Thirteenth
Sunday (B)
(Wisdom
1:13-15; 2:23-24; 2nd Corinthians 8:7-9, 13-15; Mark 5:21-43)
We have today, People of
God, a vision of Jesus which the early Christians loved, a vision which
comforted and strengthened them in their patient endurance of, and final
triumph over, state persecution at the hands of the world-wide Roman
Empire. Those persecutions are difficult
for us to appreciate today. We all
rejoice in our hearts to read in the papers or to see on the TV news programmes
how some ordinary individual has taken on stone-walling officialdom, and,
against all the odds, finally received justice.
But in such a situation we have a sympathetic press, we can have
recourse to the law at times, and we are a free people who can talk out and
gather friends. But Rome was a universal
power, the Emperor’s will was law, there was no free press, and Roman society
disliked, even hated, Christians who behaved so differently and openly shunned
as evil so many practices and amusements which Roman society loved: the
circuses, the gladiatorial fights, and the sexual licentiousness which was
common and wide-spread.
Consequently there was
nowhere to turn for our fellow Christians of the first three or four centuries
when the all-powerful, universal, state turned on them. They had only their own resources, that is,
the strength which the Faith gave them; and one of the supreme sources of
comfort, strength, and hope for them was this picture of Jesus as Lord of life
and death’s destroyer in today’s Gospel reading:
Jesus took the father
and the mother of the child, and those who were with Him, and entered where the
child was lying, then He took the child by the hand, and said to her, Talitha,
cumi, which is translated, Little girl, I say to you, arise. Immediately the girl arose and walked, for
she was twelve years of age. And they were overcome with great amazement.
On a later occasion John
tells us about the death of Lazarus, the brother of Martha and Mary:
Jesus said to His
disciples, "Our friend Lazarus sleeps, but I go that I may wake him
up." Then His disciples said,
"Lord, if he sleeps he will get well." However, Jesus spoke of his death, but they
thought that He was speaking about taking rest in sleep. Then Jesus said to them plainly,
"Lazarus is dead. And I am glad
for your sakes that I was not there, that you may believe. Nevertheless let us
go to him." (11:11-15)
Jesus knew what death
was, but, when He Himself was involved with the “dead” person, or when He was
invoked, called on to help, He preferred to speak of “falling asleep”:
Our friend Lazarus
sleeps … I go, that I may wake him up.
Jesus came to the house
of the ruler of the synagogue, and saw a tumult and those who wept and wailed
loudly. When He came in, He said to
them, "Why make this commotion and weep? The child is not dead, but
sleeping.
In all their many trials
and tribulations the early Christians loved to think of Jesus raising up His
own from what the world called death, but which they knew to be only a “sleep”;
for them, there was a life to come, a life where sin and death would be no
more. That is why, only some thirty or
perhaps sixty years later when Paul’s letter to the Ephesians was written, the
author could quote a traditional Christian hymn in this way:
Awake, you who sleep, arise
from the dead, and Christ will give you light. (Ephesians 5:14)
Let us now turn our
attention to the synagogue leader and to the woman with a haemorrhage, both of
whom turned to Jesus in their great need.
Notice first of all, People of God, what a great leveller faith is: on
the one hand a prominent member of the local synagogue and on the other this
very much embarrassed woman. One comes
to Jesus openly, falls at His feet and tells of his distress and anxiety with
which anyone who heard would sympathize; the other comes up to Jesus secretly
with a double-trouble she wished to keep secret, since her serious and
debilitating ailment was not only an embarrassment for her but also made her
legally unclean and therefore an outcast from society. Both, the synagogue official publicly
proclaiming his grief and praising Jesus, and the woman anxiously striving to
keep her troubles secret even from Jesus Himself, were given what they desired
because of one thing only: their faith in Jesus.
Now a certain woman had
a flow of blood for twelve years, and had suffered many things from many
physicians. She had spent all that she had and was no better, but rather grew
worse. When she heard about Jesus, she came
behind Him in the crowd and touched His garment; for she said, "If only I
may touch His clothes, I shall be made well."
