Answering the Invitation
Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
Wisdom 1:13–15; 2:23–24 / Psalm 30:2a / 2 Corinthians 8:7, 9, 13–15 / Mark 5:21–43 [21–24, 35b–43]
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Reflecting on the Word
By Dr. Karla J. Bellinger
It came early that day. She was weary of it—the constant flow of blood, draining her of strength, setting her apart from life. She could still hear the singing from the wedding last night. Her niece . . . She buried her head into her elbow and wept so hard that her stomach hurt. Her brother’s child . . . Just a baby when she—the unclean one—had last been allowed to hold her, now married. All those years . . . She would just spend the day lying on her mat. Again.
And yet . . . a beckoning within her said, “Get up.”
No. The wedding reawakened the other memory, the newborn in her arms . . . the boy, if he had lived, who would also be old enough to wed . . . and the bleeding they couldn’t stop at his birth. Still cannot stop. No, she would stay here.
And yet . . . she had heard it yesterday. “The healer is coming.” She tried not to let hope arise within her. “If only . . .” She had thought it every time she had tried a new physician. And they had only made it worse. No, not again.
And yet . . . maybe this time? She had heard of the demoniac being healed on the other side of the lake.
“If only . . .” The voice of reason said, “No, you can’t go out there. You are unclean.” But the song from the wedding echoed within her: “The Lord is my strength and song . . . , and he has become my salvation.”
The urge in her heart grew into an overwhelming ache in her stomach: “Oh, God, please . . .” Why was she saying yes to this? She wove through the crowds, hidden beneath her mother’s scarf, glad to be small. Her mouth mumbled, “If only I could touch him.” She knew no man could touch her. “If only I could touch the hem of his garment.”
And then . . . she did.
Consider/Discuss
- The woman with the hemorrhage was set apart through no fault of her own. Her pain is the pain of all of those on the “outside.” Injustice like this should unsettle us. Some who are reading this are on the outside, hurting. Others are on the inside, singing and dancing at the wedding, unaware of those who are distanced. (Some may be in both places at different times.) How can the Holy Spirit awaken our awareness of “the other” so that we live with greater compassion?
- Faith is not a psychological trait that we manufacture within ourselves. God is the source of faith. Faith is first a gift, a (sometimes subconscious) movement of the Holy Spirit rising within us. That inner beckoning becomes a dance of call and response between us and our Creator, as the woman in the story experienced. Faith grows as our yes responses grow. Faith shrinks as our no replies compound. What about today? In the grace of God, to which of these will we say yes today—the urges toward fear, doubt, and despair, or the beckoning toward faith and hope?
Living and Praying with the Word
Jesus, you looked Jairus in the eye and whispered, “Just have faith.” You did not sling that phrase at him like a slogan, but you offered him an invitation to look into your eyes and trust you. Look us in the eye also, especially when we are hurting. Help us to whisper yes back to you. Deep inside us, stir the enthusiasm of your presence, here, now. Help this to become a summer to give you our yes. Thank you for your healing tenderness.