Heard About Jesus?

She had endured much under many physicians, and had spent all that she had; and she was no better, but rather grew worse. She had heard about Jesus, and came up behind him in the crowd and touched his cloak, for she said, “If I but touch his clothes, I will be made well.”

Immediately her hemorrhage stopped; and she felt in her body that she was healed of her disease [Mark 5:26-29].

In this week’s Gospel reading, Mark 5:21-43 (Sixth Sunday after Pentecost, RCL, Year B), we have a story within a story, what one of my minister friends calls, “a Markan sandwich.” Scholars have posited a number of theories as to why Mark would insert a story into one that he had already set out to tell. Some say the feature adds a heightened level of drama. Others say he’s making theological points, with irony, at two levels. There are at least 6—some argue there are 10—such “sandwiches” in Mark’s Gospel. It’s funny, when Matthew and Luke use Mark’s text, they make the sandwich “open face.” But I digress.

Prior to the events depicted in this week’s lesson—an encounter (of sorts) between Jesus and a woman with a 12-year hemorrhage, on the one hand, and the raising of a dead 12-year-old girl on the other— our Savior has been on the far side of the Sea of Galilee (i.e. Gentile country), where he had encountered the Gerasene demoniac. In this week’s text, Jesus is back in Jewish territory, where the dangers are quite different. Here, Jesus must deal with, inter alia, crushing crowds who have come with all sorts of needs and demands.

One of them is the unnamed woman with the 12-year hemorrhage. In my notes from a 2009 lecture by the Rev. Dr. Mark G. Vitalis Hoffman, Glatfelter Professor of Biblical Studies at United Lutheran Seminary, I scribbled that our English translations miss the intensity of Mark’s actual narrative. Hoffman—who does Greek extraordinarily well—allows that Mark incorporates a veritable string of participles, all building to the woman’s action:

And a woman–having been bleeding for twelve years, and having suffered greatly from many physicians, and having spent all she had, and having benefited not one bit but rather having gone from bad to worse, having heard about Jesus, having come in the crowd from behind–touched his cloak.”

Jesus stops and asks a question to which the disciples are incredulous, “Who touched me?” No doubt they were think, “Jesus, Jesus, in the last 15 minutes, in the midst of this crowd, who hasn’t touched you?”

Mark’s story continues:

Then the woman, knowing what had happened to her, came and fell at his feet and, trembling with fear, told him the whole truth [Mark 5:33].

Touching Jesus’ garment has cured the woman of her ailment [5:29], but a deeper blessing comes when Jesus, having heard her “whole truth,” publicly commends her faith and calls her “daughter.” She has entered onto the scene in secrecy, having heard about Jesus. She leaves the scene having been commended by him, all the while her neighbors, who have likely shunned her now for more than a decade, witness the whole life-changing event.

We need to be careful in how we resonate with Jesus’ pronouncement to the woman in verse 34, for here, there is important nuance. Jesus does say, “Daughter, your faith has healed you.” We should, however, also recognize that the woman did not address our Lord as “Son of David,” as blind Bartimaeus would later do [Mark 10:46-52]. She did not call him Messiah, or even Lord. She didn’t fill out a pledge card for the Jesus Movement. She said no established creed. She simply came forward. Her faith was not the result of years of study and careful observation. Her faith was a belief that Jesus could help her or, at least, a hope that He could help her. Her faith was heavily colored by her desperation.

All too often within the church, faith is taught (and understood) as some sort of personal, internal quality that can be carefully nurtured with the right reading materials, or the right preacher, or the right small group or Sunday School class. But just as back pain is not a punishment for insufficient faith, just as the cancer diagnosis has nothing to do with hit-and-miss church attendance, a man or woman who suffers does not do so because they haven’t believed fervently enough in Jesus.

When Jesus tells the woman that she is healed—that she is whole, He’s speaking about a human condition that is significantly deeper than a physical affliction. He isn’t talking about cures; He’s talking about healing. He’s communicating something that only He has the power to grant. His success in making you whole does not depend upon how much faith you have acquired over these years. It depends only upon His grace. And His grace abounds.

In this little story that is sandwiched between another healing story—the healing and raising from the dead of the daughter of Jairus—I am particularly struck by verse 27, “When she heard about Jesus, ….” Mark leaves us to wonder about what stories, what testimonies, what accolades she might have heard from others. Had she, for example, heard about the wedding feast at Cana? Did she hear about the demoniac? Had some of Jesus’ parables been repeated in her presence. Did she perhaps gain her knowledge through eavesdropping?

This story reminds us that just as the spoken word is like the arrow: once sent on its path, it cannot be reclaimed, so also we may never know what may come of the things that we say about Jesus. How might our actions, both within and without our congregations, be the leaven that, though small in size, grows overnight so that by morning the entire quantity of dough has been raised [Luke 13:20-21]? How might what we say about Jesus be like the seed that is planted in the ground and almost forgotten, only then to grow and produce fruit [Mark 4:26]?

Our world is full of people who feel that they are lost and beyond hope and reclamation. Are we talking about Jesus in a voice that can be heard?

The middle-aged mother looked into her morning mirror and thought to herself, “You look as tired and empty as you feel.”

She’d turned 52-years old earlier in the month. Both her children were now in college. One would soon graduate. Both were bright and doing well. The woman had a well-paying, if unfulfilling office job. Her husband was reasonably successful, yet she wondered to herself, “William, how long has it been since I’ve seen you really smile?”

As she slapped water on her face, her thoughts were heavy and pensive. Speaking softly to a husband who was in the kitchen on the other side of the house, she sadly muttered, “Honey, your text messages far outnumber your kisses.”

She paused, then whispered to herself, “So do mine.”

One beautiful Saturday morning, she had a few minutes to kill and so she decided to grab a coffee and a Danish at her favorite coffee shop. The day was pleasant and so, she took a seat outside. The sky was bright, but her spirits were low. So much water under the bridge, she thought. What remained?

She saw three women about her age sitting at a nearby table. One was laughing—a bit too loudly. The others had deep grins on their faces as well. She saw that each of them had an open book before them. She wondered about them. They clearly had a bond. Who were they? What were they doing here? And then, she heard one of them clearly mention His name: “Jesus.”