A young doctor had just opened his first office and began strategizing how he would build his
clientele. As he was pondering this his secretary told him a man was here to see him. The doctor
smiled confidently and told her to send him in. Pretending to be busy, he picked up the phone just
as the man came in.
"Yes, that's right. The fee is $200. Yes, I'll expect you ten past two. Alright. No later; I'm a very busy
man." He hung up and turned to the man waiting. "May I help you?" "Yes,"
said the man, "I’m here to install the phone."
I’m sure David Hemphill could have offered some tips about medical dignity to this young novice.
The woman with the bleeding problem in the Gospel reading we just heard might also have word or
two to offer. The text says she’d consulted many physicians in her twelve years of misery and
frustration. In fact, Mark uses the word “endured”—“she had endured much under many
physicians.” But then she comes into the presence of Jesus.
This story is actually embedded within another healing story. And these stories weave together with
layers of meaning that ride the years on down to us today. It begins shortly after Jesus’ delivery of a
demon-possessed man on the east side of the Lake of Galilee, in a Gentile region. Jesus and the
disciples cross over to the west side of the Lake. Word of his healings and exorcisms have spread
like the wind across the tall grass of Galilee. A crowd gathers quickly around Jesus as he steps onto
the shore. Mark says that a man named Jairus, who is one of the leaders of the local synagogue,
stepped up and then dropped down in front of Jesus. He said, “My little daughter is almost dead.
Come and lay your hands on her, so that she may be made well, and live.”
Now here’s where we might expect a linear resolution to the story as Jesus resolutely makes his way
to the girl’s bedside. But something interesting happens. Jesus starts off toward the girl’s home as
the crowd presses around him. Within the crowd is this woman with the bleeding problem. The text
refers to her as a woman who’d been suffering from hemorrhages for 12 years. There’s some
uncertainty as to what that means, but many Bible scholars speculate that she’d had an unabated
menstrual flow for all that time.
She’d spent all she had on physicians who failed. Her condition only worsened. And adding insult to
injury, the woman would also be considered ritually unclean, so she basically keeps herself hidden
in the crowd. It would have been unthinkable for a Jewish holy man to touch such a person. But like
so many others, she doesn’t know who she’s dealing with. She perhaps assumes that such a holy
man would be put off by her condition, but she believes that he must have healing power. She only
knows enough to reach out in hope and in faith that this will finally be the physician who will heal
her.
Like so many of us, she doesn’t fully understand who Jesus is. She’s not a theologian. But when we
reach out, despite how unclean and unworthy we feel, healing flows from him and makes us clean.
This brings up a point that many of us have tried to grasp. There has been a lot of division in the
church over theology. In fact within Protestantism theological disagreements are the most common
source of the thousands of splits that have taken place between denominations since the
Reformation. And this has led many to believe that theology is the source of the problem. We’re
inclined simply to say that theology wasn’t a big deal to Jesus.
But here’s where I have to disagree. Here’s why. If you look at the word theology, it means the
study of God. Presumably, when we’re engaging in good theology, we’re finding out more about the
God who made us, loves us, and redeems us, so we can love and worship Him all the more. It’s an
important thing. Without it, we’re susceptible to picking and choosing what we believe about God
and what we don’t, and we run the danger of worshipping a God of our own making rather than the
God described in the scriptures.
Furthermore, we may pick and choose which of God’s expectations for his beloved people are
acceptable to us, and which aren’t. This is something I’m convinced that Jesus wouldn’t support. In
fact he had some pretty strong words for those who’d lead people astray with wrongheaded ideas
about God and His ways. Theology, the study of God, is important. Good theology is important, as
long as we unite on the things that are central to the faith found in the Bible and handed down to us
by the apostles, and learn to be a little more gracious with each other where there’s disagreement
about less central matters.
Having said all of this, I think it’s terribly important to note that Jesus doesn’t require correct theology
of us to bring us to healing and wholeness. The bleeding woman is a great example of this. In all
likelihood she was going on the best information she had, that you don’t touch a holy man when you’
re ritually unclean. She didn’t understand that Jesus’ lavish love and grace trumps all those rules,
and in her desperation she anonymously reaches out to touch his cloak. Learning more accurately
about the Lord and his ways can come later. But for now, the power of God flows from the Lord of
healing into the woman, and she’s made whole. The literal translation of the Greek is, “she knew in
her body that she was healed.” The text says that Jesus felt power go out from him, and turned
around to ask who’d touched him.
