Sermon 7/2/06
Interrupted - Mark 5:21-43
(view lectionary notes for this text)
In today’s gospel lesson, we come upon a story within a story, a healing within a healing, as we read both about Jesus raising Jairus the synagogue leader’s young daughter from apparent death, and Jesus healing the woman who had been suffering for twelve years from hemorrhaging, who believed and indeed was healed with just a touch of Jesus’ cloak. I remember well that this was in fact one of the first texts I ever preached on. The pastor emeritus at Rome First had lined up for me to preach at Trenton Assembly Park Chapel, the little church on the campgrounds of a summer community. I forgot my own Bible, and the only Bible in the chapel was a King James Version. I usually use the New Revised Standard Version, as we do in our pews. When I came to the verse about Jesus raising the young girl up, it read as follows in King James: “And he took the damsel by the hand, and said unto her, Talitha cumi; which is, being interpreted, Damsel, I say unto thee, arise.” I just couldn’t picture Jesus talking in such a Shakespearean fashion, so I had to update the language as I was reading. I’ve rarely forgotten my own Bible since then!
So today, our story begins with Jesus again having traveled across the Sea of Galilee, and again finding crowds waiting for him on his arrival. This time, the crowds included a man named Jairus, a synagogue leader, and perhaps one of a group that did not usually welcome Jesus and his way of teaching in the synagogues with open arms. But, Jairus, it seems, has no such qualms about Jesus, at least not in this case. His daughter is sick, and he knows, believes fully, that Jesus’ touch will heal her. Jesus doesn’t hesitate, but follows Jairus to his home.
On the way there, the crowds continue to follow him. One among the crowds is a woman suffering for some twelve years from hemorrhages. We read that she has seen physicians and poured money into her care without result. She tries to get to Jesus in the crowd, just to touch his clothes, confident she will be made well. She reaches him, and is healed. Jesus knows he’s been touched – he can feel it. He looks to see who touched him. The disciples discourage him, wanting to get on with it. But he takes the time to seek her out. When she comes forward, scared, and tells him what she did, Jesus says to her, with gentleness, “daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease.” Then, while he’s still speaking, as if in rebuke for his taking time with the woman, people come from the Jairus’ house to say that the girl has already died, and not to bother with Jesus coming. Jesus simply responds, “Do not fear, only believe.” He proceeds as planned to the house, and entering, seeing the mourners, asks, “Why do you make a commotion and weep? The child is not dead but sleeping.” Of course, they laugh at him. Surely, even without advanced technology, people could tell the difference between sleeping and death. Jesus sends them outside, and takes the childs hand, and says, “little girl, get up.” And immediately she gets up. And they were all properly amazed. And Jesus told them to get her some food. Being dead, apparently, gives you an appetite!
So Jesus is a healer. We see Jesus healing over and over in the scriptures. We think of our own lives, and how Jesus can be a healing force for us, which is, of course, extremely important. And I think reminding ourselves of God’s healing hand in our lives is part of the point of this text we read today. But I think there is more to it than that. The way these stories are intertwined, with the one set into the other – I think that structure tells us something important. Something about being interrupted, and what interruptions mean for us spiritually.
Most of you now have seen my brother perform a monologue here at church. He’s busy in New Jersey this summer at the Shakespeare Theatre of New Jersey. Growing up, both Todd and I were very active in theatre programs, and at college, I studied theatre too, as a minor, but I specialized mostly in backstage work – makeup design, actually. I liked acting, but I didn’t get to do as much of it in college. And the reason why Todd will be a successful actor and why I would never be, despite my love of theatre, is in part because of my fear – my dread – of improvisation – of having to make things up on the spot. If you give me a script with lines to memorize – fine. I can do that. But if you tell me to just act and make things up how I think they should go, I’ll freeze. I can’t do it. And you can’t get very far as an actor if you don’t have that kind of flexibility. You have to be able to adapt if something doesn’t go as planned, and ready to respond to whatever situation presents it’s self. If another actor forgets a line, or if a prop breaks, or a costume rips, or an actor gets sick and an under-study has to fill in, you have to be ready, as an actor, for any of that. As they say, the show must go on.
