Mark 5:21-43 - "Healing and Curing"

            When I was a child, my father took our whole family to St. Anne-de-Beauprie, a large Roman Catholic church just east of Quebec City.  Though smaller in size, it was similar in architectural style to those European Gothic basilicas.  At the time, it drew quite a large daily contingent of visitors for two reasons. 

            The first was because a number of people had claimed to have seen the eyes of a statue of the Virgin Mary come alive and move back and forth.  Though I remember staring at the statue for quite some time, I personally never saw this stone Mother of Jesus surveying the situation in any life-like way.

            The second reason – and what I remember most vividly about visiting this place of French Canadian pilgrimage – was because it was held to be a place of healing.  When we entered the sanctuary, I immediately realized that the 15 or 20 people who were also touring the church were all gazing upward at the ceiling and walls.  You see, hanging from the windows and rafters were dozens of pairs of crutches, old wheel chairs, and walking sticks – each representative of a miraculous cure said to have occurred at St. Anne-de-Beauprie.

            In looking back at that moment, I realize that all of us as human beings are fascinated by the concept of healing.  We are drawn to the stories of miraculous cures in Lourdes in France and to the healing waters of Nadana in India. 

            That being said, what a great day to be here in church!  Why?  Because the lectionary – those assigned Bible verses we focus on each Sunday – present us with not one, but two, stories of Jesus’ healing ministry.  Double the pleasure is the word today!

            You see, the Gospel writer of Mark has offered us sort of a sandwich tale – beginning and ending with the story of Jairus, a well-known muckity muck in the synagogue hierarchy.  News of Jesus’ ability to heal had apparently tricked down – or trickled up from the peasant class - as the case may be. 

            At any rate, Jairus has thrown aside all pretension and sense of social class for the sake of his dying daughter.  He has come to Jesus practically on bended knee, pleading with the rabbi to come away from the crowds, come to his daughter and make her well again.  Jesus agrees, and so Jairus leads Jesus toward his home.           

            The crowds, of course, follow right along the winding alleyways – curious more than anything, as fascinated as we are by the very idea of healing hands.  Opinion is divided, and the discussion is lively.  Can Jesus do it?  Some are so certain that he can.  Others are more doubtful.

            It is at this point, in the middle of this story of Jairus, that the Gospel writer interjects another tale.  An unnamed woman – a nobody in the crowd – pushes her way toward Jesus, stumbling at the last moment and in desperation reaching out to simply touch his robe.  She too is in need of healing, she who has bled continuously (as in menstruating) for 12 long and pain-filled years. 

            As the writer of the blog, Magdalene’s Musings, notes, “Because of her physical condition, the prevailing religious mores of the day would demand that the woman be left completely alone. Cut off. Isolated. Outcast. Other people would know to avoid contact with her. Anyone who wanted to be part of normal community life—to go to the market, or the waterfront, or to the Temple—would be forced to shun her presence. She has probably lost her family, and most likely lives alone, so that no one else need be exposed to the risk of being, as she is, permanently ritually unclean.” 

            Imagine…. 12 years of trying to hide the illness, of pretending to be healthy. 12 years of living alone. 12 years of isolation. 12 years of loneliness. 12 years of rejection. 12 years of being unclean and (seen as) a danger to all the others. 12 years without touching and being touched.”  (Christine Erb-Kanzleiter).

            Following this awkward introduction, Jesus has a very brief conversation with this untouchable outcast, and she is healed.  However, because of this compassionate interlude – however short – by the time Jesus arrives at Jairus’ home, the daughter is already dead.  Jesus, it seems, is too late. 

            However, rather than presume that what is done is done – death wins in the end – Jesus tells the distraught father to hold onto his faith and trust that “God may not come when you call him, but (she'll) be there right on time!" 

            And so it was that Jesus entered the sick room, now a room of mourning, took the young girl’s hand (she was only 12 years old, we are told), and gently speaks to her – not in priestly Hebrew, mind you, but in the everyday language of Aramaic:  “Talitha, koum.”  “Little girl, get up.”  And she did, and when she did, everyone was amazed – and Jairus leaned over and gave her a hug.

