What does it take to stand out in a crowd? At a sports game, the person whose face is painted with the wildest colors stands out. At a concert, it’s the person cheering the loudest, or even booing. On a street, maybe it’s the one with the quirkiest apparel. Some of us don’t want to stand out in a crowd because we prefer our anonymity. We would rather be the average person clinging to the subway pole and making eye contact with no one.
Scripture is full of such people, whom we never come to know because they stay in the shadows. But the ones we do hear about stand out for some reason. Take, for instance, Jairus and the woman with a flow of blood, whom we meet today. Neither of these persons is crying out or making a great commotion. They are not the local eccentrics or the most flamboyant individuals. Jairus simply kneels before Jesus and pleads for him to heal his dying daughter. The woman is not even honored with a name in Mark’s account. She is only known as suffering from a flow of blood for twelve years. Neither this woman nor Jairus is out to make a production of themselves. But both are in great need.
Picture this scene in your mind’s eye. There are hundreds, probably thousands, of people in this crowd, and they are pressing in on Jesus. It’s enough to make any claustrophobic person sweat. Surely, many in this large crowd would have benefited from Jesus’s attention. Perhaps many were crying out to Jesus, wanting something from him. We will never know. But of this great throng, only two receive his specific attention.
It’s as if a theatre spotlight has suddenly homed in on Jairus and the unnamed woman. There is nothing spectacular about either person. And indeed, everything about the woman would justify ostracization from the crowd. She is unclean by Jewish purity standards. We don’t know whether she or Jairus had any previous relationship with Jesus.
But these two ordinary individuals stand out. Jesus drops everything to follow Jairus in order to tend to his sick daughter. And when the hemorrhaging woman touches Jesus, his trajectory is momentarily interrupted. He becomes aware of power going out from him. This makes the woman stand out in the crowd. She knows Jesus has power, and she receives its benefits.
Conversely, there is something about the rest of the crowd that makes them anonymous to Jesus. Not even the naysayers from Jairus’s house can stand out in his vision. They discourage Jairus from bothering Jesus, and Jesus merely ignores them and speaks incisively to Jairus: “Do not fear, only believe.” And when Jesus finally arrives at Jairus’s house, what stands out is not the dramatic weeping and wailing of mourners lamenting the death of Jairus’s daughter. These mourners laugh at Jesus, and he simply puts them outside the house so as not to interfere with his mission. It’s Jairus and his dead daughter who stand out in the crowd. What is it about Jairus and the unnamed hemorrhaging woman that catches Jesus’s attention?
If these two stand out in any way, it could be because of their presumption. Who are they to demand something from Jesus? Who are they to deserve his immediate response? They stand out because of their naivete and unwillingness to face reality. After twelve years of wasting her money on quacks, this woman is foolish enough to think that this strange Galilean peasant can cure her illness. Likewise, Jairus can’t even accept the fact that his daughter has died. He still nags Jesus to go to his home. If Jairus and this woman stand out in any way, it could be because they are a nuisance.
But from the view of Jesus, and not that of the crowd, Jairus and the woman stand out because of what they can see. Jairus and the hemorrhaging woman stick out like sore thumbs in the crowd because, unlike the rest of the hoi polloi, they see open doors where everyone else only sees closed ones.
We don’t know the real reason why throngs of people gather about Jesus in the Gospels. They may truly believe that he could work miracles. Their motivation for following him might be pure curiosity. But what seems clear is that they seem to be pressing up against Jesus as if against a closed door that will not open. And Jairus and the hemorrhaging woman are different. They manage to open the door, and that’s why they stand out.
Jairus demands something specific—perhaps even impossible—from Jesus, and Jesus follows. Jairus is clear about his need because he is clear in his heart about what Jesus will do for him. The unnamed woman knows in the depths of her being that if she can only touch Jesus’s garment, she will be healed. And when she is healed, every fiber of her being confirms her healing. There is no doubt in her mind of Jesus’s power, and she is proven correct.
Jairus and this faithful woman give voice to Yes in a crowd of No. They see possibility where the crowd assumes impossibility. Jairus and the woman are generous in their faith to the point of risking embarrassment and presumption, but the crowd is safe. Jairus and this believing woman cross boundaries where others protect themselves. They are persistent where the crowd is prone to give up. They are serious about Jesus’ real healing power, whereas the crowd simply scoffs at him.
Like Jairus and the woman with a flow of blood, we find ourselves in a great throng of people, nearly 8 billion to be exact, rendering us anonymous. Nothing, it may seem, causes us to stand out. We follow the precepts of a religion that comprises over a quarter of the world’s population, and yet our religion is one of myriad competing voices in the crowd. The Way that we are to follow has in some places so lost its verve and dynamism that it hardly stands out in the crowd.
We live in a nation where No has become the rallying cry for unity and definition over and against others, and if we stand for Yes, people mock us. And it seems as if we are merely lost in the great crowd. We are suffocated as the crowd presses in on us with its skepticism, jadedness, myopic greed, and lack of hope. Very few in the crowd see open doors, and most of the crowd sees closed ones.
And yet in the beautiful story of Jesus’ encounter with Jairus and the hemorrhaging woman, something does stand out, and it is what should make us stand out, too. It is not the scathing sarcasm of the disciples as Jesus asks who touched him. It is not skepticism and pessimism. It is not the ones who bear the bad news of Jairus’ daughter’s death. It is Jairus who stands out because he is foolhardy enough to believe that one who is dead can yet live. It is the hemorrhaging woman who stands out because she knows that Jesus is more than a quack who will waste her money. He is someone with real healing power. In a vacuum of belief, it’s no wonder that Jesus knew when healing power escaped him.
We may not have come here today asking for a loved one to be raised from the dead or to have a chronic illness cured immediately. But if the Mass means anything, it is that Jesus will heal us. And I suspect that we are all here because we know this.
The crowds press in on us. They scoff at our belief that a man who has been resurrected from the dead and taken his place at the right hand of the Father in heaven will heal us in this Eucharistic feast. Members of the crowd will tell us that what has died cannot be given new life, but we know that Jesus can do anything, especially what seems impossible to us. Some in the crowd will tell us that we are not worthy enough to touch Jesus’ garment and that our petty problems are just a bother to him. But Jesus commands us to touch more than his garment; he invites us to consume his very Body in the Eucharist.
The peer pressure of the crowd will try to convince us that we can be healed in other ways and to give up on Jesus because he has lost his healing power and can do nothing for us except impart a bland, wholesome morality. Others will tell us that what has grown old or become sick cannot be healed, but Jairus and the hemorrhaging woman believed otherwise, and so should we.
It is precisely the unique Way that we follow that should make us stand out in the crowd. We claim something that the crowd cannot understand. We believe in an eternal Yes as opposed to a finite No. We know that if we kneel at the feet of Jesus and beg him to heal us, he will do so. If we but touch his garment, we will be saved. And in this we will find true life.
Sermon by Father Kyle Babin
The Fifth Sunday after Pentecost
June 29, 2021