Luke 8:56
“Go Tell it on the Mountain”, an African-American spiritual, is often used as a Christmas carol and was adapted as an anthem for the American Civil Rights Movement. The message of the hymn in whatever form is that we are to proclaim God’s Good News from the mountaintops and rooftops and everywhere that Jesus Christ has come into our world to set people free.
How strange then to see, in contrast, how Jesus shushed down such proclamation, especially concerning his miracles, while he was still on earth. Here he is in this passage, having just raised a dead girl to life, and Jesus is telling, no, ordering the parents not to tell anyone what has happened. Keep in quiet. Don’t tell a soul.
Much has been written about Jesus’ MO (modus operandi) when it comes to PR (public relations) work, or shall we say lack thereof. He wants to bless the poor, he wants to preach good news, he wants to heal the sick and cast out demons and free people from whatever oppresses them. But he doesn’t want the word of all that to get out. Which of course it does anyway.
In short, much of this shushing is because as word gets out about all his miracle work, the crowds swell and the merely curious and awkwardly gawking overload the circuits. Jesus isn’t about building critical mass because he knows that fads can go as easily as they come and these people are very attuned to faddishisms of miracle workers and healers and gurus. What Jesus is looking for is a handful of faithful, available and teachable people who will hang in there clear through the cross even. In fact, this handful is his priority and why he spends three years in ministry instead of just going straight from baptism to burial. It is a priority that comes into sharp focus in the very next verse (9:1).
Jesus is portrayed by the gospel writers as frequently shutting down the PR machine. What is so special this time? His concern in this case is less about the effectiveness of his ministry than the object of his ministry – the little girl who has been healed, raised from the dead. Thus he shoos everyone out of the room save the parents and his own three disciples. Thus he commands the parents not to tell anyone what has happened. Not a soul. Nada.
What an intriguing contrast between these instructions and how he treats the woman with the issue of blood a few verses earlier. That woman, plagued by something we would consider a very private matter, is outed by Jesus in front of a mass of people. It is her faith that has made her physically whole, but that is not the end of the healing she requires. Her sickness has also made her a pariah in polite (and especially impolite) company. She, a woman with a nonstop blood flow, is a social outcast who can’t even get close to Jesus unless she does so without being seen. Now Jesus brings her into the limelight in order to shatter that social cage and force people to face the woman they have imprisoned with their silence and space. Only as she is returned to community is her healing complete.
Such is not the concern Jesus has for the little girl. She will be mobbed, feted, and gawked at, like a pilgrimage destination if Jesus pushes against the PR machinery, much more so if he does not. His stern warning to keep things quiet is to give the child (and her parents) time to recover. He has healed her body. She is not merely revived, she is physically healthy – free of whatever caused her to die in the first place. But getting sick, dying and being resurrected surely has traumatic effect on her and on her parents. Not that I know this first hand. I can only surmise that being resurrected is not something you recover from in a nanosecond. Any extreme, out-of-the ordinary experience must be followed by process time.
She is, after all, a child who in this season of recovery needs her parents’ devoted love and comfort, not their distracted attention. We often forget that even the best things in our lives have impact on us requiring time to restore a sense of balance. Physical healing is not merely physiological. Such is the modern scientific understanding that is proving what faith healing has long understood – that healing is wholistic.
Even without all that, the last thing the girl and her parents need in their lives is a circus. Notoriety will come soon enough. What they must have now is security and stability.
Of the many things I learn from looking at these two intertwined miracles, Jesus is highly creative in his approach to human suffering. Apparently identical needs require very different approaches. The Creator understands that creature concerns are never identical because people are not identical. Jesus refuses to treat the sick and needy as category – always only as unique persons.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Monday, June 14, 2010
Processing a miracle
Luke 8:54-55
I remember the weekend well, some 25 years ago. Alan Wade and I had traveled south through the Ozarks to a church camp in Arkansas. It was a statewide young adult singles retreat and Cecil Culbreth had invited me to speak. But, to our surprise, only a handful of people showed up. I remember a dozen or so, though it might have been 20. It didn’t matter. I was there for those who had come.
