Feathers

Luke 8:40-50

“Hope is the Thing With Feathers”

“Hope” is the thing with feathers— 

That perches in the soul—

And sings the tune without the words—

And never stops— at all—

And sweetest— in the Gale— is heard —

And sore must be the storm—

That could abash the little Bird

That kept so many warm —

I’ve heard it in the chillest land —

And on the strangest Sea —

Yet - never - in Extremity,

It asked a crumb - of me.

Emily Dickinson wrote that poem and it has become one of her most famous works. The poem resonates with people because it balances the optimism of hope with the reality of hardship in life. Often I think we are not conscious of our hope until it is threatened, in the same way that we do not think of light bulbs until they wear out. It’s when we have a change in our hope that our hopes come to the forefront. But hope is a universal experience. We hope someone we love will get better. Sometimes we don’t dare to hope.

Jairus and the woman with the flow of blood are in two different places. Jairus comes from a place of privilege. The title of “ruler of the synagogue” belonged to a man who had wealth and used it to financially support the synagogue. Naturally, the folks gave him authority over who spoke in synagogue and what the order of service would be. The woman, by contrast, has spent everything she has trying to find a cure to her problem. The woman’s hope had been fading for twelve years. Jairus’ hope—the hope of a father— had been growing for twelve years. In Judaism at the time of Jesus, infant mortality was high, and many children never made it to adolescence. But in their twelfth year a child entered adulthood. So when his daughter—his only daughter, whom he loved— when she began to die, Jairus’ bright hope suddenly became dim. 

  So we have in this story two hopeless people who encounter the hope of the world. Jairus is used to hope. If you imagine him dealing with his sick daughter, perhaps it started as an apparently simple illness. She had been sick before, but he wasn’t overly worried. But one day she couldn’t get out of bed. And Jairus went looking for the teacher, the rabbi, the healer who had been in Galilee. But that morning Jesus had set out across the lake to the country of the Gerasenes, Gentiles. Why would he go there? So Jairus is just one of the crowd, looking to the east over the lake, and wondering why the teacher had abandoned them. 

The anonymous, poor woman is there as well. She had been looking for an opportunity just to touch the edge of Jesus’ garment. Her hope had shriveled and dried with every day of her hemorrhage. Maybe she couldn’t even properly name her hope. She couldn’t articulate it enough to ask Jesus to heal her. She’d been watching him teach and heal other people, and she was just looking for her opportunity to get close enough to Jesus. But one morning he just got on a boat and sailed away.

At this point, we come to verse 40. “Now, when Jesus returned, the crowd welcomed him, for they were all waiting for him.” Everybody in the town on the edge of the lake needed something from Jesus. Jairus who had put off going to Jesus about his daughter until the situation got out of hand. The woman who had seen his healing power and begun to hope. What else were people waiting for? Throughout the gospels, people came to Jesus looking for healing, restoration, reconciliation. He cured the sick, brought relief from plagues, cast out evil spirits, gave sight to the blind, made the lame to walk, cleansed lepers, restored the deaf to hearing, and brought good news to the poor. 

We come today expecting things from Jesus. Perhaps some of you woke up this morning to welcome the day, and like those people in Jesus’ day, looked to the East, to the rising of the sun. This Sunday morning, what are you looking for from Jesus? What is the secret hope you carry with you? Financial woes? Health problems? Family troubles? We believe that Jesus is bigger than all of that. Don’t let him get away again without asking him for help. Jairus let his situation get too big. The woman believed she herself was too small. But when they spotted Jesus’ boat coming back over the horizon, they knew they wouldn’t let him get away again.

So Jairus the leader throws himself at Jesus’ feet. His presence, his authority, parted the crowd and allowed him easy access. But he doesn’t appeal to his authority. He doesn’t command Jesus to come to his house, because “I run this town.”  Instead, he begs Jesus to come. “My daughter is dying. There’s not much time. Please, Jesus!” And the woman perhaps slides in behind Jairus. And as Jesus begins to walk to Jairus’s house, the woman in the crowd presses in close to him, and very subtly grasps at one of the cords of Jesus’ garment. In that moment, her hope—that secret hope— is answered, emphatically. For the first time in twelve years, her hemorrhage stops. In the same moment, Jesus stops. Somewhere in the delay, Jairus’ daughter’s heart stops.

In hearing our cries and our desperation—in answering our prayers— Jesus moves us beyond our agenda. The woman has touched Jesus. She has gotten what she wanted—she is healed. But Jesus asks “who touched me?” He knows. He knows who touched him. He doesn’t ask for his own benefit. He asks so that she will stand up and say “I touched him because I hoped to be healed and I have been healed.” She who hoped to remain anonymous, who thought herself unworthy of anything except perhaps an anonymous healing, she must stand up and claim what Jesus has done in her life. And when she does, Jesus says to her, “Daughter, your faith has saved you.”

You see, we want healing, we want reconciliation, we want forgiveness, but Jesus gives us so much more. This woman is no longer anonymous. She is a Daughter of Israel, restored to community. She is saved because of her faith, sown in her hope that Jesus could heal her, sprouted in his healing of her hemorrhage, and flowered in her testimony before the crowd. Jesus does for her what no one else can do. He saves her. 

But Jairus’ daughter is dead. The distraction along the way means that Jesus will not get there in time. Imagine Jairus standing there. I imagine his thoughts toward the woman. “She had been bleeding for twelve years, surely she could have waited a few more hours.” I imagine his blame towards himself.  “If only I hadn’t let him get away across the lake this morning. If I hadn’t let my daughter get in this shape before seeking his help.” The messengers tell him, “Don’t trouble the teacher any longer.” But Jesus says, “Do not fear. Only believe, and she will be saved.”

Hold onto hope. Even when Jesus seems across the sea and out of reach. Even when time seems to have run out and the worst has happened. Even when everyone else’s prayers seem to be being answered and yours remain, and the situation is deteriorating by the minute. Do not fear, only believe.

The resolution to Jairus’ story will have to wait for next week, but verse 50 leaves us with a challenge. Will we believe? Jairus had been there with Jesus since he got back on shore. He had seen this woman healed and heard her testimony. Some of you are sitting here this morning with unanswered prayers. Like Jairus you have humbled yourself before Jesus and asked him for help. We need the testimony of those whose hopes and prayers have been answered. Sometimes we can remember where he has shown up in our own life before. So I ask you all today: Who here has touched Jesus? Will you tell somebody this week how you have touched him, why you have touched him, and what he did for you?