Mark 5:21-43
When Jesus had crossed again in the boat to the other side, a great crowd gathered around him; and he was by the sea. Then one of the leaders of the synagogue named Jairus came and, when he saw him, fell at his feet and begged him repeatedly, “My little daughter is at the point of death. Come and lay your hands on her, so that she may be made well, and live.” So he went with him.
And a large crowd followed him and pressed in on him. Now there was a woman who had been suffering from hemorrhages for twelve years. She had endured much under many physicians, and had spent all that she had; and she was no better, but rather grew worse. She had heard about Jesus, and came up behind him in the crowd and touched his cloak, for she said, “If I but touch his clothes, I will be made well.” Immediately her hemorrhage stopped; and she felt in her body that she was healed of her disease. Immediately aware that power had gone forth from him, Jesus turned about in the crowd and said, “Who touched my clothes?” And his disciples said to him, “You see the crowd pressing in on you; how can you say, ‘Who touched me?’ ” He looked all around to see who had done it. But the woman, knowing what had happened to her, came in fear and trembling, fell down before him, and told him the whole truth. He said to her, “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease.”
While he was still speaking, some people came from the leader’s house to say, “Your daughter is dead. Why trouble the teacher any further?” But overhearing what they said, Jesus said to the leader of the synagogue, “Do not fear, only believe.” He allowed no one to follow him except Peter, James, and John, the brother of James. When they came to the house of the leader of the synagogue, he saw a commotion, people weeping and wailing loudly. When he had entered, he said to them, “Why do you make a commotion and weep? The child is not dead but sleeping.” And they laughed at him. Then he put them all outside, and took the child’s father and mother and those who were with him, and went in where the child was. He took her by the hand and said to her, “Talitha cum,” which means, “Little girl, get up!” And immediately the girl got up and began to walk about (she was twelve years of age). At this they were overcome with amazement. He strictly ordered them that no one should know this, and told them to give her something to eat.
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In October, 2003, a recording booth was set up in Grand Central Station, New York City. It was a place where anyone who wanted to could record meaningful conversations about their lives, and to pass wisdom down from one generation to the next. The project was called StoryCorps, and grew from one recording booth in a train station to two more mobile booths in Washington, D.C. at the Library of Congress, and then to a weekly NPR broadcast.
More than half a million Americans have contributed stories to StoryCorps, all of the stories held on record at the Library of Congress so that our voices, our memories, and our stories might be preserved for future generations.
StoryCorps founder, David Isay, said in an interview: “[I’ve] come to believe that…the act of being listened to could be transformative in people’s lives, [especially if] no one [has] actually ever listened to them. The idea of StoryCorps…is giving people the chance to have these conversations, and be listened to. And in that act of sitting with a loved one, and being asked who you are, and what you have learned in life, and how do you want to be remembered, [it’s being] reminded how much their lives matter. It’s a very simple idea.”
The intensely transformative experience of being listened to is what led to the title of the first published book of StoryCorps conversations: Listening is an Act of Love.
One of the many details that connect our intertwined miracle stories from Mark’s gospel today is the fact that Jesus is the one who listens. Jesus listens, even when others don’t. Listening is the act of love that allows true healing to happen.
Perhaps it’s not surprising that Jesus would listen to Jairus’s heartfelt begging, Jairus being a leader of the synagogue and a man of status and wealth. But also, Jesus has just gotten off the boat from crossing the sea yet again, after being driven out of town by people who were afraid after witnessing him cast out demons into a herd of pigs. He’s swarmed by crowds the moment he steps foot on shore. He probably wants a little rest. Or some food. Or at least some quiet time by himself to pray.
But instead, Jairus begs him for help, telling the story of his sick daughter. And Jesus listens. He hears the grief and fear in Jairus’s voice. He hears the heartbreak of a panicked father. He has compassion, and he sets out in the direction of Jairus’s house.
His trip is interrupted, however, by a woman who has been suffering for as many years as this young girl has been alive. We read that this woman had endured much under many physicians, who were likely collecting her money to make offerings to gods of healing, and she was now out of money and out of hope, and not getting better, and in fact, was getting worse.
Perhaps she is so used to being dismissed, to not being listened to, that she doesn’t bother to strike up a conversation with Jesus. She just reaches out to grasp the healing that she needs. When she is found out, she, like Jairus, falls down at Jesus’s feet. And then what does she do? She tells him her whole truth. Maybe this is her first chance, ever, to do so. Jesus listens to her story of illness and suffering, and doctors who didn’t take her complaints seriously. Jesus hears her pain. His hears the heartbreak of a woman ignored and dismissed and diminished. He listens, has compassion, and assures her that her faith has made her well. Not just healed. But well. Whole. Restored.
