Introduction
There are numerous commentaries on this text that highlight some of the greater nuances and descriptive challenges of this text — the woman’s medical condition, the age of Jairus’ daughter, ritual purity and whether it was as strict as we say – or was it even stricter? I won’t cover all of these topics in depth. Rather I will be looking at the intensity and emotion of this text. That is not to say those other things aren’t important. If that’s what’s calling to you, I encourage you to go that route. I am just narrowing this focus for this commentary.
Context
How we read these two healing stories matters quite a bit.
We could read it as just another stop on Jesus’ journey. Quickly identifying and moving on from each character. One person is healed. Another person is raised from the dead. So on and so forth. There are certainly many details that help us to see what the characters are feeling but we can easily divorce ourselves from those emotions and hold this story at arm’s length not internalizing the magnitude of everything that is taking place.
However, in both of these healing stories—that are sandwiched together in the gospel of Mark—the emotion is what makes these stories so miraculous and meaningful. In both accounts, it starts with… desperation.
We begin our gospel text today with Jesus getting off of the boat and out of the sea. He is immediately swarmed by a crowd and very quickly approached by a distraught leader of the synagogue. A man who comes running up to him in great distress. “My little daughter is dying. Come heal her.”
Right off the bat we are confronted by one of the most heart wrenching moments of human existence. This man’s child is at the brink of death.
Jairus is a religious official. At this point in time with how other religious leaders are conspiring against Jesus, Jairus is not supposed to be here with Jesus. Jairus is not supposed to seek out people like Jesus because Jesus is a heretic and a threat to the current religious establishment.
But his daughter is dying. And rumors have said that this Jesus has been able to heal others. So out of every bit of desperation and with what little hope Jairus can muster, he pleads with Jesus to come and heal his daughter, despite the rumors that might get out about his association with this man.
Of course, Jesus agrees. And so now the story takes a turn. We go off running with Jairus and the other leaders of the community, as a whole crowd encircles them, and they move as quickly as possible to Jairus’ house.
Hope flickers in Jairus’ heart just a little bit more. Every second counts. But maybe, just maybe, there is hope that Jesus can make her well—if they can just get to her in time.
But Jairus’ daughter is not the only one in need of healing. Among the crowd is a desperate woman. She has been hemorrhaging for 12 years. She has sought the care of doctors and physicians to no avail. In time her condition has only worsened. And because of the religious customs of the day with her chronic condition, she has been forced to be isolated because she is seen as ritually unclean.
Her pain, loneliness, isolation, and fatigue have put her in a desperate position. She is forbidden from touching anyone given her ritual condition. And she is not supposed to approach this healer without an invitation. But maybe, just maybe, if she can touch the hem of his robe, and if no one sees, she will be made well, and she can finally find some peace.
So, in some ways this is where we have our first climax of the story today. The unnamed woman reaches out and touches the hem of Jesus’s robe. And suddenly she is healed. She feels that in her body that she is healed.
Her story could end there. She could fall back as the crowd continues to press forward towards Jairus’ house, recognizing her own healing and celebrating with herself.
But Jesus stops. Feeling the power come out of him, he stops. This is the climactic moment.
“Who touched me?” Jesus asks.
It’s an absurd question in the eyes of the disciples and probably to Jairus. There’s a whole crowd around them. Jesus is probably being touched constantly as they walk together. But Jesus asks the questions, “Who touched me?” and as readers, we know we are going to get an answer. And so with this answer, everything will be put in tension all at once for everyone to see.
This ritually unclean woman, so desperate for healing, is now going to be confronted.
While on his way to the synagogue leader’s house, to heal Jairus’ daughter, Jesus is touched by this woman, ritually making him unclean.
And he stops. Who touched me? He asks.
His eyes find the woman who tells him the whole truth.
Now imagine Jairus’ feelings in this moment. Every second counts. But now Jesus stops, to find some random person who touched him in the crowd. I imagine there was anger and frustration welling up within him wanting to shout for Jesus to please continue because time is of the essence. Only to then see who it was that actually touched him, someone who has ritually made Jesus unclean. Technically Jesus is no longer allowed to even enter Jairus’ house according to the law.
I imagine the hope draining from him in this moment. For every second that Jesus talks with the woman, there is less of a chance that Jesus can make it to the house, let alone go through the proper ritual cleanings.
But Jesus stops and listens to this woman. A woman who has been so lonely and has been in so much discomfort and pain for the last 12 years.
Debbie Thomas writes it in this way:
“Jesus knows that this daughter has spent twelve long years having other people impose their narratives on her. Their interpretations, their assumptions, their prejudices. He knows that she’s been reduced to caricature. Shamed into silence by bad religion. Denied the spiritual nourishment and empowerment that is her birthright as a child of God. She needs someone to listen, to understand, and to bless her “whole truth” in the presence of the larger community.
