Mark 5:21-43
21When
Jesus had crossed again in the boat to the other side, a great crowd gathered
around him; and he was by the sea. 22Then one of the leaders of the
synagogue named Jairus came and, when he saw him, fell at his feet 23and
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." 24So
he went with him.
And a large crowd
followed him and pressed in on him. 25Now there was a woman who had
been suffering from hemorrhages for twelve years. 26She had endured
much under many physicians, and had spent all that she had; and she was no
better, but rather grew worse. 27She had heard about Jesus, and came
up behind him in the crowd and touched his cloak, 28for she said, "If
I but touch his clothes, I will be made well." 29Immediately
her hemorrhage stopped; and she felt in her body that she was healed of her
disease. 30Immediately aware that power had gone forth from him,
Jesus turned about in the crowd and said, "Who touched my clothes?" 31And
his disciples said to him, "You see the crowd pressing in on you; how can
you say, 'Who touched me?'" 32He looked all around to see who
had done it. 33But the woman, knowing what had happened to her, came
in fear and trembling, fell down before him, and told him the whole truth. 34He
said to her, "Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be
healed of your disease."
35While he was still
speaking, some people came from the leader's house to say, "Your daughter
is dead. Why trouble the teacher any further?" 36But
overhearing what they said, Jesus said to the leader of the synagogue, "Do
not fear, only believe." 37He allowed no one to follow him
except Peter, James, and John, the brother of James. 38When they
came to the house of the leader of the synagogue, he saw a commotion, people
weeping and wailing loudly. 39When he had entered, he said to them,
"Why do you make a commotion and weep? The child is not dead but
sleeping." 40And they laughed at him. Then he put them all outside,
and took the child's father and mother and those who were with him, and went in
where the child was. 41He took her by the hand and said to her,
"Talitha cum," which means, "Little girl, get up!" 42And
immediately the girl got up and began to walk about (she was twelve years of
age). At this they were overcome with amazement. 43He strictly
ordered them that no one should know this, and told them to give her something
to eat.
Sermon:
“A Tale of Two Daughters”
Once upon a time, there were two daughters. The oldest was raised in a struggling Jewish
family. Though they didn’t always have
enough food to go around, they were happy.
Her parents were kind to her. They
took her and her siblings to temple. She
didn’t have the nicest clothes, but she was clothed in love and acceptance from
her family, and that was enough for her.
As this daughter grew up, she began to dream of having
daughters of her own. She knew that soon
her father would arrange a marriage for her and, though the thought of some
stranger was terrifying, it was also incredibly exciting. Before long she would have a family, the
highest status she could achieve in her time.
She knew this would all happen soon because she was now a woman,
biologically speaking. But after a
couple of weeks, this daughter became worried.
The bleeding wouldn’t stop.
Her family tried to hide it at first, saying she had a
stomach ache when her friends came to visit, and claiming she was busy working
when suitors came calling. But after a
month, they feared the worst. She would
not stop bleeding. This wasn’t just a
health crisis, though it was certainly that.
This was a faith crisis – in those days, bleeding made a Jewish woman ritually
unclean. Constant bleeding made her
constantly so. Perhaps they could abide
the judgment of friends and neighbors, but this poor family feared the judgment
of God.
The father came to his daughter’s bed one day. As he took in her anemic, exhausted frame, he
trembled with sorrow. His heart broke as
he broke hers with his words, “You cannot
stay here any longer, daughter. We
cannot afford the cost of making you well.
But more than that, we cannot afford God’s judgment on this house –
there are the other children to consider.
You will not be a wife. You will
not be a mother. You must go, and pray
for God’s mercy on your impurity.”
The daughter’s spirit was as broken as her body. But she got up, and looked her father in the
eye one last time, not daring to touch him and make him unclean. She cried, but wouldn’t wipe the tears away
in defiance. And she left her
family. At 12 years of age, she was a
daughter no more.
At this same time, another daughter was born. She lived a very different life than the
first. This daughter was born into a
wealthy family. Her father Jairus was an
official of the synagogue. They lacked
for nothing – rich food, luxurious clothing and, most importantly, love. But when she was 12 years old, this daughter
started feeling ill. It began with
chills and a fever, but by day three, she had excruciating pain in her stomach
and couldn’t keep anything down. A week
later, she could barely lift her head, and was only taking in tiny amounts of
water from a cloth held to her mouth.
