June 30, 2024. Texts: Lamentations 3:22-33; 2 Corinthians 8:7-15; Mark 5:21-43.
On the other side was some really weird stuff. Actually, just getting to the other side was an adventure. That was last week’s story when Jesus and the Twelve took a boat into a testing storm, emerging safely from it more as a result of grace than faith.
When Jesus landed he was accosted by a demon infested man. It ended with a very satisfactory exorcism which made the man happy. But proving the point that you can’t please all of the people all of the time, the local folks thanked Jesus by asking to get out of their neighborhood.
This is necessary backstory. Because now, Jesus has crossed back into the territory of his own people who presumably are more welcoming to this son of their soil. And indeed, people showed up in droves reminiscent of Spring Street, Friday Harbor, on the Fourth of July.
Faith is evident here in the man who approached Jesus desperate to get help for his critically ill daughter. This man who was a prominent lay leader in the local synagogue was somehow able to get Jesus’s attention. Maybe he had a backstage pass, who knows.
Maybe people just let him through. Because who can stand in the way of parent’s desperation? Whether it’s in the ER of a busy hospital or at a border crossing fence, a parent will stop at nothing to help their child. Jesus started to follow the man to his home.
But then a woman had a desperate need too. When she touched Jesus’s robe it stopped him in his path. This is beginning to sound like one of those dreams where you have to get somewhere to accomplish something but you get stopped at every turn. But it’s a thing that Mark does in his gospel. One story gets wrapped around another story. And the tension grows.
There was already tension built in. The woman was bleeding. Her body was bleeding, and her purse too, bled dry by the expensive physicians who left her unhealed and unable to afford more help. She had nothing to offer Jesus, but she had faith that he could heal her disease. And he did.
The story continues to linger in a dreamlike state as Jesus stopped to ask who touched his robe. A prolonged conversation ensues with the disciples as Jesus stood and looked around. The disciples’ reply was dismissive. As if, why did this even matter, and who cares? But Jesus cared.
It is a premise woven into the fabric of our Judeo-Christian convictions – that God cares. Amid the backdrop of a multitude of capricious deities in the ancient world, God’s care was a one-off. Israel’s insistence that God knows the names of every living creature and cares for each one alike was unprecedented.
Lamentations 3 is evidence of this deep history with our God who cares. This book records a song of sadness and regret over the destruction and depopulation of Jerusalem by Babylonian forces in the early-mid sixth century BC. The community intoned their lament together.
It was a necessary act of confession. Necessary because until what has been broken is recognized and addressed, full healing is not possible. And sometimes the problem is even compounded.
Grief and affliction are part of being in relationship with someone, even God. Confession, redress, and repair are the means to healing. This is true for persons, communities, and nations.
The Israelite’s hearts were broken, but not their spirits. And so they sang on, of their belief in God’s care, and the hope of restoration. The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases.
Jesus cared for the woman, enough to go looking for her. He felt his power flowing to her, and it seems he also felt that her healing was not yet complete. Jesus persisted in looking for the woman. She felt his care and revealed herself over to him, telling him her whole truth.
Hers must have been a very human story of confession, and need for redress and repair. When she had finished Jesus told her that her faith in him had made her well. But by telling her whole truth she was truly healed from what had made her dis-eased.
Returning to the outer story of the desperate father, it was too late. Forget coming now, said the messengers. But Jesus cared. So he went. But not before he said believe me, she’s not dead.
Arriving, Jesus encountered a crowd enthralled with the business of death. His word that the girl was living was rejected. Sometimes it goes that way. You can’t make people care, right?
So Jesus summoned those who had the most business caring. The child’s parents, and his three leading disciples. Since she was not dead, he did not invite impurity when he took her by the hand and told her to get up. And she did, to the overwhelming amazement of those present.
Mark included a translation of the Aramaic words Jesus said to the girl. It may have been to be sure his audience understood that this was not some magical incantation. This was Jesus’s caring invitation to the little girl to rise and take up her life.
God cares, and so naturally Jesus cares. For caring purposes, Christians in Corinth began a mission of support for poor people in Jerusalem. Along the way, they lost the thread. Or began to second-guess their generosity. Paul reminded them, this is who you are now – the community that cares in Christ’s name. Not in grand gestures, but in attending to each one’s need as beloved unique, and worthy of our concern.
To follow Jesus and to bear his name means to respond with caring as he did. There is no shortage of opportunity. And with abundant applications of our faith and God’s grace, there is sure to be not only healing, but renewed life. Which won’t just be happening around us, but within us as well.