This drawing represents an imaginary meeting of the girl whom Jesus’ brought back to life, and the woman whom he healed of a chronic condition. (I like to think that she had followed Jesus to the girl’s house.)

Within its few lines, today’s gospel contains two stories in one. Each is quite moving on its own; yet, the use of a rather prosaically called “sandwich” technique of including one episode within another further enhances their combined effect. In my imagination, they form one connected narrative that begins 12 years or so prior to Jesus’ ministry. Then, on the north shore of lake Galilee, there lived two young women. One of them married Jairus the synagogue ruler, and gave birth to talitha (Arameic for “little girl”). The other might have also married; and so both of them welcomed the new-found love, vocation, and security. But, their lives took drastically different paths. Jairus’ family may have had little hardship in a busy town of Capernaum. 12 years flew by and turned this talitha into a young woman; in her culture, ready for marriage. 

Remember, what was it like to anticipate your own coming of age? I bet you were filled with curiosity and eagerness just as talitha was; but one day, a grave illness robbed her of it all. She wondered what she had ever done wrong to have it end before it truly began. Her mother wrestled with the same question, as she anticipated her own heart dying together with her girl – no longer little, perhaps, but always part of her. As for the other woman, I don’t know why she sought healing from Jesus at the time that Talitha was dying. But it could have been that while Jairus’ wife had carried her talitha to term, this woman suffered a series of miscarriages that left her with intermittent bleeding. Anything she touched would be ritually impure even for seven days after the bleeding stopped. But she would bleed again before these days elapsed. 

Various written sources make it clear that the 1st century Jews were quite concerned about purity, and not only for ritual reasons. It was, in fact, a means of political defiance towards an “unclean” ruler they had in place of their promised prophet-priest king. And so in some sects, ritual purity was necessary for most activities. But, the Jews weren’t alone in being wary about female bleeding. The Roman 1st century naturalist and philosopher Pliny the Elder, too, recorded some outlandish ideas, such as that a bleeding woman could turn wine sour; kill crops, seeds, bees, and harvest; dim mirrors and ivory; dull and rust weapons. I can see how in this combined religious and secular context, the woman’s husband might have become impatient with her perpetual inability to either have a baby or keep their home pure. Maybe, her father eventually gave her a shack on the outskirts of his field, where she then dwelt: anemic, isolated, and poor.

As such, the 12 years before Jesus’ arrival were, for Jairus’ wife and daughter, the time of growing towards fulfillment, and for the bleeding woman — of gradual departure from hope. The difference disappeared by the time of their encounter with Jesus, when they were all effectively dead: the girl in her body, her parents in their hearts, and the woman in societal eyes. Every one of us, women and men, may relate to their experience of not being fully alive.

At least Talitha had someone who could openly intercede with Jesus for her. Helpless as he was, Jairus finally felt useful! The older woman sought Jesus by herself, secretly. In Mark and Luke, she made her way through the crowd, where if anyone recognized her and remembered her condition, they would all become impure and angry with her. Perhaps, Matthew didn’t even think it plausible that she would have the audacity to approach Jesus publically. But Jesus was, in fact, already heading to a house that a dead body would make unclean, and so maybe she thought her touch wouldn’t change much. Or she acted on impulse, driven by despair towards this healer when all others had failed. Regardless, Jesus saw her, and knew that it was she who touched him. Of all these people who had touched him as part of the crowd, none others were healed – or maybe, they all were, but didn’t recognize it yet! In any case, Jesus assured her: “Daughter, your faith has made you well”. The girl he simply took by the hand, in other gospels telling her to get up. 

Mothers and daughters. Approaching God. Faith. Touch. Healing. Peace. Rising up. These themes are there for us to make our own. This passage really merits a quiet, contemplative, imaginative retelling in your own mind, as I have offered you here. Were the women healed at the moment of touch or when reaching out; by God, faith, or intercession? I believe that there’s no need for such hair-splitting. The 3 synoptic gospels all record it a bit differently anyway. Instead, consider meditating on it until you literally feel God’s touch, as though you truly are one of the women in this intercalated story.

“Little”, desperate, ill, and bereaved; don’t we all rely on others to intercede with God for us? Don’t we all at times feel ashamed to ask others to pray for us? Jesus never shamed anyone except for those who thought too highly of themselves. Likewise, God invites us to be fully present to those who share their pain with us – even if it’s only to hear and understand. For that’s where the healing is for now, in this world. May we continue, with God’s help, to take people by the hand, lift them up, integrate the outcasts in our community, and adopt the lonely as spiritual sons and daughters. Amen.

For further thought:

1. What do you think about the “sandwich” structure of the narrative?
Does it help highlight the significance of each episode, and create a
sort of a synergistic effect, by having them intercalated in this way?
Do you find that the resulting total impact of “the whole is greater
than the sum of its parts”?

2. Why might this story have appeared in every synoptic gospel?
Notwithstanding the shared source called Quelle (“Q”) available to
Matthew and Luke, and the possibility that both Matthew and Luke might
have relied on Mark, written first, they each must have thought it
particularly significant to include. They have also each
employed/retained the intercalation technique in presenting these
stories. What is the contribution of this pair of healing miracles to
the overarching message of the Gospel?

3. Do you know someone in your circle of acquaintance, or a
teacher/mentor, who has the gift of undivided attention, empathetic
listening, and total presence in the conversation that seems to have a
healing effect on you and others? Recall a particularly memorable
moment or situation when he or she has “made you well” in such a way –
even if the problem per se did not go away simply because you talked
about it, and it still required work on your part, or may not have
even been “fixable”. How did you feel? What did the person do to make
this happen? How might we emulate the example of such people, learn
from them, and in turn, begin to offer such a gift of presence to
others?