June 30, 2024 – The Sixth Sunday After Pentecost
The Rev. Mary Davis
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, my strength and my Redeemer. Amen.
One of the most transformative experiences I’ve ever had as a priest was being present in the actual hospital room for a stem cell transplant. Each step along the way was remarkable:
*Being notified that our parishioner had been matched with a donor;
*Finding out when the stem cells had been harvested and were being transported;
*Waiting anxiously for their arrival;
*And finally, holding my breath as the transplant doctors and nurses walked into the hospital room with the infusion bag in hand.
The contents of that bag were more precious than gold, filled with millions of life-giving cells. The doctor hung the bag, we prayed, and then we watched them drip, ever so slowly, into the veins of our parishioner. At that moment, right before my very eyes, I knew I was bearing witness to new life.
In the transplant world, this special day is known as “Day Zero.” It’s the day when life begins anew. The donor’s stem cells enter a new blood stream. They make their way into the bone marrow. And then they start creating new blood cells in the recipient’s body. It’s a literal experience of being “born again.” Witnessing it simply takes your breath away.
And as you would expect, every day after “Day Zero” is carefully counted and celebrated – day 1 . . . day 2 . . . day 3 . . . and so on; the goal, in many cases, is to reach day 100. Each day is a precarious, yet precious step moving toward life, placing the ominous shadow of death further and further away in the rear-view mirror.
Today’s Gospel, as you heard, is a narrative of Jesus with two women, one young and one older, who both – simultaneously – experience their own “Day Zero.”
First, we meet the woman who was hemorrhaging for over a decade. The text tells us that every possible treatment had been tried, and every possible treatment had failed. She had run out of resources. Her decade plus of frustration would have also been met with complete isolation, because her bleeding made her ritually “unclean,” and literally untouchable. Even though she was alive, she would have been virtually dead, stripped down to nothingness.
The second part of our story tells us about Jairus, an official from the local synagogue, who urgently seeks out Jesus looking for a miracle, for a cure for his sick and dying daughter. She is 12 years old – interestingly enough, the same amount of time that the first woman had been suffering – and she, too, is unclean, stripped of her very life as her lungs stopped breathing and her heart stopped beating.
Both were dead. One physically. The other, socially and ritually.
That is, until Jesus infused them both with life. First, the hemorrhaging woman stretched out HER hand to touch the hem of Jesus’ garment. And then Jesus reached out his hand to raise Jairus’ daughter back to life. There was no need for a donor match. No need for transporting the harvested cells. No hanging of the IV bag. But both of them were infused with new life, simultaneously experiencing their “Day Zero.”
Of course, we don’t necessarily have to experience a life-threatening illness to feel as if our lives are being stripped away. We had a very real taste of it during the COVID pandemic, as our routines, rituals, and the physicality of our relationships were all taken away from us because of the virus. But there are other ways too. Maybe you’ve felt isolated and alone, stripped down to nothingness due to an addiction, or a divorce, or because of a disability. Perhaps a job loss, or your race, or gender, or sexual orientation – all of these things provide opportunities for our society to suck the oxygen out of us, and to strip us of our life force and communal standing.
So Mark’s Gospel is proclaiming that today can be a “Day Zero” – an opportunity for new life, no matter what the circumstance – for each and every one of us.
But I also want to draw your attention to the amazing imagery Mark paints, as the hemorrhaging woman reaches out her hand for Jesus, and then in turn, Jesus reaches out his hand to Jairus’ daughter. Together, these hands are the spark for new life. These hands form a life-saving and life-giving connection.
Which brings us to today. I don’t have to stretch my imagination too far to picture this same connection of new life reaching from Jesus, to us, and then from us to Mother Elizabeth as she ends her time here at Good Sam. In fact at the end of our worship this morning, we will gather around her to offer thanksgiving for her ministry here and to offer a blessing as she moves on to her new ministry in Chattanooga. Elizabeth will be living into her “Day Zero,” her new life, as will we, as we begin our next steps in her absence.
But like I said, “Day Zero” is for all of us.
Today’s Gospel reminds us that we too can experience Jesus’ healing in the unfair, unpredictable, unwanted, even the unknown parts of our lives. Because Jesus brings dead people, numb people, scared and uncertain people back to life. And of course, our call as Jesus’ disciples is to offer that connection of new and restored life to others, to offer life to those who are disenfranchised, isolated, or alone.
So, today, welcome to “Day Zero.” It’s God’s gift to us. It’s Jesus’ gift to Elizabeth as she prepares for her next chapter in ministry. And it’s an opportunity to rebuild, re-energize, and restore life outside these doors.
May that new life simply and powerfully take your breath away.
Amen.