Reflection for Sunday January 30th, 2022: Another Time, Another Crowd
(Please read Psalm 31, Ecclesiastes 3: 1-17 & Mark 5: 21-43)
I have to tell you that I didn’t have much time for the Nazarene…
Back then, I was an important man, Jairus. I was responsible for the upkeep of the synagogue in Capernaum; I had to ensure that things were done properly.
I was troubled by what I heard: a man with a withered hand was healed in a nearby synagogue (so they say); then rumours, even, that he had rebuked the wind and waves; that he was a man who had stilled the hearts of the strongest men; that he had brought mercy and shalom to that self-mutilating madman who ran naked and shrieking through the tombstones.
It was best that I kept my distance for the sake of political correctness, for the sake of the safety of the town, for my own safety and reputation for that matter, best to ignore the murmurings. I had my family; I had my name to consider. This little storm would blow out by itself; just another promise-making prophet, my superiors assured me… and I told myself; just another fly-by-night dreamer who drew a little band of hangers-on and big curious crowds…
No, I didn’t have time for Jesus of Nazareth!
I didn’t have much time for crowds, come to that. I would avoid them whenever I could; they scared me. I had seen the hoards pressing in on him before, dust and heat and cries rising for help, and I had scoffed at the foolishness of it all, those miracle-chasers, the free-lunch merchants who amassed with such regularity. But not that day…
That day, hot with dust and dirt, filled with fear and panic, filled with the power of a desperate father. Blinded by tears, I pushed my way through the choking crowd, thoughts only of my little girl lying at home and near to death…
What did it matter about my reputation; what did it matter if I threw myself prostrate before him; what did it matter if I begged this strange man for help; would it really matter if I went to this priest who flouted the rules; would it matter if I lost all I had worked to preserve; would any of it really matter if my little girl was saved?
Is he who he says he is after all? Thinking: Would he have time for me if I tell him, come and lay your hands on my child so she may be made well and live?
And that’s exactly what I said: My daughter’s going to die! My daughter’s going to die! 12 years old, her whole life before her!
He stopped and looked, serene; in synagogue we heard about the hesed-mercy of God and I saw it then… in that face! He had time for me! We set off, pursued by the crowd; we hastened home, with hope.
And then; oh, I understand it now, but what rage I felt when he was stopped in his tracks by that old, old woman; we knew her; she must have sinned in some great way, bleeding for 12 years and she had seen every doctor in town and there was no sign of a change. Why, in the name of God, is he stopping? Why? She’s old, she’s unclean and unworthy; could she not wait another hour, another day even!
What difference would it make? Jesus, what are you doing?! My daughter is 12, dying, and here you are stopping and healing this woman. My heart sank; it sank when he healed her; we could all you see the colour return to her; my heart sank when we could all see the blood drain from Jesus’ face and with it his power to heal my little girl and with it all hope; my heart broke when I heard someone cry, “Your daughter is dead! There’s no point bothering the teacher! Why waste his time?”
Looking back, I’m not sure I had what anyone would call faith, real faith. But one thing I do know now is that God is in this man, and he is the God of great and small alike. I’m no better than the unnamed woman – I know her name now and she is my friend, though I’m sure I don’t deserve her friendship. I like and admire her; she came to Jesus with a greater faith than my own; she is and always was a humble woman of great endurance. She has walked into peace and into wholeness. She no longer spends her hours hiding in the secret shadows of lonely shame. I understand now how her faith was meant to strengthen my own, and it has…
When Jesus heals, he heals ALL of us, not just bits of us; when we are freed from our suffering, it is not just from our pain but from our sin. I’m a fool… but a forgiven one!
The woman with no name is now a daughter of God and the man who thought he had a name carries another name!
We often laugh of how we lost everything; she lost every shekel in search of a cure; I lost the keys to the door of the synagogue – but we found life in all its fullness. Really, we lost nothing!
What I know about God through Jesus is that he does have time, time for sick women, time to raise little girls (my little girl) from the dead, time to consider the lilies of the field and the birds of the air, time to number the hairs on your head, time to consider a pompous man like me…time to work on me.
I have time for the Nazarene now: he met us both where we were; he’s not like us, deciding who’s worth it and who’s not; he’s not like us at all – he takes time and trouble over those most of us would fear to approach or touch. He still troubles me and confronts me; he still asks me such difficult questions and I love him for this; our family loves him.
When I see my daughter now; she is grown and married and so beautiful, I can see more of Him in the girl than I can of myself or even her mother! She is full of grace and truth, just like the one who breathed life back into her, like the One who carried her down the steps like a shepherd carrying a lamb and said give her something to eat!!
He has taught me so much about justice; I thought I knew God because I did as I was told, because I kept all the rules; I now understand how men make rules that have nothing to do with God! The Law requires justice and mercy; the real Law asks us to have time to love lepers and women and, hard as this one still is for a man like me, time, even, to love our enemies…
The other day I began to read the scriptures and they started to make sense and I knew I had met the One who said, “I will seek the lost and bring back the strayed, and I will bind up the injured and strengthen the weak, but the sleek and the strong I will destroy. I will feed my sheep with justice.”
Talitha Koum, he said. Time to get up, little girl! There’s that word again, time! I’m so glad I gave him the time! I’m so glad he had time for me, Jairus!
And before I leave you, remember when I told you about the blood which drained from Jesus’ face that day so many years ago? We watched him, the Good Shepherd, bridge every gap there was to bridge, and we watched him empty himself for us; emptying himself of his very life blood outside the city walls.
The shepherd who had time to find the lost and touch the untouchable, had time to die like a lamb to the slaughter: the man who was God had time to join us in the agony of our humanity. I didn’t have much time for the Nazarene, but he had time – and he still does – if you will trust him.
He is indeed the king of an upside down kingdom with its curious ways - where the last again become first, where the no-names, the imprisoned, are freed and become instruments of his grace; that sometimes the sleek and the strong may have to be humbled - and wait - before they feel his touch.
God: King of Time: time for one and all! I have time for Jesus of Nazareth. What about you?
You are the God whom we cannot rush or force
Time is yours and you, of course
Are the King of Time.
The eternal attribute of our God, we are told,
Our time – which ticks and tocks – seems precious, like gold.
Time slipping away…. forever checking clocks.
Time – never enough left in our day
So much we forgot and wanted to say.
When all was madness around you
Your purpose still, uncrushed, unchanged
You got the job done amidst the clamour
Of minds deranged.
Time for the woman with no name
Time for Jairus whose fame
Was known.
Time too for the little guy
Never once did you say
‘I ‘ve got bigger fish to fry!’
Love has its pace – no need for spiritual race
Not for those who would touch the hem of your cloth
And seek out your beautiful face
Jesus you get the job done
Time for the little things
No job is ever too small
You King of Time,
time for me and time for all.
For All Time!
A poem of Mark inspired by Jesus’ healing of a woman, a girl and a man