Review

Jesus has taken a first step in direction of expanding the kingdom of God beyond the boundaries of previous religious expectation.  He has crossed the Sea of Galilee, landed in Gentile territory, and demonstrated His absolute authority over the local spiritual potentates (arkys) by freeing a man from demonic possession.  In response to this dramatic display of divine power, the people of Gerasa, with an eye to protecting their economic interests and preserving the status quo, have politely (or perhaps not so politely) asked Him to leave.  And Jesus, because He never forces Himself on anyone (unlike some of His followers), has complied.  This next passage finds Him back on the “Jewish side” of the lake.                      

“Sandwiching”

Jesus continues in action mode in the verses that follow.  In fact, He leaps straight into the 21^st century by engaging in what our contemporaries like to call “multi-tasking”.  He takes on two stiff challenges and performs two astonishing miracles at almost one and the same time.  What we have here is a double episode:  Mark narrates two events within a single passage by “sandwiching” one within the other – a technique he employs several times during the course of his Gospel (see 3:20-35 and 11:12-25). 

This is superb story-telling.  Not only does it engage and hold our interest by maintaining a high level of tension, uncertainty, and expectation.  It also reflects our experience of real life – a life in which it’s always “just one thing after another.”  This leads one to suspect that Mark’s narrative technique is not “technique” at all, but simply faithfulness in recording these events as they actually unfolded in real time. 

But let’s get back to the text.            

President of The Synagogue:  Verses 21-24

21 When Jesus had crossed again in a boat to the other side, a large crowd gathered around Him, and He was by the sea. 22 Then one of the synagogue rulers, named Jairus, came up, and when he saw Jesus, he fell at His feet. 23 He asked Him urgently, “My little daughter is near death.  Come and lay Your hands on her so that she may be healed and live.” 24 Jesus went with him, and a large crowd followed and pressed around Him. [i]

A theme that emerges almost immediately in this section is that of Jesus’ laser-like concern for the individual. 

We’ve talked a great deal about arkys during the course of this study:  both the spiritual powers and principalities who rule over this present darkness and the human “authorities” who serve as their mortal, temporal representatives.  We’ve seen how Jesus clashes with these archai and exousiai almost as soon as He comes up out of the waters of baptism.  What we want to notice now is His remarkable ability to look past this conflict when circumstances require it:  to pierce the clouds of arkydom, ignore the claims of the Powers That Be, and fix His attentive gaze upon the person who happens to be wearing their badge and uniform at any given moment in time. 

Jairus is one of the “presidents of the synagogue” – an archisynagogos.  He is precisely the kind of person who might have had serious issues with Jesus at this stage in His ministry:  a prominent, powerful leader of the community with every reason to feel threatened by the subversive, revolutionary claims and pretensions of an upstart preacher and miracle worker.  Many commentators have noted how difficult it must have been for him to overcome his desire to maintain a respectable distance, to push past his prejudices, and to go bowing and scraping to a scruffy “popular” healer from Nazareth.  After all, what would his parishioners say?  But so dire is his daughter’s situation that he’s driven to set all this aside.  He “pockets his pride, forgets his fears,”[ii] and throws himself at Jesus feet.

All this is precisely accurate and true.  Jairus did have some formidable hurdles to get over before He could bring Himself to seek the Master’s aid.  But what about Jesus?  Were there any obstacles He needed to overcome in order to respond affirmatively to Jairus’ appeal?  I think so.

Remember, Jesus had already offended the archisynagogoi on several occasions.  More than once He had violated the Mosaic Law by healing on the sabbath right in the middle of a synagogue service.  He knew that these religious leaders were out to get Him – to kill Him, in fact.  When He saw Jairus approaching, it would have been easy for Him to say, “This man is my enemy.  This man is an agent of the spiritual archai and exousiai who oppose the advance of God’s kingdom.  He’s one of the pigs!”  But He didn’t.  Instead, He looked past all this and saw an individual in desperate need. 

