Preaching text: Mark 5:21-43
I don’t believe it is a secret to anyone that our nation, however much we laud its ideal of equality, is not all that equal in practice. There are various groups in society that do have it much easier than others. We may make excuses or rationalizations for these inequities or perhaps claim ourselves as someone who has avoided collecting their benefits or penalties, but it’s hard to argue this innate unfairness in our society does not exist.
Look at me. I am a middle-aged white straight male Christian, which means, in a very real sense, that I am on top-of-the-world. I have every benefit, every privilege, every advantage our society affords. It does not mean my life has been easy. It does not mean I have lived without any sort of trouble or problem. It does not mean I have not had to work some to get where I am in life. What it does mean however is that there are difficulties I have never had to face, problems I have never dealt with, and work I’ve never had to do because I am not black or Latino, I am not gay, I am not a woman, and I am not a Jew, Muslim, Hindu, or atheist. I’ve avoided those difficulties. Dodged a bullet (sometimes a literal one) that I am often not even aware gets fired at people who are those things.
All that said, however, there is one area in which I have felt society’s scorn, apathy, and refusal to understand. Many of you have been witness to this part of my life, as I do not hide it. I am not a healthy man. I am overweight, I struggle with depression and anxiety, and worse of all, I am diagnosed with the chronic illness Ulcerative Colitis, a disease whose symptoms are far too disgusting to list in a forum such as this. More than one of these illnesses can kill me, and they very nearly have more than once.
But as strange as it may seem, that’s not really the worst of it. Illness, particularly severe or chronic ones, carry with them a social component as well. I lose count very quickly of the number of times I’ve had to decline invitations from friends, turn down opportunity to attend fun activities, and sit out family gatherings. I know friends and family who have lost patience with these. “You don’t look sick” is sometimes the worst thing I can hear, because it immediately reveals that whoever’s saying it has an expectation that I am not able to meet.
Nor am I alone in this. Sickness takes its toll on all of us. Those who struggle with cancer or other long-term illnesses (and also those who care for the same) often find their friends growing similarly impatient with cancelled outings, dropped appointment, and everything else that illness forces on us and they invariably drop off and vanish when we need them most. It can be very alone in the midst of our struggle.
Add on top of that the abominable way our government and corporations treat healthcare. I mentioned a couple Sundays ago about how our society often bellows loud and clear how “no lives matter.” There are few more potent examples of this than when someone is denied life-saving or life-prolonging care by an insurance company more interested in its bottom line than your life. Obamacare was supposed to fix a lot of that, but we also know what our representatives, many of them beholden to those same insurance companies, think of that law.
So why am I talking about all this? It’s because I’ve gained a whole new perspective on this story from the Gospel of Mark and what Jesus does here.
On the surface, it looks like any other miracle story. A person in desperate need comes to Jesus, “my daughter, please help my daughter.” Being the person he is, Jesus sets out immediately, but he is intercepted along the way by someone else in desperate need. But rather than actually stop Jesus and ask for his help, this woman with the hemorrhages simply moves up next to him and brushes against his clothes. She does this because she believes that all she need do to be healed is touch Jesus.
What happens next, I think, is absolutely remarkable. Jesus is aware that a miracle has happened; his power has been used for good. Now he’s in a hurry. This leader of the synagogue has pressed upon him the urgency of his case. But Jesus stops and calls out to the crowd, asking who had touched him. The disciples and others think this is a nonsense question, since he’s surrounded by people, but the woman knows what she’s done. Thinking she is in some serious trouble, she comes forward trembling and confesses.
Jesus then announces to all the surrounding crowd what has happened and he commends the woman for her faith. I believe there are two reasons he does this. Not only to hold her up as an example for others to follow, but also to make complete her healing.
This woman is not a privileged person in her society and ancient Jewish purity laws are very touchy about blood. It would be bad enough to be a woman with a normal functioning menstrual cycle, but hers is not normal and it is easy to presume she has been outcast from others for many years because of her affliction. She bleeds. She is impure. She does not belong. By declaring her healed, as openly and widely as possible, Jesus is telling the crowd “Welcome her home.”
The story continues with Jesus then going on to cure the sick child, not even allowing her likely death to stop his work. But having dealt with the loneliness that comes from a struggle with a long-term illness and having been a pastor to many others who have struggled with both illness and isolation, I’m increasingly come to believe that the healing of the leader’s daughter is an afterthought to this story. The real and more important miracle is the one with the hemorrhaging woman. Welcome her home.
When I spoke that time about “no lives matter,” I did so in the shadow of two very public suicides: fashion designer Kate Spade and celebrity chef Anthony Bourdain. Depression is a very real disease, no less impactful on the lives of those who struggle with it than cancer or AIDS or diabetes. What can we do for the sick in our midst? Jesus gives us an example to follow. Time and again, when he heals someone, he doesn’t just remove the physical problem. He also brings them home, back into the society that they have been alienated from. He sends lepers immediately to the priests to receive official sanction. He sends the Gerasene demoniac into the very towns he had once so terrified. And he tells the crowd that this woman is healed.
In these modern times, we have physicians, nurses, and hospitals. However flawed our healthcare system often is, it can do wonders for people. But there is always more to illness than just the symptoms. Healing the sick is more than that, it’s also welcoming them home. It’s holding them in our arms and telling and showing them that we love them. It’s one small way we can show people that they do matter. When the system fails or proves inadequate, the disciples of Jesus can be there. It’s what Jesus would do. It’s what he did do. Amen.
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