When I was in seminary, one of the things we learned in studying the gospels was that Mark had a way of putting two seemingly different scenarios in his stories, divided almost like a sandwich. He would introduce a story or setting, give you some details, then switch to a completely different thing going on. At the end of this middle part, he would switch back to finish the story he started in the first place. A “Markan” sandwich, it’s called, and its a literary device he uses all throughout the gospel.
The middle section is designed to highlight elements in the story on the “outside” – so this is always a clue to pay attention to the dynamics at play in the outer story that the inside one illuminates.
As I was reading Mark 5:21-42, I couldn’t help but be struck again by one of the dynamics at play here.
Imagine the camera angle if you were watching this as a movie or tv show: Jairus, a synagogue leader, had come to Jesus because his 12 year old daughter was sick and near death. He pleads with Jesus to come and lay his hands on her, believing that somehow Jesus could make her well again. Focus is all on Jairus and his interation with Jesus at this point. Willingly, Jesus heads to Jairus’s house with his disciples, followed by a crowd. The narrow streets are dusty, people are all around.
The camera switches to a woman who makes her way to Jesus, hoping perhaps to only touch his shoulder. She’s trying not to be noticed. After all, its a crowd, everyone is most likely bumping into Jesus as they walk along. But she knows she needs healing, and she is trying to grasp for it without making a scene. After all, who is she? She’s not a synogogue leader. She hasn’t been to synagogue for probably years with the issue she has, being considered ritually unclean due to ongoing, heavy bleeding. A woman’s issue.
Let’s be real for a moment: periods are hard enough when they are 7 days long. Some women experience pain so bad it makes them faint. Heavy, continual bleeding makes you self conscious, its frustrating, it can make you weak, it can leave you curled up in a ball in bed, unwilling to leave the house. Men, (if you are reading this) no matter how compassionate you are towards your wives, sisters, or daughters – you do NOT get this. Most of you probably don’t want anything to do with stuff like this either.
Hopefully you can see why this woman was looking for healing. She wasn’t willing to wait either. She knew he could do what no one else had been able to do for her.
I love the way Mark puts what happens next: “Immedite her bleeding stopped and she felt in her body that she was freed from her suffering”
I could write an entire other piece on just that – feeling in your body when things shift. when you just KNOW. (but that will have to wait).
The camera switches to Jesus. He turns around, realizing something happened that even he wasn’t planning. “Who is touching me?” he asks. The disciples look at him and at each other. Uh.. Jesus? there’s a crowd, they are thinking. Everyone is. What is going on right now?
The woman steps forward, falls at his feet. Perhaps she is worried, for a bleeding woman really shouldn’t touch a Rabbi, it would make him unclean. Yet instead, Jesus calls out her faith and blesses her.
Holiness has touched someone people considered unclean and made them clean, not ruined Jesus’s holiness. Think about that for a minute.
(this is where Mark returns to the starting story and people come to tell Jairus to not bother Jesus any more, his daughter is gone, its too late. But Jesus has a different thought! Are you sure? She’s just napping! Jesus proceeds to Jairus’s house, takes the parents and three disciples into the room where she lay on the bed, speaks to her, and she is raised from the dead. Voila!)
Both great stories. So why does the author pair them together? My thoughts:
First, look at the power dynamics in play here: Synagogue leader (upright, ritually clean, admired, and probably a good, honest and humble man) makes a request, and yet Jesus isn’t in such a rush that he misses what is going on with the person who is probably a good Jew as well, but is suffering, shamed, unclean, avoided, and ignored.
Second: Both people that Jesus heals here are female. Daughters. Women.
In this story, we see Jesus again in a not-so-subtle way saying, with his actions, that these women, these daughters, are worth bringing back to life, worth healing their suffering, worth restoring.
I mean, of course Jairus was a good father – after all, what dad wouldn’t be grieved and do anything for his daughter if she were suffering?
That’s exactly what the Father did for the bleeding woman.
Two fathers are at play here: one earthly, one heavenly.
Two daughters, one older, one younger.
Two privileges – the religious ‘elite’ and the everyday person who was doing their best
Jesus acknowleges both, heals both, and ensures that both of these women can move forward in their lives – one without suffering, the other to grow up in the first place.
What’s our take away here?
If you are a woman, a daugher, a sister, a mom:
Don’t for one minute think that you are less than, or that God doesn’t see what you deal with every day. He is for you, he wants to bring restoration and healing and life to you. You are worth it. You may be in the top 10% or you could be scraping by – God’s love and healing for your heart never take that into account. This story is proof. The world might live and operate with power dynamics, but Jesus doesn’t.
If you are a man, a son, a brother, a dad:
Make sure you are really seeing the women around you. They are not lesser than you. Their issues and struggles are not ridiculous and made up. Go to Jesus on their behalf, like Jairus did for his daughter. Bless them. Make or find ways for them to be restored, and support them in it. Learn from them how deeply their dependence on God runs, and let go of your need to solve everything for them. May you learn from them, as Paul says in Eph 3:10, just how high and wide and deep the love of the Father is.
Finding the Life 