Mass readings for the 13th Sunday in Ordinary Time:
Wisdom 1.13-15; 2.23-24 Psalm 30.1, 3-5, 10-12 2 Corinthians 8.7, 9, 13-15 Mark 5.21-43
The gospel today is a famous one. Two people are healed: a woman with a hemorrhage and a twelve-year-old girl at the point of death.
This narrative is initiated by Jesus’ arrival in Capernaum after a preaching tour around the great lake of Galilee. Indeed, last week’s gospel was the story of his calming of the storm as the disciples and he made their way home across the lake.
So, having arrived, the disciples stumble ashore after that remarkable occurrence. They are confronted with a massive crowd. Jesus’ tour has been a huge success and people are flocking into Capernaum to see him. He will continue to go out to the towns and villages of the Galilee, and later those of Judea, but there is a new dynamic at work – Christ in search of humanity now has humanity in search of him! Now to be honest, we cannot say they consciously know that’s who they are looking for. Some are, as we know, looking for a messiah, a political deliver; others are hungry for spiritual nourishment, and folks appreciated then as many still today do, a good preacher who brings them a message of hope; and there are those with more definite needs, particularly those of healing of body and mind. All these have heard stories of the wonder worker from Nazareth who set up his ministry in Capernaum, and they’ve come.
Now, there are still people to be sought, looked for, there are those who for whatever reason cannot make their way to him – he must continue to go out into the world; to send his disciples as apostles to the world, even as there are many who find him in his home.
Interestingly enough, today’s story is about his going to see someone, the daughter of Jairus who is seriously ill, and she just happens to live in the neighborhood. She is not far from him, but she can’t make her way to him. Indeed, she’s not even the one asking for him, but rather it is her father. Is she even aware of Jesus’ existence? Perhaps, she has heard his name, seen him in the streets, seen him leaving the synagogue to which her family belongs; does she have any sense of who he is, why she needs him, why her father thinks he can help her?
Anyway, Jesus has to make his way through the crowd to her. And we know from the story, among that crowd is the woman with the hemorrhage. He will encounter her on the way, but the overarching narrative is that he has been summoned by a grieving father to come to the rescue of a beloved child.
As we have come to the end of another school year, I read this familiar story, and onto that child who I mentally pictured sick at home, in bed, feverish and suffering, I could project the faces of so many of the children of our parish who aren’t here, who are never here. They know me as someone they see in the streets of Dundas, in the corridors of their schools, coming and going from this place; and on a couple of occasions, encounter here as we, frankly, labor at the school mass.
I also was thinking on the slight description of Jairus’ daughter we get – she’s twelve. We know nothing else. But it’s in light of that single fact that we hear Jairus call her “my little daughter”. Consider that thirteen was the ancient age of majority for males; for females a little older – we can think of our Lady Mary here, betrothed at fifteen. Say, “my little” son or daughter, girl or boy, and the picture I have in my head is of someone much younger: a child of five or six, perhaps seven or eight… I can’t remember when I stopped calling my own daughter, “my little girl” when referring to her, but it was long before she was twelve. But we know what that’s about – whenever a child of ours is in distress, sick, injured, hurting in any way, be they fourteen or forty, in the eyes of the parent’s mind, they are that little precious child of years past, the small and vulnerable one who was the most precious thing in the whole of creation. Their suffering takes us back to that period of vulnerability when they would look to us for relief; and how we would do anything to bring that to them.
I find it touching that this also how our Lord refers to Jairus’ daughter. When he takes her by the hand, he says to her, “Talitha cum” which is translated, “little girl, get up.” And so, our Lord shares in this perspective, sees her as his precious child. Indeed, whenever I encounter a child who I don’t know, who is cause for concern either because they are in distress, or appear to be worryingly on their own, I automatically say, “little boy” or “little girl, where is you mommy or daddy?” Their vulnerability as being not fully adult, inexperienced, immediately comes to mind and is expressed in this manner of address; and in speaking to them this way, I am acknowledging their need for the parent, the father or mother who ought to be there in their need, but now I find myself serving as a surrogate, a godfather, a fairy godfather, come to their rescue.
