June 23, 2009
The Rev. Jay Hanson
Once again this week, we the listeners to St. Mark’s portrayal of the meaning of events, note that Jesus ‘strictly ordered them that no one should know this.’ this being that he had healed the 12 year old daughter of Jairus, one of the leaders of the synagogue. We are reading our way through Mark’s gospel this year and we will encounter this strange injunction many times. Of course, someone must have told the story to someone, since it is here written down. Or, is this simply a clever literary device by which Mark is, for some reason letting us in on something that the characters in the story don’t know?
First of all, he takes only an inner circle of disciples to Jairus’ house, Peter, James and John. There turn out to be others present, enough loud mourners to make a commotion. When Jesus tells them the child is only asleep, they laugh at him, so he puts them all outside and takes only the father, mother and the three disciples with him. Taking the girl by the hand he asks her to get up, she does and the five with him are amazed and get the injunction to silence from Jesus, plus the order to give her something to eat.
Also, again, we moderns can hardly tear ourselves away from wondering how Jesus did this, if he did it, why we don’t see such things happening any more, and so on. We easily forget that at that time, as we said last week, such possession of greater powers than normal belonged to others in addition to Jesus. So the focus of the story was not the miracle, but the setting of the miracle and its place in the narrative.
It happens that this is one of four stories grouped together at this point by Mark, all of which illustrate that power flows to people who have faith. In addition all of these stories are about women, who were according to the standards of the world, powerless and weak, though one of the women in these stories, Herod’s daughter Herodius, was powerful by virtue of being a schemer.
The Daughter of Jairus (La fille de Zäire)
And Jairus is a powerful leader of the synagogue, who is reduced to fear and pleading by his daughter’s impending death. He refers to her as his little daughter, but then we are told she is twelve years old, so we know that she is not an infant. The phrase ‘little daughter’ it turns out is an expression of parental affection. Twelve year olds in those days were deemed old enough to marry and become mothers. So, just at the point where she can live the full maternal life, she is on the point of death and her father is moved to plead for help, realizing that, as powerful as he is in the institutional sense, he is powerless in the face of death, as we all seem to be.
It would seem that a point of the story is that we can be moved to trust or faith when we are at the limit of our own power and need help and that such need often happens when someone we love is at risk. Let me emphasize again that the point is not that if we have faith, people won’t die. Neither Jairus nor his daughter are alive today, after all. Nor is Lazarus, whose story of resurrection is told in John’s gospel. Death will overtake all of us. And it may be that part of Mark’s message is that the disciples had a hard time facing that. Peter, after all, rejects Jesus for suggesting that the Messiah must die.
But, I think Mark had more in mind. Even though these three disciples were let in on things where others were excluded, they had difficulty becoming courageous enough to face the powers of this world. They were with Jesus on the Mount of transfiguration but couldn’t stay awake and pray. And Peter, on whose reminiscences parts of this Gospel probably depend, when faced for the first time with fear for his own future in the Garden, claimed not to know Jesus.
Remember, if you will, that in this gospel, the theme is introduced very early by Jesus statement that the Kingdom of God has come near. It is at hand. Repent, change your ways, become courageous now, for the battle between that Kingdom and the kingdoms of this world is enjoined in the present moment.
Two years ago, while briefly in Edinburgh, Scotland, we visited St. Giles’ church, home congregation in his later years of John Knox, founder of Scottish Presbyterianism. We entered expecting only to see some beautiful stained glass windows and recall some important church history. but, prominently displayed in the side aisle were pictures and maps describing the international transport of young girls from poor countries of the world to rich countries to be used by prostitution rings. It was ugly. What a contrast to the care for his daughter displayed by the ruler of the synagogue in our story. The time for action based on faith, said the displays, was now.
The ugly truth also is that these same rich countries supply the market for international trade in drugs. The powers of this world are ugly and aggressive. They cannot be turned back by the timid.
We had some relatives by marriage in town this week and they wanted to visit the Roosevelt complex at Hyde Park. They were particularly impressed by Eleanor’s leadership in so many areas. And around the world, women are still fighting against powerful odds for their very survival, as we have seen, for example, in the aftermath of the Iranian election. I suppose that the Roosevelts had many second thoughts about stepping forth to leadership. The disciples, according to Mark, were very cautious and afraid at first. At least one of the meanings of the injunction to silence in this gospel is that the world is not ready for Jesus and neither was his inner circle.
Sometimes the powers of this world are so strong that we must zip up our hearts to keep from seeing the pain they are causing in the world. We find rationalizations for ignoring these hurts. Until, like the ruler of the synagogue, the pain comes unbearably close. In my last interim assignment, I had an assistant who was gay. He came from a very conservative midwestern family. They had all the usual arguments for resisting the full inclusion of gay persons into the society, until their own son was involved. But when her own son came out, his mother, like the ruler of the synagogue was moved by her natural love and compassion to seek help in understanding her newfound situation. She eventually organized the statewide parental organization in support of gay persons in her very conservative state. Having been healed by her growing faith, she now helps others with their fears by the power of her courage.
According to Mark, life is a battle between faith and fear. The disciples were a fearful bunch through most of his Gospel. They could only be courageous when they saw that Jesus was the embodiment of the struggle between the kingdom of heaven and the kingdoms of this world. His personal struggle on their behalf unzipped their hearts and gave them courage.
So the reading asks us, since there is no secret from us, we know the outcome of the story, to look at our own fears and gauge our own faith or lack of it and seek help for ourselves and others. We, like the leader of the synagogue come to the community of Christ’s followers for personal reasons; we want to be married in the church, we want our child baptised, we need some counseling, our grandfather needs to be buried, we want our children to be exposed to Jesus and to the values he represents, and so on. So it was with the girls father, so it was with all these who sought Jesus for their own need, including the disciples. And, I suppose, Mark would say we shouldn’t advertise that so much, not because it wouldn’t bring folks in, but because it might not carry a warning label.
The warning label should read that you too may discover, as they did, that Jesus is still alive and powerful and through your faith can move mountains, advance causes, bring peace and healing. The disciples weren’t ready for that, says Mark. But, when they saw Jesus alive again, they became ready. We are all in a sense, getting ready and perhaps unknowingly, inviting others to join us in getting ready to find the day when our own faith will grow and our courage be emboldened and thus Jesus be allowed to continue changing the world.