A sermon for the Sixth Sunday after Pentecost, July 1, 2018
Calvary Episcopal Church, Flemington, New Jersey
“Then he put them all outside … and went in where the child was.”
After the storm that was in last week’s lesson, Jesus and the disciples got back in the boat and crossed back to where they were before. Immediately, Jesus is back among the chaos of the crowds, and we have a story of two healings. Often these two are pulled apart and discussed individually, even by biblical scholars, but I think it’s important to look at them together.
One of the leaders of the church comes to Jesus and begs him to come heal his daughter. Jesus has compassion and goes along with this community leader—just as he is doing this, the other story interrupts. A woman, a part of this crowd—a woman who has suffered with a condition for a dozen years, which has ruined her life—she pushes through the crowd to get close to Jesus, the healer. The blood, the force of life, which has been flowing out of her, has made it so that she cannot be touched by a man. She pushes close to reach out to touch this man, the healer. He felt the force leave him and he turned to see her. “Daughter your faith has made you well. Go in peace and be healed of your disease.” Jesus had compassion on this woman, who had been an outsider, who transgressed by touching him. He healed her, and commended her trust in God.
This was in the middle of crowds pressing around, all sorts of pressure and confusion. And the other story returns. Jesus is standing there and people come from the house of the religious leader and say, “She’s dead. Let the teacher go away.” Practical, realistic, discouraged people, just giving up. Jesus looked at these fearful and discouraged people and said, “Do not fear, only believe.” The people believed that the chance for healing was lost, so they dismissed the healer. But Jesus would not accept their resignation and dismissal, “Do not fear, only believe.” Jesus knew far more about life than they knew about death.
Jesus got to the house, and the people laughed at him. He said she was asleep, and they laughed at him, and Jesus said to them, “Please, just go outside for now.” He took the parents into the room, took the girl by the hand and said, “little girl, get up!” And she did. Jesus had compassion on the child, and on those parents of hers, those respectable leaders of the community, and he had compassion on that woman, the ruined outcast. All at the same time. He did not listen to those who were telling him “don’t bother, go away.” Jesus won’t listen to hopelessness, rather he has compassion for those who hurt, who are confused, who are fearful.
There were two healings on that day. Most people would have advised Jesus to pay attention to just one or the other, to choose, to choose the more worthy or the one with the greatest need or the one that agreed with them. Jesus would not do that, and as everybody started to argue more with him, “he put them all outside.” We think we know about compassion and healing, but we don’t, not really—Jesus just tends to healing and being compassionate. Jesus just shakes his head and sends them outside—there are no limits on God’s love, in particular, not limits that we contrive.
People are often most hurt by the limits that others put on God’s love—usually, trying to defend their own claims on God or their own privilege, they conclude that others should get out of the way—like that woman with the hemorrhage, she shouldn’t interrupt Jesus getting to the house to heal the important man’s little girl.
Jesus has mercy and compassion for more than just us here—his compassion is for all those outsiders, for those refugee families being held in detention in the southern deserts, for children taken from their parents. At Calvary, we know that we are called to be a welcoming community. We know that, not because I said it, but because that’s what arose out of our community gathered together. That’s what’s important here, what’s important to you. Anyone who is welcomed, is first a stranger, an outsider—like the woman who suffered from hemorrhages for twelve years, outcast and destitute. Jesus calls us to welcome those who aren’t inside, but outside, those who aren’t “just the right kind of people,” and perhaps people who like that woman, might make others just a bit uncomfortable. Why? Because there is always something about every person that is a little on the outside, that makes somebody uncomfortable, and if we don’t give mercy on that score, we’re all on the outside. Our psalm today says,
If you, Lord, were to note what is done amiss, O Lord, who could stand?
For there is forgiveness with you; therefore you shall be feared.
I wait for the Lord; my soul waits for him; in his word is my hope.
Jesus welcomed them and brought God’s mercy. When they had given up hope, even for their own daughter, Jesus went in anyway, and said, “Talitha cum.”
I wait for the Lord; my soul waits for him; in his word is my hope.
My soul waits for the Lord, more than watchmen for the morning,
More than watchmen for the morning.