2Corinthians 8:7-15
Mark 5:21-43
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen.
For me, some weeks the gospel takes a hold and insists on being preached in a particular way. Others it opens itself up and wishes me the best of luck. These are wonderful passages, glorious stories of faith, healing, and redemption. Power through weakness is a tremendous lesson that needs to be told. It needs to be learned. It needs to be shared. So often we hear “might is right” and in today’s readings, not so much. So in a week where so much has happened, how to approach these words?
Our reading today from Mark, the story of the hemorrhaging woman, is one of those gospel stories that you can’t hit head on, you have to come at it on a tangent. People who come at this head on do so because they think they know more than they really do. So what do we need to know that we don’t?
First of all, something we do know, doctors in the day were men. Well, up until the last fifty years that wasn’t so unusual, and fifty is probably generous. What this means for the passage is easy. What a male doctor knew about a woman’s bleeding was laughable at best but more likely disastrous.
Here’s what you may not know: Most doctors were slaves, house slaves where they earned their keep.
I almost hate to bring this example from popular culture, but as for its historical accuracy it had its moments. How many of you saw the TV show “Sparticus” on Starz a few years ago? One of the slaves who worked in the bowels of the Ludus, the gladiatorial school, was the Medicus, the doctor. The doctor tended to the free and the slaves, the rich and the poor. Of course the quality of care was directly proportional to your value the Lanista, the head of the Ludus, the master of the house. If you were Sparticus no expense was spared for your care. If you were a valued friend of the Lanista, no problem. If you were a dime-a-dozen slave girl you were cast aside before the Medicus finished the diagnosis. The point, the medical doctor was a slave, a slave without the status of the gladiators he would heal.
Kind of puts a new spin on “Luke, the good doctor,” doesn’t it?
Now let’s consider this woman from Mark’s gospel. She had been suffering hemorrhages for twelve years and had endured much under many physicians. Together, these two statements show us that she was a woman of means. Let me explain. If she didn’t have social status she would not have had entrée into a house with a physician. If she didn’t have the coin, she would not have been able to afford the sundries the physician would have needed or the payment the master would have required. Without money or status she would not have gotten any care; so in one way or another she was well to do, and more than likely she was well to do both socially and financially.
Forgive me for sounding crass, but I’m going to go out on a couple of limbs here. This kind of bleeding is most likely a feminine issue; possibly associated with childbirth, scripture gives us no clue and my knowledge isn’t adequate to provide a proper diagnosis. For the purposes of this narrative I would also guess she is a widow. I don’t believe a woman who is divorced, put out of her house by her husband, would have had the social standing to enter a fine house. Nor would she have had the financial capital to pay for her care. But in the same breath I can’t imagine a man who would stick with a wife who is (if she is Hebrew) ritually unclean. That is why I believe she is widowed.
So here she is, she’s in a socially precarious spot. She is bleeding. If Hebrew, she is unclean. Probably widowed. Children unknown. She has used her all money and her influence to try to find a diagnosis for her ailment. After twelve years she has run out of cash and favors and the doctors have been as effective as a bunch of shade tree mechanics looking under her hood and saying, “Oh, I see your problem.”
I have to add something here, if there’s a man in this sanctuary who thinks “I understand” please don’t say that out loud. We really don’t. We can try, but we really don’t. Look at the woman sitting next to you, see that smile? Yeah, that’s what I mean, we don’t know.
She has nowhere to go, so she comes to Jesus. She comes to Jesus believing if she can even touch the fringes of his robe she will be healed. Praise God! Praise the Lord! This is what happens!
Her faith in the power of Jesus, this is what saves her.
On Friday February 13, 2004 I was in seminary taking Mission and Evangelism. One of the things we had to do was a mission project so we could write a brief report. That semester I was also doing my internship at Central Presbyterian Church in downtown Austin. On this Valentine’s Eve, the weather was nasty. The temperature was below thirty degrees, it was rainy and sleety, and the wind was out of the north and whipping around the downtown buildings. The city mission agencies declared a Freeze Night meaning the emergency shelters would be open. A fellow seminarian, the Reverend Rick Brooks now of Dallas, he and I volunteered to man the shelter at Central.
We got there about 4:00 that afternoon to open at 5:30. We got the stuff for dinner ready and got the sleeping mats together for the evening. Rick had some writing to do so I set him up in the church library. Me, I had some reading so I set up downstairs in the youth room closer to the people.
