The Compassionate Healings
Mark 5:21-43
Sermon
by Ron Lavin

We have before us two stories, the story of a sick woman with a twelve-year-old hemorrhage and the story of a twelve-year-old girl who has died. The stories are integrated by one theme -- the compassionate healing of Jesus.

The Sick Woman

Our stories start out with Jairus, a synagogue leader, approaching Jesus with a request to come and heal his sick daughter. On his way to the home of Jairus, Jesus was met by a woman who had been sick with bleeding for twelve years. In terms of modern medicine, she probably needed a hysterectomy. Jesus gave her more. He gave her a compassionate healing. The woman approached Jesus with a theology that was limited, distorted, and based on misconceptions. She thought that by touching Jesus' garment, she would be healed. That is called magic. What's going on in this story? Two surprises.

First, trust is going on. If we had been there we would have experienced surprise, even shock, that Jesus would heal this woman. The nameless woman with bad theology would have flunked Religion 101. We would have expected Jesus to correct her. Instead he healed her.

When I was in seminary, one of our professors was quite stiff in his bearing and rigid in his theology. One time when the students sang Christmas carols at his home, they discovered that he wore his clergy collar even with his pajamas and robe. I can imagine that seminary professor saying something like this to the nameless woman: "You just don't get it. Good theology centers not on what we can get from God, but on giving glory to God. Good theology is not a matter of using God for our own ends. Do you realize that you have made the glorious faith of our fathers into nothing more than magic? Do you really think that God will help you when you have such a childish approach to religion? Do you really think that you can sneak up on God from behind, get what you want, and depart without being noticed? Do your really think that Jesus will heal you because you touch his robe?"

Surprise! Jesus does just that. He never even takes time to correct the woman's mistaken theology. He does not give her a lecture on good theology. He just heals her. He even commends her faith (Mark 5:34). What is going on here? Trust. Faith includes good theology. God wants us to have the right ideas about him. He does not want bad theology which can only get us into trouble. All that notwithstanding, Jesus sees beyond bad theology to the heart of the woman. He sees trust. Trust is the heart of faith. Trust is why the woman with bad theology is held up in front of us like some kind of saint. The heart of our religion is trust.

The woman had tried many doctors who had failed to heal her. Some were probably good doctors, practicing medicine in its primitive form as best they could. Some were probably charlatans. There were plenty of those around. Charlatans take advantage of people with problems for their own gain. We are not told the details of what happened to the woman prior to meeting Jesus, only that she had spent all her money and she was still very ill.

That the woman with bad theology trusted Christ is amazing, especially because she had tried so many doctors who had failed her. Instead of getting better, she got worse. One translation puts it this way: "... there was a woman who had suffered from hemorrhages for twelve years; and in spite of long treatment by doctors, on which she had spent all she had, there had been no improvement; on the contrary, she had grown worse" (Mark 5:25-26, NEB). These are the circumstances under which trust is generally broken. But on the basis of what she heard about Jesus, she approached him. She looked into Jesus' eyes and his face and saw something which gave her hope. She saw compassion.

The second surprise going on in the first story is the compassion of Jesus. The woman with bad theology saw what thousands of others have seen in the face of Jesus -- compassion. The woman brought trust to the relationship. Jesus brought compassion. Compassion is always a surprise, because we do not often experience it in the world. Compassion is so rare that when it comes, we are shocked.

Compassion literally means "coming with passion." Passion in this context has nothing to do with lust or a hot temper. The original meaning of passion is suffering with someone. Compassion is not pity. Pity lets us stay at a distance. Pity can be condescending. Compassion does not mean sympathy. Sympathy comes from someone superior to someone inferior. Compassion is not charity. Charity allows a rich person to stay in a position of power over a poor person. Compassion means standing in another person's shoes. Compassion means caring.

Compassion means genuine caring, going out to a person, entering into his or her suffering. Jesus, the busiest man in the world with the ways and means of the kingdom of God on his mind, concerned about people's negative or shallow understanding of his teaching, the burdens of hundreds of people weighing heavily on his heart, and aware of what will be necessary in his suffering and death in the future, is touched by the woman who touched him. That is caring.

To have compassion means to care. Care comes from the word "kara." "Kara" means "to lament." Henri Nouwen writes, "What does it mean to care? Let me start by saying that the word care has become a very ambivalent word. When someone says: 'I will take care of him!' it is more likely an announcement of an impending attack than of a tender compassion..."

Real care is not ambiguous. Real care excludes indifference (as in "I don't care.") ... It is the opposite of apathy.1 To care means to suffer with the other person. That's what the woman with a bad theology saw -- Jesus cared. Jesus entered into her suffering. He communed with her. Nouwen puts it this way:

To care means first of all to empty our own cup and to allow the other to come close to us. It means to take away the many barriers which prevent us from entering into communion with one another.2

Jesus really cared. You could see it in his face. You could see it in his eyes. The woman with bad theology saw compassion. She saw real caring. She took a chance because of what she saw. She saw that Jesus came with passion for the needy. "Who touched me?" Jesus asked (Mark 5:31). The slight touch on his robe in the midst of a pushing, shoving, clamoring crowd did not go unnoticed. Jesus was aware of the trembling, outstretched fingers of an anonymous woman touching the hem of his garment. Surprised?

We are encouraged to believe that God is like that. We are encouraged in this story to come just as we are, bad theology and all. God will begin with us wherever we are, if we will just come and trust him as much as we can. Over the years, I have often had people tell me that they cannot come to God just yet. Once they get over their drinking problem, once they straighten out their marriage, once they are not so sick and helpless, then they say they will come to God. The biblical corrective of the story of the woman with bad theology is that we are to come just as we are and be healed by the compassionate healer.

