There is a kind of desperation present in these two intertwined stories from Mark’s Gospel. It is the desperation of knowing that time is running out, the desperation of knowing that most of the available paths to healing have been tried, to no avail.
As Jesus and the disciples cross the lake again, word had already spread of his power to cast out demons, heal, and restore to wholeness and life. We don’t know for how long Jairus’s little daughter had been sick, but we can imagine the countless prayers and remedies and sleepless nights at her bedside. Now, in desperation, clinging to hope, this leader of the local synagogue appeals to the itinerant teacher and healer. Down in the dust at Jesus’s feet, Jairus begs Jesus to come. “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.”
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| Photo by Olga Subach on Unsplash |
Jesus goes with him, but their journey back to the little girl’s bedside is interrupted, and at great cost. As they walk, the crowd pressing in, a woman moves through the crowd toward Jesus. She, too, understands that there is something powerful about him. She, too, is desperate for healing and wholeness. The woman had tried everything. In the twelve years that this persistent bleeding had afflicted her, she visited doctor after doctor. Now she was worse off than before, with both her resources and her strength depleted.
I imagine that the woman saw Jesus, saw Jairus leading him, saw the crowd and assumed that any interruption, any spoken request for her own healing would go unnoticed, or be dismissed. After all, she wasn’t an important community leader like Jairus, and she didn’t have anyone there to advocate for her. Having tried everything, though, it was worth trying this - so she reached out and touched Jesus’s cloak as the crowd jostled and murmured around her.
In that moment, as she brushed her hand against Jesus’s clothing, two things happened. She immediately felt that the flow of blood in her body had been healed, and Jesus immediately felt that power had gone forth from him. As he spun around and scanned the crowd, leaving the disciples bewildered by his request and Jairus anxious at the ticking clock, the woman came forward in fear and trembling. After years of having her own body explained to her by experts, after years of isolation and distress and shame, after this anonymous grasp at healing, she is given space in front of the gathered community to speak for herself the whole truth.
Jesus calls her “daughter”, celebrates her faith and her healing, and sends her off in peace. A happy ending for her, certainly, but for Jairus it was an interruption that cost his little daughter her life. As Jesus is speaking to the woman, he overhears the conversation next to him, where friends from Jairus’s house had come to tell him it was too late - his daughter had died. His desperate, last-ditch effort had failed.
But Jesus continues forward, a spark of hope - “Don’t be afraid, keep on trusting.” This is not the end of the story. Leaving the crowd behind, Jesus and a few of the disciples follow Jairus into the house, where the work of mourning has already begun. And yet, Jesus continues into the girl’s room, takes her by the hand, and says, “Little girl, get up!” And she does. This little girl, born in the same year as the woman’s bleeding had begun, is also restored to wholeness and life by an encounter with Jesus.
We too are desperate and hopeful for the healing and wholeness Jesus brings. Perhaps, like the woman, we know the challenges of chronic pain, of endless bills, of fruitless visits to doctor after doctor. Perhaps, like the little girl’s family and friends, we know the anguish and helplessness of watching someone we love grow sicker and sicker. We know the sting of death and the weight of grief.
In desperation and trust we, too, seek out Jesus. Clinging to hope we pray, and gather together, and look and listen for signs of his presence with us.
When we gather for worship, we gather around the word and the font and the table, hoping to catch a glimpse of the one who heals us and makes us whole. There is no need to be afraid. Keep on trusting. This is not the end of the story. God’s abundant mercy is for you. God’s grace is for you. Wholeness is for you.
Around the Communion table, when you reach out your hands, you, too, will touch Jesus. The smallest morsel of bread and the tiniest sip of wine is enough. In this we receive the promises of Jesus - that we are seen, and loved, and forgiven. That nothing can separate us from the love of God. That the wholeness and life that God desires for all of creation is for you, too.
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