I don’t remember my topic, but I do remember opening up one meeting to those with physical needs. I instructed those present that as someone expressed a specific need, one of the others, not me, would lay a hand on the person and pray, simply and straightforwardly, and we would wait and see what God would do in each situation – which is all that faith requires. So after each person was prayed for, we talked about what had happened, particularly when it was the kind of need whose healing could be readily ascertained. It was an amazing night, none like I have ever experienced before or since. Some very serious sicknesses or injuries were healed, but the most astonishing thing was that just about everyone present experienced some specific physical healing. Even Cecil and I were quite surprised. It was as if only those who were to have a need met had come.
I took as the model for my approach that weekend what I imagined Jesus having done in similar settings 2,000 years before, notwithstanding all the haze of distance obscuring the picture of Jesus in earthly action. When I look at a passage such as this one we are dealing with today, what I see is Jesus going about rather simply and straightforwardly, often using creative approaches, but generally avoiding the dramatics that we usually picture with healings and miracles.
Jesus has just chased everyone out of the room except the dead girl’s parents and his own three buddies, Peter, James and John. He’s not assessing the level or quality of faith of the parents or his three friends and certainly not testing the faith of the girl who is quite dead. He has come because the father pleaded with him to come and heal a very sick daughter. When on the way the news that the girl has died reaches Jesus and the father, it is Jesus, not the father, who decides to come on anyway. I wonder if the father had any faith by that point that Jesus could do anything, grief or shock having taken over.
Jesus didn’t heal everyone who died, not even those who were most spiritual or most pitiable. But in this case, Jesus decided to intervene in the natural processes of life. Somehow Jesus knew that he was to bring this particular girl back to life and not another who had died down the street. I know that raises all kinds of flags for some readers – and I fully understand the struggle. Even so, the record shows that for whatever reason Jesus chose to do a miracle for this family.
When the room is cleared of all but the parents and Jesus’ three disciples, what does Jesus do from what we see in the gospels? He brings her back to life. Now move beyond the incredibility of that statement and see how the gospels describe Jesus doing it. As I said, simply and straightforward.
First, he takes her by the hand. Second, he says to her, “Child, get up,” like he was her father calling her in the morning. Luke records that her spirit returned, which would mean that she revived, returned to life.
One time I was standing by a friend when her heart missed a beat. One second she was talking rather animatedly, the next she had slumped to the floor at my feet as if dead. She did not die and may still be alive today for all I know. But the experience reminded me what great distance there is between life and death. So when the girl’s spirit returns, it is obvious she is alive and fully recovered.
At once, she stands up. Mark writes that she also walks around. This is no dead body sitting up in a morgue like all those stories we hear. This is a girl (Mark says age 12) who has become vibrantly twelvish all of a sudden. To the parents who are understandably in shock, he instructs them to get her something to eat. This girl is hungry.
I remember the weekend well, some 25 years ago. Alan Wade and I had traveled south through the Ozarks to a church camp in Arkansas. It was a statewide young adult singles retreat and Cecil Culbreth had invited me to speak. But, to our surprise, only a handful of people showed up. I remember a dozen or so, though it might have been 20. It didn’t matter. I was there for those who had come.
I don’t remember my topic, but I do remember opening up one meeting to those with physical needs. I instructed those present that as someone expressed a specific need, one of the others, not me, would lay a hand on the person and pray, simply and straightforwardly, and we would wait and see what God would do in each situation – which is all that faith requires. So after each person was prayed for, we talked about what had happened, particularly when it was the kind of need whose healing could be readily ascertained. It was an amazing night, none like I have ever experienced before or since. Some very serious sicknesses or injuries were healed, but the most astonishing thing was that just about everyone present experienced some specific physical healing. Even Cecil and I were quite surprised. It was as if only those who were to have a need met had come.
I took as the model for my approach that weekend what I imagined Jesus having done in similar settings 2,000 years before, notwithstanding all the haze of distance obscuring the picture of Jesus in earthly action. When I look at a passage such as this one we are dealing with today, what I see is Jesus going about rather simply and straightforwardly, often using creative approaches, but generally avoiding the dramatics that we usually picture with healings and miracles.
Jesus has just chased everyone out of the room except the dead girl’s parents and his own three buddies, Peter, James and John. He’s not assessing the level or quality of faith of the parents or his three friends and certainly not testing the faith of the girl who is quite dead. He has come because the father pleaded with him to come and heal a very sick daughter. When on the way the news that the girl has died reaches Jesus and the father, it is Jesus, not the father, who decides to come on anyway. I wonder if the father had any faith by that point that Jesus could do anything, grief or shock having taken over.