When the woman finally prostrates herself in fear in front of him, he doesn’t reject her. Nor does he
say, “Hey, good job. You’ve correctly ascertained the meaning of sola fide, and benefited from a
non-ontological imputation of righteousness. OK? He says, “Daughter, your faith has made you
well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease.” And as she joyfully goes forth, I think we can rest
assured that she has a few questions for some of Jesus’ followers as to who he is and what he wants
from us, and becomes reasonably well-informed about this man.
The point is, it’s not the self-righteous, or the skeptic, or the one who thinks she knows all the
answers who benefits most from Christ’s healing power, but the one who reaches out in faith.
“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” Jesus the healer, doing his work.
But the story’s not over. As Jesus is still speaking, several from Jairus’ household come trotting up
and inform him that his daughter has died. “Don’t bother the teacher any more; it’s over.” And fresh
from the healing of the woman, Jesus says simply, “Don’t be afraid. Just believe.” Now, can you
imagine how this must have sounded to the people from Jairus’ house? “Uh, yeah right. Just
believe? Jairus’ little 12 year-old daughter is dead back there, and you say, ‘Just believe’?”
So Jesus tells everyone except for Peter, James, John to stay put while they go to Jairus’ house.
There they find more people of the household milling around, despondently weeping and wailing for
the beloved girl. And Jesus does it again. He says, “Why the commotion? The girl’s not dead, only
sleeping.” And some of the people break out in shocked, incredulous laughter.
So Jesus invites them to go into the house with him. I can almost picture this scene. The room is
silent. Little dust motes float in the sunlight angling through the window. And the girl lies still and
lifeless on her bed. Jesus walks up to the bed, kneels, and says gently in Aramaic, “Talitha cum.
Little girl, get up!” And she does. She sits up and looks in wonderment, but no fear, into the face of
this one who is strangely familiar, and who she simply wants to hug like some beloved uncle.
I realize that when I talk about Jesus there are certain verbs that I tend to use a lot. One of them is
the verb, “stunned.” But I can’t think of any better word to describe the response of the onlookers
who witness this miracle. They are utterly stunned. Their world has been changed forever. Jesus
tells them not to tell anyone. It’s not his time yet to be widely known. And I have to think he later
forgives them when they completely fail to follow this command. Would you have obeyed this one?
And the story closes with Jesus saying, “Give the girl some food.”
It’s amazing how much can be packed into a couple of brief, intertwined healing stories. But to
bottom line this account, this is all about who Jesus is. With a swift and masterful retelling of a
memory dear to the hearts of Peter and the others who told it, St. Mark captures two things of which
it’s important for all of us to be reminded.
First, Jesus is the Lord of healing, right here, right now, in this life, on this earth. As we reach out
our hand in faith, no matter how much we know or don’t know about him or about the Bible or its
characters or its teachings, he’s here to infuse us with healing in the way he thinks best for us. He’s
not here in the flesh as he was with the bleeding woman or Jairus’ daughter, but he’s sent his Holy
Spirit to accomplish again many things he did during his Incarnation, and even more. If you need
healing of some kind this morning, I encourage you to reach out your hand to him. In fact, we have
prayer teams who are eager to pray with you in the back of this room after you take Communion.
Jesus is waiting to meet you.
And second, Jesus is the Lord of life and the Lord of eternity. The raising of Jairus’ daughter from
the dead is a foreshadowing of the work he’ll do for all of us in the great Resurrection, when he
returns to this earth. Just as he raised this little girl to life, he’ll do the same for each and every one
of us who believe in his name. Do you believe this? Or is there a part of you that’s tempted to offer
that incredulous snicker? I pray the former. I think that, just like the onlookers at Jairus’ house,
many of us have a few surprises in store when Jesus returns.
And what a day it will be when we hear the loving voice of our Master calling us to open our eyes to
the new day, with the words, “My son, my daughter, time to get up. You have no idea of the things
that await you.”
clientele. As he was pondering this his secretary told him a man was here to see him. The doctor
smiled confidently and told her to send him in. Pretending to be busy, he picked up the phone just
as the man came in.
