Only Believe

(Scriptures:   2 Samuel 1:1-4, 11-12, 17-27, 2 Corinthians 8:1-15 Mark 5:21-43)

You’ve likely heard the saying “It’s not the destination, it’s the journey.” It’s a saying of which I need to be reminded frequently. As a person juggling multiple crowded schedules – as an employee, as a seminary student, as a pastor – I’m usually very focused on getting from point A to point B as directly and, most importantly, as quickly as possible. .I rarely take time to stop and smell the roses. When I’m running behind schedule and in a hurry to get someplace, I’m not always known for my patience with those slower drivers unfortunate enough to find my car bearing down on them, sometimes with the horn going full blast. And I’m sure many of us can tell similar stories, as we’re all juggling multiple crowded schedules – work schedules, children’s school schedules, schedules of doctors appointments for ourselves or for family members, and so on. We all find ourselves with promises to keep, and miles to go before we sleep.


“It’s not the destination, it’s the journey.” Try telling that to Jairus in our Gospel reading. Jesus has just returned from casting out a demon on the Gentile side of the Sea of Galilee, and is back in familiar territory. Jairus, a local synagogue leader hurries up to Jesus to enlist his healing powers to cure the synagogue leader’s twelve year old daughter, who was near death. And Jesus begins to journey with Jairus……

…..and Jesus apparently gets sidetracked. You see, someone else had healing on her mind. She’d had hemorrhages for 12 years – as long as Jairus’ daughter had been alive, that’s how long this woman had been ill. We’re told that she had spent everything she had on one doctor after another, none of whom could do anything to help her. And I’m sure we all know people who’ve had similar experiences with the medical profession – in this day of high unemployment and lost medical benefits, many uninsured are one medical crisis away from destitution and bankruptcy. Because of the Levitical purity laws around illness and especially anything involving blood, the woman likely suffered not only bodily illness, but social isolation. Think of how this woman must have felt – weary, discouraged, verging on despair. No great planning as involved: the woman just happened along where Jesus was, and hoped that if she could touch, not even he himself, but just the fringe of his clothing, she might be healed. So, tired as she was, discouraged as she was, she was also persistent. She made her way through the jostling of the crowd to where Jesus walked, and touched his cloak – and was healed. Jesus himself felt that healing power had gone out of him, and asked “Who touched my clothes?” [Imagine yourself as Jairus at that moment when Jesus starts going on about his clothes, and the crowd stops dead in its tracks.] Something in Jesus voice let everyone know that he wasn’t playing, that he felt someone touch his clothes in an intentional way beyond the normal jostling of the crowd. Eventually, the woman told her whole story to Jesus, who replied, “Daughter, your faith has made you well, go in peace, and be healed of your disease.”

Good for her. Not so good for Jairus, who must have been just about beside himself at this point – especially after some people from his household came to tell that his daughter was dead. Jairus was urged not to bother Jesus any further, but Jesus reassured Jairus – in today’s language - “hey, I’ve got this. Do not fear. Only believe.” He raised the girl, and reminded those who were standing around with their mouths hanging open that, oh, by the way, she’s probably hungry and might appreciate something to eat.

I began this sermon with the saying, “It’s not the destination, it’s the journey” and so I’m going to digress just a bit to talk about the way Mark tells the stories in today’s Gospel. Of course, Mark wrote down these stories for a very explicit purpose – to bring people to belief in Jesus as Messiah, as Savior and Lord. The writer of Mark’s Gospel used many different techniques to accomplish all this. One of Mark’s favorite techniques is to sandwich one story inside another – in this case, the story of the healing of the woman with the hemorrhage is sandwiched inside the story of the healing of Jairus’ daughter. We start with the story of the girl being sick, apparently digress to the story of the woman touching Jesus’ clothing, and return to conclude with the healing of the little girl. So Mark not only wanted these two healings to be remembered, but wanted them to be remembered together. Not only is one story sandwiched inside the other, but the two stories are linked by the number twelve - We’re told that the girl is twelve years old, and that the woman had suffered from her illness for twelve years. The number twelve has significance in Jewish thought – twelve tribes of Israel, twelve months of the year – and so the number twelve appearing in both these healing stories would have helped anchor these stories in the memories of Mark’s readers as they came to belief in the saving power of Jesus.

What both these stories together tell us is that an illness that slowly drained the life out of a woman over the course of twelve years, an illness that threatened to claim the life of a twelve year old girl – neither of these is beneath the notice of our Lord Jesus. Nor are our diseases and afflictions. Nor are those of our neighbors. We pray for those who are ill, fully expecting God to act – and sometimes we’re called to put hands and feet on our prayers by acting as well as praying. The Good News we proclaim must be good news in the lives – bodies, minds, souls – of those around us.