Jesus didn’t heal everyone who died, not even those who were most spiritual or most pitiable. But in this case, Jesus decided to intervene in the natural processes of life. Somehow Jesus knew that he was to bring this particular girl back to life and not another who had died down the street. I know that raises all kinds of flags for some readers – and I fully understand the struggle. Even so, the record shows that for whatever reason Jesus chose to do a miracle for this family.
When the room is cleared of all but the parents and Jesus’ three disciples, what does Jesus do from what we see in the gospels? He brings her back to life. Now move beyond the incredibility of that statement and see how the gospels describe Jesus doing it. As I said, simply and straightforward.
First, he takes her by the hand. Second, he says to her, “Child, get up,” like he was her father calling her in the morning. Luke records that her spirit returned, which would mean that she revived, returned to life.
One time I was standing by a friend when her heart missed a beat. One second she was talking rather animatedly, the next she had slumped to the floor at my feet as if dead. She did not die and may still be alive today for all I know. But the experience reminded me what great distance there is between life and death. So when the girl’s spirit returns, it is obvious she is alive and fully recovered.
At once, she stands up. Mark writes that she also walks around. This is no dead body sitting up in a morgue like all those stories we hear. This is a girl (Mark says age 12) who has become vibrantly twelvish all of a sudden. To the parents who are understandably in shock, he instructs them to get her something to eat. This girl is hungry.
Monday, June 7, 2010
The Wake and the Dead
Luke 8:51-53
As in many cultural settings today, mourners were a common sight in Jesus’ time. The funeral would be quickly dispatched due to hygienic reasons, so the whole process would happen very quickly, as did death itself. This was an age of the most rudimentary of medical resources. A seemingly healthy person in the morning could become sick, die and be buried before sundown, and mortality rates, especially for infants and children, were high.
These paid mourners, probably called by a responsible family member to be on standby as soon as someone was sick, served a functional purpose in society. They aided the essential process of grieving, giving vent to emotions that needed to be expressed by members of the family. At first I think I cannot imagine going through life as a professional mourner, expressing grief at funeral after funeral. Yet such is the role played by ministers, counselors, medical care givers and funeral personnel in our society today. They help those grieving process one of life’s most difficult experiences – the passing of a loved one.
Jesus doesn’t deplore their role, these professional mourners. He just doesn’t want them around as they will interfere with what he is about to do. He also doesn’t want a circus. Miracles are not always to be performed front and center. Word will get around, no doubt about it. As he often does, Jesus puts the break on the PR machinery of the day. No need to fan the flames of curiosity. Faith and morbid curiosity are not the same.
So what Jesus does instead is shut out the mourners – and everyone else. When he arrives at and enters the house, he takes only the parents and his three trusted friends, Peter, James and John. This is a miracle that does not need to be seen to be believed. Rather, it is a miracle to be witnessed only by a select few – the parents who have asked for Jesus’ help and Jesus’ inner circle. The former are there for the daughter when she is brought to life and the latter are there because Jesus, even at his most supernatural, almost never works alone. The father, in particular, is invited, because Jesus has come in response to his specific request.
As Jesus enters the inner part of the house where the daughter’s body lies, he has a word for the professional mourners and for all family and friends who have gathered. “Stop wailing.” I can read this in two ways. One, it is a sharp rebuke. Two, it is a firm yet caring directive. I am inclined to the former by default, though there is no reason to do so, other than that is the way I might have handled it – out of irritation or consternation. But, again, these people are doing nothing wrong or out of the ordinary. This is how you process the passing of life – and there is no reason beforehand to suspect that this case will end differently than any other. I think Jesus was using the second approach.
Jesus adds by way of explanation, “She is not dead but asleep.” He has not even seen the child, they are thinking, and is jumping to silly conclusions. They know she is dead. In fact, there is no reason to question that fact. But they misunderstand Jesus, who is not denying the state of her body. The gospel writer doesn’t seem to question it either. Jesus is cryptically explaining to the gathered crowd that the reason they are to stop mourning is because death is not the final state of this situation.
Their response is to laugh. Laughter can have many meanings. The short of it is that it is ludicrous to think that the girl is anything but dead and going to stay that way.
