Jairus Unlabeled

Luke 8:40-42

It is easy to stereotype. We see what appears to be a disheveled person on the street and in an instant we categorize him or her as “homeless.” Just as quickly, our minds attach all sorts of meaning to that category, mostly negative. We may be willing to help them, but we have a difficult time doing so without editorializing about them and their situation.

Whether our reaction is negative or positive, we also make instant assumptions concerning people who live in really fancy houses. This weekend I started doing field work for my U.S. Census Bureau job as “Enumerator” – someone who goes around counting people. I was working a census block that included some very exclusive estates – huge houses perched on steep slopes and hidden by exquisite landscaping with driveway gates, closed and far below.

For the most part, it felt as if these people were stereotyping me – drives an ’89 Chevy pickup (poor or at least working class), is doing this job (unemployed), is middle-aged and doing this job (loser). Who knows what they were really thinking? After a few encounters with heads of said households, I found myself starting to peg these people, too, so much so that I was amazed when one of them was friendly, gracious, didn’t make me wait fifteen minutes while they took care of other more important business, and treated me as an equal.

Jesus had an uncanny ability to meet all kinds of people on their level. Jairus, a ruler of the local synagogue, was no exception. Jesus had already met enough rude and arrogant religious leaders that he could have assumed the same for this one. True, Jairus did approach Jesus with what appeared to be great humility, falling as he did at Jesus’ feet. But his only daughter was dying, after all. Children, infants especially, were dying all the time in that day. This one had already reached the marriageable age of twelve and so had come to mean very much to him. He would do anything for her, even plead for Jesus’ help.

We really don’t know much about Jarius’ personal persuasions or attitudes, other than that he held an influential position in the local house of worship. And that is the point made by Luke. Jesus simply takes the man at face value and heads out through the crush of people to go heal this girl. Death could come quickly; there was no time to waste.

Jesus was, as the KJV so quaintly says elsewhere, “no respecter of persons,” meaning he treated people as individuals, not as categories or labels. He took them as they came. We are naturally inclined to want to help innocent children before helping adults with position and status. I don’t think, however, that Jesus moved more rapidly to respond to Jairus’ plea because a child was involved. Jesus did have a special place for children, which set him apart from most. But Jesus had already established a track record of willingly blessing everyone who came to him.

That was Jesus’ defining distinction. He ministered to all who came to him, who were willing to open their lives to him. Nothing else mattered – Jew or Gentile, religious or not, rich or poor, male or female, old or young. He served them all – as long as they came willingly. And, as other stories point out, he was even ready to go the second mile in reaching out to those who were initially unwilling.

We are more naturally drawn to responsive people. Jesus is unnaturally (from our vantage point, anyway) also drawn to those who refuse him. It wasn’t so much that he refused to help those who wouldn’t accept his help. He was just blocked, is all. And the same in this case. He didn’t rush to help Jairus because of his status or because he was more open. Jesus didn’t use people (status) and he didn’t categorize people. His rule of thumb was that he helped whoever would allow him to.

I am so drawn to Jesus. He who takes me as I am. He who accepts me not for what I have to offer, but only for what he has to offer. Regardless of what my need is. No wonder Jairus did not hesitate to come to Jesus when life was so desperate and his emotional pain was beyond bearing. Deep inside he sensed that here was someone who would not label him.