Luke 8:
40-56
Across
the boundaries
Christ
Church, June 2002
Here are two stories for people who feel they are the lowest of the
low. They are for people who feel
insignificant, desperate, on the edge, ignored, even for people who feel
unclean and polluted. They are for
people who perhaps think they are too far gone, past the boundary of hope,
beyond the boundary of God's healing love.
These accounts are for people who
long for something new. Jairus was
obviously known to Luke by name-his encounter with Jesus obviously made him
known to the early church as someone who followed Jesus after these events,
even though he was a leader of the synagogue.
The woman with the haemorrhage, who is not named, nevertheless was also
known to the early church. The historian
Eusebius even recorded that she erected a statue to commemorate her
healing. Her encounter with Jesus
affected the rest of her life as well.
But she is nameless. In contrast to Jairus who is known, she is
anonymous. She is not known, she is an
intravert, battered by years of social loneliness. The synagogue leader, aware of his social status and power but
also his need, comes in and kneels in front of Jesus. The woman on the other hand approaches from behind, seeking to
mask her presence in the public arena.
The male addresses Jesus directly, recognising that if he would lay his
hand on his daughter she would live.
The woman on the other hand makes affirmation to herself, assuring
herself that if she but touches his cloak she would be made well. She is a woman who should be confined to a
private space coming to meet Jesus in the man's space-in the public arena. She is breaking social boundaries. She is rising above her station. And she knows it and is afraid,
trembling. But she is desperate.
Jesus, surrounded by men jostling
for his attention, on his way to raise someone from the dead, stops for
her. Yes, there are many who are
deserving of his attention, many who need him, but he stops for her. For her, who thought she was anonymous, without
a name. In the midst of the crowd,
Jesus gives her his full attention. He
calls her daughter. Can you identify
with her? Do you feel there are many
who claim Jesus’ attention who are perhaps more deserving? Do you fear that your name is not important? Not known even? Well, for Jesus, you are worth the delay. You are worth attention in the middle of the
crowd. Jesus turns social boundaries on
their head to give people attention.
Those who should be outside are made to feel as if they are the only
ones that matter. There is a message
here for those of us who feel like we don't have the social graces or
background to be part of the church.
And there is a message for those of us who occupy a place in the crowd,
where perhaps we can make it difficult for others to approach Jesus.
What kind of faith has the woman
got? By appearances not much. She doesn't want to come face to face with
Jesus. This is a kind of experiment for
her. Her faith may seem quasi-magical
or even superstitious-if I can just touch his clothes. It may seem unsophisticated, without much
knowledge. What’s more, for her, coming
to Jesus has been the last resort-she has tried doctors for 12 years. She hasn’t been a serious follower up till
now. But Jesus isn't offended by the
fact that he is the last resort. He
doesn't mind. This kind of faith with
all its uncertainty, muddle, hesitancy is enough for him to say to her
“Daughter your faith has made you well.”
This is a story for those of imperfect faith.
The woman of course has been
bleeding for 12 years. Even our society
finds menstruation a distasteful subject.
Adverts for sanitary products substitute the red of blood for some kind
of inhuman blue liquid. Red is the
colour of violence and of prostitution.
It is an illness to hide perhaps even today. But Jesus is not shocked.
He is not a prude. He doesn't
pull a face or have to brace himself.
He is not shocked by our deepest wounds - even the ones we are ashamed
of. He knows about them already. The hidden secrets of our sexuality, the
damage we have done to others, the shame we keep locked away.
And of course the woman has become
unclean. Ritually polluted. If you
touch her you have to go and wash and keep yourself separate for a few days.
The purity laws of Israel, written down in Leviticus, had their origins in
maintaining public health. But over the
years this religious law of purity had become something which alienated and
oppressed. Religious laws can be used
like that. And what were the two things
that were particularly religiously unclean?
Women in their periods and dead bodies.
What does Jesus do to those who are unclean? What does he do to those who are polluted? To those who lie beyond so-called religious
boundaries? He touches them. He touches them and heals them. The boundaries are ignored, even reversed.
Jesus reaches across the boundaries
of pollution and uncleanness to touch and to heal. He can do this because he is not made unclean himself by touching
others. He can do this because in
touching the dead girl he foreshadows the moment when he himself will become
polluted by death, when he will cross the boundary of death, once and for
all. He crosses it untainted. Once that boundary is crossed there is
nowhere we can go where he cannot touch us.
So now there is no one so low, so broken, so ashamed that Jesus does not
even today reached across the boundary and invite us to be healed. There is no one beyond his touch.