Morning Prayer: Shannon Cook Choral Amen Hymn of Faith *Precious Lord, Take My Hand* Witness of Scripture: Mark 5: 21-43 Anthem *I Will Not Leave You Comfortless* Chancel Choir Sermon *The Catch * David Spain
Recorded on June 30, 2024
If you are a baseball fan from a certain era, then you may be aware that one of the greatest players—Willie Mays who played in New York and San Francisco—died last week at the age of 93. The tributes have been constants on the sports. While Mays played with flair, he made flair look routine. Not inclined to seek the limelight nor use his prominence as a platform for which he received some criticism, Mays was the kind of person who lived with class, kindness, and humility. On the way to the ballpark—he often walked—he would play a pickup game of stickball with kids in the street or buy them ice cream before he arrived for pre-game practice. But of the many stories and images of Mays, one remains iconic. It was the eight-inning in Game 1 of the 1954 World Series, when with two runners on and the game tied at 2, Cleveland’s batter Vic Wertz hit a fly ball into deepest centerfield of the Polo Grounds. Realizing the trajectory of the well hit ball, Mays turned his back to home plate and sprinted to where he anticipated the ball to land, at the last second looking up over his shoulder, reached out with his glove extended and made the catch. Incredible as that was, he had the presence of mind to throw the ball back to the infield to keep one of the runners from advancing into scoring position.For a couple of generations thereafter, kids on the diamond would often try to imitate the ‘say hey kid’s’ iconic catch. Even after 70 years, that over the shoulder catch is still considered one of the most amazing plays ever in any sport, anytime, anywhere. If a moment might define a player, that was it for Mays, and people are still talking about it.
If we were to go deeper into history, back almost 2,000 years ago, we could ponder what images or moments are iconic when we think about Jesus of Nazareth. There are a number of possibilities—some of them informed by artists’ renderings and stain glass on the one hand; or deeply cherished images in the albums of our faith on the other hand. Maybe this church’s Nativity window is a favorite of ours; some like the image of Jesus with children which we have represented in both stain glass and sculpture. Perhaps we hold DaVinci’s painting of Jesus at the Last Supper as the central image of our faith; or maybe it is Jesus teaching, as a great crowd listens attentively.Some might view Jesus on the cross as central; others have a framed picture of Jesus laughing joyfully.Renaissance paintings of Jesus haloed by a light in the background are common, or perhaps Warner Sallman’s 1940 image of a very westernized picture of Jesus, handsomely tanned with long, flowing brown hair and blond highlights comes to mind. Is it the infant Jesus or the resurrected Christ who lives in our minds’ eye?
When the author of the gospel of Mark put together stories of Jesus, the good news written was mostly briefly written. Mark’s gospel is the sparest of the four, and if we lay the stories Mark tells alongside the same stories told by the other gospels, Mark’s telling is almost always the shortest, until we get to this story. Mark does here what was done a few stories back, putting a story within a story—two stories yet one story—an intercalation we may recall.Different than almost all the other stories Mark tells of Jesus, we are treated to deep detail and expansive narrative.Could it be for Mark that this moment in Jesus’ ministry is iconic, the catch, the image that portrays the core of who Jesus is, the revelation of what God values deeply?
Jesus has been crisscrossing the Sea of Galilee and is once again on Canaan’s side.He has barely come ashore as a great crowd already assembled presses in on him. We don’t know what Jesus was about to do, because before he can get a word out a man named Jairus comes to him. Normally, people would be coming to Jairus—a stalwart figure, a respected leader of a synagogue, the presentation of a calm and reassuring presence. But not today, because his only daughter is at death’s door and Jairus is desperate. Seeing him is a reminder of the humanity of us all—that no matter one’s station or position, we share a common vulnerability, we have needs and worries and no one is immune. Mark does not say if Jairus is dressed in clerical garb, but if he is, the image of him falling at Jesus’ feet and begging him to attend to his daughter would render the crowd silent. If Jesus had anything planned that day, he rearranges his schedule and immediately goes with Jairus to his daughter, with the crowds following along in a parade of compassion and perhaps a bit of curiosity as well.
