Jesus hears her truth and calls her “Daughter”. Jairus seeks Jesus out because his little daughter is near death, and an unnamed woman who is near death is seen by Jesus and named Daughter. This woman’s identity is no longer tied to her chronic condition. Her identity is now tied to relationship—daughter.
Sermon—Mark 5:21-43
Pentecost 6B
Preached at Crosslake Lutheran Church, Crosslake, MN
It’s a joy to be with you today. I am with you here after spending a week at Women’s Week at Luther Crest Bible Camp with Pr. Becky and a few women from this congregation and other congregations across the region. It was encouraging and restorative to be in community with other women in the context of Bible Camp. So thank you for your prayers and support for Women’s Week, and I would encourage you to continue to pray for, support, and participate in outdoor ministry in this synod as you’re able, because it really is a deeply formative experience—at whatever age you are.
Today’s gospel reading continues our journey with Jesus on his way to Jerusalem, as he responds to the realities of those around him through words and actions with a message of God’s desire for restoration and relationship. Mark gives us quick peeks into Jesus’ divine identity and authority, even though Jesus seems to be trying to keep this a secret. As we read Mark, we’re paying attention to who people think Jesus is and how Jesus reveals himself.
Last week we heard the story of Jesus calming the storm, a story I’ve been using recently as I help congregations in Manitoba and Northwestern Ontario reflect on their identity and purpose. I think it’s a story that a lot of us can resonate with on various levels. If you missed Pr. Becky’s sermon last week—and even if you didn’t—I would encourage you to go back and watch the recording. Two points she drew from last week’s text that I want to hold up as we continue into this week’s text: In Jesus, God responds to the very real suffering—especially of those who are typically overlooked, unnamed and marginalized—with hope and restoration. And those who encounter Jesus do not remain the same.
Today’s reading follows Jesus and his disciples as they arrive on the other side of the lake. They have survived the storm and are able to get their feet onto solid ground again. And, of course, a crowd finds them. Evidently Jesus’ attempt to stay inconspicuous isn’t working, because word has gotten around and crowds are following him.
I lived in Minnesota for 8 years before moving to Florida for my first call. And I got to experience the Minnesota State Fair. I’ve been in crowds before and since, but since being in Minnesota, the Minnesota State Fair crowd is often what comes to mind whenever I read about the crowds that find and follow Jesus. Or, now that I live in Winnipeg, I’m trying to get to know the city a bit, and this summer I’m going to a couple of the Winnipeg Sea Bears Basketball games. The crowd leaving a sports arena after a game is another really clear example of what it feels like to have a crowd “pressing in on you.”
So, Jesus and his disciples are making their way through a crowd and a religious leader, Jairus, finds Jesus to ask him to come with him because his little daughter is “at the point of death.” Now, let me pause. Based on what we know of religious leaders and their relationship with Jesus, it’s interesting that Jairus approached Jesus—in public. And based on what we know of gender roles at the time, it’s interesting that Jairus begs Jesus to come heal his little daughter, who we later find out is only twelve years old. She’s still a child and hasn’t yet really benefitted society at all. In fact, when others from his household come and say that his daughter has died and so not to bother Jesus, I wonder if it points to Jairus seeking out Jesus against the advice of others. But he had heard about Jesus and hoped Jesus could help his little daughter, who is at the point of death.
And Jesus responds. He follows Jairus. Did he have a different plan that he set aside to follow Jairus? I don’t know. But as the crowd is pushing in on him, he stops to hear Jairus’ pain and request, and then he responds. Remember: In Jesus, God responds to the very real suffering in the world—especially of those who are overlooked or unnamed.
But then he gets interrupted. A woman who has been suffering for 12 years has heard about Jesus and is in the crowd. The system of medical support has failed her and she is desperate. We can read between the lines of the story and reasonably assume that her suffering has been consuming. It has affected her social position. She’s an unnamed woman and her suffering has to do with blood. Whether it was what we would categorize today as a woman’s health issue, or whether it was some other kind of blood disorder, culture and tradition had things to say about blood, and this woman’s physical suffering was likely also resulting in social, emotional, financial and spiritual suffering.
If you have experienced or witnessed a chronic illness or chronic condition of some kind—you can likely appreciate that it doesn’t just affect your physical health, it affects your mental, emotional, financial, social and spiritual health. It’s overwhelming and consuming. It can make it hard to be productive. It can feel like it erases your identity.
So this woman is desperate, but she also maybe doesn’t want to draw attention to herself. She, too, has heard about Jesus. She hopes that just by touching his cloak she might be healed. Jairus is desperate and throws himself at Jesus’ feet—stopping Jesus and demanding attention. The woman is desperate and perhaps thinks that she’s unworthy of Jesus attention so simply hopes to touch his cloak.