There’s an expression lately entered into the English language, “the kids are alright.” A lot of people don’t know from whence it came – it was the title of a song by the British rock group of the last century, The Who. It is meant to convey the sentiment that despite all the concerns of the older generations, the latest generation of youth are doing okay and are going to be just fine.
I would contend that the kids are not alright these days. I do not see in the identity politics of our day good things for our children, that gender ideology only engenders confusion and fear; as I look at the effect of technology on their minds, on their mental health, I cannot conclude they’re alright because we see the statistics on depression and anxiety in millennials, Gen Z, being so alarming.
But you know it’s also the anecdotal stuff: a child seeming content enough right up to adolescence, and then falling off a spiritual/psychological cliff as they move from the tweens to the teens, or perhaps a little later, in young adulthood – that’s a story I hear over and over.
Moms and dads, however, are not dragging Jesus to their homes. How is religion going to help my kid? He or she is a mess, how’s a rosary going to help?
You know, they love their kids. No doubt about that. When the crisis comes, when the fever takes hold, they will look everywhere and to anyone who will help bring relief to their suffering child, except here. I’m not dismissing the good work of some psychologists, but these kids have no real foundational relationship with the source of life, the fount of grace and blessing that is the source of all true healing. What does “healthy” look like these days? Too often the professionals are counseling that we give the kids whatever they want, whatever in the moment makes them happy, and we ought to know that is no solution.
These children live in the neighbourhood, literally; and metaphorically speaking, many are nominally Catholic. Their parents put them in the publicly-funded schools for Catholics. Yet they never really introduce their children to Jesus, never teach them that their faith is anything more than a collection of rituals and rote prayers. They come to a school mass and here my strange incantations, and strain to listen to a fellow student as they read ancient texts without the least sense as to what they mean, and are left bewildered. What they miss entirely, what they cannot grasp is that this is all aimed at connecting them to the source of truth, justice and love, God. And that this God has made them for, not for a brief existence and then death, but life, abundant and eternal.
I managed to buttonhole a parent the other day, she had come to pick up things left over from the grade 8 graduation party. Why don’t you worship with us? Why do you put your children in a Catholic school but never practice the faith? She protested that she had come to the spring concert – but that was it, she was forced to admit. But there was no reason given (oh, we’re so busy). I inferred from that and the greater silence, she didn’t know; didn’t know what my concern was, didn’t know what I was talking about, but more to the point, who I was talking about. These parents don’t know Jesus; not even enough to be like Jairus, and ask for help. Christ is a name they’ve heard; perhaps even here in this place but no one ever really initiated them into a relationship with God in Christ – we “sacramented” them, and they thought they were “done”. And so, they “sacrament” their kids, and think they’ve done their duty.
What will become of all these baptized and confirmed children once the world gets its grip on them? Maybe things will work out, maybe the worst of its dysfunction will not infect them, but if it does, would it ever occur to any to bring Jesus meaningfully into their children’s life?
Jesus has arrived; he’s come ashore. He’s among us, and working through us as the body of Christ in the world.
I leave with you this matter to ponder over the lazy days of summer: how do we get the word out? How do we get Jesus around? We’ve lost our newspaper in Dundas, but Capernaum didn’t have one, Nazareth didn’t have a radio station. And the word is out and spreading again, you’re here. Perhaps not a crushing crowd, but initiatives like the Alpha, the good work of our service groups, the outreach of our ministries, they’re getting Jesus around. And so, we have to keep that up and do even more.
For a generation coming to maturity, we need to have them experience Christ’s touch, God’s presence, the Holy Spirit’s power, as we have. We need to let the Jairuses of this world, the moms and dads, know that Christ is here for them, let the children know Jesus will come, and call them as would a loving parent, to get up and live in the freedom of God’s children forever.
Amen.