We don’t know how far Jesus had to travel to get to Jairus’ home, but we imagine their pace is quick and the crowd hustles to keep up. Unbeknownst to anyone in the crowd, there is a woman who is trying to push her way toward Jesus. We know nothing about her other than she had an unknown bleeding disorder, which may have rendered her an outsider with unclean status. We know her treatments had not worked, except to empty her pockets…which means she is sick and impoverished. Despite her efforts to seek the best care available, she is now 12 years ill and we marvel she has any strength at all, much less to push through the crowds. People seem not to remember her name…only her condition become her identity…a sick woman.Mark gives us two stories of two distinctly different kinds of people—one who might be seated in first class and the other in economy; one who lives on the better side of town and one who does not; one who can afford to go to the pool and the other who can only frequent the park splash pad. There are all kinds of ways that cultures differentiate, separate, segregate people.Mark is giving us a picture of two very different lives. Unlike Jairus’ daughter to whom Jesus goes, this woman goes to Jesus, touches him and is healed. What Jesus and this woman have in common is that both feel the power of this healing moment, which of course is good news for both healer and healed alike
—each one gains. She is now healed, and he feels that goodness. She has caught him, he has
engaged her, and both are forever marked by the catch.
Mark, however, does not let us linger long over much of anything, and no sooner has the good news of this healing happened than the bad news of Jairus’ daughter arrives.The reports are she has succumbed; let Jesus go elsewhere to others in need. Jesus however wants to see for himself, so he accompanies Jairus in his grief while reminding him that he has something to say about when it is over.In the company of Peter, James, and John, Jesus goes into Jairus’ home, tenderly holds the hand of his 12-year-old daughter, speaks to her and she gets up and walks around the house.Understandably, as Mark tells us, all who saw this were overwhelmed with amazement, and all these years later we are not sure what to make of this story either; yet we know for Mark these are iconic, revealing, indicative moments of who Jesus is and how Jesus is.
So, we ponder these stories all these years later—perhaps less to make sense out of them and more to make lives in light of them—others’ lives, our lives. We note that Jesus does more than cure this woman of her ailment. He changes her name, he changes her status, he brings her into community. She is no longer a woman labeled as sick and ostracized living in isolation. “Oh, there goes ole Jay, you know he’s got…that’s Mary, remember she’s the one with…”Jesus does not accept what has been used to define her; instead, he claims her as daughter, part of God’s family.Does the naming feel different—there goes that sick woman; there goes Jesus’ sister. It matters which perspectives, which names we employ as we walk down the streets of Norman or consider critical issues of the day. After all this, Jesus does more thing—sending her on her way in peace, made well. We wonder where this woman will go? Who will be her new community? We can imagine, because of the Host who calls us to this Table, that she will feel at home in this sanctuary, not only part of Jesus’ family but also our sister. Jesus has a way of speaking healing, inviting words to individuals and to communities.
What about Jairus and his 12-year-old daughter, this child at a threshold in her life? We note
Jesus’ compassion for her, his advocacy for her. We note the derisive, toxic voices who laughed at Jesus when he reimagined, reframed this child’s condition. Jesus moves with compassionate power in spite of those who would mock and dismiss his work.Reflecting on both stories, Willie Francois has written, “Jesus represents the equity of grace and the egalitarianism of divine power, giving us a reason to believe that the long arc of the moral universe bends toward justice.” (The Christian Century, 6/29/2018)
We might wonder why Jesus would admonish people to keep quiet about what happened at Jairus’ house that day. Perhaps at one level Jesus does not want people to be drawn to him only for what people can get out of him. Jesus is not a vending machine in which faith is pushing the right buttons to get the candy people want. Jesus is not a commodity…instead, he is one who companions, who shapes, who seeks to bend people toward the long arc of his way of being, rather than people reconfiguring Jesus to their wants and desires.
When we think about these stories Mark tells, it is baffling that anyone would take offense at them; and yet, there are those who do. Mark helps us see what Jesus knows—that there are some who might not take kindly to his coming along and saying that someone in first class and someone in second class are all the same class to him; that while Jesus treats each person uniquely, he nonetheless offers grace, love, healing with no preference or deference to the one housed in power over the one who houses no power.There were enough people—religious folk and those who had no use for religion—who were sufficiently upset by Jesus’ indiscriminate compassion they thought it best to nail him down and put him up a hill on a Friday because well, Jesus took God’s love too far. Perhaps there are those who still feel that way.
Mark’s gospel gives these two iconic stories folded into one—Jesus caught by this no name woman and this young daughter, each one given up as goners.There’s no way Jesus can get to them—this is way over his head. Turns out, this is Mark’s version of the catch, and thanks be to God 2,000 years later, we are still talking about it.