Community Church Sermons
Year B
July 1, 2012
Fifth Sunday
after Pentecost
The Other
Mark 5:21-43
Rev. Martin C. Singley, III
Senior
Pastor
You are taking care of your little girl – or granddaughter – when she falls ill. A fever takes hold, and convulsions, and she is dying.
You rush to the phone and dial 9-1-1. “My little girl is dying!” you shout. “We’re on our way!” the dispatcher answers.
The E.M.T’s pile into the rescue vehicle. Siren blaring and lights flashing, they speed off toward your house. You put the phone down and run back into the bedroom. Your child is getting worse. Seconds tick by, turning into minutes. Where are they? What’s taking them so long? It seems like it’s taking forever!
Out on the roadway, the rescue truck is speeding your way. But just as it rounds a corner, the E.M.T’s spot an old rumpled lady at the side of the road. She is flagging them down. Don’t stop, E.M.T’s! Don’t stop!
They stop. They ask what’s wrong. She says she needs them to help her stop bleeding. She has been experiencing menstrual difficulties for a long time. She tells them about all the doctors she has seen and all the money she’s spent to get well. This has been going on for twelve long years.
Meanwhile, you are feeling desperate. Your child is near death. Where are those E.M.T’s?
They open the back of the rescue vehicle and lay the woman down on the stretcher. They take a detailed medical history, and ask what medications she is taking. Then they take her vital signs and hook up an IV.
But the clock keeps ticking, and you wait for them to come help your little girl.
The rescue people make some radio calls. They consult with doctors about how to treat the woman. After ten or fifteen minutes, they get an answer and after another ten or fifteen minutes are able to stop the bleeding. The woman is finally well.
The ambulance gets back on the road, lights flashing, siren blaring. Shortly it pulls up in front of your house.
But by then, it’s too late.
This is not just a made-up story. Something like this actually happened once, long ago. Take away the telephones and rescue vehicles and other items of today’s world, and you have our scripture story from Mark 5. The father who is desperately trying to save the life of his little girl is a man named Jairus. The rescue worker summoned to help is Jesus. And as Jesus rushes through a crowd of people to get to Jairus’ house to save the little girl, that nondescript woman with the hemorrhage touches his robe.
And Jesus – sensing that power has come out of him – slows down and looks to see who touched him.
“Oh no, Jesus!” we react, “Don’t stop! Keep going! The little girl needs you! This woman is just an old baglady who has been suffering for twelve years! She can wait another hour or so for you to return! But the little girl can’t wait! She’s dying! She needs you! Don’t stop, Jesus!”
If you were Jesus, what would you do?
Jesus…stopped.
And you know the rest of the story. The old woman is healed. But the little girl dies.
Sometimes I wonder why they would put such a story in the Bible – a story that casts Jesus in such an unfavorable light. We human beings have an innate sense of fairness, and what Jesus does is just not fair! Little girls should take precedence over old bagladies. Even when the Titanic went down it was women and children first into the lifeboats and – if there was a choice between an adult and a child - the children were saved first.
Don’t stop, Jesus, don’t stop!
But Jesus stops.
It’s almost as if – to Jesus – this old, worn down daughter of Israel is just as loved and valued as this young daughter of Israel. And if this is true, then perhaps the discomfort we feel about the choice Jesus made that day becomes all the more uncomfortable because what is happening is that it exposes our sin – the sin of thinking some people are more important than others.
Isn’t it true that you and I rank people – communities – nations – religions - in the order of what we think is their value?
But in this story, Jesus affirms the value of “the other” – the person you and I would pass over in favor of someone we judge to be more worthy.
This is the Gospel. This is what it’s all about. On page after page of the Bible, God lifts up those who would otherwise be left behind - the lowly, the lost, the left-out-others of life. “THESE ARE MY CHILDREN TOO!” the Lord seems to shout in hopes that someone will hear and truly get it. And sometimes, people DO get the message.