Her father Jairus was desperate. He tried every healing ritual he knew. He prayed and prayed. One day, a neighbor came and told him that
the Jewish healer from Nazareth had just arrived to town. Before he even had time to think, Jairus was
out the door and sprinting to the Sea of Galilee, where his boat would
arrive. He would try anything to save
his daughter.
At the same time, our first daughter was sleeping in a
little dirty corner of town and heard a commotion. She was still bleeding – now a woman in her
mid-twenties, who looked much older than that.
She was filthy, hungry, and desperate to be saved from such an abysmal
existence. She managed to focus enough
to hear what the crowd was saying, catching snippets like, “Jesus,” “healer,”
and “Sea of Galilee.” It was her last
hope to be made well. She pushed through
the crowd, ignoring the cries of outrage that followed her touch. She ran, as fast as her weary legs would take
her.
But Jairus got there first, and sprinted up to this healer
named Jesus. The crowd parted for
him. He was, after all, a man of
privilege. But that didn’t matter now. All that mattered was saving his
daughter. He threw himself at the feet
of this healer from Nazareth and begged, “Please,
healer! My little daughter is about to
die. I’ve tried everything. Come, lay hands on her, that she may be made
well and live.” Jesus reached down
and helped the desperate dad to his feet.
And they began to make their way through the crowd to Jairus’ house.
The other daughter watched, weeping for a father who
cared for his daughter as hers never had.
As they passed in front of her, her hand reached out of its own will,
grabbing the tattered robe of that healer.
“Maybe if I just touch his robe,
I’ll be made well,” she told herself.
She hoped he wouldn’t even notice that she’d made him unclean and
touched him. She hoped for an invisible
healing – she was so used to making herself invisible.
But the healer stopped when she touched him. She no longer cared, though. She felt free! The bleeding ended, just as suddenly as it
had come 12 years earlier. She trembled,
not with fear, but with joy.
“Who
touched me?” Jesus asked. She threw herself at his feet, just as
Jairus had done, and told him everything: of her family, her hopes, her
illness, and her shunning. He looked at
her with pure love and acceptance and said, “Daughter.” Daughter!
She wept to be called this once more.
“Daughter,” he said, “your faith has made you well. Go in peace, be healed of your disease.”
She stood on newly strengthened limbs, and turned to
leave. But just then, someone ran up to
Jairus saying, “Sir, your daughter is
dead. Don’t trouble the healer any
longer.” His world collapsed, just
as the other daughter’s world was made right.
But as he turned to leave, Jesus touched him on the shoulder, and said, “Do not fear, only believe.”
So they continued the journey to Jairus’ house, and
could hear the weeping and wailing already.
The newly-healed daughter followed at a distance, wanting to see what
would happen to this man’s daughter. Jesus
told the mourning crowd that the little girl was not dead, but sleeping. And delirious with grief and anger, they
laughed at him. But he went into the
little girl’s room anyway.
Seeing her small frame on the bed, he reached out and
touched one of her folded hands, thus being made unclean for the second time
that day, by a second daughter. She
stirred at his touch! “Little girl,” he said gently, “get up.”
Up she got; another daughter restored.
She came out to the mourning crowd and they hugged and
kissed her with joy. The other daughter
watched, from a little distance. She
didn’t have a family to cheer her recovery and wholeness. But she was not bitter. She wept with joy for that little girl
getting the chance at a life she never had.
And she turned and walked away, head held high, breathing in the warm
afternoon air, feeling at peace. She was
a daughter of Israel. Jesus had made it
so.
She realized then that she had been a daughter all along
– that a loving God had claimed her as a child from her first breath to her
last. She understood in her newly-whole
body that she was loved and accepted by her Creator. This daughter then pitied her father for the
terrible choice he felt he had to make in shunning her. But mostly, she pitied that he believed
that’s what God wanted him to do. God
doesn’t disown daughters – God brings daughters home again. God makes them whole. n
This tale began, “once upon
a time,” but it’s no fairy tale. That
healer from Nazareth still creates family out of those who are forgotten. Jesus still works wholeness out of
brokenness. He still calls to all of the
children of this world, even us, saying, “Do not fear, only believe.” Believe
we are all daughters. Believe we are all
sons. Believe are all God’s own, no
matter what life brings.
If that is true, then what could we possibly have to fear? Amen.
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