Proper 8 | Ordinary Time 13
Preaching
Lectionary Preaching Workbook
Series VIII, Cycle B
Revised Common
2 Samuel 1:1, 17-27
2 Corinthians 8:7-15
Mark 5:21-43
Roman Catholic
Wisdom 1:13-15; 2:23-24
2 Corinthians 8:7-9, 13-15
Mark 5:21-43
Episcopal
Deuteronomy 15:7-11
2 Corinthians 8:1-9, 13-15
Mark 5:22-24, 35b-43
Theme For The Day
Jesus, who healed people by touch in years gone by, is reaching out to touch us today.
Old Testament Lesson
2 Samuel 1:1, 17-27
David Mourns Saul And Jonathan
David has defeated Saul, and has remained in the area while his soldiers mop up the remaining resistance (v. 1). A section the lectionary omits then describes how a messenger comes to David, bringing some of Saul's armor and describing how he himself dispatched the already-dying king. David tears his clothes and weeps, in grief for Saul and Jonathan. The messenger is probably expecting to be rewarded, but instead David calls one of his soldiers in, and at David's command, the soldier kills this man who had killed Saul. As the main part of today's passage begins, David sings a song of lament for Saul and Jonathan, including the oft-quoted line, "How the mighty have fallen!" (v. 19b, 25). Although Saul and Jonathan had their differences in life, at the end, the son died defending his father, and so David sings, "Saul and Jonathan, beloved and lovely! In life and in death they were not divided; they were swifter than eagles, they were stronger than lions" (v. 23). David also confesses his great love for Jonathan, "I am distressed for you, my brother Jonathan; greatly beloved were you to me; your love to me was wonderful, passing the love of women" (v. 26). Few victories in life are without their share of grief.
New Testament Lesson
2 Corinthians 8:7-15
Paul's Stewardship Advice
Paul has been commending to the Corinthians, as a positive example, the generosity of the Christians of Macedonia, who have sent large amounts of money to support Paul's ministry. "As you excel in everything" else, Paul tells them, he wants them to excel in generosity (v. 7). Paul is not commanding them to do so, he says, but he wants them to know he will be comparing their giving to that of the Macedonians (v. 8). The true example of generosity, of course, is that of Jesus himself -- who, "though he was rich, yet for your sakes he became poor, so that by his poverty you might become rich" (v. 9). It's not the amount of the gift that's important, but the willing heart behind it: "For if the eagerness is there, the gift is acceptable according to what one has -- not according to what one does not have" (v. 12). Paul encourages the Corinthians to discover "a fair balance between your present abundance and their need" (vv. 13-14).
The Gospel
Mark 5:21-43
Jesus Heals Jairus' Daughter And A Woman With A Flow Of Blood
This lengthy passage contains two healing stories that are intertwined with one another. The first story begins as Jairus, a leader of the local synagogue, comes up to Jesus and begs him to come heal his daughter, who is dreadfully ill (vv. 22-23). Jesus sets off with Jairus, followed by a large crowd of curiosity-seekers. The tumultuous crowd is pressing so closely around him that no one notices a ritually unclean woman, who has suffered for twelve years from a never-ending menstrual flow, come up and touch the hem of his garment. But Jesus notices. "Power has gone forth from him" (v. 30), healing the woman instantly. Jesus stops the entire procession, on its way to Jairus' house, and asks who has touched him. The woman comes forward, "in fear and trembling, [falling] down before him," and confesses what she has done. Far from being angry, Jesus blesses her, saying, "Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease" (v. 34). Just then some messengers arrive with the sad news that Jairus' daughter has just died; had Jesus not stopped to speak with the sick woman in the street, he could perhaps have made it there in time. Jesus comforts Jairus, saying, "Do not fear, only believe," then he enters the synagogue leader's house with several of his disciples. He says to the vociferous crowd of mourners there, "Why do you make a commotion and weep? The child is not dead but sleeping," and is met by their derisive laughter (vv. 39-40). Jesus throws the mourners out, takes only his disciples and the girl's parents into her room, and raises her from death, using the gentle Aramaic invitation, "Talitha cum" -- which means, "Little girl, get up!" (v. 41). The girl does get up, and Jesus asks that she be given something to eat. He charges those present to say nothing of what they have just seen.
