Desperation
06/20/10
Scripture:
Luke 8:40-56Some call her a bold woman, but some say she was just desperate. Maybe so, yet desperation breeds boldness. Now her problem isn’t talked about in polite company, not even in our culture let alone the culture of her time. But she suffered from a continual flow of blood. There, it’s been said! Blood! Blood is unclean, especially a woman’s blood. For twelve years she had suffered! Tiredness, weakness, pain, anxiety for twelve long years. You see, purity was highly prized within the Jewish faith of Jesus’ time; actually, it was an absolute must. Purity laws were set for the people to give them a system of values, of meaning, a way of living together. They provide a standard for social behavior, a guideline of who is “in” and who is “out” of bounds. Well, this woman had been out of bounds for the last twelve years. When a person is out of bounds, that person is pronounced unclean and is therefore ostracized by the community, including her family, not allowed to attend church. Anything touched or sat upon or hugged or kissed was also unclean. Her family deserted her; she no longer saw her children, never held her grandchild. The unclean must announce their condition whenever they are in public, or else someone might inadvertently come into contact with them and be themselves made unclean. Then if they were to go to the Temple, they would defile the holy and displease God greatly.
The woman’s late husband had left her financially well off which protected her for a time. She persuaded one of her maids, who had been with her since she was a girl, to stay to shop and cook, so she would not have to go out. But one day she was returning from the physician. The man had been vile. He would not come near to her or touch her for she was a wo-man. His prescriptions only made her more ill. He even laughed at her. She could have spit in his face. On her way home, she was preoccupied, muttering “unclean, unclean,” more out of habit than concentration, and did not see the priest. What? He yelled in her face. Are you unclean woman? Then you must shout it. She stared into his eyes which were filled with hatred and anger. Unclean, she screamed, unclean and picked up her skirts and fled.
The woman never went out after that. She had lost all dignity and hope, and yes, she was desperate. Then one day her maid brought her word of a man called Jesus who could heal people. The woman began to feel a glimmer of hope. In spite of what the faith said, she did not believe that God hated her. One day, the maid came running, saying he was here and the woman must go now. She ran to the place, but the crowd was so thick she couldn’t get close. Then she thought, If I could just touch him, he wouldn’t even know, and I could be healed! She stretched out her arm and her hand curled around the hem of his cloak. Even as her hand closed, she felt it, she knew, the flow had stopped. She was healed. Never again must she yell, “unclean.” But then he turned and demanded, Who touched me? The woman tried to hide behind a large man, but his eyes seemed to scorch her. She fell to her knees. Daughter, he called to her, daughter. Once again she was included in the community. No longer was she dead, but alive with new life! Daughter!
But this story started out telling us about Jairus. Jairus was a person of statute, a leader of the synagogue. This is not just a story about Jesus or even about the little girl he raised from the dead. It is also a story about Jairus, who broke every rule he knew in order to save his daughter’s life. She was his only daughter, the sparkle in his eye, his very future. Can you imagine what it must have been like for him, to fall at Jesus’ feet in front of a big crowd? Talk about risk! He begged him, please, please, and Jesus agreed to go. Jesus asked no questions, this man who was so often at odds with the Pharisees. Jairus should have been wary of him, but his desperateness makes him bold.
But to lead him through that crowd, only to be stopped short by the woman with the hemorrhage--whose condition was not life-threatening, after all, she had lived with it for 12 years. While his own child’s life was seeping away. Jairus was hopping on one foot than the other, impatient, afraid it would be too late. Afraid that he had waited too long to make his decision to go to Jesus. But then he had nothing to lose, and now he had everything to lose while he waited. And then those awful words: Your daughter is dead. The words barely reached his ears. He wanted to turn and shout at the woman, it’s all your fault! She was alive when I met him. He could have saved her if you hadn’t interfered! But Jesus reached out a hand and touched his shoulder saying, Do not fear, only believe. Oh, how he wanted to believe, but did he dare? He could only trust, there was no other option, he had no one else to trust. He’d take the chance. The weeping and wailing from the mourners was terrible to hear. With a strained face he took a hold of his wife’s hand and followed Jesus. He would not weep—he could not! Do not fear, only believe! Before his very eyes, Jesus took his little girl’s hand and she sat up. She was alive!
