“We Interrupt this Program…”
June 28, 2009
Mark 5:21-43 and 2 Corinthians 8:7-15
In a book entitled The Culture of Cities published in 1938, Lewis Mumford decried the ways in which modern technologies and machines found were destroying the sacred bonds of the community within cities. The city, Mumford suggests, should be a natural and organic growth in which people share a desire to be together and grow not in isolation, but in relationship to one another. Machines were ruining these relationships.
As suburban sprawl was in its heyday, leveling the natural beauty that surrounded cities to make ways for complexes of houses and serpentine roads, Mumford asserted that we should “forget the [cursed] motor-car and build the cities for lovers and friends.”
Yet technology continued its unrepentant march, and as new and evermore modern technology frequently interrupted the life of Mumford and other city dwellers back he had this to say (something I think many of us can relate to): “Today, the degradation of the inner life is symbolized by the fact that the only place sacred from interruption is the private toilet.”
I can only imagine that if Mumford were alive today with the advent and ubiquity of cell phones and personal, transportable technologies he would be flabbergasted to see that even the private toilet is now a place of worldwide communication and interruptions.
But interruptions in our lives are nothing new. In fact our passage from Mark today is specifically about a very important interruption. It is tempting to treat our passage as two entirely different stories: the first one about the healing of a woman who has been hemorrhaging for twelve years; and the second one about the daughter of Jairus being restored to life.
But the two stories are not separate. They are intricately intertwined. We first hear of Jairus requesting Jesus to heal his daughter. Then, as Jesus and a crowd of followers head toward the house of Jairus we, the listeners to the story, are anticipating something miraculous. But Mark suddenly interrupts and out of nowhere a woman appears and we hear her story of healing first.
And the interruption is important. This is not the only time Mark writes in this manner. Several times in the Gospel, Mark tells stories in this sandwich style fashion. In scholarly circles it is known as intercalation—inserting one story into the midst of another. Thus, there are not two separate stories in our passage, rather both stories work together to form a whole unit.
And to understand this whole unit we need to look at how the two stories are similar and how they are different. One of the best ways to do this is by looking at the main characters: Jairus and the woman with hemorrhages. Jairus is the model of power and how to properly ask for a favor. At the time of the writing of Mark the local Palestinian society and Jewish culture were based on an honor and shame system. Requests for favors were to be done in a specific way. Order was to be properly followed. There were clear in-groups and out-groups.
Jairus was a member of the honored culture. He was an established leader of the synagogue—a point Mark makes very clear. In seeking a favor from Jesus he falls at Jesus’ feet—showing proper honor through humility to the miracle worker. Furthermore, he was male in a male-dominated society, where males ruled over the household, political and economic life, simply because they were male.
But the hemorrhaging woman? First of all she was female, which was a strike against her—she was not a member of the honored gender. Secondly, she was poor. We are told that she spent all her money on doctors that didn’t help her and in fact, she got worse. Thirdly, she should have been separated from society, according to Levitical laws, because of her consistent menstrual bleeding. Fourth, she is not a part of a respected family as she is simply part of the larger crowd that presses close to Jesus. Throughout the story she remains entirely nameless.
And these facts are important. Mark wants us to understand the contrast between these two figures of Jairus and the hemorrhaging woman. Mark wants us to see how the woman violates the codes of the day simply by touching Jesus. Mark wants us to feel empathy for her because her situation is so dire. She has no one to protect her. No one to seek healing on her behalf, as Jairus seeks healing of behalf of his young daughter. She is desperate and alone and society has left her at the whim of her ailment. So she touches Jesus, her last, her best, her only hope for renewal and healing.
But this touch was against all norms of society. It was a touch of shame that violated the honor system. To the listener of Mark this would have been shocking and appalling. What would Jesus do now? How would he respond to this horrifying breach of customs? Would he send her away? Would he cast her out of his midst? Would he reprimand her as customs might dictate—after all he was the man, and she was the woman, he was clean and she was unclean? He was known, and she was nameless. Further she had interrupted his journey to a wealthy man’s house—a man who was a leader of the synagogue, a man who had properly bowed at Jesus’ feet, a man of power and honor.
The woman, knowing her transgression, but strengthened also by her faith falls at the feet of Jesus, “fearing and trembling,” we are told. “Fearing and trembling” she fell. “Fearing and trembling” she prayed that Jesus would not hold her transgression against her. And Jesus’ only words to her are “Daughter, you faith has saved you. Go in peace and be healed of your disease.”
