Sixth Sunday after Pentecost

Sixth Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 8B)

June 30, 2024

The Holy Baptism of Daniel Fides Bromen

Text: Mark 5:21-43

            Desperate.  Despairing.  Daddy’s little girl is sick unto death.  Falling at Jesus’ feet, the synagogue ruler, Jairus by name, begs the Savior to come, lay His hands on her, that she may be healed, and live.

            Desperate.  Despairing.  For twelve years, a flow of blood, rendering her, and everything, and everyone, she touched, unclean.  Thus isolating her.  Thus robbing her of dignity and honor in the eyes of others.  All her money spent on doctors.  She never got better.  Only worse.  But now, here He comes, and, sneaking up behind Him in the midst of the clamoring crowd, she reaches out her hand, saying, “If I touch even his garments, I will be made well” (Mark 5:28; ESV).  And, though left unsaid in the text, undoubtedly she thought: “No one will even know.” 

            Desperate.  Despairing.  And where is Jesus?  He is in it.  All the way.  Bid to come, He comes.  He went with Jairus into death’s dark vale.  Jostled by the crowd, pressed in on every side, yet He is there for the woman seeking His cleansing and healing touch.  And, even among so many, He knows the hand extended in desperation.  Power goes out from Him, to heal, to save, a daughter of Israel receiving her Shalom.  He turns… “Who touched me?” (v. 31)… and she thinks He is angry.  His disciples are bewildered.  But He would cast His compassionate and merciful gaze upon the one who believes.  And He would speak into the despair.  And so He does.  Now, the woman, falls at His feet and confesses.  And what does He say?  “Daughter…”  “God’s own child, I gladly say it!”  And think how this fell upon the ears of one who, for twelve years, had been shunned as unclean, not to mention, barren.  “Daughter,” He calls her… “your faith has made you well,” or, we could also translate it, “your faith has saved you.”  And then, “go in peace,” Shalom, “and be healed of your disease” (v. 34). 

            Words of wholeness and restoration to this dear woman.  But now, what about Jairus and his precious daughter?  Time has been wasted on a woman who could wait.  And here come some from Jairus’ house.  “Your daughter is dead.  Why trouble the Teacher any further?” (v. 35).  Nothing He can do about it, now.  Desperate.  Despairing.  And now… hopeless.  “Jesus, where were You when I needed You?  Distracted by her, You forgot to help me.  And now, I am beyond Your help.  As we all know, death has the final word.” 

            But not with Jesus.  Never with Jesus.  Remember, where is Jesus in the face of despair and desperation?  He is in it.  All the way.  In our flesh.  In our suffering.  In our uncleanness.  In our very sin.  Immersed in the whole clamoring crowd, yet for us, each and every one.  And there is no further in for Him to go than death.  And so, that is precisely where He goes.  There.  Even there.  The cross.  The anguish.  Torn flesh.  Blood.  Talk about desperation.  Talk about despair.  “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me” (Mark 15:43; Ps. 22:1).  And it looks, for all the world, like there is nothing Jesus can do about it.  Death claims the ultimate trophy.  Death has the final word.

            But it doesn’t!  Not with Jesus.  Never with Jesus.  “The third day He rose again from the dead” (Apostles’ Creed).  His whole life had been driving toward this.  The Sacrifice that makes atonement for our sins.  The resurrection that brings us healing and peace, life and wholeness.  Shalom.  And so, no, Jairus… and no, all you who think death has the final word, that there is nothing more Jesus can do once a body has breathed its last… Jesus has not forgotten you, or forsaken you.  For the Christian, there is no such thing as hopelessness.  Jesus is in it with us, all that afflicts us, up to and including death itself.  And He has overcome it.  And so, what does He speak to the ruler of the synagogue?  What does He speak to us in our desperation and despair?  “Do not fear; only believe” (Mark 5:36). 

            And now it’s just a matter of time.  For Jairus, a few seemingly eternal moments.  For us, who knows?  Only God knows the day or hour.  But Jesus will undo death.  He already has for Himself.  He’ll do it for us.  Along with every other affliction.  It’s as good as done.  He goes with Jairus into the house.  He rebukes those who have surrendered to death in their grief.  Now, understand, not the holy grief of those who mourn over the wages of sin.  But the grief that laughs in the Savior’s face at His Words of life and hope.  The grief of unbelief.  And, certainly, that of the professional mourners, which is probably the majority of those making the commotion.  All of them, He casts out.  He goes into the room with the child’s parents, and with Peter, James, and John, the requisite two or three witnesses.  (It’s a little practice exercise for their job as witnesses of the Lord’s resurrection.)  And He marches right up to the corpse, and He takes her hand.  Remember, this would ordinarily have rendered Him unclean, just like the woman's touch would have rendered Him unclean.  But Jesus undoes the uncleanness of it all.  And He speaks: “Talitha cumi… Little girl, I say to you, arise” (v. 41).  And she does.  Immediately.  And with energy.  She starts walking around.  And now, the punchline.  She’s twelve years old!  Her whole life within the span of the woman’s flow of blood.  Twelve.  The Twelve Tribes of Israel now receive their cleansing.  Twelve.  By the Twelve Apostles (by the Apostolic Preaching), healing, cleansing, and resurrection life will go out from Jesus into the whole world.  Now, give the girl something to eat, because resurrection and feasting always go together. 

            And what has happened to desperation and despair?  Because Jesus is in it all the way, with us, and for us, it must give way to Shalom.  That is, again, cleansing, healing, wholeness, resurrection life… peace.  Only in Jesus.  And always in Jesus. 

            You have your own times when you are desperate and despairing.  That’s life in this fallen world, and in this fallen flesh.  You suffer your own afflictions.  Uncleanness.  Sin.  And death.  Your own impending, and your grief over that of others.  But you know that none of those things has the final word.  Not in Christ.  And so, “Do not fear; only believe.”  For the Christian, suffering always comes in the shape of the holy cross.  And so, for the Christian, relief from suffering ultimately comes in the shape of resurrection from the dead.  The ultimate hope in the face of the ultimate despair. 

            What do you do in the seemingly eternal moments when you’re waiting on Jesus and His deliverance?  You fall at His feet in prayer and confession… like Jairus… like the woman.  You cling, for all your life, to His Word of Promise, and you listen to it again and again.  You believe it.  You memorize it, and you give your whole mind and heart into the possession of it.  And you put out your hand for His healing and life-giving touch.  Which is to say, the cure for all that ails you, including death, is right here in the Preaching and the Sacrament.  Jesus.  Speaking to you.  Touching you.  “Daughter… Son… Baptized Child of God… your faith has saved you.  Go in peace, healed and whole.  Shalom.”  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son X, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.