ST. PAUL'S SECOND LETTER TO THE CORINTHIANS 11:31-33; 12:1-9
Brethren, the God and Father of the Lord Jesus, he who is blessed for ever, knows that I do not lie. At Damascus, the governor under King Aretas guarded the city of Damascus in order to seize me, but I was let down in a basket through a window in the wall, and escaped his hands. I must boast; there is nothing to be gained by it, but I will go on to visions and revelations of the Lord. I know a man in Christ who fourteen years ago was caught up to the third heaven -- whether in the body or out of the body I do not know, God knows. And I know that this man was caught up into Paradise --whether in the body or out of the body I do not know, God knows -- and he heard things that cannot be told, which man may not utter. On behalf of this man I will boast, but on my own behalf I will not boast, except of my weaknesses. Though if I wish to boast, I shall not be a fool, for I shall be speaking the truth. But I refrain from it, so that no one may think more of me than he sees in me or hears from me. And to keep me from being too elated by the abundance of revelations, a thorn was given me in the flesh, a messenger of Satan, to harass me, to keep me from being too elated. Three times I besought the Lord about this, that it should leave me; but he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." I will all the more gladly boast of my weaknesses, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.
LUKE 8:41-56
At that time, there came to Jesus a man named Jairus, who was a ruler of the synagogue; and falling at Jesus' feet he besought him to come to his house, for he had an only daughter, about twelve years of age, and she was dying. As he went, the people pressed round him. And a woman who had had a flow of blood for twelve years and had spent all her living upon physicians and could not be healed by anyone, came up behind him, and touched the fringe of his garment; and immediately her flow of blood ceased. And Jesus said, "Who was it that touched me?" When all denied it, Peter and those who were with him said, "Master, the multitudes surround you and press upon you!" But Jesus said, "Some one touched me; for I perceive that power has gone forth from me." And when the woman saw that she was not hidden, she came trembling, and falling down before him declared in the presence of all the people why she had touched him, and how she had been immediately healed. And he said to her, "Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace." While he was still speaking, a man from the ruler's house came and said, "Your daughter is dead; do not trouble the Teacher any more." But Jesus on hearing this answered him, "Do not fear; only believe, and she shall be well." And when he came to the house, he permitted no one to enter with him, except Peter and John and James, and the father and mother of the child. And all were weeping and bewailing her; but he said, "Do not weep; for she is not dead but sleeping." And they laughed at him, knowing that she was dead. But taking her by the hand he called, saying, "Child, arise." And her spirit returned, and she got up at once; and he directed that something should be given her to eat. And her parents were amazed; but he charged them to tell no one what had happened.
I’d like to start today by looking at the words we just read from St. Paul’s second letter to the Corinthians. St. Paul relates the story of one who has experienced the heavenly paradise and heard the voice of God. This is generally considered to be Paul humbly speaking of his own experiences, trying to play them down by speaking of them in the third person. He goes on to say that his true glory is not in these visions, but rather in his weaknesses.
I don’t know about you, but that is not where I find my glory. Paul said that he refrains from boasting about his connection to God, “So that no one may think more of me than he sees in me or hears from me.” Again, who does that? Who among us goes to an important meeting without dressing up a little, practicing what we are going to say – hoping that whoever we are meeting will think more of us than we actually are. We all put up a little bit of a façade and sometimes pretend to be more than we are.
But not Paul. Notice how he doesn’t even take credit for his humility. “And to keep me from being too elated by the abundance of revelations,” Paul shares, “a thorn was given me in the flesh, a messenger of Satan, to harass me, to keep me from being too elated.” St. Paul credits “a thorn in the flesh” for keeping him humble. It doesn’t matter in particular what this trouble was – St. John Chrysostum suggests he is referring to his frequent persecutors – but the point is that St. Paul finds purpose in it. He sees it as a gift from God to keep him humble.
Now, he doesn’t wallow in the suffering, or seek it out. In fact, he asked the Lord repeatedly to remove this particularly difficult cup. But the response Paul received was, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." And given that answer, Paul accepts the thorn.
And in that an swer, we see first where Paul learns his humility. Paul is willing to live in humility, because his master lived in humility. Jesus’ power is “made perfect in weakness.” But I we should also admit that this is a very confusing teaching. There’s the obvious confusion involved in weakness being seen as power, but as Christians we surely have become used to that. That’s just the normal confusion we expect from our Lord - “the last shall be first,” “the meek shall inherit the earth,” there’s a definite pattern.
