My friends, as we continue on in Ordinary Time, a good place it seems to start today is with the Wisdom writer who said, in the 1^st reading that, [we] “are modeled [each of us] on the divine.”  That seems to go along well with the writer, whose name I am forgetting, who said, “We are spiritual people here, having a human experience.” 

   The idea that we “are modeled after the divine” is not just a “static” fact, but one that comes with a responsibility to strive to be our best.  The Wisdom writer goes on to say that “God created all things to be alive —[everything] is meant to be wholesome,” and additionally that, “justice lasts forever.”

   Now, if it is true that, “justice lasts forever,” and that our brother Jesus, came to “show us the way,” it would seem that part of our responsibility as his followers would be to have an awareness of the times and places where “justice isn’t equally given out in the lives of others, and this, by the way, includes ourselves!  Sometimes in our zeal to help others live a better life, we forget about ourselves.  This is often the case in the lives of many women who tend for the most part to be the givers/helpers in society, not often remembering themselves. 

   Paul, in his letter to the Corinthians in the 2^nd reading today, speaks about what really needs to be a “balancing” act in our lives. He quotes Scripture saying, “the one who gathered much had no excess, and the one who gathered little did not go short.”  In perhaps more simple language we could say, “at present, I have a surplus, and I need to, as a follower of Jesus, view that against another’s present need” –one day the surplus may belong to another, and I may be in need, with the hope that others will share with me! 

   Earlier, I spoke of women not always remembering to include themselves in the equation of “giving to others.”  Jesus, in today’s Gospel selection from Mark addresses this issue through the lives of two females.  It’s important from the get-go that we be aware that neither Jairus’ daughter, nor the woman with the unusual blood flow are named—the same is often true in other stories where children of either sex are spoken of—neither women, girls or boys had any standing in the culture in which Jesus lived and ministered, so why name them was probably the thought. 

   Next, let’s look at how Jesus handles each situation:  In a general way, wherever he finds injustice, his natural response seems to be, “to heal” –to bring understanding, compassion, and love. 

   In the case of the little, unnamed girl, Jesus hears with compassion the pain of her father, as he asks Jesus to heal her.  Jesus, I believe, is also trying to address our human tendency, to see the “glass half-empty” as opposed to “half-full.”  When the attendant arrives to say that “the little girl has died,” Jesus counters this with, “she is only sleeping.” 

   On one level—the surface that is, the child is dead, but Jesus wants to strengthen their faith—to see what may be beyond their human eyes.

   In the second story of the woman with the unusual blood flow, he is again working at addressing and strengthening the peoples’ faith. The woman with the physical condition already believes in something she can’t explain—”if I can only touch him,” I will be healed, and she believes in the miracle the moment it happens! 

   Additionally, I believe Jesus is trying to uplift the injustice that women face in his society by the mere fact of how they happened to have been born, and as such, he cares for, touches and heals females who suffer not only physically, but emotionally, and spiritually by the lack of equal justice in their world that doesn’t even name them! These are acts he wouldn’t have to do in his society, but then we know that he is always about, “doing something new!”

   Edward Foley, Capuchin friar, is well-known in  his book, From Age to Age: How Christians Have Celebrated the Eucharist for addressing Jesus’ desire that all would be treated equally, especially when speaking of who was welcomed in the temple.  As we know, women and children were relegated to a separate section apart from the men, and women experiencing any blood flow weren’t allowed at all along with anyone having any type of illness.  Jesus, Foley says, “took the meal to the hillside where everyone was welcome!”

   We can hardly miss the connection today to the hierarchical rules and regulations about who can present to receive the Eucharist.  It must be remembered that the invitation to receive the Eucharist does not ultimately come from the clergy, but from God, thus it is not the responsibility of humans to decide who is worthy or acceptable! That is why we women priests hold up the bread before it is received by all and say, “This is the Body of Christ, how blessed are we who are called to this table!” instead of, in the traditional Church we hear, “O Lord I am not worthy to receive you, but only say the word and I will be healed!”  The difference in the two statements seems to be that, in the 1^st, we receive with “gratitude,” rather than in the 2^nd, our stance is more about “shame.”

   In conclusion friends, I would direct us back to the Wisdom writer in the 1^st reading who said so well  that, “God created all things to be alive…wholesome,” and that each, could, should experience, justice.  Jesus often addressed “fear” in his ministry, saying, “Don’t be afraid, just trust, and believe.”  Our brother Jesus wants us to live and work in our world in like fashion, dispelling fear and shame, uplifting justice for all—touching and healing our world as he did his.  Jesus’ primary mission in our world was to make clear that his, and our “God’s goodness,” is as the psalmist says today, “for a lifetime.”  Our mission, like his, in our world, can be no less—or as Anglican Bishop John Shelby Spong is fond of saying, “over-the-top-love” for all, to the best of our ability.  Amen?  Amen!

My friends, the readings for this Sunday really call us to consider how strong our faith is, and if we place that faith in our loving God who at times, can feel somewhat, “intangible,” or do we place our faith in the more “tangible” things of this world—people, material possessions, and so on?

