On this fifth Sunday after Pentecost, we’re looking the characters in Mark 5:21-43, the story of Jesus healing a woman suffering from chronic bleeding and restoring a young girl to life. These miracles are glimpses of God’s kingdom breaking in, and yet we continue to wrestle today with the reality that miracles and healing do not always occur as we desire.
This week, I drew from Kathryn M. Schifferdecker in her Dear Working Preacher column, David Schnasa Jacobsen in this commentary at Working Preacher, and Debie Thomas in her lectionary essay, “Not Dead But Sleeping.”
Grace to you and peace from the One who was, who is, and who is to come, Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen
For the sermon today, I’m going to look at this Gospel reading from Mark, and as we walk through this story, I want you to think about the characters. Think about what’s going on for each of them, how they experience what’s happening, and then think about how you can relate. Where are you in this story? Who do you connect with?
Today’s reading begins with Jesus and his disciples on a boat, just like last week’s stories. As far as we know, this particular boat trip was uneventful – no storms or walking on water or anything – but as usual, when they land, there’s a crowd there waiting for Jesus.
There’s something compelling about him, something drawing crowds to come out to hear him, to follow him from place to place. Think about what it’d be like to be in that crowd.
Do you ever wonder what they were looking for? Maybe it’s healing—well, we know that for at least one in this crowd. Maybe it’s just something to do that day, like we went to the fair on Friday.
We don’t know specifically who these people are, but in general, they’re likely lower-class, poor peasant types, subsistence farmers, people without a lot of options in life. They think of themselves as God’s chosen people, but they’re also living in a conquered nation, burdened by Roman taxes and laws.
So, I think they’re probably looking for hope, for a messenger from God. They’re looking for evidence that God still cares for them, and here’s Jesus, proclaiming God’s kingdom is coming, and giving evidence by his miracles.
I don’t know exactly what Jesus’ teaching pattern looked like that day, if he was preaching from the boat to the people on the shore, or walking down a street, or maybe sitting on a hill, or whatever, but as he’s there with the crowd gathered around, an emergency comes up. A girl is sick at the point of death, and her father has come to fetch Jesus and beg him to come help her.
This man, this father named Jairus, is probably not like the rest of the crowd. Mark describes him as a synagogue leader, so he’s prominent in the community, probably better off financially, more educated than most people there.
I’m speculating, but with the attitude most of the religious authorities seem to have about Jesus, coming to him for help probably wasn’t Jairus’ first option. Likely he’d tried asking the physicians for help, prayed for his daughter himself, maybe asked his neighbors for some options.
Now he’s desperate, because she’s not getting better. She’s on her deathbed, so he comes to Jesus as his last option, fighting his way through the crowd to throw himself at Jesus’ feet and beg for his help.
And Jesus—without any hesitation—goes with him. Jairus has hope! Now he just has to make it home in time…but on the way, suddenly Jesus stops, asking, “Who touched my clothes?”
Here, for the first time in the story, Mark mentions the disciples, Jesus’ inner circle. I’ve wondered sometimes what they do while Jesus is teaching. Sometimes they’re listening and learning, but there are hints that often, they’re handling logistics, helping keep people organized. I imagine they’re probably the ones setting up the tents and cooking dinner while Jesus is talking with people. They’re the ones who do things like collect the leftovers after Jesus feeds a huge crowd.
Here, the disciples are the practical ones trying to keep Jesus on track. “Who touched my clothes?”
“Well, Lord, there’s a big crowd here, and plenty of people are bumping into you. Let’s keep going – remember, dying girl? Let’s go!”
But someone else had come to Jesus for healing, a woman who’d been bleeding for 12 years, and unlike Jairus, Mark doesn’t give us her name. He does tell us she used to have some wealth, but she’d spent it all trying to find a cure for her hemorrhages. This woman might be the easiest character to relate to, because we understand chronic illnesses and high health care costs. We understand what it’s like to be in pain, and to ask for healing, to pray.
She’s suffered a lot, not only from the medical problem itself, but as a bleeding woman, she’d been ritually unclean for over a decade. She would have been excluded from the temple. She can’t touch anyone without making them unclean too. Her cultural setting is different than ours, but we understand isolation. She knows that if she goes to the disciples or tries to approach in the open, she could be turned away. So she sneaks up behind Jesus and to touch his cloak.