We need to cultivate this same perspective.  As disciples of the greatest Revolutionary of all time, it’s easy for us to justify a dismissive attitude towards the proud and pompous magnates who occupy positions of influence within the power elite:  people who serve, whether wittingly or unwittingly, as the face, hands, and feet of oppressive “spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly places.”  It’s easy to look around and see nothing but “The Man” – “bosses,” “cops,” “executives,” “soldiers,” “presidents,” “organization men,” and “CEOs” – when in fact we are surrounded by flesh-and-blood human beings just like ourselves.  Jesus never made that mistake.  On the contrary, He accepted Joseph of Arimathea, “a prominent man of the Sanhedrin,” as one of His secret followers (Mark 15:43).  While vehemently denouncing Pharisaism as an institution (Matthew 23), He had no problem socializing with individual Pharisees like Simon (Luke 7:36) and Nicodemus (John 3:1,2).  And though He was obviously unimpressed with Pilate’s office (John 19:10, 11), He nevertheless spoke freely, openly, and candidly with Pilate as a man. 

In every respect Jesus exemplified and lived out a basic biblical principle:  while we owe nothing to the representatives of arkydom in the way of loyalty, duty, respect, or allegiance, we still have a very real obligation to love them as people (Romans 13:8).  And so when Jairus asks Him to come and lay hands on his daughter, He doesn’t hesitate for an instant.  Immediately He turns on His heel and heads off towards the synagogue ruler’s house.                                                       

“If Only …”:  Verses 25-29

25 Now a woman was there who had been suffering from a hemorrhage for twelve years. 26 She had endured a great deal under the care of many doctors and had spent all that she had.  Yet instead of getting better, she grew worse. 27 When she heard about Jesus, she came up behind Him in the crowd and touched His cloak, 28 for she kept saying, “If only I touch His clothes, I will be healed.” 29 At once the bleeding stopped, and she felt in her body that she was healed of her disease. 

At this point there’s an interruption.  Hardly is the story of Jairus and his daughter out of the gate before it’s cut short by an emergency.  The middle section of Mark’s “narrative sandwich” slips into place as an unknown woman suddenly arrives on the scene; a woman whose sense of desperation is every bit as urgent as Jairus’.  For twelve years she’s been suffering from a chronic disease – a recurring and unstoppable flow of blood – and up to this point no one has been able to cure her.  She’s heard about Jesus, and so deep is her confidence in His healing power that she’s willing to do almost anything to access it.  She isn’t asking much.  “If only I can touch His garments,” she says, “I will be healed.”  Forget the thrill and drama of meeting a famous wonder-worker.  That plays no part in her thinking.  All she wants is to be set free from her ailment, and she believes Jesus has the power to grant her wish.   

There are a couple of things we want to notice about this woman.  In the first place, there’s her obvious desire to keep a low profile.  In contrast to Jairus, who walks straight up to Jesus with his request, she advances cautiously from behind, taking good advantage of the crowd cover.  She wants to tap into Christ’s power without making a scene or drawing attention to herself.  This may be attributable to the fact that, according to Jewish law, the blood flow from which she was suffering rendered her ceremonially unclean.  It’s even possible that she was under some kind of quarantine and afraid of being discovered in a public place.  Whatever the reason, we can say with certainty that her faith, for which she will later receive the Teacher’s commendation, was tempered in this instance by a healthy degree of fear and trepidation (more on this to come).  Clearly, there was nothing bold, brash, presumptuous, or demanding about this woman! 

Second, there’s an important sense in which the woman’s faith, for all its saving efficacy, is something quite different from biblical faith as we usually understand it.  Indeed, her view can almost be described as “mechanical” or “magical” in character.  We often speak of saving faith in terms of a deep personal relationship with Jesus:  a relationship that involves prayer, study, diligent interaction with God, experiential learning, and a long process of growth and sanctification.  But for this woman, faith is summed up in a single thought:  “If only I can touch His garments, I’ll be healed.”  She expects to receive healing not as the result of a long-term relationship with Christ, but as an instantaneous transfer of power due to some kind of automatic physical transaction.  Some of us might have serious issues with this kind of “faith”, and not without good reason.  But in this case we’re going to have to reserve judgment until we see how Jesus responds.   
                            

In the Spotlight:  Verses 30-32

30 Jesus knew at once that power had gone out from Him.  He turned around in the crowd and said, “Who touched My clothes?” 31 His disciples said to Him, “You see the crowd pressing against You and You say, ‘Who touched Me?’” 32 But He looked around to see who had done it.    

As it turns out, the woman is not mistaken in her assumptions.  Just as she had expected, healing power flows out of Jesus and cures her at once, without any conscious response on His part.  The amazing thing about this is that Jesus can sense it.  He knows what has happened, and so He asks a question that sounds utterly ridiculous in the ears of His disciples:  “Who touched my clothes?”  Given the press of the crowd, the answer is obvious, laughably obvious:  “Everyone has been touching Your clothes, Jesus!”  But the Master realizes that there’s more to it than this.  He knew He had felt something – something like a bolt of lightning.  Everyone may have been touching His clothes, but that touch was a touch like no other.  It was something altogether unique.     