In his earthly ministry, among many other things, Jesus was a healer, and his healings were seen, not just as grace for those who were healed, but as an attack on the powers of evil. We likely cannot heal people with a touch as Jesus did - though even in my short time here, I’ve seen God work in wonderful ways for some of the folks on our prayer list. But we are called to remember that every single person we meet is created in God’s image, bears some resemblance to the divine, even if we have to look really hard to find it sometimes. The same God who created us, created our neighbors. Certainly during this week, as there is so much political debate over the question of who has access to health care, we might remember that Jesus not only performed his healings for free, but performed them without asking any questions about the worthiness or unworthiness of the recipients of his healing grace. In our Gospel readings from Mark over the past few weeks, we’ve watched Jesus travel from one side of the Sea of Galilee to the other to ministered to Jew and Gentile alike, without distinction. Under God, our lives are all connected – there is no us vs them, but only us, all of us. Therefore we cannot, like the priest and Levite in Jesus’ parable, walk on the other side of the road when we see sister or brother struck down by illness or misfortune, but are called to stand with them in solidarity.

This past week, I got a reminder of how demanding solidarity can be sometimes. Like most pastors, I receive occasional calls for assistance. This past week I got a doozy – a single mom, with several children, no husband in the picture, about to give birth – and she and her family are homeless. Did I know of any place that could provide shelter? I responded as I often do to such requests – “Let me make a few phone calls” - and quickly got a crash course learning how much our society’s safety net has been shredded. Like Mary and Joseph seeking a place in which Mary could bring our Lord into the world, what I heard over and over was “no room in the inn”. With their funding cut, social service agencies are completely overwhelmed by the demand for their services. Shelters might find a way to squeeze in a single man or a single woman, but a pregnant woman about to give birth, with other kids in the picture – no way. Boarding houses – full. Even motels – almost without exception, full, or unaffordable. Eventually a relatively cheap motel was located, and enough money scraped together so the woman and her family would have a roof over their head – for a few days anyway. After that? Quite literally, God only knows.

With our annual July 4 celebration of Independence rapidly approaching, it seems appropriate to consider the intersection between our faith and our national life, to ask the question “What kind of a country do we want to be?” You may have read in the news about the recent fracas between the Pope and the Leadership Council of Women Religious – an umbrella organization that brings together Roman Catholic nuns of various religious orders. The Pope issued a highly-publicized statement chastising the nuns for being too vocal on social justice issues, and strongly urging them to keep a lower profile. (One might wonder if somebody’s spiking the incense with controlled substances, as apparently here at home the US Conference of Catholic Bishops is attacking that breeding ground of radical feminism – the Girl Scouts – which our church used to host until our troops ran out of adult leaders, and whom I think we’d welcome in a hot second if leaders for a Bridesburg troop could be found.) But anyway, back to the nuns - a subgroup of the nuns saw the Pope’s widely-read pronouncement as an opportunity, not to be silent, but to bring their advocacy to a wider audience, to stop preaching to the choir and start preaching to the public. The “Nuns on a Bus” tour came to Chestnut Hill College this past Friday, and shared their vision for a federal budget that doesn’t leave behind the poor and dispossessed. It’s a vision supported by a diverse array of religious communities, including the Justice and Witness ministries of the United Church of Christ. If you want to take a look, it’s at the website in the bulletin – faithfulbudget.org

Today’s account of the healing of Jairus’ daughter reminds me of the familiar UCC saying, “Don’t put a period where God has placed a comma: God is still speaking.” When the messengers told Jairus that his daughter was dead, it certainly seemed like the end of the daughter’s story. But God was indeed still speaking, as Jesus said, “Do not fear. Only believe.” When we – as individuals or as a society - react from fear, we become guarded, defensive, seeking to put distance between ourselves and the problems of our neighbors. We pull into ourselves, becoming less than what God intended. But when we – as individuals or as a society - respond out of our faith, we extend ourselves, reaching out to God and following where God leads us. This is the course of faith taken by the “Nuns on a Bus”, as they follow God’s lead from city to city. We too are called to respond to God in faith, and to follow where God leads. I don’t anticipate that God will call us to embark on a national bus tour, but God may very well call us to stretch and grow beyond what’s familiar, to open our hearts and open our doors to those in need whom God sends our way. Do not fear. Only believe. Amen.