Gen 12:1-9 Ps 33:1-12 Romans 4:13-25 Matt 9:9-13, 18-26
Back in the early 2000s my priest was smart. She sent 4 of us on a course to learn to preach – probably so she could dodge Trinity Sunday for the rest of her ministry. We did 6 sessions and then had to write a sermon on any bible passage we chose and preach it to our course mates. I really wanted to choose some of the verses we heard just now.
‘Just then a woman who had been subject to bleeding for twelve years came up behind him and touched the edge of his cloak and said to herself ‘if only I touch his cloak I will be healed’. Jesus turned and saw her, and said, ‘take heart, daughter, your faith has healed you’ and the woman was healed’.
I loved that story; I have such affinity with this woman who knew shame and exclusion and I wanted to share her sense of isolation and unwelcomeness…and her complete restoration. The problem was, I couldn’t reliably say the word ‘haemorrhaging’ and that was how she was described in my translation of the bible – the haemorrhaging woman. It always came out herromaging. So, I had to choose something else. But her she is again this week, my old friend, and this time she isn’t haemorrhaging at all; she is ‘subject to bleeding’. So, I get a second chance.
This woman had been bleeding for twelve years; 4,383 days. More than 4000 days of feeling exhausted and depleted, socially ostracized and excluded. Twelve years of not being able to enter the temple. Twelve years of not being able to sit anywhere public, or even brush past others, lest they ‘caught’ her uncleanness, or became tainted by her sin. Twelve years of social isolation – not even eye contact was permitted. And she had tried everything to be made well – other gospel accounts say she spent a fortune and visited all the doctors and physicians and still she was bleeding.
Twelve long years. How long is that? Interestingly, it is the same length of time the synagogue leader’s daughter has lived for before she prematurely died. The woman has been bleeding for the daughter’s entire life. But now, they receive complete healing, through the touch of Jesus. These two females – both ritually unclean – are touched and healed by this man who gives no regard to ritual cleansing, nor the sacrifices he would be expected to go through to be made clean again.
Twelve is the number of power and authority and completeness, and this pair of miracles, twelve years in the making, demonstrate something of the new world order Jesus ushers in. You see, in this passage alone, Jesus racks up a whole host of misdemeanours. He calls a tax collector to be one of his closest friends – the lowest of the low – he shares a meal with sinners – probably without ceremonially washing, as was his want – he sees the woman who was bleeding – looks right into her eyes, and calls her daughter – he welcomes this outcast woman intimately into his own family – and then he goes to the place of death – touches the rapidly cooling body of this small child – takes her hand and lifts her to life. Through his power and authority, he brings completeness.
But Jewish society doesn’t allow for things like that, and if Jesus were to be purified from these acts alone, he would have literally required ritual cleansing on days 3 and 7, complete isolation for a week, two turtle doves, two pigeons, a visit from the high priest, a full fumigation with incense, and anointing with holy oil. That would make right the violations caused by the bleeding woman and the dead child. Unfortunately, nothing would cleanse him from his meal with sinners – that was flatly prohibited.
That was the requirement to ‘correct’ the ‘wrong’ Jesus had done. It doesn’t make sense! So is it any wonder the holy one says, ‘go and learn what this means; I desire mercy not sacrifice’. God does not care for correct living, holy hoop jumping and sacrificial cleansing for any ‘mistakes’, instead God calls us to a much higher account – that we choose mercy, not sacrifice.
This week I took seriously that direction – go and learn what this means: I desire mercy not sacrifice. And here is what I learned…
Sacrifice is predominantly an Old Testament imperative – mentioned almost 250 times, in 29 of the 39 books. It features far less in the New Testament, and on almost every occasion it corrects the previous teachings. Christ’s kingdom is about fully sacrificing ourselves; a whole life offering. Giving all we are, rather than bartering with a vengeful God who needs appeasing. Giving our living and breathing selves, rather than the blood of dead animals.
Mercy is scattered equally across both biblical testaments.
And here is an interesting thing… In the Old Testament mercy always describes a characteristic of the Divine, or a means to receive that gift – like ‘if we build this mercy-seat we will know the goodness of God’. But, when we get to the New Testament the use of the word shifts – mercy is still used to define God, but now we also hear the word as a requirement of those who are trying to follow God too. It is no longer something for us to simply throw ourselves upon, or beg for, it is something we must learn, something we must do.
I desire mercy, not sacrifice, Jesus says. What might that look like?
Mercy to the haemorrhaging woman looks like eye-to-eye contact, a welcome into the family, a healing touch. Mercy to the faith leader’s daughter is new life. Mercy to Matthew is saying ‘you are enough. Come and be my friend’. Mercy to the sinner is a seat at the table. Those around Jesus needed mercy. And those around us need mercy too.
We know we have received mercy. We know we were loved into life and will be recipients of grace and mercy all our lives. But we are made to be channels for God’s mercy to flow through, not vessels to hold it in. We receive so that we might pass it on. We have known mercy, so we might show mercy.
The woman who bled for 12 years reached out and touched the hem of Christ’s cloak and she was healed.
The girl who took the hand of Jesus received life.
As we approach this altar we too reach out, touch Christ, and receive healing and new life.
As we do that today, might we promise to share that with others?
Might we be givers of mercy rather than demanders of sacrifice?
And may the only sacrifice we give be all we have and all we are, amen.
Holy Adventures 