But what are we to make of Christ’s power being made perfect in our weakness? Or being made perfect at all? Isn’t it already perfect? How can anything we do make anything about him more perfect? But this is not an isolated case, where we can think that perhaps Paul misspoke or maybe it’s an awkward translation. St. Paul wrote something very similar in his letter to the Colossians, “I now rejoice in my sufferings for you, and fill up in my flesh what is lacking in the afflictions of Christ, for the sake of His body, which is the Church.” (Col. 1:24) For Paul, his own sufferings fill up “what is lacking in the afflictions of Christ.” What could be lacking? What needs yet to be made perfect? I suspect the clue is in the next phrase, where Paul says he does this “for the sake of [Christ’s] body, which is the Church.” Christ’s power is made perfect in Paul’s weakness. Paul’s affliction fill up what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions. What are we to make of this?
Jesus often liked to answer difficult questions with stories instead of direct answers, so by way of answering this question I would like to turn at this point to today’s Gospel reading. In this reading from the Gospel of Luke, a very prominent man is dealing with a very serious thorn in his flesh – his daughter is dying. We are told that this man’s name is Jairus and that he is the head of the local synagogue. Worried for his daughter, Jairus throws himself at the feet of Jesus and begs Jesus to come to his house and heal his daughter.
It is worth noting, I believe, that Luke tells this story just one chapter after he has told the story of the centurion. The centurion sends his servants to ask Jesus to heal his ailing friend. And when Jesus offers to visit his house, the centurion says that he doesn’t need to bother with that, that he believes Jesus can heal his servant with a word. Jesus publicly commends the centurion for his faith saying, “I have not found such great faith in Israel.” And then he heals the servant with a word just as the centurion believed he could. So then in today’s story, by asking Jesus to come to his house, Jairus shows less faith than the centurion. But nonetheless Jesus heads toward his house.
And as they go, a great crowd is packing in around them. This crowd has been building because of Jesus’ healing miracles and they are hoping to see a truly great miracle performed for this man they all know. What a show! And as this clamor builds and the crowd presses in on Jesus, he suddenly stops. Now take a moment to imagine the scene. Jairus’ daughter is dying. Jesus stopping at this moment in the story is like an ambulance suddenly flipping off its siren and lights and pulling to the side of the road.
And not only does Jesus stop, but then he begins to sound like a fool. “Who touched me?” he asks. His disciples are unsure how to answer. “Um, Jesus, at least a half dozen people have touched you in the past 30 seconds. I think we should get going. Jairus’ daughter, um, she’s dying.” Jesus doesn’t move. He insists that somebody touched him, saying now that he felt power come out of him. The crowd is confused. The disciples are uncomfortable. Jairus must have been beside himself – did I mention his daughter is dying? Jesus seems to be waiting for something – something that must be pretty important.
And then it happens. A woman who we are told was trying to hide finally realized that Jesus was not going to let her stay anonymous. Slowly, she came forward trembling. Trembling. I mean, she must have been scared. The whole procession is being held up for her. Everybody is staring at her, wondering what could be so important.
Luke explains that this woman had been hemorrhaging blood for twelve years. Not only is this bleeding a terrible illness, but we should also understand that in this culture it would have rendered her ritually unclean. So there was a social stigma to this condition, as well. So here we have, socially speaking, the exact opposite of Jairus. An anonymous outcast is standing in the way of healing the prominent Jairus’ daughter.
This woman had asked nothing of Christ – not his time, his touch, or even his gaze. She had merely touched his garment as he passed with the faith that this humble interaction could bring her healing. And it did. And just as he had commended the gentile centurion, so Jesus commends this woman for her faith before all the multitudes: “Daughter, your faith has made you well,” he says. “Go in peace.”
Now, during this hold up, the worst happens. Jairus’ servants arrive to tell him that his daughter has indeed passed away. This had to be terrible news for Jairus. He had made a spectacle of himself before Jesus and they had been on their way to save her. If only this woman hadn’t gotten in the way. He had to have been frustrated.
But Jesus hears the news and tells Jairus to “fear not, believe only, and she will be made whole.” We are not told what Jairus thinks of this prognosis, but we are told that they continue on to the house.
