PROPERS: PROPER 8, YEAR B
TEXT: MARK 5:21-43
PREACHED AT ST. PAUL’S, FOLEY, ON SUNDAY, JULY 1, 2018.
ONE SENTENCE: There is a distinction between curing and healing; one is medical and one is spiritual.
A long-time and very dear friend is in the latter stages of what appears to be a terminal illness. I am heartsick with the course the disease has taken.
During the past year we have journeyed with him and his wife, albeit from a distance, as medical science has sought to cure him. Most of those attempted cures have been poisons injected into his body, or dangerous levels of radiation being beamed to the affected area.
Sadly, none of those attempts at a curehave had long-term effect. He continues down a steady slope.
I pray for him and his wife every day.
His illness has brought to the forefront of my mind that age-old question: If Jesus said we would heal the sick, why can’t we?
Other questions:
What is the meaning of the sacramental rite of unction – the laying on of hands, anointing with oil, and prayers for the sick – if they do not effect a cure?
How do we talk so facilely about healing when it is patently obvious – with the exception of some charlatans – that we are unable to effect cures?
And, then, today we have the gospel lesson from the fifth chapter of Mark. Jesus does a two-fer: a woman with long-term hemorrhaging is cured of her bleeding by merely touching his cloak, and the daughter of a leader of the synagogue is cured with two of the very few Aramaic words preserved in scripture: Talitha cum – Little girl, get up.
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Pretty impressive. Then, in the back of my mind, I hear Jesus’ words from the 14thChapter of John’s Gospel: “12 Very truly, I tell you, the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these, because I am going to the Father.”
What’s the deal here? My friend is a very faithful Christian. I do my best. How do Jesus’ words and actions apply to us?
Through the mental rear-view mirror, I look back. The deaths I have seen over the years – the deaths of those for whom I have prayed – number in the dozens, maybe even scores. I would be challenged to come up with even one “miraculous cure.”
I have stood at the graveside many, many times, and intoned the words of the Book of Common Prayer: “All of us go down to the dust; yet even at the grave we make our song: Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia.” For my father. For my mother. For my mother-in-law. For my father-in-law. For cousins. For aunts and uncles. And for dear, dear friends.
For eight years, I served a parish in Mississippi. Each Thursday, we had an 11:00 a.m. Eucharist and healing service. It is the service I missed more than any other during my 16 years on diocesan staff.
We had a small but devoted group of congregants that attended the service – it ranged from about 12 to 18. I loved those people. I prayed with them every week. I laid hands on them and anointed them with Holy Oil.
Sadly, several of them have died, having lived long and rich lives. But the question remains: Where was the efficaciousness of the prayers? How did that service make a difference?
I thought. I reflected. I pondered. I prayed.
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Intuitively I knew this. But some lessons we have to learn again and again. As I prepared for this sermon, I looked on-line for the difference between healing and curing. One site noted this difference, which went straight to the point: Curing means "eliminating all evidence of disease," while healing means "becoming whole."
The writer of that article said more: One may be cured without being healed; and one may be healed without being cured.
Jesus did both in many circumstances – and that was because his perfect love brought about not only a medical cure but would bring the people he touched to wholeness. Wholeness of mind, body, and spirit.
I have a saying I have used over the years: Doctors don’t write sermons, and I don’t practice medicine. I know I am not Jesus, and the best I can hope to do is promote wholeness in those I counsel, pray with, touch, and share the sacraments with.
A person who has found wholeness is, in the words of theologian Paul Tillich, a new being. As Paul says in his Second Letter to the Corinthians, “If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation.” The old anger, resentment, bitterness, compulsions have given way to a striving for union with the ground of our being, the Holy One, the Creator God.
Loving people toward wholeness – that is something we can all do.
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Where does that leave my friend, moving inexorably – as are we all – toward death?
My friend who has the deadly disease began a journey toward healing more than 30 years ago. He had descended into a life of addiction, and he reached bottom. He realized that he was broken and he was hopelessly dependent on alcohol.
With the aid of treatment, a loving wife, dedicated friends, and others he did not know previously, he began to be healed. He let go of control. He released his compulsions. He trusted a power greater than himself.
And that healing has continued to this day – more than 30 years later. He will tell you that he is not cured, but he is healed.
And in those past 30 years he has helped countless others find healing and new life. He has seen scores of addicts drag themselves out of the gutter and begin a journey toward wholeness.
Through his presence and, yes, his ministry, people have been healed. Those people, like my friend, know that they have to live with the disease, but they know they have been healed.
And that is very, very close to what Jesus does in the gospel today. God bless my friend. He’s closer to Jesus than I am.
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My friend’s life is not perfect (none of ours is), but in the midst of his brokenness, he found healing for his wounds. He found wholeness which had evaded him for many years.
In a short time, I suspect he will know the true fulness of life, which you and I can only glimpse through a glass darkly.
And it was all the grace of God – the true author of healing and wholeness, who entrusts us with that same ministry.
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