Jesus sees and responds to both of them. He is willing to pause in his response to the religious leader with position, influence and a name to respond to the unnamed woman with no position or influence. He turns his attention away from the one who demands to be seen, and sees the one who feels like she’s become invisible. The text says that he feels the healing power go out of his body, which I find slightly odd. I’m not sure if anywhere else in Jesus’ ministry we hear about the healing energy that is expended when Jesus heals someone. I have questions about what that exactly means. But, regardless, I think the point is that Jesus FEELS this woman’s transformation from pain to healing. She senses that her body has been healed, and so does he. So, he stops and asks who touched him. I mean—he’s Jesus…didn’t he know these kinds of things? But he stops and asks who touched him, and in that way invites the woman into the story. She’s not just someone in the crowd whose suffering and healing goes unnoticed. She is invited to claim her place in the crowd—to name that she’s been defined by her suffering and that a system that claims to be for healing has failed her, and that she is desperate.
Jesus hears her truth and calls her “Daughter”. Jairus seeks Jesus out because his little daughter is near death, and an unnamed woman who is near death is seen by Jesus and named Daughter. This woman’s identity is no longer tied to her chronic condition. Her identity is now tied to relationship—daughter. In reaching out to Jesus, being seen and naming her truth, she is no longer unnamed and alone in a crowd with her suffering. She is healed, validated, affirmed and restored to a relational identity. We are not the same after meeting Jesus. God’s promises make a difference in our lives now.
We’re not even to the end of the story yet but I want to lift up some questions. Do we who have heard about Jesus really seek Jesus out like Jairus did on behalf of those we love who are near the point of death? Are those of us with formal or informal titles, resources, privilege or authority willing to lean into seeking healing and restoration for those who cannot seek it for themselves. Are we paying attention to the young people in our world who are nearing the point of death and desperate for restoration and healing?
And maybe just as importantly—as the body of Christ and the presence of Christ in the world–are we willing to stop and see those who are unnamed in our midst, whose suffering has consumed them? How are we inviting those who have been defined by suffering, who have been failed by the systems of support around them, to share their stories of pain and transformation, and remind them that their primary identity is beloved child of God? Are we in tune enough with ourselves and the world around us to feel both the pain and the transformation of others?
The parallels in these two healing stories continue. Jesus goes on to the house of Jairus and goes into the room where Jairus’ daughter—whose name we also never get—is lying. We find out Jairus’ daughter is 12 years old…the same number of years the woman has been suffering. In a culture where women’s value was so tied to childbearing, both women’s bodies are restored to wholeness even though neither is bearing children—yet or any more.
And to both the woman and the daughter, Jesus acts more like a father than a doctor. Jairus seeks him out because he has heard about Jesus, and he treats Jesus like an on-demand physician. The woman seeks Jesus out because every other healer she has tried has failed her, and she hopes that this one might be different. But Jesus treats both of them like a father. He calls the woman ‘daughter,’ and listens to her pain. He reaches out to the daughter, lifts her out of bed, and encourages her to eat something. He models to both of them that their relational value is also being restored. They are not just nameless characters in someone else’s story. They are beloved daughters whose stories matter.
Like so many of these stories about Jesus, there is way more that could be said. But where do you find connection? Are you in the crowd, pressing in on Jesus and witnessing Jesus engage with others, but uncertain of what any of that has to do with you? That’s okay. Jesus sees you and welcomes you. Are you desperately trying to get Jesus’ attention as you cry out for healing and restoration for someone that you love? That’s okay. The words that Jesus says to Jairus might be what you need to hear today: “Do not fear. Keep on believing.” Are you holding onto suffering that has become consuming and seems like it defines all of who you are? That’s okay. You are invited to reach out and hear again the promises of God, and to remember that you are and always will be beloved. Are you nearing the point of death—physically or metaphorically? That’s okay. At the center of the gospel story is that Jesus enters into and defeats death, and calls us back to life.
The healing power of Jesus is flowing into the world…through us. We have been met by Jesus in the waters of our baptism, and we have been transformed. When we see and respond to the suffering of those around us, we share the healing power of Jesus with others. Jesus sees and feels our suffering. We are not just a face in the crowd. We are beloved children—each uniquely valued and cherished. When we gather together around word, water, wine and bread, we are in the presence of Jesus, who restores us to ourselves, to God and to one another. When we participate in restoration around us, we transmit the healing power of Jesus so that others can experience the abundant grace of God. And even when we approach Jesus like a doctor-for-hire who we expect to remove our pain or the pain of those around us on our timeline, Jesus sees us, hears and feels our pain, and re-centers us in the promise that we are first and always beloved children. Confident in our belovedness, let us boldly approach Jesus for the sake of healing, and with care and compassion advocate for those in need, and let us share the life-giving power of God’s love with all we encounter.