Power Beyond My Grip

Power Beyond My Grip--July 2, 2018

"Then one of the leaders of the synagogue named Jairus came and, when he saw [Jesus], he fell at his feet and begins him repeatedly, 'My little daughter is at the point of death. Come and lay your hands on her, so that she may be made well, and live.' So he went with him. And a large crowd followed him and pressed in on him. Now there was a woman who had been suffering from hemorrhages for twelve years. She had endured much under many physicians, and had spent all that she had; and she was no better, but rather grew worse. She had heard about Jesus, and came up behind him in the crowd and touched his cloak, for she said, 'If I but touch his clothes, I will be made well.' Immediately her hemorrhage stopped; and she felt in her body that she was healed of her disease. Immediately aware that power had gone forth from him, Jesus turned about in the crowd and said, 'Who touched my clothes?' And his disciples said to him, 'You see the crowd pressing in on you; how can you say, Who touched me?' He looked all around to see who had done it. But the woman, knowing what had happened to her, came in fear and trembling, fell down before him, and told him the whole truth. He said to her, 'Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease'." [Mark 5:22-34]

Jesus is powerful--that is true.  But let us be clear about this truth as well: Jesus reserves the right to use his power, not only for the well-behaved, polite, respectable, and influential, but also for the norm-violating, unmannered, "unclean," unknown, line-jumping strangers who break the rules and skip the protocols of politeness.

The fact that Jesus can heal both the synagogue leader Jairus' daughter from death as well as the woman who had been bleeding is one face of Jesus' power.  The fact that he chooses to do so, despite the likely protests that he's "not allowed" or that she's "unacceptable," is another facet of his power.  

This is one of the central things we are going to have to get clear now as we turn our attention in this new month to the power of Jesus--namely, that Jesus' power is precisely the power to do what he sees fit to do, regardless of whether we in the Respectable Religious Crowd would give him permission or not.  That is to say, Jesus' power includes both the miraculous capacity for healing that shows up in story after story in the Gospels, but also the authority Jesus wields regardless of the protests of the religious leaders, the political rulers, or the opinion of the crowd.

And let's be honest here--we love the idea of Jesus being "powerful," but really as long as we believe we get to decide who is eligible for the power, the grace, the healing, the new life, that Jesus makes possible.  We like the idea of Jesus being powerful because we assume that he will always check with us first to make sure we approve of how he wields it and who benefits.  And basically, we assume that Jesus will only use his power for life for... us--and people we think are "like us" enough to be acceptable, too.

That's what's really at stake with this story from Mark's Gospel.  The opening scene is a perfectly respectable set-up.  The well-known civic leader, Jairus, comes politely to Jesus, following proper protocol, asking him for help.  And who can say no to a stand-up fella like Jairus?  He's a leader in his congregation. He's important in his community.  He's a man.  He's wealthy enough to have professional mourners show up (Matthew includes "flute players" who are already called into action when the girl dies, in his version of the story).  And, awww, shucks, he's not even asking for help for himself--he's only looking out for his daughter.  Jairus is sort of the poster-boy for "Someone Who Seems Worthy of Divine Assistance."  

And so indeed, Jesus righteously and graciously exercises his power to go and answer Jairus' request for help. Jairus did it by the book--a model citizen, a long list of references from the community that he's a decent chap, and the proper polite protocol to apply for Jesus' help.  Way to go, Jairus.  Here's a helping hand from the wonder-worker Jesus, because you did things the right way.

Now, if that were the end of the story, we would probably be a lot happier with the Gospel writer.  If Mark had just edited out the woman who touches Jesus' cloak, we would be able to keep our illusion that Jesus' power is under our control and available only to well-behaved respectable religious folk who have shown that they are "our kind of people."  We could breath a sigh of relief, then, that Jesus' power was really our power... a power available only to the likes of us, and reserved only for those we deem worthy. And that would basically rein Jesus in so that he could only offer his miraculous power as a reward for the "worthy" and the "well-behaved." And we could continue constructing our own little picture that religion is basically a matter of learning proper manners and good etiquette before the divine.

But that is not where the story ends.  And Mark the Gospel writer stubbornly refuses to edit out this woman who just reaches out to Jesus out of desperation, despite the fact that she is banned by social custom from approaching a man in public who is not related to her, that she is ritually "unclean" because of her hemorrhages, and that she did not politely ask for Jesus' help, but just up and took it.  Mark doesn't edit this woman out, because Mark wants us to be clear about Jesus' power, too--it is not under our control and does not need our permission to be activated.

We would probably want to give this lady a stern talking-to.  "Pardon me, ma'am, but what about Jairus and his daughter who followed the rules and politely asked for help? What about waiting your turn and taking a number?  What about getting in line behind the others who went through the proper procedure to apply for their miracles?  What about first proving your worthiness by being a well-known leader in your local religious community Who are your references, ma'am?"  In other words, I suspect we expect this lady to be... Jairus.  And because she is not--we would probably want to rescind the miracle.  After all, it's not "right" and it's not "fair" and it's certainly not polite to allow someone that jumps the turnstile and cuts in line to receive a good thing when others have played by the rules and waited their turn... right?

And this, dear ones, is the crux of Jesus' kind of power.  He reserves the right to give life, to heal, and to restore the broken, with or without our permission or approval.  The real wonder is not merely the miraculous healing; it is that Jesus chooses to use his power for the ones who didn't ask or apply the "right" way, because, frankly, Jesus won't be bound by our rules of etiquette.  Jesus heals polite respectable businessmen's daughters and anonymous strangers who skipped ahead in line.  Jesus heals people who request his help at officially sanctioned points of time with beautifully worded pleas, and he heals people who didn't speak a word but just snuck into his presence and touched the back of his shoulder.  Jesus endorses the healing that happens while his back is turned... and indeed, he gives his blessing on it.  He does not rescind this woman's healing, nor does he punish her, chastise her, or say, "Get to the back of the line--I'm on my way to Jairus' house, and if you wait for him and anybody else who has asked for my assistance, then maybe I'll get around to helping you if you can prove by then that you're a worthy candidate to receive my mercy."  None of that.  His power is sufficient for all, and it does not have strings dependent on the recipients meeting with our moral approval.

As we explore in this month the power of Jesus, let's set this down from the beginning.  It is good news that Jesus is powerful--he does indeed have the ability and authority to aid us in our struggles, and that is a sure and certain comfort for us when we are at the end of our rope.  But that comfort is not our private possession, because Jesus' power is not subject to our permission or approval.  And that means Jesus' power is not just power "for me," but power for any and all, polite protocol followers and brash line-jumping strangers, too.

The fact that it isn't subject to my control is what makes Jesus' power real.

All hail, Lord Jesus, whose power is beyond my grubby little grip.

Lord Jesus, use your power as you will--for life, for healing, for the good of all, beyond our conditions or worthiness.