This is a feature of Jesus and the way that he interacts with the world: he listens, and it is an act of love.
Jesus, before healing blind Bartimaeus, asks him, “What do you want me to do for you?” and then listens to the answer.
Jesus, before healing the paralyzed man at the pool of Bethesda, asks him, “Do you want to be made well?” and gives him a chance to speak.
Jesus sits at the edge of a well and listens to the longings and questions of a Samaritan woman.
Jesus draws near to two disciples on the road to Emmaus and asks them, “What were the two of you discussing?”
Over and over again, Jesus models for us how listening is a crucial part of demonstrating love and healing in the world. He listens to people whose stories have otherwise gone unheard. He listens to people’s needs before presuming to know them. He listens to his opposition.
And listening - deep and care-filled listening - is part of our calling, we who follow Jesus and aim to live by his example.
Dietrich Bonhoeffer says, “The first service one owes to others in a community involves listening to them. Just as our love for God begins with listening to God’s Word, the beginning of love for others is learning to listen to them. God’s love for us is shown by the fact that God not only gives God’s Word, but also lends us God’s ear. We do God’s work for our [siblings] when we learn to listen to them.”
We demonstrate God’s love and we do God’s work when we listen to one another. Especially when we listen to those whose voices are often the most silenced, most dismissed, or most ignored.
On the healthcare front, this means taking seriously the needs of those suffering invisible illnesses - things like chronic fatigue and chronic pain, which deeply affect people’s lives, but are often overlooked and dismissed.
And it means listening to black women, who, studies have shown, are more likely to have their complaints and symptoms dismissed, are more likely to have their pain under treated, are referred less frequently for specialized care, and are three times more likely to die after giving birth than white women.
And it means listening to and showing love and empathy to those who face mental illness of any variety, and continuing to create safe space for honesty about mental and emotional health challenges.
And then, as I think about Jairus, advocating for his daughter, using his voice to try to save the life of a child, I can’t help but think about this last week’s news of more than 700 unmarked graves found at the site of a former residential school for Indigenous children in Saskatchewan, and the more than 200 bodies found buried at a similar school last month.
How will we listen to the deep grief of our First Nations siblings at this discovery, and how will we listen to the stories of those who were forced to attend these religious schools, for the sake of forced assimilation into Canadian culture, and how will we receive their witness of manipulation and abuse with openness, grief, and remorse?
Because what Jesus models for us, in his commitment to listening, is a commitment to opening his heart, even as he gives agency to those whom he serves.
Listening opens our hearts, too. Especially the witness of those whose narratives run counter to our assumptions about the world, and whose experiences differ from our own.
What can we learn from listening - really listening - to the stories of immigrants and refugees? What can we learn from listening to those for whom the police are a danger rather than a protection? What can we learn from listening to our siblings of color, and especially by listening without centering ourselves or our own comfort in the conversation? What can we learn by listening to our elders? What can we learn by listening to our children and young people?
What can we learn from listening to each other, here in this congregation and in this community? What are the hidden needs and griefs and fears that need to be safely expressed? Who are the ones who simply want to be seen and heard to know that they, too, matter and are of value?
Listening is an act of love. And an act of hope. And an act of healing.
This is the example of Jesus that we are called to follow. He does not just go around the countryside with a magic wand, healing people from afar, spreading pixie dust indiscriminately and impersonally across the land.
Jesus makes it his mission to heal fully - body, mind, and spirit. And he does this by hearing and receiving people’s stories, by tending to their lived experience, by taking seriously their needs, and by receiving their stories of grief and pain and brokenness as a sacred offering and sacred gift. The stories are a part of the healing.
What is the story that you would offer to Jesus as part of your own desire for healing?
How does your own story and your own desire to be heard lead you to open your heart to listening to others?
How might you engage listening as a spiritual practice this week? How might you challenge yourself to listen louder than you speak? And how might your heart be opened in new ways because of it?
As one author on spiritual listening puts it, “Speak as if God is listening. Listen as if God is speaking. Speak as if Spirit is speaking through you. Listen as if Spirit is listening through you.”
May God place before you all manner of holy conversations this week. May you be challenged and blessed by the stories you receive. May your hearts be opened by the needs and sufferings of others. May you hear the image of God in one another, and may listening become for you a deep, deep act of love for one another and for the world.