Jesus' healings were more than physical cures. He healed the soul as well as the body. He felt the pain of the people. That is why verse 30 is important: "At once Jesus realized that power had gone out from him." In other words, when the power of God went into a person from Jesus for healing, Jesus himself was diminished. That is what coming with passion is all about. Compassion means being so deeply involved with others that you yourself are spent. That is why Jesus was exhausted at the end of the day.

Compassionate healing is the theme of the first story. Compassionate healing is also the theme of the second story.

The Dead Girl

The second story opens in verse 21 with Jairus seeking help for his little daughter. She was twelve. She was seriously ill. Jairus was very concerned about her. Jairus was a ruler of a synagogue. That meant that he was the layleader of his church. There were guest preachers in the synagogue, but Jairus was the one that the people looked to for guidance and leadership in their religious life. Most synagogues could not afford their own rabbis. The layleaders were of special importance in the care and administration of the synagogues. They were not generally the preachers, the ones who prayed, or the readers, but they were responsible for getting people involved in the worship life of the synagogues. They were the highly respected presidents of the board of elders. Jairus came seeking help from Jesus for his little girl. What is going on in this story? Three reversals; three unexpected twists.

The first unexpected twist comes when a man of some standing in the community comes begging Jesus for help. If we could have been there and heard these words for the first time, we would experience the twist or reversal. If we had been there, our response to this man in authority might be: "Where is your dignity, man? Where is your pride?" We would be shocked by the man in authority acting like a beggar.

Jairus had a sick daughter. He needed help. He sought that help from Jesus. "Seeing Jesus, he fell at his feet and pleaded earnestly with him. 'My little daughter is dying. Please come and put your hands on her so that she will be healed' " (Mark 5:22-23). You can feel the passion in the plea. You can also feel the passion in the response.

Jairus had servants. He was rich. He was the man in authority. People in authority do not normally come begging to anyone. We would not be surprised if Jairus approached Jesus like this: "I met one of your disciples, Andrew, and he assured me that you are an honorable man. He also said that you have healed many people. My daughter is sick. Would you consider taking her as a patient? I'll be glad to pay you." Nothing like that happens. The proud, respected ruler of a synagogue comes on bended knee begging. That's the first twist or reversal in our story.

The second reversal began with the report that the twelve-year-old girl had died. After the healing of the woman with bad theology, before Jesus could get back underway to Jairus' home, it was reported by Jairus' servants to their master: "Your daughter is dead. Why bother the teacher anymore?" (Mark 5:35). If we were there, we would expect that Jesus would have arrived at the home in time to heal the sick girl. These expectations would be shattered by the news of her death. One of the great illusions of our time is that through better medicine we can live forever. Wrong. The little girl died; we die too, and it always seems so wrong. Death comes as a surprise, even when we say that we expect it. That's what reversal is all about in life. We are surprised by death which comes like a thief in the night. We are shocked by Jesus' tardiness and by his response.

We expect that Jesus would have said what we say when a death comes. "I'm so sorry to hear about your daughter. You have my sympathy. If there is anything I can do, don't hesitate to call me." Instead Jesus raised the stakes (and the eyebrows of the people in the crowd too, I suspect) by flying right in the face of the servants who had seen the girl die. Jesus said, "Don't be afraid, just believe" (Mark 5:36). To add insult to injury, when Jesus got to the house of Jairus, he said, "Why all this commotion and wailing? The child is not dead but asleep." There were mourners in this Jewish home. The mourners were wailing, beating their breasts, tearing their hair and their clothes. A flute player was playing songs of lamentation. This is how people in Jewish homes tried to relieve their grief. It was a very emotional scene. Jesus' question, "Why all this wailing?" seemed strangely out of place. Jesus' statement, "She isn't dead, but sleeping," seemed like an insult. A shocked relative might have said, "How do you know? You have not even met the girl." The announcement of death and Jesus' response is the second reversal.

The third reversal came when Jesus brought the young girl back from the dead. Jesus took her by the hand and then commanded her, "Talitha koum!" The translation of this Aramaic phrase is "Little girl, I say to you, get up." This is an exact parallel to what Jesus said to a young boy from Nain who was brought back from the dead when he was in a casket on his way to burial. Jesus said, "Young man, I say to you, arise" (Luke 7:11-17).

The compassion of Jesus even carries over for situations of death. Jesus views death as sleep. Last night you went to sleep. This morning you woke up to a new day. "Death is like that," Jesus says. You fall asleep in one place (on earth) and you wake up by the power of the Lord in another place (in heaven). In our story the young girl wakes up. The first face she sees is the compassionate face of Jesus. The third reversal to the way we think is that Jesus shows that death is not fatal. Jesus' words of compassion bring the little girl back from the dead. Death is like sleep. After you die, the day will come when you will wake up. By the power of God and the compassion of Jesus you will be given eternal life.

In both stories we see the compassionate face of Jesus. Jesus suffered with those who suffered. He served with passion those whose need moved them to say or do things like reaching out in vulnerable ways. He compassionately greeted the young girl who came back from the dead. That compassion should give you hope for this life since Jesus comes with passion to your situation, whatever it is. That compassion should give you hope for the next life as well.

The day will come when you will experience the most pleasant reversal of all. You will wake up from death and see the compassionate face of the Lord Jesus welcoming you into heaven. You will also hear his words personally spoken to you: "Young man ... young woman ... old man ... old woman, I say to you, 'Arise.' "


1. Henri Nouwen, Out of Solitude (Indiana: Ave Maria Press, 1974), p. 33.

2. Op. cit., p. 42.

CSS Publishing, Lima, Ohio, The Advocate, by Ron Lavin