Preaching Possibilities
Today's Gospel Lesson tells of a woman who's desperate to reach out and touch Jesus -- only here it's not a matter of reaching back through history, but reaching over, in the present, and physically touching him as he stands before her. The woman wants to do this for a reason other than mere adulation: she's sick, and she's certain this rabbi's touch can heal.
But the woman is afraid. The streets are thronged with people, eager to get close to Jesus, yearning to touch him. She has good reason to fear the crowds: for, according to Jewish ritual law, she is unclean.
Mark tells us the woman has been suffering from "hemorrhages" -- from what the King James Version calls "an issue of blood" -- for twelve years. She's been bleeding, from some intimate part of herself -- and because Jewish women are considered unclean for the few days each month when that sort of thing happens, and are required to isolate themselves from the community, this woman has been a virtual exile among her own people. For her to walk up and touch any person who's not also ritually unclean -- especially a rabbi, who's required by biblical law to undergo an elaborate purification ritual if that sort of contact takes place -- is to risk scorn, or even injury.
Yet, this woman is so desperate to be healed, she's willing to take the risk. "I won't tell him who I am," she says to herself. "I won't tell anybody who I am. I'll throw a cloak over my head, slip through the crowd, and touch him as he goes by. If I can but touch the hem of his robe, maybe it will help." And so the woman does just that -- and the instant she touches Jesus, the most remarkable feeling of transformation comes over her. She knows somehow, deep within herself, that she has been healed.
Then the unexpected happens. Jesus stops in his tracks, and looks around. "Who touched my clothes?" he asks. Jesus knows this touch is different from that of others in the crowd. He knows -- he just knows -- that someone experiencing terrible need has just been helped. Fearfully, the woman steps forward and identifies herself, telling Jesus she's just been healed. Instead of scolding her, he blesses her: "Your faith has made you well; go in peace."
As it was with her, so is it with us. How many of us yearn to reach out and touch Jesus in just such a way? Tentatively, fearfully we stretch out our hand, intending our fingers to graze the hem of his robe and no more. Sometimes we do it as a sort of religious experiment: only half-believing our tentative touch will make any difference at all.
But then, in some way we scarcely understand, it does make a difference. Healing comes to us (if not instantly, then in the fullness of time; and if not in the way we intended, then in the way God intends). Along with the gift of healing comes a response: from the one whom we've touched, who hasn't escaped noticing that power has gone out of him.
So how do we experience that healing touch? We experience Christ's healing, life-giving power in word and sacrament, and through the discipline of prayer. Most notably we experience his touch in the sacrament of baptism: something most all of us received at an early age, probably before we were even aware of it. Yet here inside the font is no empty abstraction, but a real, physical substance: water. That water is, on the face of things, no different from the water that comes gurgling out of the tap, but in a spiritual sense is a means by which God reaches out and touches us.
That touch continues, throughout the life of Christian discipleship, as we encounter Christ in the physical touch of torn bread and poured-out wine. We encounter him as well in the word proclaimed: and whenever, in prayer, our outstretched hand grazes the hem of his garment.
We just may encounter the living Lord, also, whenever -- in all innocence and love -- we reach out and touch another human being. In the words of Jewish philosopher and theologian Martin Buber, "The world is not comprehensible, but it is embraceable: through the embracing of one of its beings."
Prayer For The Day
We open our hands, O God ... We open our hearts ... We open our lives to you. Reach out and touch us today, as your Son, Jesus, touched those people of old whom he healed of their diseases. Find that place deep within us where we most need your healing. Bring us new life, in your Son's name. Amen.
