Pentecost 5, June 27, 2021

I did something the other night that I don’t believe I have done for in the last 15 months. It was something that before COVID we all did without even thinking. But over the past year we all avoided it because of the threats and potential danger it presented.  I shook someone’s hand.  I met a new acquaintance at a meeting this past week.  He introduced himself and extended his hand.  I took it.  And shook it.  First time in a long time!  During the pandemic a necessary barrier between us and our neighbors was mandated for our protection leaving many to feel starved for physical touch.  But now those barriers are finally starting to come down. 

The lengthy narrative in the Gospel of Mark today connects two healing miracles of Jesus both involving human touch between Jesus and the ones who encountered him.  In one he healed a woman who had suffered from a hemorrhage for 12 years. In the other, Jesus raised a 12 year old girl to life again.

But the encounters recorded in the gospel today are not really about physical touching. What is revealed about Jesus in these stories is about much more than that. Honestly we don’t ALL require a lot of physical touch. You probably saw people over the past year posting things that said, “Pray for the huggers.  We are not okay.”  Well, some people WERE OK  with that.  Many don’t really miss all the hugging and the handshakes and having people in your personal space or even the sharing of the peace in worship.  (you know who you are!)

In these two interwoven stories today in our Gospel we learn that Jesus’ touch – a touch that according to religious law should have been avoided at all costs — represents a love that crosses barriers and bring life and healing to all.  His willingness to make this contact even when many would have considered it a dangerous move, shows us a God who reaches out to us.  We all need this loving, healing, life-giving touch.  This is what all of us are hungry for and desperate for.  And this is what Jesus does for us.

There are several contrasts in these two stories in our Gospel today.  The woman who encountered Jesus in the crowd was poor and unseen.  The father of the dead girl was rich and prominent.  He asked for Jesus’ help.  The woman with the hemorrhage didn’t ask for a thing.  The woman had been suffering with a lingering, chronic condition for 12 years.  The 12 year old girl had suffered an acute and sudden illness that took her life.

But in both stories, there is great desperation!  The woman who touched Jesus’ garment was desperate for healing. We’re told she had exhausted all other means of potential healing.  The father whose daughter had died was desperate for Jesus to do something even though all hope seemed lost.  He begged him to come and lay his hand on her.  And when these desperate hungry ones came in contact with Jesus both were transformed from death to life by the loving touch of Jesus – a touch which crossed boundaries in order to heal and save.  Because in both stories there were barriers to healing and life.

Because of her blood flow, the woman who touched Jesus was considered unclean. The isolation she felt was mandated, you might say, by the religious authorities.  She was not welcome in the synagogue or any public assembly for that matter.  She was unnoticed and unseen by the crowd.  Because we are told she touched Jesus’ cloak – his outer garment — we get the image that she was on the ground  — crawling in the dirt for one last ditch effort to be restored.  When she finally reaches Jesus, she touches him.  A touch which renders Jesus unclean according to the rules.

But Jesus does not let those rules prevent him from loving her.  Jesus stops to see her and know her identity.  He ignores how the law and society have defined her.  He calls her daughter and commends her for her faith.  His contact with her crossed all those barriers and restored her with healing and life. 

Jairus, the father of the girl who died, was a visible presence in the community.  But his status does not exempt him from the sting of death.  Jesus’ touch of his daughter – taking her by the hand — provides what even the man’s own influence and position and money failed to do.  Contact with a corpse also renders Jesus unclean.  But he does not let that prohibition prevent him from loving this girl and her father and bringing them new life through a resurrection.  The word Jesus uses when he says, “get up” is the same word used by the Gospels when it says that Jesus was “raised up.”  So this little girl is joined to  Jesus’ own resurrection.  Not even the barrier of death can keep her from the loving touch of Jesus who did not let the grave confine him or define him.

These miracles are God’s way of saying that the little twelve-year-old daughter of Jairus who died—is us. And the woman who had the very life draining out of her for twelve years—is you and me.  Both experienced the obstacles to life and healing.  And both desperate for love – for Jesus’ touch.  And in that, we are in the same situation as they.

We each present obstacles to Jesus:  our own personal baggage, our lack of faith, our doubts, our fears.  The way we see ourselves prevents us from seeing Jesus and his help.  The way others see us can keep us from receiving his love.  But none of this is an obstacle for Jesus.  In our desperate need for him, he is here today to make contact with us.

He touches us with the promises of his Word.  These promises defy any barriers.  His promises identify us as his children even though the world and sometimes even ourselves may have defined us as hopeless and worthless.  His promises of healing and life cross the obstacles and limitations of other means to renewal.  His promises to forgive and restore us are not hindered by our brokenness and sin.  His promises to accept and welcome us have no limits despite what our fears say. 

In this sacrament Jesus touches us with his love.  We taste and feel it.  We receive it and share it.  And in this gathering this touch of love becomes a reality in the Body of Christ.  Yes, huggers, he makes contact with us through the physical connections we share when appropriate.  But he also loves us with “no-contact” touch:  an encouraging word, a sincere welcome, an accepting posture and a desire to know and understand our neighbor. 

Today we encounter Jesus himself – in his Word – around this table – and in each other.  And whether we are crying out for him or silently waiting – whether we come to him with demands or crawling on our knees, he will reach us and touch us with his love and we will see the barriers start to come down.