Sermons

Not that there is a one-for-one correspondence, but the gospel lesson suggests that Jesus had had a very busy couple of weeks too. As Mark’s gospel tells it, Jesus is on his way to Nazareth to a preaching engagement at his hometown synagogue. On the way he cast out a gaggle of demons into a herd of swine. Then he jumped in a boat to sail across the Sea of Galilee. He rebuked an ill wind, and calmed and angry sea and his disciples' mistrust. But no sooner had Jesus set foot on land than the leader of the local synagogue, named Jairus, falls upon him and begs him to heal his 12-year old daughter. As one always willing to be distracted, Jesus goes off on a side trip with Jairus. They must hurry because the girl is at the point of death.

They had no sooner set off to Jairus’ house than the mercy flight is interrupted by a woman who pushes her way into Jesus' entourage and tugs on Jesus' coat. We are inclined to sympathize with the woman. After all, Mark snidely editorializes, "She had endured much under many physicians and had spent all that she had”. In other words, both her patience and her Medicare had run out.The situation demands pastoral triage.

Throughout the past couple of weeks I have needed to exercise a little pastoral triage like a doctor in the emergency room. I am helped in this task by M.A.S.H. reruns. I received a CD for Christmas this past year titled: M.A.S.H.: First Season Collectors Edition. Captain Hawkeye Pierce, MD, is my model for pastoral triage. He makes tough decisions with a sense of humor. I am not sure what to do with Corporeal Klinger. Major Margaret Hoolihan is the one who attempts to force chaos into order. And Colonel Potter goes fishing amidst the chaos. I confess that twice during Holy Week I was found at Frontier Field.

By now everyone probably protesting that such a life is not just for pastors, but for us all. We all exercise a certain amount of triage in our lives. We all experience insertions, interruptions, suspensions, surprises. We are confronted with people with whom we did not expect to deal. Challenges come to us, well, unexpectedly.

As a matter of fact, if we understand the biblical story as an allegory, we can all identify with Jesus and Jairus and the bleeding woman, depending where we are in our own lives. As Jesus journeys to Nazareth on his mission so we are journeying on our life's mission, often beset with hectic demands and challenges to our faith. We face circumstances of trauma and hemorrhage.

Jairus, a person with cultural and religious power, the leader of the synagogue, can represent anyone who has made a first respectful, even though possibly tentative, gesture to a higher power saying, "Jesus, I need your help."

Jairus, as far as we know, was not a serious follower of Jesus at this point. But he was aware enough, and sufficiently free of prejudice to recognize that Jesus was someone special, someone touched by God's Spirit.

In a congregation like Third there are many like Jairus, people who have social and cultural power who face family crises for which they did not plan. Sudden family crisis is no respecter of persons. People who manage well in the halls of social and economic power suddenly can find themselves very powerless in the halls of a hospital, either as a patient or a panicked loved one. And the question inevitably comes in that traumatic situation, “Why am I so weak?” “Why can’t I solve this by myself?” “Why do I feel so alone?” “Oh Jesus, I need your help.”

We are not required to have a fully mature faith in Christ on the occasion of every crisis. Christian faith is not an invitation to stoicism or Pollyanna optimism. All that Jesus really required of people was honesty. “Come, Jesus, lay your hands on my daughter, my son, my partner, my wife.” “Oh Jesus.”

But, just when things are getting better, we're getting a handle on the crisis, another crisis comes along. It may not appear to be personal at first but the invasion promises to become personal quickly.

In the gospel story the woman with the 12-year menstrual hemorrhage, certainly an emergency, interrupts Jesus' other emergency intervention on behalf of a dying 12 year old girl. (Don’t miss the gospel editor’s subtle play on the number 12 here symbolizing established, long-term, systemic reality.) The woman's situation is not an ordinary condition in that ancient culture. Unlike Jairus who has social and cultural power, the women has no power. Because of kosher laws regarding menstruation this woman has been living as a social pariah for 12 years. Her condition is chronic. She needs help. She says,

“If I can just touch the hem of his garment…..” “Oh Jesus!”

That pre-enlightened society had concluded that since her hemorrhage was constant that there must be something morally wrong with her. This reminds me of the American middle class predilection to view city schools or the chronically poor as pariahs, because of their “12 year,” systemic, constant social hemorrhaging.

In our lives when one crisis interrupts another, when physical crisis is followed by social fractures there is a churning in the stomach. We can jump from one crisis to the next: economic downturn; 9/11/01; orange alerts; county, state and federal government deficits; invasion of Iraq; threats to Syria. “Oh Jesus!”

