She was the anonymous (at least to us) woman in the crowd who had heard about Jesus, and I think that she just wanted some respite,some relief from the relentless flow of blood. She wanted the isolation, the rejection, even her own resentment to stop. She wanted to dream dreams again. She wanted to taste hope.
Around our nation this day, many are feeling this same desire, a desire for relief from the constant gun violence, from the fear that leads people to equate different with dangerous and to judge people based on their skin color or dress or religion. Around our nation there are thousands who want it to stop so we can again dream dreams, so we can again taste hope. There are thousands who say there is no more time for waiting.
She had reached that point. She was willing to try this one more thing, sure that all it would take for her to be healed was to touch the hem of his garment. Just one touch. She was sure. She had heard about Jesus, the one who could heal. She had heard about Jesus, the one who accepted all kinds of folks. She had heard about Jesus, and she dared to hope that he truly was different and he truly could give her back her life, give her a future and heal her from the inside out.
She did not each out to Jesus looking for a quick fix or pie crust promises. She did not expect to become wealthy or powerful. She came to find life in the only one who could grant it to her. He was her last hope.
So she blended into the crowd and bent low to touch his garment. In that moment, all those things that had been only possibilities before now became reality. She knew in her body that she had been cured of whatever it was that was killing her. When Jesus insisted on knowing who it was who had connected with him, she came before him and knelt one more time, this time to honor the healer, this time to show her gratitude. This time she would tell him the whole truth.
Now the whole truth is a dangerous piece of work. It is not the cleaned up version or the edited version, it is the truth in all its nakedness. She laid it out before the one who is the source of all life.
We will do just about anything to avoid telling the whole truth. We will pretend that in our nation all are considered brothers and sisters. We will assert that all are treated equally even when all the evidence points us elsewhere. We will go so far as to build communities where only our kind live. We will hear the news about a young white boy who after an hour of Bible study with folks who welcomed him decided that shooting these people was a right and proper thing to do...and we will call it an isolated incident, a case of mental illness, a sad story... when we know that hatred of others born out of fear is neither isolated, nor illness or sad. It is taught and learned and allowed by the society from which it was born and it is a particular sin that lies between us and our black neighbors.
That is one part of the whole truth we bring before the throne of God. We kneel before Jesus and say it all out loud: all our unjust works and unholy desires. We speak of the brokenness that lies deep within us; we bring our greed, lust, envy, petty grievances and irrational fears and resentments. We pull out everything that is hiding in the darkness and poisoning us and everyone around us.
Like our brothers and sisters at Emanuel AME Church, we bring all this to Jesus. We kneel before the one we call Savior and we tell it like it is because it is only through Jesus that wholeness can be found. The powers of this world cannot heal this festering wound. The powers of this world cannot turn hatred into love nor rejection into invitation. Only the love of God in Jesus is large enough to do that. Only the holiness of Christ can change us, heal us and make us whole. Only the touch of this one called Jesus can we begin to live again, whether we are some young girl on her death bed or an old woman whose life is draining out. Or a nation crippled by racism.
We have tried fixing it ourselves. We have sought every remedy known to humankind. We have worked hard, striving to perfect our lives and in the end we too are bleeding out our very life. We are raising a generation of hearts crippled with hatred and neighbors whose fear of violence against them is both real and random. Finally, we come and kneel before the Lord of the Universe in truth and humility and offer our truth and our self. As individuals. As communities. As a nation.
We come to Jesus not because we like Jesus. We come to Jesus so we might become like Jesus, filled with the love of the Creator which overflows to all. We come to Jesus to be made whole once again and for the first time. Whatever we bring, we lay it down before the only one whose mercy exceeds our capacity for brokenness. There is our hope; there is our future.
It begins with the whole truth. Unvarnished. Unedited. The whole, painful truth.
Then with one touch by the one who calls all life into being we hear the great invitation:
Talitha Cum: my daughter, my son. Get up and live.
Amen
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