"Yes, that's right. The fee is $200. Yes, I'll expect you ten past two. Alright. No later; I'm a very busy
man." He hung up and turned to the man waiting. "May I help you?" "Yes,"
said the man, "I’m here to install the phone."
I’m sure David Hemphill could have offered some tips about medical dignity to this young novice.
The woman with the bleeding problem in the Gospel reading we just heard might also have word or
two to offer. The text says she’d consulted many physicians in her twelve years of misery and
frustration. In fact, Mark uses the word “endured”—“she had endured much under many
physicians.” But then she comes into the presence of Jesus.
This story is actually embedded within another healing story. And these stories weave together with
layers of meaning that ride the years on down to us today. It begins shortly after Jesus’ delivery of a
demon-possessed man on the east side of the Lake of Galilee, in a Gentile region. Jesus and the
disciples cross over to the west side of the Lake. Word of his healings and exorcisms have spread
like the wind across the tall grass of Galilee. A crowd gathers quickly around Jesus as he steps onto
the shore. Mark says that a man named Jairus, who is one of the leaders of the local synagogue,
stepped up and then dropped down in front of Jesus. He said, “My little daughter is almost dead.
Come and lay your hands on her, so that she may be made well, and live.”
Now here’s where we might expect a linear resolution to the story as Jesus resolutely makes his way
to the girl’s bedside. But something interesting happens. Jesus starts off toward the girl’s home as
the crowd presses around him. Within the crowd is this woman with the bleeding problem. The text
refers to her as a woman who’d been suffering from hemorrhages for 12 years. There’s some
uncertainty as to what that means, but many Bible scholars speculate that she’d had an unabated
menstrual flow for all that time.
She’d spent all she had on physicians who failed. Her condition only worsened. And adding insult to
injury, the woman would also be considered ritually unclean, so she basically keeps herself hidden
in the crowd. It would have been unthinkable for a Jewish holy man to touch such a person. But like
so many others, she doesn’t know who she’s dealing with. She perhaps assumes that such a holy
man would be put off by her condition, but she believes that he must have healing power. She only
knows enough to reach out in hope and in faith that this will finally be the physician who will heal
her.
Like so many of us, she doesn’t fully understand who Jesus is. She’s not a theologian. But when we
reach out, despite how unclean and unworthy we feel, healing flows from him and makes us clean.
This brings up a point that many of us have tried to grasp. There has been a lot of division in the
church over theology. In fact within Protestantism theological disagreements are the most common
source of the thousands of splits that have taken place between denominations since the
Reformation. And this has led many to believe that theology is the source of the problem. We’re
inclined simply to say that theology wasn’t a big deal to Jesus.
But here’s where I have to disagree. Here’s why. If you look at the word theology, it means the
study of God. Presumably, when we’re engaging in good theology, we’re finding out more about the
God who made us, loves us, and redeems us, so we can love and worship Him all the more. It’s an
important thing. Without it, we’re susceptible to picking and choosing what we believe about God
and what we don’t, and we run the danger of worshipping a God of our own making rather than the
God described in the scriptures.
Furthermore, we may pick and choose which of God’s expectations for his beloved people are
acceptable to us, and which aren’t. This is something I’m convinced that Jesus wouldn’t support. In
fact he had some pretty strong words for those who’d lead people astray with wrongheaded ideas
about God and His ways. Theology, the study of God, is important. Good theology is important, as
long as we unite on the things that are central to the faith found in the Bible and handed down to us
by the apostles, and learn to be a little more gracious with each other where there’s disagreement
about less central matters.
Having said all of this, I think it’s terribly important to note that Jesus doesn’t require correct theology
of us to bring us to healing and wholeness. The bleeding woman is a great example of this. In all
likelihood she was going on the best information she had, that you don’t touch a holy man when you’
re ritually unclean. She didn’t understand that Jesus’ lavish love and grace trumps all those rules,
and in her desperation she anonymously reaches out to touch his cloak. Learning more accurately
about the Lord and his ways can come later. But for now, the power of God flows from the Lord of
healing into the woman, and she’s made whole. The literal translation of the Greek is, “she knew in
her body that she was healed.” The text says that Jesus felt power go out from him, and turned
around to ask who’d touched him.
