The Bodies of Christ - Mark 5: 21-43

Good Morning! You and I are marking a special anniversary in our relationship today. I have been at Christ Church for exactly six years, and my very first Christ Church sermon was on today’s scripture readings. You could say that Year B, Proper 8 is kind of our song. Now, no one here will be shocked to learn that I adore this story because of the way it deals with women’s bodies. Full disclosure: you all almost got out of another Hannah sermon on women’s bodies, but I spent this past week on the Gulf Coast with my family where I was surrounded by all kinds of beach bodies, which I took as a sign to trust what the Spirit was calling me to proclaim. So here we go.

The two women that Jesus heals in today’s Gospel passage are carefully distinct from one another and each is compelling enough to merit her own sermon. The young girl is in danger of having her life cut short. But she has two key elements in her corner. First, she comes from a wealthy and powerful family. And second, her father is deeply invested in her wellbeing, so much so that he risks scandal and condemnation to seek out the outlaw that people say can perform miracles. Jairus approaches Jesus in a strategic way, both publicly and reverently, by kneeling before him in the middle of a crowd. He is rewarded with generosity and haste.

Meanwhile, the hemorrhaging woman doesn’t appear to have an advocate other than herself. Her condition is not as acute as the young girl’s, but it is certainly chronic. We learn that she has spent all of her money on fruitless healthcare, which is sadly relatable for many. She approaches Jesus more stealthily, hoping not to draw any attention to herself, but the result is chaotic and confusing for everyone.

A couple of weeks ago, I reread that sermon of mine from 2018. It’s always a little cringe to look back on creative endeavors from your past, but I’m glad I did. Six years ago, I focused almost entirely on Jairus’ daughter and gave little attention to the hemorrhaging woman. This time around, the temptation is certainly there to set the dying girl aside and give the woman the consideration she deserves. But this is the Gospel of Mark we’re dealing with, and its author has something different in mind. What we have in today’s passage is an example of intercalation. Intercalation is when a story is broken into two parts and a second story is stuck in between them. We also call them “Markan Sandwiches.” 

There are several in Mark’s Gospel that you might recognize. In chapter 6, Jesus sends out his disciples to spread the Good News, and then welcomes them back and hears their report. But in the middle of that narrative, we get the death of John the Baptist. In chapter 11, Jesus curses the fig tree and then it withers. But in the middle of that narrative, we get the episode where Jesus overturns the tables of the money changers in the temple - or as I like to call it, the temple tantrum. 

Now the thing about Markan Sandwiches is that the two stories are not randomly spliced together. They’re related. They’re in conversation with one another. We can’t deal with them separately, we must read them together. For instance, in the case of the disciples’ mission and the death of John the Baptist, we can hear Mark telling us that in the midst of following the call of Christ, there is always great risk. In today’s case, we have to look at what the bleeding woman and the dying girl have in common in order to hear what Mark is saying to us about Christ.

These two pivotal characters have more in common than just their gender. The young girl has a loving father, but Jesus calls the bleeding woman “daughter,” as well, suggesting they’re of equal value to him. We’re told the woman has been bleeding for 12 years, which happens to be the age of the little girl. The woman has been hemorrhaging for as long as the little girl has been alive. And of course, both find themselves desperate enough to come to Jesus for help.

But what I find most striking about these two women, is that their bodies are not capable of performing the tasks that society demands of them, namely, to partner with men and produce children - Jairus’ daughter because she was too young and the woman because of her hemorrhaging. We think of these women as deserving of our pity, but in their day, they were considered not very useful, maybe even a waste of Jesus’ precious time.

If we were to recreate this story in our own community, we might replace the two women with a homeless person and a convicted felon, two people who aren’t thought to be “contributing to society,” and then see how we feel about the lengths Jesus goes to in order to heal and save them. We place so much pressure on human bodies to perform as we expect them to, and we aren’t very kind to bodies that can’t, don’t, or won’t. 

Jesus, however, treats bodies differently. He restores the two women without asking what they will do with their newly healthy bodies. They do not have to earn Jesus’ attention and they aren’t asked to live up to it afterwards. In fact, many scholars believe the text indicates that Jesus stops the woman’s bleeding permanently, meaning that she is no longer capable of having children. She wasn’t restored for the sake of her contribution to society. She gets her body back and it belongs solely to her. Jewish New Testament scholar Amy-Jill Levine suggests that when Jesus calls the woman “daughter,” for all to hear, this becomes her primary identity: not a wife or a mother, but a beloved child of God. 

Like the hemorrhaging woman, I have not used my body the way the world around me expected me to. For starters, I have tattoos and a pierced nose, things my loving father chooses to ignore. On top of that, I am in my late thirties, I am unmarried, and I am child free by choice. The normalization of marriage and children for women is so ingrained in us, that without the markers of spouse and mother, some people aren’t quite sure how to interact with me. I get it, my lifestyle doesn’t fit neatly in a box and may be difficult to relate to.

But I take great comfort in today’s intercalation from Mark’s Gospel. I am encouraged that Jesus might also call me “daughter.” I am encouraged that none of the bodies in this story are cause for shame according to Jesus. I am encouraged because what Mark is telling us is that regardless of age, race or economic status, all people and their bodies, whether they function the way society expects them to or not, are worthy of Christ’s redemption in this very lifetime. 

This is Good News for women’s bodies, but it can also be Good News for any body. Bodies that have a disability, bodies that don’t feel like they belong to us, bodies that are aging and can’t do what they once could. Our relationships with our bodies are complicated and ever-changing, and all of us have experienced undue shame about them at one point or another. But as members of the Body of Christ, one of our responsibilities is to treat bodies the way Jesus does - our own bodies and others’. 

I know that you can do this work because you’ve already begun. You asked for Christ Church to incorporate accessibility into our master plan because it’s important to broaden the spectrum of bodies that are both welcome here and able to participate comfortably. Are there other ways we can show Christ’s love to bodies that our society does not deem conventional or useful? Are there ways we could be more generous with our own bodies?

Our God is not a distant, ethereal being but an embodied savior who dwells among us and who  accepts our bodies lovingly and without shame, without preference for size or shape or gender, but as autonomous entities deserving of respect. Let us rejoice in the knowledge that we are, bodies and all, beloved children of God. Amen.