Elizabeth Ballard once penned a story – loosely based on her own experiences growing up - about a fifth grade schoolteacher named Miss Thompson. She had a little boy in her class named Teddy Stallard. She knew what kind of student Teddy was going to be, knew it from the moment she saw him. He had this dead-pan, blank expression on his face, and his eyes were glassy, unfocused. He spoke in monosyllables. His clothes smelled musty. His hair was unkempt. Besides, Miss Thompson had Teddy's records and she had him pegged even before she met him. The records for first grade said he showed promise but had a poor home situation. Second grade: "Teddy could do better. His mother is seriously ill and he gets no help at home." Third grade: "Teddy's a good boy, but a slow learner. His mother died this year." Fourth grade: "Teddy is slow. His father shows no interest." Miss Thompson had seen all of that, and she wrote Teddy off from the very beginning. She didn't expect anything much from him and she got what she expected. On all his papers she marked big red X's next to his wrong answers and etched F's at the top with a flair.
When Christmas came the boys and girls brought Miss Thompson presents. Among the brightly wrapped packages was one from Teddy Stallard. It was wrapped in crumpled brown paper and clumsily pieced together with Scotch tape. When she opened it, out fell a gaudy rhinestone bracelet with half the stones missing, and a half-empty bottle of cheap perfume. The other children laughed when they saw Teddy’s gifts, but Miss Thompson shushed them. She put the bracelet on her wrist and dabbed a little perfume beside it. Holding her wrist up for the other children to smell, she said, "Isn't it lovely?" and the other children "oo-ed" and "ah-ed" appropriately. When school was over that day, and the other children had left, Teddy lingered behind. Softly he walked to the teacher's desk and said, "Miss Thompson... Miss Thompson, you smell just like my mother...and her bracelet looks real pretty on you too. I'm glad you liked my presents." Teddy left the room before he could see the tears welling up in Miss Thompson's eyes. And when the door had closed behind him, Miss Thompson got down on her knees beside her desk and prayed, "Dear God, forgive me. I have done this little boy wrong. He's one of your children, just like all the rest. Forgive me."
When the kids came back from Christmas break they were greeted by a new teacher. Oh, it was still Miss Thompson, but she had become a different person. She took a greater interest in all her students now, and she helped them all, especially the slow ones, especially Teddy Stallard. By the end of the year Teddy showed dramatic improvement. He had caught up with most of his classmates, was even ahead of some. After that year she didn't hear from Teddy for a long time. Then one day she received a note in the mail. It read: "Dear Miss Thompson, I wanted you to be the first to know. I will be graduating second in my high school class. Love, Teddy Stallard." Four years later she received another note: "Dear Miss Thompson, They just told me I will be graduating first in my class. I wanted you to be the first to know. The university has not been easy, but I liked it. Love, Teddy Stallard." And four years later another note: "Dear Miss Thompson, As of today I am Theodore Stallard, M.D. How about that? I wanted you to be the first to know. I am getting married next month, the 27th to be exact. I want you to come and sit where my mother would sit if she were alive. You are the only family I have now. Dad died last year. Love, Teddy Stallard."
Well, Miss Thompson went to that wedding, and she sat where Teddy's mother would have sat. Her experience with this left-out, left-behind little boy had changed her life. She had truly encountered the God who loves all his children – no matter who, no matter where, no matter what.
Elizabeth Ballard wrote that story to remind us about God’s all-embracing love. And we all know stories like that in our own lives.
But…as wonderful as it is that God loves us all, there’s still a little girl in this Gospel story who has died, and a grieving family that can’t understand why Jesus didn’t come and help before it was too late.
The Bible tells us that Jesus told the father to not be afraid, but to believe.
“…he took the child’s father and mother and the disciples who were with him, and went in where the child was. He took her by the hand and said to her, ‘Talitha koum!’ which means, ‘Little girl, I say to you, arise!’ Immediately the little girl stood up and walked around. She was twelve years old. At this they were completely astonished.” (Mark 5:40-42)
You see, in the great, big, loving heart of this amazing God, all God’s children are cherished.
And even when it’s too late…it’s
NOT too late - for the God who loves us.