Lamentations 3.22-33, Psalm 30, Mark 5.21-43
The Fifth Sunday of Trinity, 30 June 2024, Austwick (Benefice Service)
People have different ways of dealing with illness. When his daughter fell ill, Jairus, a leader of the synagogue, a powerful and well-connected man, set about exerting all his influence to identify the best healer in the land, and, having found Jesus, then used his privilege to get quick access to him: you can imagine the crowds parting as Jairus’s group of minders forced themselves through towards Jesus, shoving people out of the way, saying, ‘Let the leader pass’.
For the haemorrhaging woman, there was no quick fix to her problem, for, lacking any influence, the only hope she had left was to find some way to get to this popular healer. Imagine her struggle, this anaemic woman, squeezing her way through the seething crowd, weak and ailing though she was, trying - like they all were - to get close enough to Jesus to reach out for his healing.
How people get treatment for their illness depends on their circumstances. We might compare Jairus with King Charles in the London Clinic, and the haemorrhaging woman with Charlene Armitage, a Bradford care assistant, on the NHS waiting list, three months in and counting. [1]
But whatever our means or position on the line of privilege, when poor health hits us it is a common experience, something we all share. It is like that old scripture, which both Jairus and the haemorrhaging woman would have known, and possibly Charles and Charlene also know, that line from Psalm 30 which says, “Heaviness may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning”.
It was out of heaviness, and driven by hope, that both Jairus and the haemorrhaging woman sought the help of Jesus. Consider Jairus, a man who usually had servants fall at his feet, all of a sudden prostrating himself before Jesus, and begging him ‘repeatedly’ to come and heal his ailing daughter; by contrast there was the twelve years - four and a half thousand nights - of heaviness which drove the woman’s desperate plunge into the crowd. Two people of very different means, reaching Jesus in very different ways; but they were united by the struggle and the hope they had in common.
Now this is a crucial point, both in understanding Mark’s treatment of their stories, and in understanding our own times. Our health is both a private matter and a shared public experience. The health of each of us is connected to the health of all.
In Mark’s narrative, every detail is there for a reason, and Mark’s “aside” that the girl was twelve years old is a case in point. She has lived her twelve years in an affluent family, and is just on the edge of puberty. In contrast, the bleeding woman had suffered for twelve years, permanently infertile.
The number twelve is important, for it symbolises the twelve tribes of Israel, and this is the key to the social meaning of this story. This, and the way that both women are described as “daughters”. Jairus’ daughter and the woman who Jesus calls ‘Daughter’.
Within the “family” of Israel, these “daughters” represent the privileged and the impoverished, respectively. There is inequity between them, which weakens the whole body politic. For when one suffers, all suffer. The whole heaving crowd seek out Jesus’ healing. And on the healing journey which Jesus makes towards the house where Jairus’ daughter lays, he first listens to the pain of the crowd. [2]
It is remarkable that through all that pain, all those cries for help, Jesus stops for this one woman who has used up all of her money, only to have been made worse by the doctors. He doesn’t stop to heal her, really; she has taken the faith initiative to healing by simply touching the hem of his garment. She is already healed when Jesus nevertheless pauses to notice, and to listen to her whole story. Even more important, Jesus then specifically names her inclusion into God’s family. “Daughter,” he says to her, “your faith has made you well.” “Daughter.” Meanwhile, Jairus’ daughter has died. While Jesus paused to listen to this nameless, penniless, unclean woman, the daughter of this important, named leader of the synagogue has died. Isn’t there a scandal here? In a society of winners and losers, Jairus’ daughter clearly should have come first, and this woman second. But Jesus lets her interrupt his mission of healing. She is not just some loser by comparison, but in fact is every bit as much of a “daughter” as is the daughter of this important official. Jesus does not get caught up in the usual human games of winners and losers. [3]
Mark’s message is that only when the outcast woman is restored to true “daughterhood” can the daughter of the synagogue be restored to true life. That is the faith the privileged must learn from the poor. [4]
That the “last will be first” and the “least will be greatest” are not clumsy statements of class war. They are affirmations of God’s truth that the healing of the whole body politic, the healing of us all, will come when society attends first to the needs of the poorest.
And this truth of God is supported by well-tested research which confirms that greater equality can lead to a more cohesive and stable society, with better outcomes for everyone, regardless of income; and that by contrast, more unequal societies are characterised by greater stress, insecurity, and competition, which can have a negative impact on the health and well-being of all. [5]
It is not always easy for the comfortably off to attend to the needs of the poor. It may be less easier still when paying such attention leads them to the uncomfortable conclusion that they may have to step back in some way to allow others to step up. But the gospel is that those who accept this challenge and take this leap of faith find themselves contributing to a better life for all.
Taylor Swift’s donations to foodbanks in every UK city she plays on tour this year, have been described by the recipients as “making a lasting impact”. Her generosity may do nothing to reverse the political decisions which have made three million people dependent on foodbanks; but it does modestly reduce the gap between her, in her great wealth, and those she helps; lifts some heaviness and brings some joy into these places; and passes on to her millions of young followers, her firmly embedded values of empathy and altruism. [6]
“Heaviness may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning” - these words from Psalm 30 were sung at the dedication of the temple. Which was a new beginning, and an occasion of celebration, for the entire nation.
Look again at the Psalm, and you will see that it is the testimony of a man who has renounced his privilege, having realised how it had led him down into a dead end of selfish pride, and who, by divine grace, has rediscovered his vocation as one who lives to give expression to the healing, restorative, ways of God. [7]
Notes
[1] Sean Coughlan, King Charles in hospital for prostate treatment. BBC News, 26 January 2024. Charlene Armitage is a fiction based on factual reports that “Only 64.1% of patients started treatment within 62 days of cancer being suspected, meaning nearly 100,000 waited longer than they should for life-saving care.” Nick Triggle, Cancer waiting times in 2023 worst on record in England. BBC News, 8 February 2024.
[2] Ched Myers, Marie Dennis, Joseph Nangle, Cynthia Moe-Lobeda, and Stuart Taylor, “Say to This Mountain”: Mark’s Story of Discipleship, chapter 7, “The Priority and Power of the Poor.” in Paul Nuechterlein, Girardian Lectionary: Reflections, Proper 8b.
[3] Paul Nuechterlein, Girardian Lectionary: Reflections, Proper 8b.
[4] Ched Myers, Marie Dennis, Joseph Nangle, Cynthia Moe-Lobeda, and Stuart Taylor, “Say to This Mountain”: Mark’s Story of Discipleship, chapter 7, “The Priority and Power of the Poor.” in Paul Nuechterlein, Girardian Lectionary: Reflections, Proper 8b.
[5] Kate Pickett and Richard Wilkinson, The Spirit Level: Why Equality is Better for Everyone.
[6] Wikipedia: Taylor Swift: Philanthropy; Catherine Shuttleworth, Taylor Swift thanked for making "lasting impact" with Edinburgh food bank donation. Indy100, 12 June 2024
[7] Psalm 30.
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