Sermon

Mark 5:21-43

 

Desperate for Freedom

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Mark 5:21-43

 

Desperate for Freedom

Rev. Amy Butler

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be found acceptable in your sight. Amen.

The pain. I am so desperate for a break from the pain. Some days it’s manageable, but most days it becomes debilitating. I can tell you that this morning, I hurt in every way possible.

This morning, I woke up, bathed in hopes to keep myself clean and made some breakfast. This week I haven’t been able to eat very much because I’ve felt so sick. The pain in my abdomen can make me feel nauseated or just not hungry.

I wish I could go out to the market and buy the fresh fruits and vegetables, but I am only allowed out of this tent that my parents created for me for an hour or so each day. I would not be able to make it to the market and back in that amount of time. I’ve been like this for 12 years, I can remember back to a time when I would go to the market with my mother each day. My mother and I would get up, cook some breakfast for my father and brothers and then leave the house. We would enjoy the weather, the company and the business of the marketplace. I never knew that you could miss things like people yelling at each other over the price of fresh herbs. I was desperate to hear people’s voices.

Now, my mother brings me food each morning, places it 20 feet away from where I sleep in order to maintain the holiness codes and she waits for me to get it. She stands far away from me, which I can tell hurts her as much as it hurts me. I wish that I could hug my mother sometimes, but I know that if I hugged her that she would be unclean and be forced to spend time outside of the house until she could be ritually purified. It can be so isolating to live in silence most of the time. The silence is deafening and painful. I was desperate for freedom from this loneliness.

When I don’t eat for a few days, obviously I get very weak and I can’t move. In the past there have been too many days to count where all I could do was curl up in a ball, lay on my mat and cry.

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I have a good friend named Mary who comes and visits me regularly. Mary is a risky woman. She really should never come near me because she would be made unclean. She doesn’t seem to care about the laws of how I am unclean. At first, she only came once a month when she was considered unclean too. But now, she comes more often when she is nearby.

Mary is following around this new rabbi. So, in the past year she’s been stopping by whenever she can. Since we live on the outskirts, she can get away with it and no one finds out when she comes and visits me in my barren tent. Mary is a great encouragement to me. She is one of my only friends who is still willing to talk to me like I am a normal person. We had a great circle of friends when we were growing up and we did all the things that normal girls would do.

She can relate to me because she is not married either. But she could be married. I could never marry because of my continual uncleanliness. I don’t understand why they call it “being unclean.” Just call me dirty. That’s what they want to say. I was desperate for human touch.

I was always told that I had sins in my life and I must have done something evil to deserve this. Part of me just doesn’t think that is right. I always went to Temple, followed the Law and obeyed my parents. I was even ready to marry whomever they wanted me to marry. After the first few months of my bleeding, I started to worry. I knew that something wasn’t right. Ever since those days, I haven’t been part of my community. I was banished.

Mary keeps telling me that she thinks I will get better. That she just has a feeling. But I am desperate. I was desperate for freedom from this pain, on the inside and the outside.

A few days ago, Mary came and told me that the new rabbi would be close to where I live for a couple days. She said she didn’t know exactly when they would arrive, but that they always seemed to congregate around the Sea of Galilee and that I should at least try to come and see this spiritual leader, this man named Jesus. She told me that he had been known to heal people and that if I asked him, maybe he would heal me.

When she told me that, my chin started to tremble, my lips started to shake and my eyes started to well up with tears. Heal me? Me? The woman who no one will talk to, touch, listen to or look at? I was desperate for someone to talk to me, listen to me and just look at me.

(Pause)

There was a nice breeze this morning when I set out. Maybe there is always a nice breeze, but it’s been a long time since I was able to feel the fresh air on my skin and the air catching my hair and whipping it in the wind. I smelled the seabreeze. I saw sights that I hadn’t seen since I was a child. I was amongst the first people to arrive on the seashore today.