When the woman finally prostrates herself in fear in front of him, he doesn’t reject her. Nor does he
say, “Hey, good job. You’ve correctly ascertained the meaning of sola fide, and benefited from a
non-ontological imputation of righteousness. OK? He says, “Daughter, your faith has made you
well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease.” And as she joyfully goes forth, I think we can rest
assured that she has a few questions for some of Jesus’ followers as to who he is and what he wants
from us, and becomes reasonably well-informed about this man.
The point is, it’s not the self-righteous, or the skeptic, or the one who thinks she knows all the
answers who benefits most from Christ’s healing power, but the one who reaches out in faith.
“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” Jesus the healer, doing his work.
But the story’s not over. As Jesus is still speaking, several from Jairus’ household come trotting up
and inform him that his daughter has died. “Don’t bother the teacher any more; it’s over.” And fresh
from the healing of the woman, Jesus says simply, “Don’t be afraid. Just believe.” Now, can you
imagine how this must have sounded to the people from Jairus’ house? “Uh, yeah right. Just
believe? Jairus’ little 12 year-old daughter is dead back there, and you say, ‘Just believe’?”
So Jesus tells everyone except for Peter, James, John to stay put while they go to Jairus’ house.
There they find more people of the household milling around, despondently weeping and wailing for
the beloved girl. And Jesus does it again. He says, “Why the commotion? The girl’s not dead, only
sleeping.” And some of the people break out in shocked, incredulous laughter.
So Jesus invites them to go into the house with him. I can almost picture this scene. The room is
silent. Little dust motes float in the sunlight angling through the window. And the girl lies still and
lifeless on her bed. Jesus walks up to the bed, kneels, and says gently in Aramaic, “Talitha cum.
Little girl, get up!” And she does. She sits up and looks in wonderment, but no fear, into the face of
this one who is strangely familiar, and who she simply wants to hug like some beloved uncle.
I realize that when I talk about Jesus there are certain verbs that I tend to use a lot. One of them is
the verb, “stunned.” But I can’t think of any better word to describe the response of the onlookers
who witness this miracle. They are utterly stunned. Their world has been changed forever. Jesus
tells them not to tell anyone. It’s not his time yet to be widely known. And I have to think he later
forgives them when they completely fail to follow this command. Would you have obeyed this one?
And the story closes with Jesus saying, “Give the girl some food.”
It’s amazing how much can be packed into a couple of brief, intertwined healing stories. But to
bottom line this account, this is all about who Jesus is. With a swift and masterful retelling of a
memory dear to the hearts of Peter and the others who told it, St. Mark captures two things of which
it’s important for all of us to be reminded.
First, Jesus is the Lord of healing, right here, right now, in this life, on this earth. As we reach out
our hand in faith, no matter how much we know or don’t know about him or about the Bible or its
characters or its teachings, he’s here to infuse us with healing in the way he thinks best for us. He’s
not here in the flesh as he was with the bleeding woman or Jairus’ daughter, but he’s sent his Holy
Spirit to accomplish again many things he did during his Incarnation, and even more. If you need
healing of some kind this morning, I encourage you to reach out your hand to him. In fact, we have
prayer teams who are eager to pray with you in the back of this room after you take Communion.
Jesus is waiting to meet you.
And second, Jesus is the Lord of life and the Lord of eternity. The raising of Jairus’ daughter from
the dead is a foreshadowing of the work he’ll do for all of us in the great Resurrection, when he
returns to this earth. Just as he raised this little girl to life, he’ll do the same for each and every one
of us who believe in his name. Do you believe this? Or is there a part of you that’s tempted to offer
that incredulous snicker? I pray the former. I think that, just like the onlookers at Jairus’ house,
many of us have a few surprises in store when Jesus returns.
And what a day it will be when we hear the loving voice of our Master calling us to open our eyes to
the new day, with the words, “My son, my daughter, time to get up. You have no idea of the things
that await you.”
Lord of Healing, Lord of Life
Fourth Sunday after Pentecost
Fourth Sunday after Pentecost
June 28, 2009
Fr. Dan Tuton
Fr. Dan Tuton
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