Reading (Mark 5:21-43) and Meditation
The story today is a longish one with a few twists and turns in it – like life itself. So, rather than offering the reading followed by a meditation, this time the meditation is a series of comments as we follow the story through. The story begins:
When Jesus had again crossed over by boat to the other side of the lake, a large crowd gathered around him.
Do you notice how often in the Gospels Jesus goes “over to the other side”? I wonder if those who follow him find they can’t count on him always staying in one place? Or even always staying on their side? Anyway …
While he was by the lake [on the other side], one of the synagogue rulers (i.e. an important person and a big wig in the area], 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.” So Jesus went with him.
When you take into account the context of this incident in the Gospel and in the time, the first thought you might have at this point is, “Jesus, it seems, will help just about anybody.”
So far in the Gospel – still only a few chapters in, the list of those he has reached out to heal includes two men possessed by evil spirits – one a Jew who interrupts a synagogue service with a demonic rant, the other a Gentile (a Gentile already!) with so many demons inside him that he lives chained up in a cemetery … Simon’s mother-in-law sick with a fever … and a few others afflicted with leprosy and quadriplegia, both of which conditions would have been seen by many as rightful curses put upon them by God for their unclean lives – a curse Jesus now seems to say is wrong.
The list of his disciples includes fishermen and other ordinary folk, and among his friends are a whole slew of tax collectors and sinners. Along the way, he’s also broken not a few of the big sabbath laws and laws about purity. In the process, he’s attracted the suspicion of the lawyers in Jerusalem, and raised the ire of local synagogue leaders. They’re accusing him of being a servant of the devil, and they’ve already begun making plans to do away with him.
It seems the lines are being quickly and clearly drawn. And now one of them from “the other side” – this synagogue leader named Jairus, comes to him for help. And Jesus says yes. Let’s go, he says. Let’s go get your daughter well.
Can you imagine what people thought of that? It might be like the president of Pride Canada joining the media team of the Conference of Catholic Bishops for the sole purpose of helping the Catholic hierarchy get their message our more effectively. Or … thinking of hockey playoffs for a moment, maybe like Patrick Roy and Mario Tremblay after 25 years of estrangement, suddenly and happily getting together for a table hockey game and Uber Eats on the side, but without the cameras and publicity and staginess of it. Doing it for real.
But things like that are big news, aren’t they? We don’t expect things like that to happen on this side of the coming of the kingdom. Because that’s one thing the kingdom is – the overcoming of differences, the reaching out no matter who the other is when help is needed and can be given?
And so, back to the story …
A large crowd followed and pressed around him.
Of course, they do. They know where Jesus is going and who he is going with, and they want to see how this will play out. And isn’t that what we want – a crowd to follow us as we get involved, to join us as we speak to the issues, to look up to us as we start to play on a big stage?
But is it the big stage and the stories that draw a big crowd, that it’s all about? Because as soon as he has a chance for it, Jesus seems to turn back and to sabotage the big news he is about to become. Because listen to what happens next in the story:
A woman was there who had suffered
excessive bleeding for 12 years (in other words, a woman perpetually ritually
unclean). She’d seen and spent all she
had on all kinds of doctors, but instead of better they only made her
worse. When she heard it was Jesus
passing by, against all the rules of ritual purity she came up behind him in
the crowd, reached out, and touched the hem of his cloak thinking, “If I just
touch his cloak, I will be healed.” And
immediately her bleeding stopped, and she felt in her body she was healed.
At once, Jesus felt power go out from him. He turned around in the crowd, and said, “Who touched my clothes?”
His disciples said, “You see the crowd all around you, and you ask, ‘Who touched me?’ ”
But Jesus kept looking around and the woman, knowing what had happened to her, came and fell at his feet. Fearful and trembling, she told him the whole story. And Jesus said, “Daughter, your faith has made you well. Go in peace, and be free of your suffering.”
And …(and here’s a twist!) … while all this was happening, some men came from Jairus’ house and they said, “Your daughter is dead. Why bother the teacher any more?”
Wow! That’s hard.
The slightest touch makes all the difference to the way the story plays out. Close and personal contact means everything to the woman in need. Awareness of who’s nearby and what their needs are, means everything to Jesus. Close and patient attention to the place where he is, is the good news he brings to the world. But it also seems to undo every last hope Jairus has for what Jesus might do for his daughter, and for him and his wife.
Or does it? Because listen to how the story goes on:
Some men came from the house of Jairus. “Your daughter is dead,” they said. “Why bother the teacher any more?”