Healing—even in our desperation these days, we have trouble believing as Jarius did, as the woman did. The woman assumes she will be healed merely by touching Jesus or even a part of his clothing. The Bible is emphasizing here the power associated with Jesus’ divine healing abilities. This power is so all-pervasive, so intimately flowing throughout Jesus’ being, that it saturates even his clothing. Healing, the constant movement towards wholeness and health, is a part of the divine essence of Jesus. And it gives us hope as well—that Jesus will take the hand of all who trust in his power and says, Child, get up.
I looked that desperateness in the face the day Kevin came into my office and asked to see the pastor. Dressed in a T-shirt and jeans, I already had my mouth open to say,” We don’t give cash”, when he said, “I want to be baptized.” Now few people walk in from the street and ask to be baptized. So we sat down to talk. He told me that he was working as a volunteer for one of the Catholic agencies in town. I asked why he didn’t go to them for baptism? He said he had, but the priest insisted that he attend catechism to become a Catholic. Well, I said, baptism isn’t something which is done lightly, but requires a commitment. Then he told me he was bi-polar, manic/depressive, and religion often fed his psychosis, and he was afraid. Those who struggle with mental illness are often shoved to the margins because of the fear and misunderstanding of others. Often unable to function, to cope with the demands of our culture. So I invited Kevin to attend worship and to see if he was comfortable with what the church professed to be. After service that Sunday we talked again, and I agreed to baptize him in two weeks when the youth would be conducting the service. After his baptism, Kevin and I sat on one of those hard concrete benches it seems that all churches have, and he asked if he could come by to talk whenever he was on our side of town. I told him he was always welcome. That was in early May. Around July 4th, I opened the newspaper to see a picture of Kevin. He was missing in the mountains surrounding Flagstaff. They had found his car but not him. He was without medication. I prayed often for Kevin. Early the next January I received a telephone call from a colleague in ministry asking if I had baptized Kevin. Have they found him, I asked? Yes, his sister is looking for you. He had told her of the baptism and that the minister had been a woman. They wanted me to bury him. As I spoke with the family about Kevin’s death and his baptism, his sister said, I think he knew that someday he would not be able to beat the depression and wanted to be ready. Desperate for healing.
I imagine that most of you are like I am and very sad and distressed over this oil spill in the Gulf and what it is doing to our coast and the animals and the ocean and the economy of the fishing industry. But I also know that I began that thought process thinking, Oh great, and now the gas prices are going up again before I began to see our human sin in the whole situation, before I began to believe that it more than BP who is at fault but our lifestyle and our greed; our belief that the earth is ours and we will continue forever and ever for our use. And so as I worked on this sermon about healing, it was a blessing to realize that God’s sustaining nature always seeks to heal, to restore each creature and the entire creation to its original state of wholeness. That God not only offers healing and wholeness to people but also to the land. We have seen that happen, but it is not instantaneous, in the healing of the land around Mount St. Helens, when she blew out her side and covered everything around her in ash, burying the river and killing wildlife and trees. The universe is prejudiced in our favor and God intends healing and wholeness.
And Jesus bestowed more than healing upon our characters today, but also peace, peace. I met Elizabeth at TMC hospital. She had been ordered to spend the rest of her pregnancy in bed in the hospital. I went to visit her at the request of her mother-in-law, who was a member of my congregation. And that began a journey that none of us would ever have chosen. William came on time and was a sweet, blond little boy. At three months, I baptized him. Shortly before his first birthday, William was diagnosed with a hereditary disease and would probably not live past his first birthday. I am sure that Elizabeth heard Jesus whisper, Do not fear, only believe. William lived to be two and half. And in that time, Elizabeth’s faith required her take a risk, to take a chance. She could have been angry at God for not bringing about a miracle to save William, for allowing him to be born so that he could not live and grow, to be too afraid to try for another child. What I saw in her eyes when she told me she was three months pregnant was pure trust that she would have a well-born child. We rushed the baptism of Alex because she wanted William to be there for it and his time was growing short. I did that baptism with joy and with sorrow knowing that I would soon bury one of her sons. But we celebrated William’s short life with joy—that joy being sweeter because of the miracle of Alex. The gift of peace in the middle of desperateness.
Do not fear, only believe. That is our job. The rest is up to God.
There are the mentally ill among us, shoved to the margins because of the fear and misunderstanding of others. Often unable to function, to obtain the medication they need, to cope in the demands of our culture, they drop out, live on the fringes.