About 7:00 PM, a woman came up to me and asked if I knew where to find a tampon. I had been working at the church for about six months had no idea if there was a mysterious stash of feminine hygiene products hiding in the church. I knew there weren’t any in the men’s rooms (duh!), but of course I had never been in the women’s. Like a dummy (I mean I had to ask but I still felt like slapping myself in the back of the head) I asked if she had checked all of the women’s rooms. She had and there weren’t.
I never felt more impotent in my life than I had in that moment. And as for where to find a tampon in downtown Austin on a Friday night, I was at a complete loss. I couldn’t leave and it wasn’t like she could go across the street to the fancy-schmantzy hotel to drop a quarter in the Ladies’ without being tackled by a valet before making it through the threshold. Such a simple request and I was at a complete loss. A woman hemorrhaging and there was nothing I could offer her except a stupid look, a bad question, and a vain apology.
Well, there is one thing I have done for her. At every church I have served since I made sure there are feminine hygiene products available in the Ladies’. I believe it is literally the least I can do.
These women were held hostage by their bodies and their circumstances. There was nothing they could do. They were going to bleed unless something happened. We know how their stories ended too. One was healed by the touch of Jesus. She touched the Christ, if just his robes, and by her faith in his power she was healed. As for the other woman, she came to the Body of Christ and while we were able to provide a couple of meals and a warm, dry place to spend a cold, wet night; I was unable to stem the tide.
There’s an old expression for this kind of situation, running on empty. Running on empty. Fatigue sets in, frustration amps up, despair rears its ugly head. Extremes of distress, horror, terror; these unwelcome guests make their way into your life.
But our reading from Corinthians show us that Jesus had his own version of running on empty. Could Jesus have opened up a can of all that’s holy on creation and set things straight? In the world of “coulda” the answer is yes. In a world where God is love the answer is no.
Paul tells the church at Corinth, “the generous act of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sakes he became poor, so that by his poverty you might become rich.” Love never imposes its will. Love that imposes its own will isn’t love at all. Love empties itself of power and glory so it may be offered freely; so that it may be accepted freely.
Out of running on empty comes the brilliance of running on something else. When you’re running on empty, fully and completely running on empty, there is only one place to turn. The hemorrhaging woman in the gospel was running on empty and when she turned to Jesus in faith, her faith in his power healed her. This is the power of faith in the Good News of Jesus the Christ.
Jackson Brown is a singer/songwriter who wrote some wonderful music in the late 70’s and 80’s. One of his best albums is 1978’s “Running on Empty.” A live album of newly released music, it chronicled what it meant to him to be on the road touring in the late 70’s. Through Brown’s eyes, his words and music made one of the best albums of the 1970’s. He sings:
I don’t know where I’m running now, I’m just running on,
Running on, running on empty,
Running on, running blind,
Running on, running into the sun,
But I’m running behind.
But here’s the thing about running on empty, when we’re running on empty, we run. We run on and we run blind. We run for money. We run for power. We run for prestige. We run for what makes us feel good. Sometimes we run for what makes others feel bad to make us feel good. We run into the sun thinking light and warmth are enough when in truth we’re running behind.
For Christians, for us, there is only one place to turn. The hemorrhaging woman in the gospel was running on empty and when she turned to Jesus in faith, her faith in his power healed her.
Jesus ran on empty. He could have picked up the power of God which is his, the power he was tempted with at the beginnings of the gospels of Matthew and Luke. He could have opened up a can of all that’s holy. He could have been the all-powerful God we often want him to be but then he would not have been the all loving God we need him to be.
Looking out at the road rushing under my wheels,
I don’t know how to tell you all just how crazy this life feels,
I look around for the friends that I used to turn to, to pull me through,
Looking into their eyes I see them running too.
The lesson of the hemorrhaging woman is that, like she did for twelve years, we rely on our riches and we rely on our status and we rely on our friends and these things don’t get us what we need or where we need to be. We rely on our strength. We rely on “might making right.” We run to places that seem right at the time, but in the long run are places we don’t need to be. It is better to run to our weaknesses because in our weakness the glory of Christ is made full.
Paul tells us that even Jesus, the Christ, the Messiah; Jesus emptied himself. Jesus is running on empty and by that the power of God is made full in him. So for us, when we run on empty and stop relying on our own wit and wisdom we let God lead our lives. In our weakness is God’s strength. It’s not about our glory, it’s the glory of God in Christ.
It’s time to stop the bleeding and lean into the outstretched arms of the loving Lord.
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