Ignoring what they said, Jesus told Jairus, “Don’t be afraid; just believe.” He broke away from the crowd – sent them all home, took only three disciples with him, and with Jairus continued on to his house. To the people weeping and wailing in grief outside the house, he said, “Why all this wailing? The child is not dead.”
As they laughed at him, he went into the house, kicked everyone out but Jairus, Jairus’s wife, and his three disciples, and went in to where the child was. He took her by the hand and said, “Little girl, I say to you, get up!” And right away, she stood up and walked around. They were all completely astonished – “all” being at first just the five of them. And he told them not to make a big fuss of it, and to give her something to eat.
Somehow both people’s needs get met – the unknown woman almost lost in the crowd along the way; and the daughter of the synagogue leader that everyone else’s attention is fixed on.
Does it seem that the size of the stage we act on is not the issue? Or maybe that the big stage is best handled by whittling it down to the size of the little? And that maybe the critical issue is simply the quality of attention given to the present and immediate need, wherever we are at the time, regardless of what it is, and who it involves?
I wanna think for a few minutes about what this might mean for us.
Parker Neale, our Church Council Chair recently lent me a book called Why Would Anyone Go to Church? It’s written by the founding pastor of a new church in downtown Hamilton – Eucharist Church, that’s causing quite a buzz among people in that part of the city, and I shared the following paragraphs of the book with a meeting of our Church Council earlier this week:
One of the most overlooked themes in the whole Bible is “place.” Israel’s story begins with God calling Abram to leave his father’s land and go to a particular place, and for his descendants the land is more than just real estate; it’s linked to the very promises and presence of God. Generations later when they are conquered by other nations and forced to leave their homes, they weep and lament. They aren’t just leaving their property; they’re leaving their tradition and story – their very identity.
Just think how we feel, locked out of our building for a year-and-a-half. Or, even more, think of what we know now of the effect on the people of the First Nations, of their displacement from their lands – the place, that we now occupy.
Place matters (the book continues).
The church used to know this. For most of her history, she was more than just a house of worship; she was the hub of an entire community. Church buildings were the place where neighbours connected, where art was created and shared, and where all people, regardless of their class, could find a home.
… How can the church help us reconnect to place?
Here’s a simple example…Every church I know has a coffee time after worship. What beans do you use and where do you buy them? Often, the cheapest you can find in the local supermarket. But what if you ran your beans through the filter of “place”? What’s the closest local coffee shop that roasts coffee beans? Could your church build a relationship with that shop and become a consistent buyer? How would that help you connect with the neighbourhood (and the neighbourhood with you)?
And we can run all sorts of things through this grid. What would happen if we organized small groups based on neighbourhood? If we cut out a few of the “Top Worship Hits” and sang more locally written songs? What if there was a team of people in the neighbourhood who prayerfully baked fresh bread on Communion Sunday? These small shifts can create a church community that feels homegrown.
…. When we integrate church and place, things get practical very quickly. We talk about helping refugees in Syria, and church says to us, “There’s a family from Liberia just down the street.” We post online about global conflict, and church says, “There’s a neighbourhood association that needs a new member.” We want to educate the world, and church says, “There’s an after-school tutoring program on Tuesdays.”
So where is your place? Probably closer than you think. We can romanticize other locations and downplay where we are. But more often than not, our place is right under our feet – or under maybe at the feet of some neighbour we haven’t yet listened and attended to quite closely enough.
In the late 1980’s a nun named Sister Mary traveled to India to meet with Mother Teresa. Sister Mary had thought she would join the famous nun in her mission to the poorest of the poor. But Mother Teresa’s advice surprised her. “No,” she said. “I want you to go back to your neighbourhood, find the poor, find your own Calcutta.”
Closing Prayer (from The Iona Community Worship Book, 1988)
L: Lord, you found out what we were doing
and you interfered.
“Come and do it together,
come and do it with me,” you said …
All: So thank you, Lord, for interfering
in our private lives.
L: You promised us nothing
by way of success, recognition,
possessions or reward.
“These will come at the right time
when you walk with me,” you said …
All: So thank you, Lord, for promising us nothing.
L: You gave us no resources,
apart from ourselves …
hands meant for caring,
lips meant for praising,
hearts meant for loving…
Aad the Holy Spirit
to make us restless until we change …
All: So thank you, Lord, for the essential gifts.
L: Then, just when we’ve got it right
as to where we should go
and what we should do;
Just when we’re ready to take on the world,
you come, like a beggar to our back door,
saying, “This is the way.
I am the way” …
All: So thank you, Lord, for coming again
and keeping us right and showing you care
for us and for all people.
Amen.
