Lamentations 3:19-26; Mark 5:21-43
11th Sunday after Trinity
St Barbara’s 11.08.2024
Rev Tulo Raistrick
Just over a week ago our family was fortunate enough to visit Berlin on holiday. We had a great time in what is a fascinating city. Much of its 20th century history has been shaped by the Cold War and the Wall that cut off the east from the west part of the city. We went to a few places where the wall still stands, kept in place as a reminder of the devastating impact that the wall had in dividing families, neighbours, communities from one another. Indeed, members of my own wider family experienced the pain of those divisions first hand. It was built by the communist East German government to prevent people fleeing to the west, and, in their view, to keep people free, uncontaminated, by western capitalist ideology. The stories of division, of separation, were harrowing to hear and read about in the museums we visited.
Our gospel reading today is also all about divisions, about ways in which some sought to divide themselves, separate themselves, to remain clean and uncontaminated from others, and how Jesus brings the walls of separation crashing down, just as the Berlin wall came crashing down 35 years ago, in scenes of great jubilation.
In our gospel reading, Jesus is approached by two very different people. The first is Jairus, one of the leaders of the synagogue. He would have been a prominent religious and community leader in the town, someone respected and looked up to. The other is a woman whose name we don’t even know, someone who would have been on the margins, penniless, an outcast, someone who for the last twelve years, had not only suffered physically, but socially too, treated as permanently religiously unclean.
As the theologian Jane Williams explains: “Her condition would have made her virtually outcast, as she would defile anyone with whom she came into contact, even if they only touched something she had handled. Every woman would have known what it was to be “unclean” for one week in the month, but this woman had had a constant flow of defiling blood for 12 years. In touching Jesus she is defiling him. Her fear, when she is found out, speaks of her expectation that her touch would have been disgusting to Jesus.”
And yet Jesus’ response to both Jairus and the woman is to treat them both equally. Indeed, in some respects, he prioritises the woman, taking time to speak to her, despite the urgency of Jairus’ request for help. Where as the culture of the day was to create dividing walls – clean, upright, pure, respected Jairus on one side; the unclean, outcast, disrespected woman on the other – Jesus shows no such desire to join in with such prejudice.
In the last week or so we have seen clear efforts to put up dividing walls in communities around the UK. Extremists have sought to ostracise and demonise parts of our communities – Muslims and refugees in particular. But we have also seen remarkable acts by communities themselves refusing to allow such walls of division to be built. Gifts being taken to mosques, Muslims handing out food to the people demonstrating against them, people working together side-by-side in clearing up the debris of the riots, refugees being welcomed and stood up for. Such acts are signs of God’s grace amongst us, are signs of who God is, a God who welcomes all. As we see Jesus’ acceptance of both Jairus and the woman, as we see examples of communities coming together and seeking unity and grace, may we too be inspired to do likewise, to welcome and accept all with God’s love and grace.
The second thing I am struck by in this story is that Jesus could have allowed the woman’s touch to go unremarked upon, a silent healing known only to the two of them, with no interaction, no acknowledgment, no publicity. After all, when Jesus heals Jairus’ daughter later in the story, he tells them to tell no-one about it.
But with this woman, Jesus chooses to make her healing, and his acceptance of her, very public. He stops the crowd and doesn’t move on until the woman comes forward. She fears criticism, censure and humiliation, but Jesus speaks words of praise, acceptance and encouragement. This is more than about physical healing. Jesus seeks social transformation for this woman too, to raise her up from her lowly status, to give her worth and esteem. It is also a challenge to those who used women’s menstruation as a means to oppress and denigrate women. The wall between men and women, the inequality in their treatment, Jesus challenges and seeks to bring crashing down.
We have come some way in the centuries since then, partly because of the very example of Christ, but it seems there is still a long way to go. The World Health Organisation estimates that 1 in 3 women in the world between the ages of 15-49 have been subjected to physical or sexual partner violence in their lifetime. In the UK, one in three women experience domestic abuse whilst pregnant, and 80% of those who experience domestic abuse in their lifetime are women. Every day almost 30 women attempt suicide as a result of domestic abuse, and every week three women die by suicide and two are murdered in domestic homicides. Would this level of violence lead to a greater outcry if it was men who were the victims?
In the workplace, women are still paid on average 7-8% less than men for the same work, though this is significantly better than it used to be, and despite legislation, women are still under-represented in senior positions, including in the church. And in the important debate about transgender rights, there are also real and legitimate concerns about women’s rights to also feel safe.
Jesus’ attitude to the woman speaks of acceptance of her but also of a desire to challenge the cultural norms and see change. How do we respond to that? Are there things we can do to bring down walls of division, whether in our homes, here in church or our community or in our workplaces?
And the third thing that I am struck by in these two stories of healing is the intimacy of the act, the creation of relationship. Jesus speaks to the woman when he could have just walked on by. He spends time with Jairus’ family and asks for the girl to be brought some food. This is not the act of an impersonal wonder-worker, looking to wow the crowds, but caring little for the people involved. This is the act of someone who seeks and desires relationship, who has time for each person.
There are times when we all perhaps want God to wave a magic wand and to solve all our problems and challenges. A bit like the woman and Jairus, “if only I can just touch him, if only he will come to my house, then all will be well”. Maybe for us it is being moved to the top of the NHS waiting list that we are on, or a cure for an illness, or a difficult colleague being moved on, or a financial situation resolved. We all have things that we would love to be sorted, that would make life more bearable, that would address our sense of disappointment or despair.
But as with the woman and Jairus, Jesus wants to take us beyond that to something that is more permanent and profound, to a relationship with him that realises that whatever we are going through, he is there with us. To realise, in the wonderful words from the Book of Lamentations we heard this morning, that even when we are afflicted, even when we are downcast in soul, the Lord’s great love, his compassion, never fails. His mercies are new every morning; great is his faithfulness.
We arrive at that place of hope not by divine miracle but by divine love, by experiencing the intimacy of the God who loves us. Such intimacy comes through prayer, through worship, through being thankful, through allowing our eyes to be open to God’s presence around us. And it is in the security and the hope of his love, that we can then find ourselves able to walk in Jesus’ footsteps of working for the welcome and transformation of all. Intimacy, relationship with Christ, takes us out into the world to make a difference for him.