For Jairus, coming to Jesus required humility, humbling himself to approach someone of inferior status. For this bleeding woman, approaching Jesus means acting boldly, audaciously, even breaking the rules. But she’s desperate enough to do whatever it takes, determined to go to the only one she hopes can help.
When she’s healed, then she steps into the open and confesses to Jesus. Mark says she told him the whole truth, including the risks she’d taken and the lines she’d crossed.
She’s healed, but there’s still vulnerability in her confession. When Jesus hears her story, he tells her that her faith has made her well. Her audacity in approaching Jesus results in healing and blessing.
But while Jesus is taking the time to talk with this woman, messengers arrive to tell Jairus it’s too late; his daughter has died. Mark doesn’t tell us how he responded, but I don’t think it’s hard to imagine a combination of grief and resignation, along with anger at the woman for interrupting and even at Jesus for stopping to listen to her.
Jesus tells him, “Do not fear, only believe.” Perhaps that’s a clue to the disciples, who have heard Jesus tell them similar words after he calmed the storm in the boat. It’s the kind of platitude that if we say it to people, it provides as much irritation as comfort, but Jesus can back it up.
I don’t know how Jairus takes it, but either way, they continue to the house. At the house, there are professional mourners gathered, weeping and wailing loudly, and Jesus asks them, “Why do you make a commotion and weep? The child is not dead but sleeping.” They respond by laughing at him. Fair enough, that’s probably how I’d respond too if someone said something like that at a funeral.
Jesus, Peter, James, and John along with Jairus and his wife go into the house, into the room with the dead girl’s body, and Jesus tells her to get up. She gets up and begins to walk around. Mark says, “At this they were overcome with amazement.” I suspect that’s an understatement! And Mark ends this story by saying, Jesus told them to give her something to eat. All is well.
So, who do you connect to in this story? Which character? Jairus, the desperate father willing to do anything for his daughter, feeling let down, even upset at Jesus for not doing enough?
The disciples, who want to manage Jesus, keep him on track, the practical ones who want healing, who want God’s kingdom to come, but in good order, one thing at a time?
Maybe Jesus, the one interrupted on the way, the one whom everyone wants something from?
The bleeding woman, living with chronic isolation and pain, let down by her body, excluded by society, but desperately seeking hope from the only one with the power to help, willing to try anything?
Or perhaps the messengers, the mourners, or the crowd, witnessing Jesus’ power, catching unexpected glimpses of the kingdom of God breaking in? Learning to hope, learning to believe that even in the midst of suffering and pain, even in the face of the reality of death, miracles can happen?
I think that’s where I am today. Miracle healing stories are always challenging for me, because they’re not reliable or predictable. They’re outside my experience.
I believe God heals; I believe Jesus does miracles. But not everyone gets healed, and that’s hard to wrestle with.
Tragedies happen. Sometimes cancer ends a life, even after lots of fighting and praying. Apartment buildings collapse. People die for no reason. And even for survivors, death will still come sometime. Jairus’ daughter eventually died again. The world is still broken.
But these stories, these healings, these miracles point to something greater. Jesus’ healings are not the end goal in themselves; they’re glimpses of God’s kingdom coming. They’re windows into God’s will for us for eternity, and God’s will is life.
The reading from Lamentations says the steadfast love of the Lord never ceases. God will have compassion according the abundance of his steadfast love. God is good.
Not everyone gets healed in this life, and that’s a hard, hard reality to face. Even when Jesus was walking around in the flesh, not everyone got healed. But God’s kingdom is coming.
And sometimes, miracles do happen, even in this world. Rarely are they as dramatic as a 12-year-old coming back from death, but they’re still glimpses of God’s kingdom, reminders of the promise, reminders we sometimes need to sustain our faith.
I don’t know if that’s a satisfying sermon conclusion, but then I don’t know that this story wraps up everything for these characters either.
But even though Mark moves on, I think we can safely assume Jairus’ life is changed by his encounter with Jesus. Imagine how the little girl’s life was changed. Imagine the joy the woman experienced, the new life she had, the testimony she could give. And imagine what it’s like for you to live into the reality of Jesus’ miracle for you.
For Jesus has given you new life, set you free from the grip of death, called you to life. And for you too, he offers something to eat, nourishment at a table, himself given for you, the greatest miracle of all.
Beloved of God, in the midst of the unhealed pain and suffering in this world, in the midst of the joys and sorrows, may God give you faith to recognize the miracles done around you and for you, both in this life and for eternity.
Amen