But even if, like Jairus, we DO feel that we have received a direct and timely response to our appeal, we my not be prepared for the backlash that invariably follows. Jairus' messengers run out to meet Jesus, "You're too late," they tell him. “She’s dead.”

Strange isn't it. Once we like Jairus have fervently invoked divine power, events and attitudes rise up to thwart or overturn the progress.

Hindu dualistic philosophy maintains that there is a negative universal energy comprised of ignorance, illusion, and repressiveness, that this negative energy is a real thing and not an abstraction. The New Testament calls this phenomenon the “principalities and powers.” Whenever anyone begins to move toward the truth this inertia begins to put up extra resistance. Life can be like that.

So, the cry of despair, "It’s too late, your daughter is dead!" can be more than physical death. This inertia can cause us to think it is too late for change, that we are too old or too set in our ways, too stuck to get unstuck. Therefore give up. My greatest fear as your outreach pastor is that what I do is such a small drop in the bucket that it will not make a damn bit of difference, that I am constantly more than a day late and more than a dollar short.

But in this story Jesus promised Jairus and the bleeding woman that he can make them, and by extension us, into new beings. In the early stages of our relationship with Christ "faith” or “belief" is really a commitment from us to simply not yield to the inertia of cynicism and apathy and abandon the path. This is what Jesus was telling Jairus when he said,

"Do not fear, only believe." "Don't give in to doubt and cynicism just yet. Give this a little more time." “Oh Jesus!!”

But when they reach Jairus’ house they find a lot of people weeping. Oddly, Jesus says to them in so many words,

"So, who's died? I don't see anyone dead here."

The mourners begin to laugh at him, their grief turning to scorn.

“Why don’t you just give up on the city schools? They are dead anyway!”

“There are thousands of poor people out there. Giving them rental assistance from the Pastors’ Emergency fund is just pouring money down a hole.”

“We have political democracy. Economic democracy will never happen, and besides it is a socialist solution.”

It is the lower self in us that grieves that all is lost. The jeers mock any attempt to produce a positive change. The lower self is eager to hold a funeral for the higher self, and see it buried decently and in order.

“Oh Jesus!”

In these stories we are warned to beware of the voices deep within us that are pessimistic and cynical, symbolized by the weeping and jeering mourners. These are the forces formed in the pre-enlightened, unfaithful, culturally-conditioned, subconscious principalities and powers fighting to maintain their furtive control of our lives.

The girls' resurrection symbolizes the resurrection of the Spirit within us leading to a new life.

"Feed her!" commands Jesus, “Feed her!” because this kind of new life requires significant nourishment. It cannot be allowed to starve.

The command of Jesus, “Feed her!” to the family and friends of the resurrected 12-year old is also a command to Third Presbyterian Church. With John Wilkinson’s leadership we are undergoing a new resurrection of church life. This new growth must be nourished or it will wither and die.

Following the leadership of Aaron Doll and the Adult Education Committee, stakeholders from all the program areas of Third Presbyterian Church are re-imagining the way we are nourished in our faith. Building on our current adult education program we are gradually moving to broader and deeper forms and content of our Christian formation. For its particular part, the Outreach Committee is looking to develop a multi-year “core curriculum” called “Seeking the Common Good,” a holistic approach to equipping volunteers to thoughtfully and strategically engage the hemorrhaging in our community.

Over the years I have concluded that faith development is a cyclic process of interruptions. It involves death, resurrection and our response. The crises come and go. It is exhausting. We are raised again and again as the crisis or hemorrhaging comes round again. But the interruptions are also opportunities for mission. Each time we are given a new range of opportunities, and made aware of new requirements and needs for feeding and nurturing the new possibilities in our common lives.

Yesterday, after arriving at the church at 9 am, for a marriage counseling session, I rushed off to a meeting to get Hispanic pastors involved in Rochester Area Interfaith Hospitality Network. Then I was off to a lunch with Don Boyd and Lea Theuer about Outreach. I rushed back to the church to put some finishing touches on this sermon only to find a neighborhood bag lady waiting for me at the Meigs Street door. She had missed the Dining Room Ministry lunch by a full three hours. The volunteers had long gone. Her strong body odor and soaking wet clothes were an obvious clue that she was spiritually and emotionally hemorrhaging.

"Pastor," she begged, "I need just a little bit of your time."

Under my breath I half prayed and half cursed, "Oh Jesus..."