How beautiful Jesus was,
People of God! The psalmist tells us
of Him:
God, Your God, has
anointed You with the oil of gladness more than Your companions; Your garments
are scented with myrrh, aloes, and cassia. (Psalm 45: 7-8)
She had confessed to the
drawing power of such beauty by daring to risk herself and her shame as she
joined and gradually pushed through the crowd surrounding Jesus -- (‘Who does
she think she is pushing her way through like that!!’) -- that, however, was as
far as she dare go … just a gentle, unnoticeable touch of His garments … Was it
personal shame or was it such reverence for the beauty and majesty of the One to
Whom she had drawn so near that made her so diffident. Whatever it was, Jesus would not allow faith
to be full without praise, acknowledgment, and witness:
Who has touched My clothes, He said?
And at this moment, just
as her faith had healed her so shortly before, so now a new-found willingness
and desire to acknowledge and praise Jesus enabled her to:
approach Jesus in fear and trembling, and she fell down
before Him;
whereupon her
deep-rooted, years-long, embarrassment, secrecy and fear, dissolved along with
her ailment, and, before all:
she told Him the whole truth.
And how beautiful Jesus
still IS, People of God!! That woman
only slightly touched His cloak, whereas we receive Jesus, the full humanity of
the heavenly glorified Jesus, in the Eucharist.
Many of you will receive Him at this Mass; let her be your model! Look at the woman’s self-risking faith and
hope as she single-mindedly moved through the crowd of people in order to get
into a position where she could just touch the cloak of Jesus: now look at
yourself, what sort of faith and hope are in your mind and heart as you prepare
to receive His very Self in the Eucharist?
Surely you are not so unfortunate as to think you do not have any needs
or desires so pressing or so important as those experienced by the woman in our
Gospel story?
Finally, notice that
both the synagogue official and the unknown woman came to find Jesus together
with His disciples. They did not try to waylay
Jesus in some side-alley or find Him walking alone in the countryside: both
went looking for Him, and expected to find Him, together with His disciples. That
must be our attitude too, People of God.
Those who would wilfully and knowingly ignore His disciples gathered
together in His Name cannot hope to find Jesus.
We come to find JESUS in the Church where He has promised to be
until the end of time, for the Church has been established to lead us to
Jesus.
However, although Jesus
and His Church are one, they are not the same.
Because we are members of the one, true, Church of Christ, we should never
allow ourselves to forget that Jesus alone is our total aim and aspiration here
on earth. We must never turn aside from
Jesus and satisfy ourselves with membership of the Church; rather, should we constantly
relate to Jesus in the Church. When, for
example, Mother Church says we must come to Mass on Sundays and Holy Days, that
we must receive the Eucharist at least once a year, and that about Easter, we
cannot therefore think that, having done those things, we do not need to bother
any more about Jesus, that we do not need to pray to Him, perseveringly seek to
know and love Him, and humbly try serve Him as best we can at all times and
under all circumstances. All that is
summed up in our attitude at Mass: we come to Mass to make a sincerely personal
encounter and establish an enduring personal
relationship with and commitment to Jesus, whereby, in Him and by His
Spirit, we may learn to fulfil our personal calling, and fittingly -- on behalf
of all mankind --offer worship and praise to the glory of God the Father.
And Mother Church
assures us that Jesus, for His part, is not only concerned about our spiritual,
other-worldly, well-being, our eternal salvation; He is concerned also about our
present joy and our present well-being, as the following words of Jesus make
abundantly clear:
These things I have
spoken to you, that My joy may remain in you, and that your joy may be full (John 15:11);
Until now you have asked
nothing in My name. Ask, and you will receive, that your joy may be full (John 16:24);
and we can bring our
thoughts today to a fitting close by recalling what Jesus said after He had
raised the young girl from the sleep of death:
He commanded that
something should be given her to eat.
Jesus is, indeed, Lord
and Saviour not only for those who, like the early Christians, suffer
persecution and death for His Name, but also, for disciples such as ourselves
in the lesser sorrows and smaller needs that come our way as we strive to serve
Him in all details of our lives.
Important or unnoticed, big or small, we are all members of His flock
that constantly needs to be able to find suitable pasture:
Give (them) something to eat!
For, indeed, as St. Paul
tells us, His whole will is to enrich
all who turn to Him:
Jesus Christ, though He
was rich, yet for your sakes He became poor that you, through His poverty,
might become rich.
