A Sermon for the Sixth Sunday after Pentecost

Today we have a story inside a story: two stories about somebodies and nobodies.

One story is about Jairus. He is a leader in the synagogue. One might infer that he is a man of means (in a patriarchal society, leaders usually are). Jairus has a name. Jairus is a somebody. Jairus boldly goes to Jesus and humbles himself before Jesus. There is no hesitation or inhibition (he has power and privilege, which overcome any inhibition or hesitation about whether his case deserves a hearing or has priority). Jairus pleads for mercy on behalf of his unnamed daughter, who is at death’s door. I hear desperation in his voice.

Jesus hears him and agrees to go with him—and we follow along. We become part of the crowd who are present for the second story, the story inside the first story. In the back of the crowd of onlookers there is an unnamed woman (all the women are unnamed in today’s gospel) who has been ill for 12 years. She is sick, broke, worn out and at her wit’s end. Like, Jairus, she has heard about Jesus the healer, and through magical thinking she resolves to reach out and touch the hem of his cloak in the belief that her reaching out might result in a cure for her incurable disease.

She is plainly desperate, and desperate people might do crazy things. So she works her way from the rear of the crowd (where the nobodies reside) to the front (where the somebodies have the best seats), close enough to reach out and touch his garment. Immediately, she feels power go out from him to her. She is healed!

He, too, felt something in that moment. He knew that someone had touched him, he felt her misery and desperation. He asked aloud, “Who touched me?” In the moment Jesus wanted to draw her out and draw her into the circle of God’s love. She comes forward at his invitation and opens her heart and shares her life. She tells all. And Jesus commended the woman for her faith. Her faith has made her well.

Let’s pause in that moment and ask: What is faith? In the Greek New Testament, faith and belief come from the same root word, which means trust. Translators try to distinguish the two terms in order to clarify the meaning in a passage, using the nuance of English vocabulary. But sometimes meanings are lost in translation. Faith is deeper and stronger than belief. We believe, I believe … Belief is cognitive, intellectual. We are required to put our beliefs into words. We stand and say, “We believe in God the Father almighty, maker of heaven and earth …”

Beliefs are tested. Beliefs are fragile—they may be shaken by events. In light of experience and reason, they might be corrected or discarded. We might change our minds and believe differently. But beliefs matter, just as words matter.

Jesus commended the woman for her faith—not her belief. Healing didn’t happen because she figured out the magic formula (as might a health and wealth prosperity preacher): “just touch his garment and be healed.” Faith is a disposition of trust—trust in the mercy, compassion, love and justice of God—and trust in one’s worth in the sight of God … a conviction of one’s dignity in the sight of God, a feeling of being a somebody and belonging to God in Christ.
In the gospel, Jesus commended the woman for that conviction deep inside of her—that her life matters, that she is a somebody, and not a nobody, that her illness and suffering matter to God, for she is a child of God, a daughter of the community (and not just an anonymous, sickly outcast at the edge of a crowd).
The good news today is that faith is something that God gives freely to all. God gives us faith and nurtures and strengthens our faith by giving us grace. We all have faith, which undergirds and grounds our religion. So we can trust in the creeds and doctrine of the Church because we have faith in what we don’t fully understand and can’t adequately express in words. After all, a child can experience and receive the grace of God, without having the words to understand how Christ is present and communicates grace through the breaking of the bread and the sharing of the cup in Holy Communion.
More good news! Sometimes faith may look like desperation. We may feel that our faith is weak. But desperation can be the form faith takes to take a decisive step toward healing.

Have you seen the Pixar animated film Inside Out? (It was released in 2015, and the sequel is in theaters this summer, including the Goochland Drive-In Theater—I can’t wait to see it!) Inside Out is about a girl named Riley who has just moved from Minnesota to California. Riley is grieving the move and homesick and mad at her parents; and so she runs away from home. Inside Out takes us inside Riley’s head, where there is a crowd of emotions competing to control her life: joy, sadness, fear, anger, disgust, and other psychological mechanisms. The drama is around what Riley will feel in order to return home to the loving-care of her parents.

I imagine a similar crowd inside the women with a hemorrhage. I imagine sadness and fear and loneliness and despair in control of her life—until desperation grabs the steering wheel. Faith as desperation takes control and moves her to the front of the crowd, leaning all the while on the crutch of some magical thinking about healing, while she reaches out her hand and says: help me: I’m hurting, and I want to be healed.

There’s another story inside today’s gospel story … it’s your story. Today we are part of the congregation that gathers around Jesus. But we also may feel like we are standing with a crowd of onlookers … somewhere on the edge of life with the nobodies who don’t matter. What is your struggle? Is it mental or physical illness, or your aging body? What compulsion or addiction has control? What worries and fears? When and where do you feel left out? What is your prayer today?

In the end, the story comes down to Jesus’ words: “Only believe.” Just believe. Believe what? I do want to find the words to express the faith that gives me hope and lifts me up, the faith that raises us all from death and despair.

Here’s what I believe: There is nothing between us and God—just Christ Jesus. The divine power that was in Jesus is now by the power of the Holy Spirit present at the Altar, where our risen Lord meets us and invites us to receive his grace and feel the touch of his hand.

Beloved in Christ, may we all this day feel the love of God, the grace of Jesus Christ, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

The Rev. Gregory Bezilla