As in the case of the woman, so with Jesus there are a couple of observations that beg to be made.  First, to His way of thinking, theological considerations and ritual requirements take a back seat to urgent human need.  Jesus doesn’t care that the woman’s understanding of faith may not be precisely correct.  Simple and primitive though it may be, that faith has succeeded in making the desired connection, and that’s all that counts.  Nor does it bother Him that, in the eyes of official religion, the touch of this woman has defiled Him ritually.  As He sees it, the Law of Moses must give way to the demands of the Law of Love.  All this leads us to an inevitable conclusion:  faith in Jesus – at least in its initial phase – is not a matter of dotting your “I’s” and crossing your “T’s”.  Come to Him on your own terms and He will meet you there.  This is what saving faith is all about.

Second, as the spotlight falls upon the woman and Jesus glances around to locate her in the crowd, Mark effectively reiterates and underscores our overarching theme:  Christ’s intense concern for the individual.  Though Jesus often addresses large gatherings and manages huge throngs, in the final analysis He has no interest in numbers.  What really grabs His attention is the desperation of that one man or woman who really needs His help and really believes He has the power to grant it.  Here again we are reminded of one of the founding principles of God’s kingdom:  “small is beautiful.”  Ultimately, everything can be boiled down to the one-on-one encounter between the believer and Jesus Christ.  As N. T. Wright expresses it, this woman’s experience exemplifies “the intimate nature of the contact between the individual and Jesus that Mark expects and hopes his readers to develop for themselves.”[iii]       

Fear and Trembling:  Verses 33-34

33 Then the woman, with fear and trembling, knowing what had happened to her, came and fell down before Him and told Him the whole truth. 34 He said to her, “Daughter, your faith has made you well.  Go in peace, and be healed of your disease.”    

The last point I want to make is this:  even in the moment of triumph – even when she knows beyond question that her prayer has been answered and her expectations fulfilled – this woman still approaches Jesus in an attitude of humility and self-abnegation.  Realizing that she has not escaped His notice, she falls down before Him in “fear and trembling.”  She places no confidence in her own merits or deserts.  She assumes nothing and presumes nothing.  She neither stands on her dignity nor demands her rights.  Instead, she pours out her heart, confessing the whole truth, telling her story in detail.  With great trepidation, she acknowledges that while her approach may not have been entirely orthodox, she has nevertheless been made the recipient of sheer unconditional grace.

Wright concludes by suggesting that it is precisely this “odd mixture of fear and faith” that “characterizes so much Christian discipleship.”[iv]  In other words, he says that as followers of Jesus, we live out our lives in a kind of balancing act somewhere between uncertainty and conviction.  I think he’s right.  And I believe his observation is well worth remembering at a time when many self-professed believers seem to be arrogantly presuming that God is somehow obligated to protect them from a highly infectious disease simply because they say so.             

Final Thoughts

“Your faith has made you well [or saved you].”  This is Jesus’ final comment on the incident; and while it is the kind of statement that fills us with both encouragement and hope, it also raises several poignant questions.  Does this pronouncement mean that it was not Jesus Himself who made the woman well, but something that originated in her own heart?  That it was not His power – the power that flowed out of Him and into her – but rather her belief – her confidence, determination, and stubborn desire to touch Him and lay hold of His goodness – that effected the miracle?  And while we’re on the subject, what is “faith” (Greek pistis) after all?  How do we follow the woman’s example in this regard?  How can we know that we have such “faith” and that we’re exercising it correctly? 

Books could be written in response to these inquiries.  Perhaps we’ll gain some clearer insight into the answers as we move forward in our study of Mark.  But for now it might be just as well to conclude with Eckhard Schnabel’s simple assertion that, in this particular case, “faith” was the woman’s “personal conviction that Jesus has divine authority to heal her.”[v]                

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[i] This week’s Scripture quotations come from The Net Bible. 

[ii] N. T. Wright, Mark for Everyone, p. 59.

[iii] Ibid., p. 61.

[iv] Ibid. 

[v] Eckhard Schnabel, The Tyndale Commentary on Mark, p. 127.