Sunday 27 June 2009 Mark 5, Melanie

We pray that God would meet us where we are and move us on to where he would have us be
Amen

Our gospel story wrestles with life and death.
There is the woman who has been bleeding for 12 years ;
Then there is the young girl – Jairus’ daughter,
on the edge of death.
Two women, one in a river of blood
at the edge of community ;
the other a girl of 12
on the edge of marriageability
and at the edge of death.

The stories are familiar to us,
and the temptation is to read them
with no pause,
knowing the final ending -
that both women would be healed.
The one healed from bleeding ;
the other raised from the dead.

But if we allow ourselves to pause
at the time when the woman touches Jesus ;
what do we see?
A touch that provokes Jesus.
He turns ;
Realises power has gone from him ;
Draws out the woman from the crowd ;
Tells her that her faith has healed her.
Then comes the news that the child has died.

I wonder how the woman reacted.
Guilt?
If only I hadn’t touched him
he wouldn’t have stopped, and the child might be well.
Horror?
How could I have been so selfish
to have made him stop –
and now a young girl is dead.
And what was Jairus’ reaction?
Accusing looks at the woman
as he tried to find someone to blame
for the death of his daughter.

As readers we know that the final ending is happy
that both women are healed.
But we sometimes miss the human emotions
buried in the story
in our joy at a happy ending.

Perhaps in our own lives too
there is a tendency to focus on the final outcome
particularly if it is good
rather than to stay
with the human emotion of the moment.

Perhaps this is why so few of us
come to church on Good Friday.
We are sometimes inclined to
forget the human suffering
and to focus instead on the joy of resurrection.

But there is something important about dwelling
in that space of raw human emotion.
Of remaining in that almost unbearable present moment where Jesus is.

It is a little over 5 years now since my diagnosis of cancer ;
Yet in these 5 years
I have learnt how important it is to dwell ;
to engage ;
to live with
the disease.
It would be easy for me to say
on the basis of the gospel story today
that both women were healed through faith,
and that therefore I have faith too that I will be healed.
On one level that is right –
there is always faith in God
faith that healing will come.
But the reality is for many of us
that physical healing is not often seen ;
that healing will appear in a deep sense,
and that this healing will come inevitably
through living with
and engaging with
illness.
I remember one person saying
that the most refreshing part of my book for him
was that I didn’t say that I prayed,
and that everything was fine.
There was something for him
in the wrestling
and the struggle
that he found resonated with his own journey.

It is a little like the story of the violinist
Peter Cropper who was invited to Finland
for a special concert.
As a favour, the Royal Academy of Music
lent Peter their priceless 285 year old Stradivarius.
The violin was known the world over
for its incredible sound.
At the concert, a nightmare happened.
Going on stage, Peter tripped and fell.
The violin broke into several pieces.
Peter flew home to England in a state of shock.
A master craftsman spent endless hours
repairing the violin.
Then came the moment of truth.
What would the violin sound like?
Those present couldn’t believe their ears.
The violin’s sound was better than before.

There is something about brokenness in life
that transforms us
makes us who we are,
produces richness
and purity
that we could not have gained anywhere else.

I can honestly say
that I cannot imagine a life without cancer.
Even if I had the option of physical healing
I’m not sure if I would take it.
I know that may sound shocking to some of you.
That I am turning down the idea of physical healing.
But I believe living,
dwelling,
engaging with cancer
has given me something precious
something beyond this world,
something of God,
that I could not have gained in any other way.
A bit like the broken violin,
I have gained a new voice,
a new way of playing,
a new life,
because of my illness.

I am sometimes reminded of the
Jewish saint, Edith Stein
who died at Auschwitz.
She rejected attempts to escape, saying
If I cannot share the lot of my brothers and sisters,
my life, in a certain sense, is destroyed.
For her Auschwitz was an integral part of her life.

Where though does this leave our gospel reading.
The two women were healed by faith.
Does this mean that those of us without enough faith
are not healed?

I would argue strongly against this.
Yes the two women were physically healed,
but I think that I too have been emotionally and spiritually healed,
and have found new horizons
through living with cancer.

The important factor for me
has been learning to live in the present moment.
To dwell with the raw human emotions,
rather than to anticipate the future.
Because it is in that moment of humanity,
when we are faced gut wrenching emotion ;
when, like the woman who was healed,
we are faced with questions about
guilt,
horror
shame.

It is in these moments that we learn to dwell
in that unbearable present moment with Christ.
It is in these moments too that we dwell
with the incredible joy and
resurrection life of Christ.
May that joy and resurrection life be with each of us
as we too look to the present moment in our lives.