No mention of her impurity. No mention of her poverty. No mention of the hindrance of gender. No mention of her breach of honor. In one simple sentence Jesus sweeps away the norms of a culture that separates people based on gender, honor, and class status, and reclassifies humanity in an egalitarian fashion.
And we must remember, again, where Jesus was going when this happens. He was going to the leader of the synagogue’s house. And in the meantime while he has healed and talked with this nameless woman, Jairus’ daughter has died. Has Jesus really done this, Mark’s audience would ask themselves. Has Jesus really been responsible for the death of the daughter of a synagogue leader so that he could heal a woman of poverty, a woman of scourge?
There is a saying in liberation theologies that works well here—in the Bible there is a “preferential option for the poor.” When society won’t care for the poor, God will. When cultures overlook the destitute, God sees them. When people blind their eyes to those suffering from disease, poverty, and hard times, God hears their pleas and calls for action, redemption and justice. And likewise, God calls us to listen to those on the margins of society, because their perspective, hope and vision are essential to our own well-being. This God’s way, even if it is not the way of the world.
In our own country today this story should strike our hearts particularly deeply. Because is it not in our own country where well-to-do people like Jairus call upon doctors and nurses who immediately see to their needs and fix their ailments? Is it not here where the cost of health insurance and health care forces tens of millions of people into the ranks of the vulnerable uninsured?
How many stories have we heard over the past few months and years that parallel that of the unnamed hemorrhaging woman who “had endured much under many physicians, and had spent all that she had; and she was no better, but rather grew worse.” Surely these words ring loudly in our ears today. Our faith, like the example set for us by Jesus in this passage, is to be an active faith; one that seeks to create a society where all are cared for, especially those in poverty, and where none are left out especially those with no where else to turn.
And what is remarkable about this passage is the depth to which we have gone is because of a simple interruption. Interruptions, indeed, can be powerful things.
Listen, if you will, to these words about the interruptions in our lives from Henri Nouwen: “This is the great conversion in our life: to recognize and believe that the many unexpected events are not just disturbing interruptions of our projects, but the way in which God molds our hearts and prepares us for [Jesus’] return.”
In the interruptions of life our hearts are molded by God. As humans we have a rather natural tendency to want to control our lives. As college students we are encouraged to pick a major that will be the focus for our careers. Even in high school now youth can pick a particular program that will help prepare them for a particular life path. We plan, we make lists, we set goals, and we chart our paths. Yet there always have been, and there always will be interruptions.
God’s plan for our lives seem to me to be less like scripted play and more like a director encouraging free-form movements bound only by the law that we love God and one another in the process. Interruptions are to be expected. They allow us to stand back from our lives for a moment, to reconsider where we are headed, and bring us into greater community with the people and world that surrounds us. Interruptions call us out of our sometimes myopic tunnel vision, and help us to see new possibilities and new ways of doing things.
Perhaps the interruptions we’ve experienced in our lives are similar to the interruption of Jesus in our story today. Maybe we were focused on something distinct or we were on your way to do something particular, and suddenly someone came to us wanting healing, wanting comfort, wanting a friend to walk with or to talk with. And hopefully like Jesus we took time out of our day to comfort, to heal, to be with the person who needed it.
Or perhaps we have felt like the hemorrhaging woman. We once had a simple and decent life. But that has been interrupted and now we find ourselves in need of healing, in need of hope, in need of support, in need of a positive turn of events. Hopefully we can learn from the hemorrhaging woman’s action and those of us whose lives have been interrupted in difficult ways can reach out to someone and ask for help along the way. Because if her story teaches us anything, it is that we all have times of sorrow and pain and we must get through these times not on our own, but with the support of the community around us.
Or perhaps we have felt like Jairus. We had organized what we wanted. We had set for ourselves a timeframe to get it done in, and then poof, what we thought we had faith in is suddenly gone. Our lives have changed, our schedules become useless and we have to make due. From Jairus we can learn to maintain our faith in hard times. When Jairus despaired that his daughter had died Jesus simply encouraged him saying “Do not fear, only believe.” And Jairus did believe and his daughter was restored to life and the once-frightening interruption became a pathway to a greater faith.
Interruptions happen. It is how we deal with them that reveals who we are and what type of faith we have. And whether our interruptions are small or significant, whether they are long or short, whether they are glorious or frustrating, my hope is that we will look for how God is working even in the interruptions, helping us to see new possibilities, aiding in our understanding of the Creator, and helping us to grow more closely to one another. Amen.