So this is what Jesus does — even when time is of the essence, and he has essential work to do elsewhere. He pauses to restore a broken woman to fellowship, dignity, and humanity. He insists that her embodied experience is no less important than a synagogue leader’s. He doesn’t allow her to slink away into obscurity; he invites her to bear witness, to find her voice, to speak publicly and confidently about her story and God’s. “Daughter,” he says when she at last falls silent. “Daughter, [your Faith has made you well], go in peace.””
The woman’s body restored to wholeness but also a life resurrected to be in the community of God. For Jesus, there was always enough time to ensure that resurrection life was there for someone in need.
But we are immediately confronted with the devastating reality of earthly time. Jairus’ daughter is dead. Whether Jesus would have gotten there in time if he hadn’t stopped, we don’t know. But grief must be overwhelming Jairus. His last hope, his last attempt, has failed.
But Jesus cuts off the news saying, “Don’t doubt but believe.” And takes off for the house with only a few of his disciples.
And here we have the second climax of the story.
Jesus has not been ritually cleansed, but arrives at the house, dispels the onlookers, and enters.
To this point in history, death is the only thing that is eternal. Once someone has died there is no coming back. Death is the final word.
But Jesus tells us, “She is not dead, she is sleeping.”
He approaches the girl and takes her by the hand and says, “Talitha cum”, which means “little girl, get up (or arise)”.
And immediately she got up and began walking around.
The girl’s body is restored to physical life but also to the resurrected life of the community of God. The restoration of the hope of a Father and the community. The overcoming of death. Indicating that God’s reach into the lives of humanity knows no bounds.
Preaching Possibilities
Real Emotions and Real Suffering
I believe that we’re supposed to experience the very real emotions and desperation in this text. The desperation that led to the breaking down of ritual and physical barriers for both Jairus and the woman. The breaking down of ritual barriers that could have prevented the abundant life of a woman suffering for 12 years and a 12-year-old girl on the brink of death.
Because that is how we know that we can come to God too. And that God’s love is wide enough and God’s time is open enough to hold each and all of our hurts.
But that is not often what we are taught and that is not how the world operates.
I have seen two opposite ends of a spectrum in relation to worldly suffering, especially in the last year.
On one side there is the thought, “I am suffering. So, other people’s suffering detracts from my own and so I don’t want to hear about theirs.”
On the other side of the spectrum, “Other people are suffering worse. So, I cannot worry about my own suffering.”
We fight and argue about whose pain and suffering takes priority. And that makes sense to a degree because as humans we have only a finite amount of energy and resources – so we’re forced to triage and prioritize suffering. And when one group gets attention, energy, and resources, another may not.
I think about the billboards that have quotes like “Why is Narcan free to an addict but my insulin is $750 a month?”
The world and many of our lived experiences have taught us that suffering is a competition, one that is a zero-sum game. If one person gets the attention and resources, then others will not.
Pitted against one another, our options seem rather limited. Fight for Narcan or fight for insulin.
No in-between.
But our gospel text today gives us a different reality. These two stories being told together. About a woman whose been suffering for 12 years and a father who is about to lose his daughter. About a powerful and wealthy religious authority and a woman who has been abandoned by her community.
In our Gospel text today, their worlds are not distinct and separate. They are completely and wholly intertwined. Because both are seen by Jesus.
Jesus doesn’t have the same limitations as our world.
Jesus bursts through the barriers that were put up between this community and abundant life. Confronting barriers of tradition and respectability that serve to keep people from accessing healing and community and abundant life.
Jesus’ love and care are wide enough, that Jairus’ daughter and this woman both can be healed and made whole. That both can have access to abundant life. That both are loved and cared for by God.
In Jesus’ reality, there is no need for competition for those who are suffering. For all will be seen, and loved, and cared for by God.
Jesus bursts through the barriers that WE put up between ourselves/neighbors and abundant life. Confronting barriers of tradition and respectability that serve to keep people from accessing healing and community and abundant life.
And with gospel texts like these, maybe we can begin to see that there is another reality that is possible for us.
Jesus is telling us that suffering is not a zero-sum game.
God shows us through the example of Jesus Christ, that all people, in all places, should have access to life in abundance. God shows us through the example of Jesus Christ, that all people, are loved for and cared for by God.
We do not need to compete against others to ensure that our sufferings are heard first. Nor do we have to hide or ignore our own struggles because we don’t think they’re as important in comparison.
We all can come to God with our hurts and our pains, and God will see and hear every single one of them.
We can have Faith that God’s love is wide enough, that God’s time is long enough, that God’s resources never run out, and that every single one of us will be heard and accounted for—leading us to resurrection life in the community of God.
Micah Krey 
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