In today’s gospel we meet two people who believe in Jesus’ power to perform miracles. One is influential and wealthy, the other a social outcast living in poverty. One is male, the other female. In ordinary circumstances they would never come in contact with each other.
But these two very different people have one thing in common — they are both in desperate circumstances, and as a last resort, they each seek out Jesus for help and healing.
Jesus is surrounded by a great crowd of people when he is approached by Jairus, one of the leaders of the local synagogue. One can imagine that Jairus is accustomed to people coming to him for favors and help, that he is used to being in control.
But on this day, he is desperate and panicked. His young daughter is dying and there is nothing his wealth or prominence can do to save her.
He throws himself at Jesus’ feet, begging him to come and lay hands on his little girl, desperately hoping that Jesus’ touch will do what the doctors have been unable to do — heal his daughter.
Jesus immediately agrees to go with him. But as they make their way through the crowds, Jesus is approached by another person.
This woman is at the opposite end of the socioeconomic scale from Jairus. We don’t even know her name.
What we do know is that she has been hemorrhaging for 12 years. That means she is not only physically weak and unwell; she is also a social outcast, considered ritually impure or unclean.
In fact, any male who even accidentally touches her is also considered unclean, and would have to go through a seven-day purification process.
Normally this woman would not dare be out in such a crowed. But she, like Jairus, is desperate. She has spent every cent she has on doctors, she has tried every kind of cure, but her condition has worsened, not improved.
She has heard about Jesus and his healing power. She does not dare approach him directly, like Jairus does. Bus she has faith that if she could only come up behind him and touch the hem of his garment she will be made well.
I can see her making her way through the crowd, a scarf over her head to partially disguise herself, always looking down so she won’t make eye contact with someone who might recognize her.
Finally she is behind Jesus, close enough to touch him. She reaches out and gently touches Jesus’ garment. As she does so she feels a rush of healing power surge through her body.
Jesus feels it, too, as the power leaves him and enters her.
Remember, Jesus is one his way to heal a dying child, the daughter of a prominent member of the community. Time is of the essence.
So we can understand the disciples’ exasperation when Jesus suddenly stops and asks, “Who touched my clothes?”
“What do you mean?” the disciples respond. “Look at all these people; anyone could have touched you. Let’s go before it is too late.”
But Jesus is not content with an anonymous, faceless encounter. And the woman, who for 12 years has been an outcast, suddenly has the courage to overcome her fears and meet Jesus face to face, to fall down before him and tell him her whole truth, making a very public confession of her private agony.
Jesus looks at her, this outcast, and calls her “daughter.” “Your faith has made you well,” he says. “Go in peace.”
As Jesus is interacting with the woman, word reaches that Jairus’ daughter has died. Immediately, Jesus reassures the distraught father, “Do not fear, only believe.”
Ignoring those gathered outside the house who laugh and jeer at him for trying to heal a dead child, he goes into the house, takes the child’s hand, and orders her to get up. And she does.
I have always loved these two miracle stories and the way they are juxtaposed. I love that Jesus is willing to be touched by a woman considered unclean, that he takes time to seek out and speak kindly to one on the margins of society, even as one of the most influential members of that society anxiously awaits him.
I love that treating the outcast with dignity and respect does not take away anything from the influential and wealthy, that Jesus is showing us that all people are of equal worth in God’s eyes, and that there is abundance enough to meet the needs of the poor and the wealthy.
I love that with one look, Jesus removes the anonymous woman’s shame. With one gesture, he shatters the purity laws that enslaved women to their biology. With one blessing, he proclaims female bodies holy.
I also appreciate that we are hearing this story at a time when powerful men are once again trying, and often succeeding, at passing laws that make women enslaved to their biology.
We’ve heard the stories of desperate women and girls of our day.
We’ve heard about the 10-year-old child, pregnant from a rape, who traveled to Indiana for medical care after was denied an abortion in her home state of Ohio. We’ve heard how authorities tried to take away the medical license of the doctor who provided that care.
We’ve heard about the woman in Texas, pregnant with a fetus who doctors say is not viable, forced to continue the pregnancy and denied the medical care she needs.
We’ve heard the stories about women miscarrying who are denied medical care for fear that it might be seen as an illegal abortion.
We’ve heard of the doctors who’ve told women in that situation to go home until they become septic. Then they can receive treatment, if they don’t die first.
We’ve heard the stories about Alabama couples who desperately want children denied the IVF treatment that has helped thousands of women become pregnant.
And we’ve heard those who pass such laws claim they are doing so in the name of Jesus, but I do not see Jesus in any of these actions.
This is a good time for us to be reminded of the Episcopal Church’s position on abortion, which has been unchanged since it was passed by our General Convention in 1989.
“We believe that legislation concerning abortions will not address the root of the problem,” it says. “We therefore express our deep conviction that any proposed legislation on the part of national or state governments regarding abortions must take special care to see that individual conscience is respected, and that the responsibility of individuals to reach informed decisions in this matter is acknowledged and honored.”
In other words, the Episcopal Church’s position is ultimately pro choice. But that stance, with which I agree, comes with caveats. We affirm that all life is sacred. In a perfect world every pregnancy would be a wanted pregnancy, and our nation would be officially pro life — meaning that every child and every parent would have access to health care, adequate food and shelter, affordable child care, good education, and jobs that pay a living wage.
If that were the case, abortion would seldom be necessary. But we know that is not reality. Every pregnancy is not wanted. Every woman is not equipped to care for a child. Every pregnancy is not viable.
In some cases, such as incest and rape, forcing a woman or girl to give birth is a cruelty. So is forcing a woman to carry a fetus that will not live. Abortion is always regrettable. But there are times when a woman or girl facing no good options may reluctantly decide that abortion is the best choice available, or the necessary choice for medical reasons.
We acknowledge the need for legal and safe abortions, but that does not mean that we bless abortions in any and every situation.
“We regard all abortion as having a tragic dimension, calling for the concern and compassion of all the Christian community,” the Church statement says. “While we acknowledge that in this country it is (or was) the legal right of every woman to have a medically safe abortion, as Christians we believe strongly that if this right is exercised, it should be used only in extreme situations.”
That is a statement in which I can see the hand of Jesus.
Amen