To Illustrate
In 2002, the newspapers were filled with accounts of what appeared to be a remarkable discovery in biblical archaeology. It was an ancient stone box, called "the James Ossuary." An ossuary is a bone box -- a sort of small coffin, used to hold the bones of a person who has died. It was a fairly common thing, in crowded cities of the Roman world, for bodies to be buried in tombs, then disinterred a generation or so later, so another body could be laid in that place. The bones -- which had by then been bleached white and no longer needed to be in the ground -- were taken away. If the person's family was well-to-do, they stored their ancestor's bones in the specialized stone box called an ossuary.
The ossuary in question turned up in a marketplace in Israel. It seemed to date from the first century A.D.: but even more remarkable, it bore an inscription that said, "James, son of Joseph, brother of Jesus."
How many other James, sons-of-Joseph, brothers-of-Jesus could there be? -- it had to be the burial box of James, brother of our Lord -- the one who, in the book of Acts, is described as ruling over the early Christian church in Jerusalem.
The impact of this discovery -- if genuine -- would be nothing short of extraordinary. Apart from the Bible, the only contemporary record of Jesus' existence is one line from the Roman historian Suetonius, who in his Life of Nero, speaks of a group of Jews in Rome who stirred up trouble at the instigation of one Chrestos -- whom many scholars take to be a reference to Christ. Suddenly, there seemed to be hard evidence of the life of the historical Jesus, words scratched not by pen onto flimsy parchment, but carved into hard stone: "James, son of Joseph, brother of Jesus."
Unfortunately, as the newspapers again indicated about a year later, the James Ossuary was ruled a fake. The box itself is ancient enough -- probably dating to the time of Jesus -- but careful analysis of its inscription proved those words were chiseled into the stone in modern times: probably by some wily antiques merchant, hoping to make a buck.
We've all got a hunger within us for some link, some tangible connection, to greatness. It's that same hunger that leads some to seek baseballs autographed by Babe Ruth, or glossy publicity photos signed by Marilyn Monroe. Pick up such a celebrity artifact, turn it over in your hands, and you feel that somehow, through some sort of autograph magic, you've touched fame.
-- Source: Greg Myre, "Israelis Say Burial Box of Jesus' Brother Is Fake," New York Times, June 19, 2003
***
When a U.S. president or other famous politician comes to town, there's always someone who holds a baby up to be touched or kissed (that's where the old political expression, "pressing the flesh," comes from). Mothers and fathers, out of some strange motivation they can barely put into words, are seeking some kind of blessing for their child from the touch of this famous person. There's no rational reason to do it -- in fact, there's got to be some considerable inconvenience in lugging a baby through the teeming crowd at a political rally -- but still they bring their children to be touched.
***
Church leadership consultant, William Easum, says in one of his books, that in the typical worship service people go in and sit down, and for one hour pretend they don't have bodies. They focus their thoughts on the intangible, the spiritual. Part of them believes that the physical aspects of their lives are somehow inferior to that which is spiritual. To reach out and hold the hand, say, of a loved one sitting next to them, or put their arm around that person, seems somehow like it doesn't belong there: that it's a guilty pleasure, an intrusion of the sensual into the realm of the spiritual.
***
There's a famous story of Frederick the Great of Prussia -- a powerful ruler of the European Enlightenment, a man of impressive scientific curiosity as well as a leader of armies. Frederick once conducted an unusual scientific experiment into the development of human language. There was a theory of the time that the babbling of infants was, in some unknown way, related to the ancient language of Eden: but that children lost this oldest of all mother-tongues as they grew and learned the language of their parents.
Frederick devised an experiment to test this theory. He had his scientists take some orphaned newborn babies, and isolate them from all physical contact with human beings. The babies would be kept in separate rooms, with no contact with each other. Not a word of language was to be spoken in their presence. Specially trained nurses would see to the babies' physical needs -- feeding them, and making sure they stayed warm -- but they were forbidden to pick them up and embrace them. Once the children grew old enough to speak, they would be brought into the presence of the other children who were part of the experiment, to see if they could converse with one another.
The experiment was an utter failure. Not one of those poor children lived beyond infancy -- let alone to the age when language begins to develop in earnest. The one thing King Frederick learned from his cruel and ill-considered experiment was that the physical touch of another human being is essential to life. If babies are not picked up, and hugged, and caressed, they have but a slim chance of surviving to maturity.
