“…Daughter, your faith has made you well…” (Mark 6:34)
Daughters are special. Moms and daughters don’t always get on, but dads love their little girls. I know. It’s a stupid prejudice, but, as a teacher in public school and Confirmation classes, I find I’ve always been more tolerant of the girls when they act up than of the boys when they do the same. How does that lyric from Gigi go..? “Thank heavens for little girls…those little eyes so helpless and appealing…” I’m not a biological parent myself, but through the years I’ve sort of emotionally adopted a number of children, and they’ve all been girls. Even my pets have been female. And I can never get mad at any of them.
I’ll bet Jairus, the synagogue official in the Gospel lesson the RCL appoints for Pentecost 5, Year B (Mark 5:21-43) felt the same way. I’ll bet his little girl was just the Cheeze Whiz on the Philly steak sandwich of his life.[i] When his little darling takes ill, there’s nothing her daddy wouldn’t do to get her well again. He’d even be willing to kneel down in front of the hippie preacher from Nazareth and plead with him for a miracle cure.
Naturally, Jesus is ready and willing to come with this deeply religious man and do what he can for the sick child. Jairus has made it clear that this is a “lights and sirens” kind of emergency—this little girl is sick enough to die if help doesn’t come in a hurry. So I’m thinking they all took off for Jairus’ place at a pretty darn fast clip. Of course, people being people, folks noticed the hustling Messiah and, looking forward to seeing a good emergency situation, they started following Jesus, Jairus, and the other twelve to see how this thing would play out. After all, Jesus wasn’t always on the best of terms with the religious high muckety-mucks, so seeing the two of them racing off together must’ve caused some general interest.
As things would have it, just as this whole mob of folks set off to see an emergency healing miracle, Jesus suddenly gets a weird sensation. Somebody in the crowd has touched him and snatched away a little miraculous healing power without even asking. Jesus whips around to see who it is who thinks they’re entitled to his own heavenly-ordained brand of healthcare. It turns out to be woman who’d been suffering from hemorrhages for twelve years. I imagine things got a little tense when she revealed herself. The Bible says she confessed in “fear and trembling,” and no wonder. This was a pretty audacious act for her to commit. It’s one thing to be a religious leader and ask for help, but a woman was a second class citizen. A sick woman was obviously—according to the thinking of the day—on God’s naughty list and had no business approaching a holy man. A sick bleeding woman was even ritually unclean and her touch was considered a defilement.[ii]
What’s worse is this chick is holding up the parade. Obviously she doesn’t realize that there’s an emergency situation going on. Her little stunt has just cost precious time that could be the difference between life and death for Jairus’ daughter. In fact, by the time Jesus does reach Jairus’ house, he’s told the little girl has died. But Jesus has time for two miracles on the same day. Jairus’ daughter is also God’s daughter. So is the bleeding woman. Jesus even addresses her as “Daughter.” Jesus doesn’t make any distinctions between a religious leader and an “impure” woman. He has love for both.
Who deserves God’s healthcare plan? Anyone who is sick. Anyone. We so want to decide who is worthy and who is undeserving. We hate the idea that someone may get something they’re not “entitled” to or haven’t earned. We’re so hung up on justice that we’ve forgotten grace and mercy.
I look at this story as a reminder that God has no priorities. The infant baptized is loved by God just as much as the pious elderly saint. The long-time church member who served on the council, sang in the choir, cleaned up after the potluck suppers, and contributed liberally to the offering plate is no more a child of God than the pot-smoking teenager who vanished after his Confirmation vowing never to enter a church again if he could help it. The citizen and the alien, the straight and the gay, the captain of industry and the unemployed single mom—all are heirs of grace. When we realize this as a society, we too can be agents of healing. How marvelous to look at all of God’s people as a proud daddy looks at his darling baby girl with love, tenderness, and a desire to keep her safe and healthy.
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