It was incredible to see the waves crashing against the sand and hear the children running around playing with each other. Those were things I hadn’t experienced in a long time. I was sitting by myself, tucked away out of sight when all of a sudden, people began rushing toward the beach. From where I was tucked, I couldn’t see what was happening, but then I spotted the boat. Then I spotted Mary. She was making her way down to the shore herself.

I started to get butterflies. I really wanted to go and talk to Jesus. I wanted to ask him to heal me. Heal me from this pain, this life, this desperation. From what Mary told me, he was able to do all of these things. I was desperate for belief, for faith.

Jesus started to get out of the boat and immediately the crowd pushed in on him. His clothes were dripping with water and I could tell from where I was that he really just wanted to get out of the water and to the sand before he interacted with anyone. I was observing him and I was hoping that I would be able to talk to him. But he is a holy man and the last thing I can do is reach out to a holy man. I would make him unclean.

OH! But, his garment . I have touched so many garments in my life, but maybe this one is different. I believed that this man was different. I was desperate for him to be different.

I was thinking:

Oh he’s coming closer to me, I need to move closer to him. OH NO! There is Jairus! He is one of the rulers in the synagogue in my town. He knows me! He knows I am unclean! And he’s headed toward me. Oh please, do not let him find me out. Please do not let him take away this little ounce of hope that I have left. He looks determined. And he looks upset.

Please God, do not let him be coming toward me. He’s STOPPED! And he stopped at the feet of Jesus. He threw himself down. I don’t know what is going on, but now Jesus is going away with him. I MUST get to Jesus before he leaves with Jairus. I don’t know what I’ll do when I get to him, but I need to be closer.

I struggled down to the sand to get closer to Jesus. I will never forget the feeling of that damp sand in between my toes and the salt stinging my eyes as I quickly and desperately moved my way through the crowd. My clothes were brushing against people, but luckily no one was paying much attention to me. They were all more concerned about Jesus and why he was leaving so quickly with Jairus. I began to sweat. My clothes were wet from the tide rushing up on the beach, but I continued to press onward.

Finally, Jesus was within a few yards of me. I pushed a little more and reached out and grabbed the bottom of his clothes. I grabbed with conviction and purpose. I was desperate for hope, for peace, for life, for trust, for belonging, for healing, for salvation, for FREEDOM.

In the moment that I touched Jesus’ hem something happened to me. The pain that ravaged my abdomen for 12 years disappeared. I knew in an instant that my suffering was gone. He healed me! He made the pain go away. My mind cleared. Then I realized I was shaking. I was terrified of what he would say to me.

He stopped. He turned. He spoke .

WHO TOUCHED ME? He asked.

WHO TOUCHED HIM? Everyone was touching him! He knew I was desperate. I knew that he knew and he knew that I knew. We both knew.

Jesus turned around completely and stood staring at me. It was hard for me to look up at him. He did not appear to be angry, but he appeared concerned. He knew that I was healed. He knew that I touched him. My mind was racing. What do I say to this man, how do I explain myself? I saw Jairus fall at his feet and this seemed like the best option at the time. I fell down at his feet and wept.

Surely, I was incoherent as I spoke. I told him I was desperate for freedom. I wanted the freedom he offered. I explained my situation and my life and how I hoped that he would be able to make me better. I told him I knew his power came into my body and made me well. I told him I believed in this message he was preaching and in the hope he offered people.

With tears streaming down my face, my voice trembling and my body shaking I looked up and made eye contact with Jesus. His eyes pierced me. I am convinced he saw down into the depths of my soul. He saw my years of desperation, pain, suffering, loneliness and hurt. It was in that moment that he healed me because he saved me from my desperation, pain, suffering, loneliness and hurt.

He saw me as a person and as someone of value. Jesus gave me value and a place in society. He gave me hope. He was kind. He spoke these words to me that I will never forget:

Daughter, your faith has saved you. Go in peace and be healed from your disease.

I am here to tell you of my desperation and of a healing that changed me, my heart, my body, my life, my soul. What kind of healing do you need? Are you desperate? Amen.

Copyright 2006, Amy Butler. Used by permission.