2 Samuel 1:1, 17-27
2 Corinthians 8:7-15
Mark 5:21-43
Roman Catholic
Wisdom 1:13-15; 2:23-24
2 Corinthians 8:7-9, 13-15
Mark 5:21-43
Episcopal
Deuteronomy 15:7-11
2 Corinthians 8:1-9, 13-15
Mark 5:22-24, 35b-43
Theme For The Day
Jesus, who healed people by touch in years gone by, is reaching out to touch us today.
Old Testament Lesson
2 Samuel 1:1, 17-27
David Mourns Saul And Jonathan
David has defeated Saul, and has remained in the area while his soldiers mop up the remaining resistance (v. 1). A section the lectionary omits then describes how a messenger comes to David, bringing some of Saul's armor and describing how he himself dispatched the already-dying king. David tears his clothes and weeps, in grief for Saul and Jonathan. The messenger is probably expecting to be rewarded, but instead David calls one of his soldiers in, and at David's command, the soldier kills this man who had killed Saul. As the main part of today's passage begins, David sings a song of lament for Saul and Jonathan, including the oft-quoted line, "How the mighty have fallen!" (v. 19b, 25). Although Saul and Jonathan had their differences in life, at the end, the son died defending his father, and so David sings, "Saul and Jonathan, beloved and lovely! In life and in death they were not divided; they were swifter than eagles, they were stronger than lions" (v. 23). David also confesses his great love for Jonathan, "I am distressed for you, my brother Jonathan; greatly beloved were you to me; your love to me was wonderful, passing the love of women" (v. 26). Few victories in life are without their share of grief.
New Testament Lesson
2 Corinthians 8:7-15
Paul's Stewardship Advice
Paul has been commending to the Corinthians, as a positive example, the generosity of the Christians of Macedonia, who have sent large amounts of money to support Paul's ministry. "As you excel in everything" else, Paul tells them, he wants them to excel in generosity (v. 7). Paul is not commanding them to do so, he says, but he wants them to know he will be comparing their giving to that of the Macedonians (v. 8). The true example of generosity, of course, is that of Jesus himself -- who, "though he was rich, yet for your sakes he became poor, so that by his poverty you might become rich" (v. 9). It's not the amount of the gift that's important, but the willing heart behind it: "For if the eagerness is there, the gift is acceptable according to what one has -- not according to what one does not have" (v. 12). Paul encourages the Corinthians to discover "a fair balance between your present abundance and their need" (vv. 13-14).
The Gospel
Mark 5:21-43
Jesus Heals Jairus' Daughter And A Woman With A Flow Of Blood
This lengthy passage contains two healing stories that are intertwined with one another. The first story begins as Jairus, a leader of the local synagogue, comes up to Jesus and begs him to come heal his daughter, who is dreadfully ill (vv. 22-23). Jesus sets off with Jairus, followed by a large crowd of curiosity-seekers. The tumultuous crowd is pressing so closely around him that no one notices a ritually unclean woman, who has suffered for twelve years from a never-ending menstrual flow, come up and touch the hem of his garment. But Jesus notices. "Power has gone forth from him" (v. 30), healing the woman instantly. Jesus stops the entire procession, on its way to Jairus' house, and asks who has touched him. The woman comes forward, "in fear and trembling, [falling] down before him," and confesses what she has done. Far from being angry, Jesus blesses her, saying, "Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease" (v. 34). Just then some messengers arrive with the sad news that Jairus' daughter has just died; had Jesus not stopped to speak with the sick woman in the street, he could perhaps have made it there in time. Jesus comforts Jairus, saying, "Do not fear, only believe," then he enters the synagogue leader's house with several of his disciples. He says to the vociferous crowd of mourners there, "Why do you make a commotion and weep? The child is not dead but sleeping," and is met by their derisive laughter (vv. 39-40). Jesus throws the mourners out, takes only his disciples and the girl's parents into her room, and raises her from death, using the gentle Aramaic invitation, "Talitha cum" -- which means, "Little girl, get up!" (v. 41). The girl does get up, and Jesus asks that she be given something to eat. He charges those present to say nothing of what they have just seen.
