The lectionary readings will be at the end of the post.
Today’s lectionary readings run the gamut of emotions, teachings, and the human experience. Our readings take us into the somber halls of death, reading the raw tribute David wrote of Saul and his beloved friend, Jonathan. Then, there are instructions on equality, mutuality, and shared resources in 2nd Corinthians. Finally, there are the intercalated stories of two women on opposite sides of the social and religious spectrums of first-century Judaism, with Jesus at the center. I really appreciate it when the person and presence of Jesus are at the center.
This morning's readings take us on various on-ramps of the highway-like journey of faith. Beginning with Samuel, we read and hear the words of a heartbroken David. How the mighty have fallen, David writes of Saul. And while their relationship is fraught with complexity, David does not utter a single negative word about Saul. But there is also something else that is curiously missing from this eulogy. In the midst of David’s profound loss and public statement of grief over his best friend, Jonathan, and his father figure, Saul, there is no mention of God. These pain-filled and heartfelt words of David are human and earthy. I can’t help but wonder if these honest words are not only about David’s grief but also giving us permission to grieve when we experience loss. But the readings don’t leave us there.
On the other hand, we see a different on-road presented in Mark’s Gospel. An onramp of faith that demonstrates the incredible hope, delight, and restoration that comes when Jesus’ healing power enters the room. In Mark’s Gospel, we are presented with two stories, which is the second half of a larger teaching unit of four miracle stories. But these two stories, about two daughters from different socio-cultural backgrounds, highlight Jesus’ deep love and compassion for all people.
Mark’s Gospel uses a unique literary style called intercalation. Mark begins with one story, in this case, the story about Jairus and how Jairus seeks help for his dying daughter. While Jairus uses his position as a lay leader of the Synagogue to get close to Jesus, a woman who has been ceremonially unclean because of blood cuts the line and, through her faith, is healed and restored. Then, interrupting this woman's story, Mark writes an interruption with the news that Jairus’s daughter has died.
Within this literary style of a story within a story resides an invitation for us to explore and interpret these stories together. They serve as lenses for each other to provide a glimpse into the life and teachings of Jesus and to help us see the unique way Christ is encouraging us to live.
As we compare these two stories, at least in my reading, a few striking differences and tensions need to be resolved.
As we look at these two women's social, religious, and cultural status, we will see they live in opposites, even though they are in the same Jewish neighborhood.
On the one hand, we have Jairus; we are given the name of a man who is also a religious leader advocating for his dying daughter. He sees Jesus and approaches him, falling to his knees to symbolize his distress, begging Jesus for help.
On the other, we have an unnamed woman who has been excluded from the synagogue because this type of bleeding does not allow her to participate in communal worship. She hears about Jesus and, through personal agency, reaches out to touch Jesus.
And in the same breath, we have similarities. Both of these people are desperate to be saved from their plight. Both fall at the feet of Jesus. And perhaps most importantly, both of these women share the title of daughter. Whether religious elite or marginalized, Jesus shares with both of these women a familial title: they are both children of God. Jesus responds to both the calls from the high and the lowly because Jesus, in his very being, brings healing.
Each of these stories resolves in the way that we would want to see. We long to see the marginalized in our world and in our community recentered, restored, and dignified. Just yesterday, I officiated a funeral for a man who was laid to rest by his parents; the death of a son or daughter is simply an unimaginable pain and seemingly defies the natural order we come to expect. And here we see two daughters restored. The pain of loss subsides, and the joy and amazement of the miraculous takeover. Perhaps my favorite part of the story, and certainly of our morning worship, is when Jesus concludes with instructions to have a snack and eat some food.
This restoration and leveling theme is then picked up in the 2nd Corinthians passage: through faith, we become people who are, as we prayed, open-handed and open-hearted so that all may not just survive, but thrive. Faith is the great equalizer; faith gives us all the same familial name and place in Christ.
But what do we make of the gritty, emotion-filled, and heartfelt tribute of David who is faced with the certainty of loss contrasted with the amazement and delight of a young woman being raised from the dead? What onramp should we take?
In my time as a hospital chaplain, I have been in the room and a witness to the reality of both the fragility and strength of the human body. I have seen patients do the unimaginable. Their bodies rally, and we celebrate that God and the interventions have “worked.” And yet again, I have seen healing even when there is no cure. I have seen relationships mended, family members restored, legacies shared, and the mantle of loss and love carried with pride and generosity.
There are a few things I believe we can take away this morning from our readings. The first is that God is the source of boundless love that seeks to restore people, families, relationships, communities, nations, and, hopefully, the world. May we, as we grow and continue our journeys of becoming like Christ, be sources of healing, help, and hope. May we be like Jairus and advocate for those who are voiceless, and may we be like the bleeding woman who tenaciously interrupts the cultural and religious status quo to bring healing, help, and hope.
May we become like David and live with the vulnerability of having a best friend like Jonathan, someone we can love profoundly and who can love us. David’s words are somber, and sober us to the reality that life is fragile, so may we make amends and not leave anything on the table. May we treat one another as David treated Saul, with respect and dignity, and to speak of one another with a clear conscience.