   The characters in today’s readings from the Old and New Testaments are having this same struggle, so looking at their experiences can perhaps guide our search. 

   We all know the story of our Old Testament brother Job, which isn’t included in today’s 1^st reading, but knowing that story helps us better understand the text that we do have today. Job, as we know has lost all that was important to him in his physical life; wife, children, animals, his health, and at one point, even the respect of his neighbors who couldn’t understand why he would not turn his back on his God who in their minds had caused all of his loss, or if not, certainly didn’t stop it!

   In today’s 1^st reading a voice rises above the storm, answering Job’s question of where God was in all this turmoil.  God’s simple answer to Job is—“I have been with you always!”  My friends, our struggles throughout life often call us to this same question—“God, are you there, do you care that I am suffering?”

   God’s answer, spelled out to Job in this 1^st reading should be taken to heart by us as well—“If I could control the chaos that creation was, I can control and support what is happening to you as well!” 

   We don’t fully understand why suffering happens in our lives and if truth be told, most of us would just as soon, it pass us by.  It is one of those things that we can only see in an unclear way—around the edges, as Paul speaks of in another place. 

   I always find that looking to our brother Jesus, to see how he reacted to what his life brought, gives me strength to do the same. In his humanity, as his life was ebbing away on the cross, his struggle to keep believing that his God was, “still with him” is expressed so poignantly in the words, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” But through his patience, and his prayer, we know that Jesus’ faith was sustained, as in the end, he could say, “Into your hands God, I commend my spirit.” 

   With Jesus, as Paul tells the Corinthians in the 2^nd reading today, “the old order has passed away…now everything is new!”  Jesus was constantly looking at his world, turning things upside-down when needed to insure that everyone had a chance at a full life.  He asked and continues to ask today that his followers do more, be more, but at the same time, he doesn’t ask more of us than he is willing to do himself.

   I am presently reading a quite, wonderful, new book about Jimmy Carter by Jonathan Alter.  The title is, His Very Best: Jimmy Carter, A Life.  There came a time for this ex-president, who had always considered himself quite religious, when he was compelled to move to a new place in his religious/spiritual life.

   Being from Georgia, he grew up and into manhood during a time in the south when the racism that undergirds our nation was coming to the forefront, demanding justice.  Being that Jimmy had many political aspirations, he often straddled the fence, not speaking publicly about what, in his heart, he knew to be wrong—it was often a delicate dance for him even after his faith told him that he couldn’t just “talk,” but had to “walk” what he supposedly believed. Jimmy found the words of a Baptist minister at this point in his life most compelling.  The minister asked, “If you were arrested for being a Christian, would there be enough evidence to convict?” 

   My friends, faith for each of us can be a slippery thing—Paul prayed during his life— “I believe O God, help my unbelief!”  Our humanity gets in the way for us just as for the apostles in today’s Gospel from Mark.  They are dealing with their life-long nemesis, “the sea” and they are afraid.  And to make matters worse, their friend and teacher, Jesus, whom they have seen heal and care for others, is asleep!

   It is almost comical to read, even in its seriousness, as Jesus—now awakened by his fearful followers, asks them, “Why were you so frightened?” (Where’s your faith?)  I too find myself convicted by Jesus’ question, “Have you no faith?” As we all know, “faith” is most often easier to talk about, than it is, “to have, to act upon, in times of trouble.  But then Jesus does, what Jesus always does—he calms, he reassures, he brings peace, and the apostles can only marvel, and hopefully we can too when we are afraid—“who is this that even the wind and sea obey?”

   Sister Ilia Delio speaks most beautifully in her book, The Emergent Christ about “this something new” that Jesus is doing in the lives of us humans who are trying to believe.  As the “Christ,” Jesus, she says, becomes so much more in our lives, and to so many more than as “Jesus” alone.  As the “Christ,” Jesus is basically, big enough to be meaningful to all, showing all human creation how to become all that we were meant to be, and in fact, she calls that, “heaven.”

   Jesus, through the calming of the sea, shows his apostles and us a greater truth—no matter what befalls us, with God by our side, we have no need to fear.

   And my friends, with that assurance, we can do the good in our world that Jesus did in his, and when we are afraid, especially if it feels like we are standing alone, we must remember that we aren’t—that he is right there with us.

   This is the real Eucharistic revelation that needs to happen in our world—that we, each of us becomes “the bread, the body of Christ here, now! Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, our Jewish brother spoke well to the issues of where is religion today—why it is declining, and I will end with his words, which I have shared in the past, but which bear a re-hearing:

       It is customary to blame secular science and anti-religious philosophy for the

        eclipse of religion in modern society.  It would be more honest to blame religion  

        for its own defeats. Religion declined not because it was refuted, but because it

        became irrelevant, dull, oppressive, insipid.  When faith is completely replaced by

        creed, worship by discipline, love by habit, when the crisis of today is ignored

        because of the splendor of the past, when faith becomes an heirloom rather than a

        living fountain, when religion speaks only in the name of authority rather than

        with the voice of compassion—its message becomes meaningless.

Amen? Amen!