"Living In Faith" July 2, 2006 Pentecost 4, Proper 8

(First, read the text for this sermon: Mark 5:21-43)

Much of life is routine. But we also experience times of exuberant joy, and times of crushing sorrow.

Last weekend was like a fairy tale for Patty and me! Many of you know that our son, Nathan, was married to Renee, and the rehearsal dinner and the wedding and the reception all were perfect! There was time during the weekend to visit with family and friends who live far away. What a joyous time! You’ve known such experiences!

But then, when I got back into the office this past Tuesday, one of the first e-mails I encountered let me know that Jean Shivel’s son, Glen, had died. He was only in his 50s, and had been battling cancer. You’ve known sorrow like that too.

We experience long stretches of “routine” time, punctuated by joys and sorrows. Always we are hungry. Always we are in need. Each Sunday morning we pray for a long list of names of people needing healing. In all the experiences and hungers and needs of human life, what does it mean to live in faith? This morning’s stories from Mark give us some concrete examples of people engaging in that struggle.

We’re in the fifth chapter of Mark this morning. You may remember that, in Mark, the action is fast and furious. There is no story of Jesus’ birth in Mark. Jesus appears suddenly, fully grown. The first story is of Jesus’ baptism. Then, immediately, Jesus begins healing and preaching and teaching. (Indeed, you may remember how often we encounter the word, “immediately,” in Mark.) There is tremendous urgency in this version of the Jesus story.

By the time we get to chapter five in Mark, Jesus has been healing and teaching, and those watching and listening have been reacting with amazement and astonishment. That is true for Jesus’ disciples as well! No one understands who Jesus is with any clarity (and, often in Mark, Jesus’ closest followers are the most obtuse). Meanwhile, the religious and political powers that be, the Pharisees and the Herodians, are most concerned with keeping things quiet, to placate the Roman occupying army. Since Jesus is stirring up civil unrest, he’s a threat that must be eliminated. For two chapters, by this time, the Pharisees and Herodians have been plotting “how to destroy” Jesus (ever since Mark 3:6).

Who is Jesus? There is great confusion. But in all of this foment, it is obvious that people are drawn to whatever it is that Jesus is offering. (Always we are hungry. Always we are in need.) We read: When Jesus had crossed again in the boat to the other side, a great crowd gathered around him; and he was by the sea.
Then one of the leaders of the synagogue named Jairus came and, when he saw [Jesus], fell at his feet and begged him repeatedly, "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."

What desperation! The synagogue leader is an important and probably affluent man. He is well versed in the ways of Jewish worship and ritual, and of all the expected and accepted ways that God routinely works. But this is not routine time. He is a father in anguish. His 12-year old little girl is dying. And so, Jairus is on his face, in the dirt. He is hanging onto the feet of this astonishing and bewildering teacher and healer, pleading with him to bring healing to his daughter.

Jesus goes with Jairus, towards his house. But then Jesus is interrupted, by another person in her own desperation for healing! We read this: And a large crowd followed him and pressed in on him. Now there was a woman who had been suffering from hemorrhages for twelve years. She had endured much under many physicians, and had spent all that she had; and she was no better, but rather grew worse. She had heard about Jesus, and came up behind him in the crowd and touched his cloak, for she said, "If I but touch his clothes, I will be made well." Immediately her hemorrhage stopped; and she felt in her body that she was healed of her disease. Immediately aware that power had gone forth from him, Jesus turned about in the crowd and said, "Who touched my clothes?"

Many of you can identify with the woman’s frustration! Many of you know what it’s like to suffer from an ailment, and to make appointments with a string of physicians, and to follow their suggestions for treatment, and to find that you’re not any better! But this is more than frustration. The woman is desperate enough to violate sacred social and ritual boundaries. She is bleeding, and so, in that culture, she is unclean. By touching Jesus, she makes him unclean as well! Jesus is now no longer able to enter the synagogue without undergoing a ritual washing!

Immediately aware that power had gone forth from him, Jesus turned about in the crowd and said, "Who touched my clothes?" What courage it takes for the woman to identify herself! The woman, knowing what had happened to her, came in fear and trembling, fell down before him, and told him the whole truth. And here is what Jesus says to her: "Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease." What grace!

Does a physical cure always happen as dramatically and immediately as it does in this story? Of course not! Often times we pray fervently and faithfully, and still our loved one dies.

But is healing broader than that? Does healing happen, even while you are enduring a long period of illness or disability? Is there healing when there is no physical cure? The stories from Mark persuade us to entertain such possibility.

There is a Greek word that is translated “make well” three times in this morning’s passage. Here’s the thing: this word is also, often, translated, “save,” elsewhere in the New Testament. Think of how this broadens the whole conversation. What if we read that the synagogue ruler begs, "My little daughter is at the point of death. Come and lay your hands on her, so that she may be saved, and live"; and if the woman thinks to herself, “If I but touch his clothes, I will be saved”; and if Jesus says to the woman, “Daughter, your faith has saved you; go in peace and be healed of your disease.”

Certainly, God wants us to be cured of our illnesses. We hunger for that! But healing is more than physical cure. Healing is part of salvation. It’s shalom, wholeness; healing and salvation. “Go in peace,” Jesus tells the woman, which means, “Your standing with God has been restored.” Jesus is not promising her that suffering is eradicated. But her relationship with God has again been made whole. She is experiencing salvation!

And that points us to what it means to live in faith, whether we’re experiencing those long stretches of “routine” time, or celebrating joys, or enduring sorrows.
As the story continues, Jesus turns his attention back to the synagogue official. You remember that Jesus eventually restores the man’s daughter to health. But the crucial exchange happens before that. We read: While [Jesus] was still speaking, some people came from the leader's house to say, "Your daughter is dead. Why trouble the teacher any further?" But overhearing what they said, Jesus said to the leader of the synagogue, "Do not fear, only believe."

That’s what it means, to live in faith. “Do not fear, only believe.”

You see, the people who have come from Jairus’ house assume that what always happens has happened again. The girl is dead. End of story. Why trouble the teacher any further?

But God is about breaking barriers, and bursting assumptions. Look at how that happens. First – the woman in the story has the audacity to touch Jesus, even in her unclean state, even when that will make Jesus unclean! And God in human flesh welcomes her interruption! He welcomes and affirms her faith. Then – the synagogue leader is still desperate for Jesus to visit his house, even though Jesus is now in an unclean state. In his hunger and need, all rules are out the window! And God in human flesh welcomes and encourages Jairus’ faith.

Faith does not mean assenting to a set of intellectual propositions that prove orthodoxy. Living in faith means openness to what God is doing. It means awareness of our needs and hungers. It means alertness to how God is bringing healing.

“Do not fear, only believe.”

In the name of God, who is Father and Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.

Pastor Andy Ballentine
St. Stephen Lutheran Church
Williamsburg, Virginia