When they arrive, the multitudes who have come to see this great miracle are joined by the household of Jairus who are wailing and making dirges. Jesus likely disappoints all of them all when he allows no one to come in with him except his closest disciples – Peter, James, and John – and the parents. He tells the crowd to stop their crying, for the girl is only asleep. And instead of showing faith, we are told they “laughed him to scorn.” It is unclear in Luke, but when Mark tells the story it definitely sounds like the parents and the disciples join in on this scorn. And that might sound harsh, but remember the disciples did not exactly react in faith when Jesus later said something similar about Lazarus.
But their lack of faith does not deter Jesus. Just as his Father in heaven causes the sun to shine on the wicked and righteous alike, Jesus enters the house and says to the girl, “Arise.” And she does just that.
Jairus’ is not scorned for his little faith. He had indeed offered up what little faith he had. It is not nothing for such a prominent man to prostrate himself before an itinerate preacher like Jesus. Or to let Jesus come into his house, even after all Jesus’ delays had allowed for his daughter to die. Jairus probably wanted nothing to do with Jesus, but he allowed Jesus to proceed. And Jesus accepts this humble offering and heals his daughter.
Jesus turned aside from following the prominent Jairus to heal the anonymous woman in the streets. Jairus made a great display of his request, the woman simply and humbly touched the hem of Jesus’ garment. Jairus asked Jesus to come to his house and lay hands on his daughter, the woman dragged herself to meet Jesus. And Jesus makes a display of the woman’s faith in front of the multitudes, while he tells Jairus and his wife to tell no one what he has done.
This is because the woman and her faith are witnesses to the power of Christ, for the power of Christ is not displayed in miraculous healings. The miracle in this story is the faith of the woman. It is her humility and faith that Jesus takes time to make sure everybody sees. The humility and faith of this woman are the true witnesses to the power of Christ.
And so, with this story as context, let us return to question posed by St. Paul’s epistles. What is lacking in Christ’s suffering that our weakness can fill up? And rather than hear from me, I would like to read a passage from the writing of the fifth century Saint Diadochos of Photiki, who answers this question in a way that brings these threads together: “As wax cannot take the imprint of a seal unless it is warmed or softened thoroughly, so a man cannot receive the seal of God’s holiness unless he is tested by labors and weaknesses. That is why the Lord says to St. Paul, ‘My grace is suffient for you: for My power comes to its fullness in your weakness’....By weaknesses the Apostle means the attacks made by the enemies of the Cross, attacks which continually fell upon him and all the saints of that time....But by weaknesses we now mean evil thoughts and bodily illnesses. In those times, since their bodies were submitted to deadly tortures and other afflictions, those pursuing the spiritual way were raised far above the passions which normally attack human nature as a result of sin. Today, however, since by the Lord’s grace peace prevails in the Church, the bodies of those contending for holiness have to be tested by illnesses, and their souls tried by evil thoughts…so that they can be stripped of all vanity and conceit, and can therefore, as I said, receive in their hearts the seal of divine beauty through their great humility….We must therefore submit to the Lord’s will thankfully; for then our frequent illnesses and our fight against demonic thoughts will be counted a second martyrdom….So we should fulfill our inward martyrdom before God with confidence and patience.”
We frequently read about martyrdom in scripture and the lives of the saints, by which is often meant death at the hands of the enemies of the cross. But Saint Diadochos tells us that we can be confident that the illnesses, temptations, and other troubles we experience in our daily lives right here in the Quad Cities can also become a martyrdom if endured in patience and love. And what is a martyrdom? The word “martyr” has been so associated with death that we immediately think of Christians in coliseums when we hear the word, but the root of the word is “witness.” When the martyrs endured torture and death in patience and love, they were a witness to the true power of Christ, Christ whose power is made perfect in our weaknesses. And we are no less a witnesses to this power when we endure the struggles of our lives with faith, hope, and love. What a glorious opportunity set before us each and every day.
May we be like St. Paul, may we be like that humble woman, may we each of us strive to accept the troubles and temptations that come our way with patience and love, running with endurance the race that is set before us, looking always to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for our sake endured the cross, thinking nothing of the shame, and is seated even now at the right hand of the Father, to whom be all glory, honor, and worship, forever. Amen.