While Luke writes very succinctly at this point, the inference, which is confirmed by Matthew and Mark, is that as Jesus enters the room, he sends out all but those he has specifically invited. Assuming there is a door on the room’s doorway – and we cannot assume as much – someone closes this door. Or at least, everyone is chased away from looking in. The setting has no place for distractions.
This is not about proving Jesus’ ability to raise the dead. It is about answering a father’s cry for help. I like that about Jesus – the way he deals firmly but compassionately with distractions, the way he focuses on the need at hand. The woman who earlier was chronically sick was not a distraction; the people now gathered to grieve are. And so, Jesus shuts the door on grieving momentarily so that those present can bear witness to what is about to happen. He doesn’t need their fullest attention to make the miracle happen. He invites their utmost attention so that they can experience the miracle to its fullest.
As in many cultural settings today, mourners were a common sight in Jesus’ time. The funeral would be quickly dispatched due to hygienic reasons, so the whole process would happen very quickly, as did death itself. This was an age of the most rudimentary of medical resources. A seemingly healthy person in the morning could become sick, die and be buried before sundown, and mortality rates, especially for infants and children, were high.
These paid mourners, probably called by a responsible family member to be on standby as soon as someone was sick, served a functional purpose in society. They aided the essential process of grieving, giving vent to emotions that needed to be expressed by members of the family. At first I think I cannot imagine going through life as a professional mourner, expressing grief at funeral after funeral. Yet such is the role played by ministers, counselors, medical care givers and funeral personnel in our society today. They help those grieving process one of life’s most difficult experiences – the passing of a loved one.
Jesus doesn’t deplore their role, these professional mourners. He just doesn’t want them around as they will interfere with what he is about to do. He also doesn’t want a circus. Miracles are not always to be performed front and center. Word will get around, no doubt about it. As he often does, Jesus puts the break on the PR machinery of the day. No need to fan the flames of curiosity. Faith and morbid curiosity are not the same.
So what Jesus does instead is shut out the mourners – and everyone else. When he arrives at and enters the house, he takes only the parents and his three trusted friends, Peter, James and John. This is a miracle that does not need to be seen to be believed. Rather, it is a miracle to be witnessed only by a select few – the parents who have asked for Jesus’ help and Jesus’ inner circle. The former are there for the daughter when she is brought to life and the latter are there because Jesus, even at his most supernatural, almost never works alone. The father, in particular, is invited, because Jesus has come in response to his specific request.
As Jesus enters the inner part of the house where the daughter’s body lies, he has a word for the professional mourners and for all family and friends who have gathered. “Stop wailing.” I can read this in two ways. One, it is a sharp rebuke. Two, it is a firm yet caring directive. I am inclined to the former by default, though there is no reason to do so, other than that is the way I might have handled it – out of irritation or consternation. But, again, these people are doing nothing wrong or out of the ordinary. This is how you process the passing of life – and there is no reason beforehand to suspect that this case will end differently than any other. I think Jesus was using the second approach.
Jesus adds by way of explanation, “She is not dead but asleep.” He has not even seen the child, they are thinking, and is jumping to silly conclusions. They know she is dead. In fact, there is no reason to question that fact. But they misunderstand Jesus, who is not denying the state of her body. The gospel writer doesn’t seem to question it either. Jesus is cryptically explaining to the gathered crowd that the reason they are to stop mourning is because death is not the final state of this situation.
Their response is to laugh. Laughter can have many meanings. The short of it is that it is ludicrous to think that the girl is anything but dead and going to stay that way.
While Luke writes very succinctly at this point, the inference, which is confirmed by Matthew and Mark, is that as Jesus enters the room, he sends out all but those he has specifically invited. Assuming there is a door on the room’s doorway – and we cannot assume as much – someone closes this door. Or at least, everyone is chased away from looking in. The setting has no place for distractions.
This is not about proving Jesus’ ability to raise the dead. It is about answering a father’s cry for help. I like that about Jesus – the way he deals firmly but compassionately with distractions, the way he focuses on the need at hand. The woman who earlier was chronically sick was not a distraction; the people now gathered to grieve are. And so, Jesus shuts the door on grieving momentarily so that those present can bear witness to what is about to happen. He doesn’t need their fullest attention to make the miracle happen. He invites their utmost attention so that they can experience the miracle to its fullest.
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