Standing Under the Scriptures
July 5, 2009

Dear Fellow Voyagers,

Our readings for this Sunday are:

2 Corinthians 12.1-10: Paul speaks of his weakness with overwhelming power.

Mark 6.1-6: Jesus encounters the paradox of being received with skepticism in his home town.

Last Sunday we read first Paul’s appeal to the Corinthians for contributions to the relief of Christians in Judea and then Mark’s account of Jesus’ healing of the hemorrhaging woman and raising of Jairus’ daughter. In both we saw the power of God to act when human resistance is set aside.

Paul’s appeal for the relief of poor Judean Christians was evidently a major concern for him. For after speaking of it in our passage (2 Corinthians 8.1-15) he goes on to say more about it in the following chapter. Not only that, his letter to the Romans contains an account of it (15.25-29). In our passage he highlights the generosity with which the churches of Macedonia have responded to the appeal:

"For in a severe test of affliction, their abundance of joy and their extreme poverty have overflowed in a wealth of liberality on their part. For they gave according to their means, as I can testify, and beyond their means, of their own fee will, begging us earnestly for the favor of taking part in the relief of the saints.”

Part of the inspiration for Paul’s appeal may have been the prosperity of the inhabitants of Greece and Asian Minor, compared with those of Judea. But part also may have been a time of dearth around the eastern end of the Mediterranean. In speaking as he did to the Corinthians, he presumably had in mind to inspire their generosity. But we found a couple of things, at least, that we could take away from the passage. One relates to our material wealth relative to that of our fellow Anglicans in the Global South. In terms of what Paul says to the Corinthians, we have an obligation not to keep it all to ourselves but to share it with them. Nor is this only a one-way street. In so sharing we participate in the spiritual wealth which we find our Global South fellows regularly to possess.

No less significantly, the passage reflects the impact of the gospel, of Paul’s own preaching, on those who at that time were exposed to it. Evidently it transformed them, reorienting them away from the pursuit of their own interest towards concern for others, in obedience to the Lord, from whom they held nothing back. In the light of this transformation the otherwise incredibly rapid spread of Christianity throughout the ancient world becomes more understandable. So also does the willingness of so many Christians in time of persecution to die rather than renounce their faith. And we can reflect on how our commitment compares to theirs.

Our second reading, Mark 5:22-43, contained not one but two accounts of Jesus’ works of power, the one being inserted into the other. Firstly Jairus, who as a leader of the synagogue was a personage of significance, falls at Jesus’ feet, beseeching him to save his daughter who is on the point of death. But as Jesus is setting out with him, a woman in the crowd who has long been afflicted with a hemorrhage for which she has found no cure, approaches from behind and touches his cloak. For somehow she knows that by so doing she will be healed. And healed she is. But Jesus, sensing what has happened, turns to ask who in the crowd pressing in on him touched his garments, a question which the disciples evidently regard as ridiculous. But the woman, despite her fear and trembling, comes forward to acknowledge what she has done. And Jesus, far from rebuking her for audacity, pronounces her healed.

Then they all start off for Jairus’ house. But just then people come to say that his daughter is already dead. And instead of trying to console him, they say, “Why trouble the Teacher further?” Jesus, however, is undeterred, pronouncing to Jairus (and us) the word that he needs: “Do not be afraid, only believe.” On entering the house they find weeping and wailing. Jesus undertakes to reassure the people: “The child is not dead but sleeping,” only to be laughed at. Still undeterred he enters the girl’s room with her parents and his close disciples, takes her by the hand, and raises her. And she gets up and walks. After enjoining secrecy on them, he ends on what seems a practical note, telling them to give her something to eat.

To be sure, we do not experience Jesus’ healing power in this way, at least not often. But the hypothesis I advanced was that it is present always and everywhere and that we fail to receive it only because of our resistance to it, as with a broadcast to which we are not tuned in. That there was resistance even back then is evident from the callousness of those who brought the news of the daughter’s death and from the rejection of Jesus’ reassurance by the assemblage in Jairus’ house. Even Jesus’ disciples gave signs of skepticism regarding the woman who was healed. And there is resistance also in us, at least in me. What overcame it for the woman and for Jairus would have been the utter desperation of their situations, making way for the faith which inspired her to touch Jesus’ cloak and him, a leader of the synagogue, to fall at Jesus’ feet. The gospel itself overcame it for the Macedonians and likely also the Corinthians, so that they could give themselves so wholly to Paul’s appeal. Our Eucharistic liturgy, particularly Rite I with its Confession and its Prayer of Humble Access, provides us with an opportunity to reflect on our own resistance and its roots and manifestations. We are not able to overcome it by ourselves; even being confronted with desperate situations may not suffice. But we may still be inspired to look to the Lord for his help. And if we ask with our whole hearts, he will not refuse.

Faithfully, Fr. Ted

P.S. I am attaching my sermon at All Saints’ member Ruth Bryant’s funeral (PDF) last Tuesday. I do this because it concerns a remarkable woman: saintly and perhaps in some real sense a saint. I do this also because I think it shows how, when viewed in the light of the Scriptures with which we are seeking to become imbued, events and lives take on a significance not otherwise apparent.