Proper 8, Yr B (2024) The Rev. Karen C. Barfield

Proper 8, Yr B (2024)                                                             The Rev. Karen C. Barfield

Psalm 130                                                                          St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church

Mark 5:21-43

In the name of the one, holy, and living God:

            in whom we live, and move, and have our being. Amen.

As I was reflecting on today’s gospel texts,

            and the story of the hemorrhaging woman, in particular,

       I wondered about the effects of isolation

on the human soul

and the human community.

I remember one evening,

a few months after COVID vaccines had come out,

      I took our dog for a walk

and ran into a neighbor who was just getting home from work at a local hospital.

She looked a bit frazzled from the day

            as a bag of carry-out food dangled from her hand.

When I called out to her,

her face lit up and she opened her arms and said,

       “Can I give you a hug?”

“Can we do that now?”

“Sure,” I said,

            and we gave each other a big hug in the middle of the street.

That was not something that we,

as a society,

as a world,

       had been able to do for 15 months!

For the most part, people all over the world had been living in isolation for well over a year.

I think that isolation took a huge toll on all of us,

            and I think we are still seeing its ramifications years later.

I wonder if that isolation did not fortify already nascent suspicions and divisions worldwide. 

Today’s gospel reading is a story about deep need,

vulnerability,

       and healing touch.

It is a story that provides a window into our own day…

            and offers hope.

Jesus always offers hope.

We hear again of great crowds gathering to listen to the wisdom of Jesus.

One of the leaders of the synagogue sees Jesus

 and with the confidence of a respected man with power

      walks straight through the crowd and speaks to him:

“My little daughter is at the point of death.

            Come and lay your hands on her,

       so that she may be made well, and live.”

Now, even though Jairus has the where-with-all to part the crowd and approach Jesus,

            we see his deep pain and desperation

        as he falls at Jesus’ feet and begs him to come.

It is also worth noting that Jairus is likely taking some degree of risk

to boldly approach Jesus in the midst of a large crowd in broad daylight,

       since there are already tensions between Jesus and the Jewish leadership of the day.

As Jesus begins to move with the crowd to Jairus’ house,

            an unknown woman musters the courage

        to come and simply touch the hem of Jesus’ cloak.

She has been bleeding for 12 years.

That means that she has been deemed “unclean” for 12 years;

            she has been isolated for 12 years.

She has not been able to gather with her community,

            she has probably endured great pain with various treatments,

      she has lost all her money,

                        perhaps she has been living with a friend or even on the streets,

                  and she still grows worse.

In her timidity, shame, and desperation she silently makes her way to Jesus,

            trying to stay hidden in the crowd,

      and she reaches out and touches the hem of his garment,

                        trusting in his healing power.

Jesus feels power leave him,

            and he turns to see who it was.

She confesses her story to him,

            and with compassion Jesus claims her as “daughter”

      and sends her on her way,

                  with peace and wholeness.

Now, by this time word arrives that Jairus’ daughter, at 12 years-old, has died.

Why bother the teacher anymore?

            It is too late.

And yet Jesus makes his way to her bed,

            lifts her up by her hand,

                      and she begins to walk.

So…we see that whatever the circumstance of these people:

            Jesus heals them.

In each case,

he sees them for who they are,

       in their deep vulnerability with their deep need,

                        and he touches them…literally touches them.

It is up close and personal.

Jesus knew that people are often isolated in their pain and suffering.

And, in the case of the hemorrhaging woman,

            she was deemed “unclean” and unapproachable for 12 years.

Jairus’ daughter,

by the time Jesus arrived,

       would have been deemed “unclean” as she was reported to be dead.

Jesus didn’t care.

Jesus was about offering new life,

            and nothing would stand in his way.

I suggest that oftentimes pain isolates us, too.

We can feel alone in our own pain,

            and many times we don’t know how to be with others in their pain.

When I worked with folks in prison and their families,

            I would often hear that a pastor would inquire once about a family member in prison

      but then would not revisit the subject.

The result was that the family members felt judged and isolated.

As I look around at the world these days,

            I see a great deal of suffering.

Along with the suffering,

            I see a lot of anger and fear and division and violence.

Most likely the root of the anger and fear and division and violence is suffering.

It seems that we,

individually and collectively as human beings,

are finding ourselves in places of vulnerability and pain

       and are in need of healing.

Today’s gospel story seems to offer a window to the way through.

It begins with our seeking healing for ourselves.

In whatever way we can:

            whether with boldness

                        or timidity

                  or utter exhaustion

     let us seek out the life-giving Spirit of God…

in our personal prayer or meditation,

            in our communal worship here,

      as we receive the Body and Blood of Christ at Communion…

and let us ask God for healing…

            for strength on our journeys.

And then, once we begin to seek our own healing,

what if we take our cue from Jesus as to how to relate to others?

Vulnerability is a great equalizer.

Jairus, a man of power and means…

            the unnamed woman, a person ostracized and poor…

                      a young child with no resources of her own…

      they were all in need of Jesus’ healing as vulnerable human beings.

So are we.

            So are our communities.

                        So is the world.

Jesus responds to everyone with compassion.

He sees the person standing in front of him.

            He sees the ways that they are broken,

      and he offers them healing.

He touches them:

            both with his heart and with his hand.

What if, when someone lashes out at us in anger or frustration,

            instead of our responding with anger,

       we try to see the places where they are in pain.

Almost always I find that my own anger or the anger of another person stems from pain…

            either a place where someone has been hurt

                        or from a place of fear and vulnerability.

Can we open ourselves up to hear one another’s stories?

And simply listen.

And then hold their pain or their fear with them?

And maybe, just give them a hug?

Having one’s story heard without judgement or correction or justification can be healing in itself!

Our world is enduring a great deal of trauma these days…

            our community has endured a great deal of loss in the past few years…

       some of us have been through a great deal of pain or grief or worry in recent times.

Can we unite to each other and our neighbors in our mutual vulnerability and humanity?

Can we offer each other hope and healing in the name of a God who loves us all?

God meets us with compassion in our deep need and vulnerability…

            offering us the way of Grace, forgiveness, hope, and healing.

May we go and do likewise in a community and a world so desperately in need.  Amen.