making her bleed, and you have one very
dejected lady. It’s no wonder she snuck up on Jesus from behind. I don’t think
she’d feel as if the rabbi would even bother to give her a second look given
her condition. So she reaches out in faith and desperation for the hem of Jesus’
garment and finds herself immediately healed.
The
woman is pretty jazzed about her healing until Jesus suddenly whips around and
asks, “Who touched my clothes?” The other disciples think this is a pretty silly
question since there’s about fifty nosey looky-loos walking along the road with
them, and people are crowding and touching him all the time. But Jesus knows
something important has happened and so does the formerly bleeding woman. Knowing
she’s an outcast who has just done something that’s just not done in her society, she falls on her face and confesses to
Jesus. Jesus, however, does not chastise her. Rather, he praises her for her
faith, telling her it is that very faith which has made her well. The outcast
now becomes the heroine of the story, which is pretty cool if you ask me.
Just
as things look to be going well, messengers arrive from Jairus’ house to tell
the party that the little girl has already died and that Jesus need not be
troubled by going any further. Jesus’ response? “Do not fear, only believe.”
At
Jairus’ house the Jews are doing what Jews do in a moment like this—they’re
weeping, wailing, and generally making one heck of a fuss over the death of
this little girl. I have to say, having been to a Jewish funeral, Jews really know
how to mourn. Nobody tries to hide their feelings. They just get it all out in
the open—tears, snot, screams, moaning, rocking back and forth, the whole nine
yards. Personally, I think this is rather healthy. But I digress.
At
this point in the story Jesus stops the carnival that has been following him
and takes only his closest buddies, Peter, James, and John, with him to the
house. Even these guys he leaves outside the child’s bedroom, taking only mom
and dad with him. He then takes the daughter’s hand (another outlaw act against
the purity code if you believe she was already dead) and says, “Little
girl, get up.’ To everyone’s amazement, the child revives. Jesus tells her
parents to feed her, which is what parents are supposed to do—nourish their
children in all things. Including faith.
If
Jairus had believed the report he heard, he would be burying his daughter.
Instead, he had hope in Jesus Christ for the salvation of his child. On this
Fifth Sunday of Pentecost in 2015, ELCA Presiding Bishop Elizabeth Eaton has
called for a day of repentance and mourning following the June 17th
racially-motivated killings in Charleston, South Carolina. I think it’s always a
healthy idea to take a page from our Jewish brothers and sisters’ book and
openly mourn when life is taken senselessly. But what I will be repenting on
this day—in terms of race relations in America and many other issues—is a
sinful lack of faith. In my fifty-five years of life I have seen much progress
in racial relations in our country. I also see that much more of the journey to
justice and equality is yet to be taken. What must be repented is our fear that
we cannot go the distance, that things will never change. If we stifle our hope
and believe the reports of the world, we will bury many more of our children.
In Jesus Christ, who broke the barriers and brought life and healing and
forgiveness, we have hope of victory.
I
pray for the members of Mother Emanuel AME of Charleston, who exemplify that
hope and are teaching us all how to be Christians. Do not fear, only believe.
Thanks
for stopping by.
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