I still struggle with my fear of improvisation today, even outside the theatre. In my preaching career thus far, I have always been a manuscript preacher. It’s all written out. Every word I want to say to you. In seminary in preaching class, we once had to preach with just an index card of notes. I thought I would have an anxiety attack with my level of fear. I survived, and the professor politely told me afterwards that he thought indeed that I was meant to be a manuscript preacher. I like it. I like choosing my words carefully. And I like the safety of it too. The plan. But with our Saturday service starting last September, I’ve been trying to go mostly without a manuscript. The rest of the service has a more fluid feel, and I wanted the sermon to match. I still prefer preaching on Sundays. But I’m trying to learn to let God move in my preaching in different ways. Some Saturdays I feel like I’d have done better with my manuscript. But sometimes, I feel God moving through me in a new way – through the interruption in my plans.
Another example: This year at Annual Conference, retired Bishop Judy Craig was our guest preacher. Bishop Craig served as Bishop in Ohio when I was in college there, and I’ve heard her speak here and there since that time – she’s a brave and bold inspiring woman. But she’s also wise and humble. In one of her sermons during conference, she shared about teaching a Bible Study on the text about Jesus healing the woman who was bent over. While she was teaching, it so happened that a woman came to be part of the study who was, indeed, bent over. Bishop Craig continued the study and no one, especially the Bishop, made comment on the woman’s condition and her relation to the words of scripture they were reading. To do so would mean interrupting her lesson plan. Afterwards, the Bishop did lay hands on the woman and pray for healing for her. And the woman was gracious, and appreciative, and felt God’s blessings on her, despite the fact that she remained bent over. But Bishop Craig felt deeply that she had missed a moment, missed an opportunity for something to happen, for something powerful to take place. And she missed it because she didn’t want to be interrupted in her plans. She had it all mapped out just fine – a good Bible study, with effective teaching points, and solid theological lessons. But when the moment came, she wasn’t able to let something happen off-script. She couldn’t handle the interruption. I can relate. Sometimes I will have my day perfectly planned. My to-do list ready. I know exactly what I intend to accomplish. And then the phone rings, and the schedule has to get tossed out. You do what you have to do, of course, but part of you so wishes you could just do what you had planned. No doubt all of us find ourselves in such situations – our lives, interrupted.
But Jesus (and his ministry) is about embracing the interruptions. The interruptions, in fact, are the heart of his ministry. The things outside the norm, the things unexpected and unusual, the things normally pushed to the edges, these things Jesus brings to the center. In our text today, perhaps we don’t notice that the synagogue leader was likely well-off, and the woman, spending so much on doctors, was likely poor. But Jesus made as much time for her unspoken request as for his. We probably forget that as a woman, a bleeding woman, she was unclean, and that by touching Jesus, she made him unclean too. We probably wonder that Jairus didn’t want to hurry Jesus along too. Wasn’t he impatient for his daughter to be seen? In the midst of a day when so many people are making demands of him, Jesus doesn’t insist on sticking to the schedule. He doesn’t look for his own rest time. He doesn’t heal only the best. He doesn’t stick to the cultural script of what he should do. He lets the interruption become the center of his attention.
In my freshman year of college, in my very first religion class, I learned two terms that were and are still among my favorites. In Christian theology, human time is called chronos, from the Greek, meaning “regular time.” We are a culture, a world, obsessed with time – this chronos time. But God's time is different than our time. God has a right time, called, in theology, kairos. Kairos means the appointed time, the correct time, the "right" time – God’s right time for action. Interestingly, the word's roots are in no way related to the roots of chronos. Kairos is an understanding of time totally unrelated to our human understanding of time. God operates in God’s right time for action, which may or may not have anything to do with our plans, our agendas, our schedules. In fact, often, usually, God’s time has a way of interrupting our time.
Who are we like? Are we like the disciples, wanting to hurry along to the next thing – not even wanting to take the time to see who is in need of our help? Are we like Jairus, patiently waiting. Are we able to be even like Jesus, letting God’s right time take place over our own scheduled and allotted time? When God interrupts your life, can you improvise, or do you have to stick to the script? Can you make the time, or do you have to put God on your calendar and make an appointment? This summer, when your to-do list might be as full as the rest of the year, or when your plans, important plans, are to kick back and relax – no matter what’s on your agenda, I encourage you to pay attention to the interruptions. You never know how or with whom God might choose to interrupt your life, in God’s time.
(throw away the manuscript!)