            I want to talk about healing for a couple of minutes – about what it is and what it means.  You see, I think that, particularly for us Western Christians with our pre-occupation and innate fear of illness and death, we often confuse healing with curing.  We think they are one and the same when really there is a huge difference between them. 

            A cure is strictly physical.  A cure is when our bodies work again the way they are supposed to.  A cure is the cancer miraculously gone.  A cure is the fingers and toes gnarled from arthritis straight again and the joints pain-free.  When we say we want healing, what we most often want is a cure.

            You see, healing is much, much deeper and far more profound.  Healing is becoming whole once more.  Wherever there is brokenness, wherever there is pain, there is the potential for healing.  If healing involves a cure as part of it, then praise God.  But real healing goes way beyond the physical removal of disease.

            Healing may be the mending of a marriage relationship, broken by years of abuse.  It may not be the saving of that marriage.  Instead it may be the forgiveness that allows each person to finally move forward and begin anew. 

            Healing may involve a sick person, to be sure.  But healing may be when the walls between you and that one in the hospital or hospice bed come tumbling down and, amidst the tears saved up for this very moment, you can say good-bye and speak the words “I love you.” 

            Healing may be moving beyond the pain and anger of a loved one dying.  It may be that moment when we can look at a photo of the spouse who is gone and smile rather than feel our eyes once again fill with tears.

            Healing may even go beyond ourselves and our personal relationships.  Healing may be finally realizing what it means to be a steward and caretaker of the earth, a recognition that inspires us to tend the soil, conserve energy, and rouse our congressional representatives from their indifference to the state of the only planet we will ever know as home.  You see, healing may involve ourselves, the people we love, our nation, or the earth.

            In the end, healing is restoration, and it is restoration to a community.  It is bringing people back together into the sacred web in which we all live.  Healing is realizing that we cannot survive alone, but we can thrive depending on healthy relationships with one another, with the earth, and with God.  Healing is finally understand that we can really only live in community.  

            And so Jesus restored Jairus’ daughter to her family, to her community.  And even more striking to me, Jesus healed the unnamed woman.  Yes, she was physically cured, but of far greater significance is the fact that she was restored to the community.  She was no longer ritually unclean and untouchable.  Healing is about making us whole once more. 

            During communion today, you will have an opportunity (if you wish) to participate in an ancient rite of healing – healing of spirit, mind, or body.  We will be sharing communion by intinction, which means that those who are able will come forward, take a piece of bread, and dip it into the cup. 

            At that point, you can either return to your pew as you usually do, or you can come and be anointed with oil.  Slightly scented olive oil will be used, and you will simply receive the sign of Christ on your forehead or your hand.

            Now this is new for probably most of us, so please listen before you make a decision about whether or not you will participate.  First, you do not have to be anointed.  It is strictly voluntary. 

            Second, anointing is simply a visible sign that we trust that God is always at work in us and in the world, and that the Holy Spirit is perennially present to bring God’s healing grace upon us.  Anointing is a way for us to affirm that God is still speaking and that God’s plan for us, for our communities, and for this world is to be whole and not broken.  Anointing is saying yes to a belief that God can and will (with our help) heal us and heal this place where we live.

            Third, if you chose to be anointed, no one is going to ask you why you have come forward.  That is between you and God.

            Fourth, you may come seeking healing for yourself.  However, you may also come seeking healing for someone else or on behalf of someone who is not here.  When Joe and I were on Iona last September, we went to a healing service, and I submitted Diane’s name.  She was not there obviously, but the 150 of us who were present prayed for her healing.  You may come seeking healing between nations and an end to the war in Afghanistan.  You may come seeking healing for the people of Honduras.  You may come seeking healing for our national congress.  You may come seeking healing for the earth.  It is up to you, and it is confidential.

            Finally, choosing to be anointed does not mean that we, or someone we love, will be cured of disease.  Nor does it mean that everything will work out the way we want it to, although that might happen.  Anointing is not magical.  It does not give us an edge in God’s sight.  

            What anointing does mean is that we have acknowledged that God is alive in us and, because of God’s love for us and because of God’s eternal desire for the world, healing (not necessarily a cure, but healing) will take place, at this moment or over time.  Why?  Because above all God wants us to be whole.