Preaching Possibilities
Today's Gospel Lesson tells of a woman who's desperate to reach out and touch Jesus -- only here it's not a matter of reaching back through history, but reaching over, in the present, and physically touching him as he stands before her. The woman wants to do this for a reason other than mere adulation: she's sick, and she's certain this rabbi's touch can heal.
But the woman is afraid. The streets are thronged with people, eager to get close to Jesus, yearning to touch him. She has good reason to fear the crowds: for, according to Jewish ritual law, she is unclean.
Mark tells us the woman has been suffering from "hemorrhages" -- from what the King James Version calls "an issue of blood" -- for twelve years. She's been bleeding, from some intimate part of herself -- and because Jewish women are considered unclean for the few days each month when that sort of thing happens, and are required to isolate themselves from the community, this woman has been a virtual exile among her own people. For her to walk up and touch any person who's not also ritually unclean -- especially a rabbi, who's required by biblical law to undergo an elaborate purification ritual if that sort of contact takes place -- is to risk scorn, or even injury.
Yet, this woman is so desperate to be healed, she's willing to take the risk. "I won't tell him who I am," she says to herself. "I won't tell anybody who I am. I'll throw a cloak over my head, slip through the crowd, and touch him as he goes by. If I can but touch the hem of his robe, maybe it will help." And so the woman does just that -- and the instant she touches Jesus, the most remarkable feeling of transformation comes over her. She knows somehow, deep within herself, that she has been healed.
Then the unexpected happens. Jesus stops in his tracks, and looks around. "Who touched my clothes?" he asks. Jesus knows this touch is different from that of others in the crowd. He knows -- he just knows -- that someone experiencing terrible need has just been helped. Fearfully, the woman steps forward and identifies herself, telling Jesus she's just been healed. Instead of scolding her, he blesses her: "Your faith has made you well; go in peace."
As it was with her, so is it with us. How many of us yearn to reach out and touch Jesus in just such a way? Tentatively, fearfully we stretch out our hand, intending our fingers to graze the hem of his robe and no more. Sometimes we do it as a sort of religious experiment: only half-believing our tentative touch will make any difference at all.
But then, in some way we scarcely understand, it does make a difference. Healing comes to us (if not instantly, then in the fullness of time; and if not in the way we intended, then in the way God intends). Along with the gift of healing comes a response: from the one whom we've touched, who hasn't escaped noticing that power has gone out of him.
So how do we experience that healing touch? We experience Christ's healing, life-giving power in word and sacrament, and through the discipline of prayer. Most notably we experience his touch in the sacrament of baptism: something most all of us received at an early age, probably before we were even aware of it. Yet here inside the font is no empty abstraction, but a real, physical substance: water. That water is, on the face of things, no different from the water that comes gurgling out of the tap, but in a spiritual sense is a means by which God reaches out and touches us.
That touch continues, throughout the life of Christian discipleship, as we encounter Christ in the physical touch of torn bread and poured-out wine. We encounter him as well in the word proclaimed: and whenever, in prayer, our outstretched hand grazes the hem of his garment.
We just may encounter the living Lord, also, whenever -- in all innocence and love -- we reach out and touch another human being. In the words of Jewish philosopher and theologian Martin Buber, "The world is not comprehensible, but it is embraceable: through the embracing of one of its beings."
Prayer For The Day
We open our hands, O God ... We open our hearts ... We open our lives to you. Reach out and touch us today, as your Son, Jesus, touched those people of old whom he healed of their diseases. Find that place deep within us where we most need your healing. Bring us new life, in your Son's name. Amen.
To Illustrate
In 2002, the newspapers were filled with accounts of what appeared to be a remarkable discovery in biblical archaeology. It was an ancient stone box, called "the James Ossuary." An ossuary is a bone box -- a sort of small coffin, used to hold the bones of a person who has died. It was a fairly common thing, in crowded cities of the Roman world, for bodies to be buried in tombs, then disinterred a generation or so later, so another body could be laid in that place. The bones -- which had by then been bleached white and no longer needed to be in the ground -- were taken away. If the person's family was well-to-do, they stored their ancestor's bones in the specialized stone box called an ossuary.