As I stand here today, there is a part of me that is glad that this lectionary reading only comes around once every three years. It is sad, heavy, and weighty. It is gritty and holds the tensions between what we long for in our own lives and in the world and the reality of loss. Which onramp do we take? Do we go the route of David and freely acknowledge, name, and declare our grief? Or do we take the road of Jairus and the daughters, and cling onto hope for a miracle? The answer to the question is rooted in understanding joy.
I recently came across a quote that fits our lectionary reading well. In her book, This Here Flesh, Cole Arthur Riley shares this quote on joy. “Joy situates every emotion within itself. It grounds our emotions so that one emotion isn’t overindulged while the others lie starving. Joy doesn’t replace any emotion; it holds all of the emotions and keeps them from swallowing us whole. Our society has failed to understand this. When society tells us to find joy in suffering, society is telling us to just let it go, move on, and smile through the pain. But joy says, hold on to your sorrow. It can rest safely here.”
May we, today and in the days to come, joyfully and safely hold the tensions of our lives, loved ones, communities, and our world. Amen.
Hebrew Bible Reading 2 Samuel 1:1, 17-27
After the death of Saul, when David had returned from defeating the Amalekites, David remained two days in Ziklag. David intoned this lamentation over Saul and his son Jonathan. (He ordered that The Song of the Bow be taught to the people of Judah; it is written in the Book of Jashar.) He said: Your glory, O Israel, lies slain upon your high places! How the mighty have fallen! Tell it not in Gath, proclaim it not in the streets of Ashkelon; or the daughters of the Philistines will rejoice, the daughters of the uncircumcised will exult. You mountains of Gilboa, let there be no dew or rain upon you, nor bounteous fields! For there the shield of the mighty was defiled, the shield of Saul, anointed with oil no more. From the blood of the slain, from the fat of the mighty, the bow of Jonathan did not turn back, nor the sword of Saul return empty. Saul and Jonathan, beloved and lovely! In life and in death they were not divided; they were swifter than eagles, they were stronger than lions. O daughters of Israel, weep over Saul, who clothed you with crimson, in luxury, who put ornaments of gold on your apparel. How the mighty have fallen in the midst of the battle! Jonathan lies slain upon your high places. I am distressed for you, my brother Jonathan; greatly beloved were you to me; your love to me was wonderful, passing the love of women. How the mighty have fallen, and the weapons of war perished!
New Testament Reading 2 Corinthians 8:7-15
Now as you excel in everything--in faith, in speech, in knowledge, in utmost eagerness, and in our love for you--so we want you to excel also in this generous undertaking. I do not say this as a command, but I am testing the genuineness of your love against the earnestness of others. For you know the generous act of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sakes he became poor, so that by his poverty you might become rich. And in this matter I am giving my advice: it is appropriate for you who began last year not only to do something but even to desire to do something-- now finish doing it, so that your eagerness may be matched by completing it according to your means. For if the eagerness is there, the gift is acceptable according to what one has--not according to what one does not have. I do not mean that there should be relief for others and pressure on you, but it is a question of a fair balance between your present abundance and their need, so that their abundance may be for your need, in order that there may be a fair balance. As it is written, "The one who had much did not have too much, and the one who had little did not have too little."
Gospel Reading Mark 5:21-43
When Jesus had crossed again in the boat to the other side, a great crowd gathered around him; and he was by the sea. Then one of the leaders of the synagogue named Jairus came and, when he saw him, fell at his feet and begged him repeatedly, "My little daughter is at the point of death. Come and lay your hands on her, so that she may be made well, and live." So he went with him. And a large crowd followed him and pressed in on him.
Now there was a woman who had been suffering from hemorrhages for twelve years. She had endured much under many physicians, and had spent all that she had; and she was no better, but rather grew worse. She had heard about Jesus, and came up behind him in the crowd and touched his cloak, for she said, "If I but touch his clothes, I will be made well." Immediately her hemorrhage stopped; and she felt in her body that she was healed of her disease. Immediately aware that power had gone forth from him, Jesus turned about in the crowd and said, "Who touched my clothes?" And his disciples said to him, "You see the crowd pressing in on you; how can you say, 'Who touched me?'" He looked all around to see who had done it. But the woman, knowing what had happened to her, came in fear and trembling, fell down before him, and told him the whole truth. He said to her, "Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease."
While he was still speaking, some people came from the leader's house to say, "Your daughter is dead. Why trouble the teacher any further?" But overhearing what they said, Jesus said to the leader of the synagogue, "Do not fear, only believe." He allowed no one to follow him except Peter, James, and John, the brother of James. When they came to the house of the leader of the synagogue, he saw a commotion, people weeping and wailing loudly. When he had entered, he said to them, "Why do you make a commotion and weep? The child is not dead but sleeping." And they laughed at him. Then he put them all outside, and took the child's father and mother and those who were with him, and went in where the child was. He took her by the hand and said to her, "Talitha cum," which means, "Little girl, get up!" And immediately the girl got up and began to walk about (she was twelve years of age). At this they were overcome with amazement. He strictly ordered them that no one should know this, and told them to give her something to eat.