“Life and Death”

Sixth Sunday after Pentecost

June 30, 2024

Lamentations 3:22-33

Mark 5:21-43

Children’s Message:

(Have fruit snacks in a bag up front and life savers in a bucket in back.)

Hey, I heard that there are life savers in the back of the Sanctuary. Did anyone want a life saver? Let’s go back there together!

But wait, here’s a friend who I think needs an extra hug and prayer. Let’s stop here.

Are there other friends here who need a hug and a prayer? (During this, have usher remove the life savers.)

Usher: Pastor Tobi, I’m sorry, but the life savers are all gone. Someone ate them all.

Oh no! That’s really disappointing. But wait, maybe all is not lost. Let’s gather at the back and see if maybe we can’t do something about this situation. Well, the life savers are gone, but I’ve got some fruit snacks. Come back up front with me as I pass them out.

How did you feel when you found out the life savers were gone? Today we heard a story about a wealthy man who worked at the local church who went to Jesus because his daughter was dying. He was so desperate, he wanted Jesus to come right away. But on the way, Jesus got distracted by a woman who really needed his help. She was so sick and so desperate that she just wanted to touch the edge of his shirt. She knew that would be enough.

When she did, Jesus stopped and waited for her to tell him her story. And by the time she was done, the daughter had died. And I bet the father felt really sad. But Jesus still went to his home and brought the daughter back to life.

Let’s pray. Dear God, thank you for taking the time to stop and help us when we need it. Remind us that we can do the same for others. Amen.

Message:

Mark’s gospel account does this frequently—he sandwiches one story within another. They inform each other, expand each other, draw each other out. They connect and branch out in a way that is absolute genius.

Today, we hear a story about an influential synagogue leader and his sick 12-year-old daughter. And sandwiched within that story is one about an insignificant, shame-laced woman with a bleeding disease that has lasted 12 years. The first is a girl at the cusp of puberty, likely entering the age of marriage and children, her life cut short and her option of giving life cut off. The second is a woman who, because of her disease and the various attempts at cures, is likely never to have her own children and has possibly been abandoned by husband and community. Neither able to live life or give life.

As is often the case, we focus first on the bleeding woman. Because of the constant blood, she is constantly unclean and not welcome in holy places or among crowds. Yet, she is so desperate that she risks contaminating everyone surrounding Jesus—and Jesus, himself—just to touch the fringe of his cloak. No one needs to know. No one needs to see. She pushes past knees and elbows just to reach out her hand and brush against his clothing.

In that split second, her body is healed. And that could have been the end of it. Jesus could have kept going—making his way to Jairus’ home and his daughter. But he stops and turns around, looking for the one to whom his power went. And when he finds her, he listens. He listens to her whole story. She probably started haltingly, afraid of what people would say. But as she gets going, it all spills out—how she had to leave her home, how she tried so many doctors, how they often only made things worse, and how she was left with nothing in the end.

He listened without judgment. And finally, at the end, he did something more than cure her. He healed her. Restored her. In this verse, Mark uses the word, ‘sozo’, meaning ‘save.’ He saved her. It’s the word we often relate to being deemed worthy of heaven. But here, it means that she was deemed worthy of community. Made clean. Restored to her full self.

It’s not easy to tell your whole truth—your whole story. Especially when it is laced with shame and exclusion. Theologian Debie Thomas tells her story of coming to her family with her truth of being sexually abused by two trusted men from church when she was younger. Her family, being from South Asia, couldn’t hear it. They couldn’t accept such a shame-filled story into themselves. Whole truths about sex, gender, abuse, and the female body were just not mentioned. She had to rely on friends to help her bear the burden of this truth. Because she couldn’t continue to shoulder it alone.

The woman Jesus healed had to share her story—even after she was cured—because she couldn’t hold it by herself. She had to release it or it would still bind her going forward. Jesus shows us that legalism—all the rules we set up for good order—MUST give way to compassion. Every time. Every single time. Compassion comes first.

Of course, by the time Jesus’ encounter with this woman was complete, Jairus’ daughter had died. And for him, all hope was lost. But not for Jesus. All hope is never lost. And he continues the journey to the house, removes the paid mourners from their positions, and goes to the girl. In this case, it’s not a cure that she needs but restoration—again a salvation, ‘sozo’. Salvation from death, restoration to life. Jesus shows us that we should never pronounce death where Jesus sees life. Never. Compassion over legalism; life over death.

This is a timely story for us today as we lift up World Refugee Day. According to the United Nations Refugee Agency, as of April of 2024, more than 120 million people have been forced to leave their homes because of persecution, conflict, violence, human rights violations, climate change, and other events that have disrupted the public order. One hundred twenty million people. More than 1 in 67 people on earth are currently displaced.

The countries of Sudan, Afghanistan, Venezuela, and Ukraine have the highest number of displaced people. It’s ironic in a very sad way that approximately 6 million Palestinians are living in refugee camps or otherwise displaced. And just this week, many of the children and injured are being forced to go to Egypt for safety, leaving behind many of their family members.

And, of course, we still have thousands at our own borders, seeking asylum, seeking life, seeking hope. Many are leaving countries plagued by drug and gang violence, corrupt governments, and severe drought. And it’s difficult for us to hear their truths, in part because America has had a hand in creating some of their situations. Our attempts at improving their farm and animal produce has harmed the drought- and pest-resistant options they had before. And the demand for drugs in the U.S. has created a pretty large supply chain in struggling countries.

It’s not about blame, but an explanation of why we don’t want to hear the stories of need and fear because they hold elements of shame. We don’t want to offer help because we are afraid of the consequences. We write people off as not worth the effort. But if we learn anything from today’s gospel, it’s that legalism must give way to compassion, and we should never pronounce death where Jesus sees life. Compassion over rules; life over death.

Because Jesus doesn’t just promise us hope of life after death. He stops everything to listen to our whole stories. He accepts and loves us wholly—all of us. He takes our shame and our fear. He restores us to community. He restores us to life. He creates for us a place at the table. And he confronts death with the Word. “Child, get up. Daughter, go in peace.”

Pastor Tobi White

Our Saviour’s Lutheran Church

Lincoln, NE