The ossuary in question turned up in a marketplace in Israel. It seemed to date from the first century A.D.: but even more remarkable, it bore an inscription that said, "James, son of Joseph, brother of Jesus."
How many other James, sons-of-Joseph, brothers-of-Jesus could there be? -- it had to be the burial box of James, brother of our Lord -- the one who, in the book of Acts, is described as ruling over the early Christian church in Jerusalem.
The impact of this discovery -- if genuine -- would be nothing short of extraordinary. Apart from the Bible, the only contemporary record of Jesus' existence is one line from the Roman historian Suetonius, who in his Life of Nero, speaks of a group of Jews in Rome who stirred up trouble at the instigation of one Chrestos -- whom many scholars take to be a reference to Christ. Suddenly, there seemed to be hard evidence of the life of the historical Jesus, words scratched not by pen onto flimsy parchment, but carved into hard stone: "James, son of Joseph, brother of Jesus."
Unfortunately, as the newspapers again indicated about a year later, the James Ossuary was ruled a fake. The box itself is ancient enough -- probably dating to the time of Jesus -- but careful analysis of its inscription proved those words were chiseled into the stone in modern times: probably by some wily antiques merchant, hoping to make a buck.
We've all got a hunger within us for some link, some tangible connection, to greatness. It's that same hunger that leads some to seek baseballs autographed by Babe Ruth, or glossy publicity photos signed by Marilyn Monroe. Pick up such a celebrity artifact, turn it over in your hands, and you feel that somehow, through some sort of autograph magic, you've touched fame.
-- Source: Greg Myre, "Israelis Say Burial Box of Jesus' Brother Is Fake," New York Times, June 19, 2003
***
When a U.S. president or other famous politician comes to town, there's always someone who holds a baby up to be touched or kissed (that's where the old political expression, "pressing the flesh," comes from). Mothers and fathers, out of some strange motivation they can barely put into words, are seeking some kind of blessing for their child from the touch of this famous person. There's no rational reason to do it -- in fact, there's got to be some considerable inconvenience in lugging a baby through the teeming crowd at a political rally -- but still they bring their children to be touched.
***
Church leadership consultant, William Easum, says in one of his books, that in the typical worship service people go in and sit down, and for one hour pretend they don't have bodies. They focus their thoughts on the intangible, the spiritual. Part of them believes that the physical aspects of their lives are somehow inferior to that which is spiritual. To reach out and hold the hand, say, of a loved one sitting next to them, or put their arm around that person, seems somehow like it doesn't belong there: that it's a guilty pleasure, an intrusion of the sensual into the realm of the spiritual.
***
There's a famous story of Frederick the Great of Prussia -- a powerful ruler of the European Enlightenment, a man of impressive scientific curiosity as well as a leader of armies. Frederick once conducted an unusual scientific experiment into the development of human language. There was a theory of the time that the babbling of infants was, in some unknown way, related to the ancient language of Eden: but that children lost this oldest of all mother-tongues as they grew and learned the language of their parents.
Frederick devised an experiment to test this theory. He had his scientists take some orphaned newborn babies, and isolate them from all physical contact with human beings. The babies would be kept in separate rooms, with no contact with each other. Not a word of language was to be spoken in their presence. Specially trained nurses would see to the babies' physical needs -- feeding them, and making sure they stayed warm -- but they were forbidden to pick them up and embrace them. Once the children grew old enough to speak, they would be brought into the presence of the other children who were part of the experiment, to see if they could converse with one another.
The experiment was an utter failure. Not one of those poor children lived beyond infancy -- let alone to the age when language begins to develop in earnest. The one thing King Frederick learned from his cruel and ill-considered experiment was that the physical touch of another human being is essential to life. If babies are not picked up, and hugged, and caressed, they have but a slim chance of surviving to maturity.
