July 1, 2018 | By Rev. Dr. Fritz Ritsch
Mark 5: 21-43
Hi, I’m back. I spent two weeks in Israel and Palestine and then Margaret and I went to San Miguel de Allende in Mexico, for a very refreshing visit to our sister country across the southern border. We did all kinds of wonderful things like discover that we like mescal, buy amazing handmade china for bargain prices, hear some great music, and hang out with my old friend retired pastor John Wimberly and his wonderful wife Phyllis. We listened to mariachi music—I’m afraid our friend George, singing for us today, is too talented to sing in a mariachi band—and saw wonderful parades in honor of we couldn’t figure out what exactly, but they were great. And we got a taxi. Our driver Jose, could speak excellent English. Turned out he’d lived in Dallas for several years to make money doing heavy labor. We didn’t ask him—it seemed impolite—so we don’t know if he was in the US undocumented, or if he had a green card, or was there under some other circumstances. I asked him if he was there with his family. He said no, and he said it with a great deal of sadness. I spent many years away from my family, he said. But he’s back now. The money he made supported his wife and kids while he was away and gave them resources they would never have had otherwise.
You and I know people like Jose. They take care of our lawns or do odd jobs for us or are our employees. Some are documented and some are undocumented. A business probably will check their papers, but some don’t. We ourselves generally don’t check their papers when they come to mow our lawn.
These are the folks who have come here to touch the hem of America’s garment.
Like the woman with the flow of blood in our Gospel story, they’ve often exhausted all other resources. Like the woman, they have endured much and endure even more while they are in the United States, including prejudice, suspicion, and distrust. Like the woman, many of them are afraid that if they come openly, they will be rejected, so many of them sneak in. They aren’t trying to get a giant piece of the pie. They aren’t out to steal something from anybody. They just want to touch the hem of America’s garment and then be on their way.
And they come with faith. They come with faith in the American dream that if you come to the United States, things will get better for you and those you love. They believe in the American dream.
Jesus turns and says, “Who touched my clothes?” Is he asking this angrily? Possibly the woman herself thought so. She comes to him afraid and trembling when she hears him say it. Will he reject her? What could be worse than to be rejected by Jesus?
While I was in Israel, we visited a new archaeological site in Magdala. Magdala is a city on the western shore of the Sea of Galilee. It’s the place where Mary Magdalene was from. In 2009 the Catholic church was building a hotel there. Don’t ask me why the Catholics were building a hotel, just go with me on this. As they were digging, they discovered ancient walls. Israeli law immediately requires them to stop digging when that happens. The area became a live archaeological site. Soon it was clear that they’d happened on an amazing discovery—the only more or less complete First Century synagogue ever found in Israel. Mary Magdalene may have gone to this synagogue.
The Roman Catholics adjusted their plans. No longer were they building a hotel. Instead they built an information center and most importantly, a chapel, a beautiful modern chapel dedicated to all women of faith, in honor of Mary Magdalene. I can tell you more about this wonderful place at another time, but what I really want to tell you about is the mural that’s painted in the downstairs of the chapel. It is a mural of feet, sandaled feet, dirty feet. Above one pair of feet is the hem of a white robe or cloak, with the edge of a Jewish prayer shawl above it. And through the crowd of feet a bare, frail-looking hand in a frayed sleeve is reaching out to touch the hem of the garment.
The suggestion is of a woman bowed low by life’s miseries, existing at the ground level of other people, mostly men, who operate on a high plane above her. She is sickly, weak, desperate, and determined. She has faith. She believes. Faith drives her even to shed whatever dignity she may have left to do this one desperate thing—to touch the hem of Jesus’ garment.
Jesus doesn’t reject her. Of course he doesn’t. The Bible says that Jesus immediately felt the power go out of him. But that doesn’t mean that her touching him makes him weaker, or that it has depleted him in some way. Not at all. In fact, the point of the story is that the power of Jesus is so amazing that there’s enough for anyone who has faith, even if Jesus doesn’t know who it is. There’s more than enough to go around. The so-called “power going out of him” doesn’t take away Jesus’ ability to go forward on his set task–to follow his purpose of healing Jairus’ daughter. In fact, after the woman has touched Jesus he then performs one of his most amazing miracles—he raises Jairus’ daughter from the dead.
The woman who touches Jesus’ cloak doesn’t diminish him at all—but she herself is made whole. Jesus says to her, “Daughter, your faith has made you well. Go in peace, and be healed of your disease.”
There’s always been a belief in America, a faith if you will, that somehow our ideals, our best dreams and goals and aspirations, are spread through the world by our willingness to accept immigrants. Likewise, we’ve always believed that immigrants add to the American experience, not diminish it. The American dream is not a limited resource. We are not diminished in the sharing of it; we are enhanced.
The US immigration system needs to be fixed, no question. And certainly all of us believe in safety and security, and that needs to be part of fixing the immigration system. But the Jesus part of it needs to be there too. There has to be compassion. There has to be hope.
But then, a nation doesn’t have to do things the way Jesus did them. A nation can forget all about Jesus if it wants to.
But we Christians, we can’t forget about Jesus, can we.
We can’t forget about his welcome of strangers, and of the weak, and of the outcast. We can’t forget or disregard or abuse children, of whom Jesus said their angels see the face of God, by separating them from their parents; and we can’t forget people who are fleeing persecution in another country who end up being treated just as badly in the nation to which they have fled for safety.
Sometimes we Christians are their only voice.
Let us use that voice to keep our nation on the path that has so often made it a beacon of hope to the world, and for generations has caused people of all nations to believe that where there is America, there is hope.