6 Pentecost

 

Baptism of James William Stalboerger

June 30, 2024

Wisdom of Solomon 1:13-15; 2:23-24; Mark 5.21-43

+ I once had a Homiletics class in which the students were told not to make the pulpit into a confessional.

Meaning, don’t get up and tell people all your faults and failings.

I have failed miserably at that over the years.

I often bring up my vices, because it’s important for all of us to know that we’re in this thing called life together.

None of us are perfect, not even those of who are called and ordained.

Even we ordained people have vices.

Well, except maybe for Deacon Suzanne.

One of my biggest vices is. . . .wait for it.  . . . impatience.

I know. You’re all surprised by that one aren’t you?

Well, I admit it.

There are times when I want certain things—and I want them NOW.

Not tomorrow.

Not in some vague future.

NOW!

But for me I have never liked waiting.

Waiting is one of the worst things I can imagine.

For me, if there was a hell and I was sent there, it would be a place in which I would do nothing else but wait. Forever.  For all eternity.

Hell for me would a waiting room in which one waits and waits and waits.

And while I wait, my anxiety grows. And my anger grows. Andthere’s nothing I can do about nay of it. See…..hell.

Still, impatient as I am, ultimately I know that waiting and being patient is a good thing sometimes.

The fact is, we can’t rush these things.

Things happen in their due course.

Not OUR course.

Not MY course!

But the proper course.

God works in God’s own time.

And this is probably the most difficult thing for us. 

It certainly is for me.

Impatience is actually present in our Gospel reading for today, but in a more subtle way.

Our reading from the Gospel today also teaches us an important reflection on our own impatience and waiting.

We have two things going on.

We have Jairus, the leader of the synagogue, who has lost his daughter, even though he doesn’t know it yet.

While Jairus is pleading with Jesus to heal his daughter, we encounter this unnamed woman who has been suffering with a hemorrhage for twelve years—twelve years!—is desperate.

She wants healing.

I can tell you in all honesty that as I read and reflected and lived with this Gospel reading this past week,  I could relate.  

I can relate to Jairus, who is being touched with the darkness of death in his life.

And when I read of the woman with a hemorrhage grasping at the hem of Jesus’ garment, I could certainly empathize with her impatience and her grasping.

Many of us have known the anguish of Jairus.

We have known the anguish and pain of watching someone we love fade away and die.

And many of us know the pain of that woman.

We often find ourselves bleeding deeply inside with no possible hope for relief.

And can you imagine how long she must’ve lived with this?

For us, as we relate, that “bleeding” might not be an actual bleeding, but a bleeding of our spirit, of our hopes and dreams, of a deep emotional or spiritual wound that just won’t heal, or just our grief and sadness, which, let me tell you, can also “bleed” away at us.  

And when we’ve been desperate, when we find ourselves so impatient, so in need of a change, we find ourselves clutching at anything—at any little thing.

We clutch even for a fringe of the prayer shawl of the One whom God sends to us in those dark moments.

When we do, we find, strangely, God’s healing.

And in this story of Jarius’ daughter, I too felt that moment in which I felt separated from the loved ones in my life—by death, yes, of course.

But also when I felt that a distance was caused by estrangement or anger.

And when I have begged for healing for them and for myself, it has often come.

But it has come in God’s own time.

Not in mine.

It is a matter of simply,  sometimes waiting.

For Jairus, he didn’t have to wait long.

For the woman, it took twelve years.

But in both cases, it did come.

Still, I admit, I continue to be impatient.

But, resurrection comes in many forms in our lives and if we wait them out these moments will happen.

And not all impatience is bad.

It is all right to be impatient—righteously impatient—for justice, for the right thing to be done.

It is all right to be impatient for injustice and lying and deceit to be brought to light and be revealed.

And dealt with.

It is all right to be impatient for the right thing to be done in this world.

But we cannot let our impatience get in the way of seeing that  miracles continue to happen in our lives and in the lives of those around us.

I know, because I have seen it again and again and, not only in my own life, but in the lives of others.

We know that in God, we find our greatest consolation.

Our God of justice and compassion and love will provide and will win out ultimately over the forces of darkness that seem, at times, to prevail in our lives.  

Knowing that, reminding ourselves of all that we are able to be strengthened and sustained and rejuvenated.

We are able to face whatever life may throw at us with hope and, sometimes, even joy.

We are not in that weird, made-up hell I have imagined for myself.

At some point, the doors of what seems like that eternal waiting room will be opened.

And we will be called forward.

And all will be well.

That is what scripture and our faith in God tell us again and again.

That is how God works in this world and in our lives.

In our impatience, we sometimes see glimpses of God’s goodness and love.

We certainly see it today in sweet James as he is washed in the waters of baptism.

We see it in the amazing life he is about to enter into.

We see it in the joy we feel as we celebrate his new birth.

So, let us cling to this hope and find true strength in it.

True strength to get us through those impatient moments in our lives when we want darkness and death and injustice and pain behind us.  

Let us be truly patient for our God.  

Because, if we do, those words of Jesus to the woman today will be words directed to us as well:

“your faith has made you well;

go in peace;

be healed.”