Sermon: From Fear to Faith

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Moving from Fear to Faith

By Julie Yarborough

July 11, 2004

ere's a joke that Jesus was standing in front of the temple one day, teaching and healing people as they came by. A blind man came up and asked to be healed, so Jesus laid his hands on the man's head and said, “Open your eyes and see, your faith has made you well.” And sure enough, when the man opened his eyes, he could see! A little while later, a young woman walking with a limp came before Jesus and asked him to heal her bad leg, so Jesus placed his hands on her leg and she was healed. She began to skip around and shout for joy! Just then, a fireman was walking down the street. He had a bandage on his head and his arm was in a sling. When he saw Jesus, he stopped in his tracks and yelled, “DON'T TOUCH ME JESUS, I WAS INJURED ON DUTY!”

The truth is, Jesus never forced healing on anybody. The people he healed had a desire to be made well. He certainly didn't force healing on the unnamed woman in today's text. The woman who had been hemorrhaging for twelve years had such a great desire to be healed, she believed that if she could only touch Jesus' cloak, she would be made well. She had been through a lot. Not only had she been sick for twelve years, she had endured countless treatments and had spent all her money on physicians that didn't make her feel any better -- in fact, she felt worse! But despite all of this, she had not given up.

She had heard that this man Jesus was a healer and if he had healed others, surely he could heal her too. She didn't need to talk to him; she didn't even need to see his face, she just wanted to touch his clothing. In fact, she may have been afraid to approach him face-to-face, because she was considered unclean. According to Levitical laws, women were impure as long as they were menstruating. Listen to what the law says:

If a woman has a discharge of blood for many days, not at the time of her impurity, or if she has a discharge beyond the time of her impurity, all the days of her discharge she shall continue in uncleanness; as in the days of her impurity, she shall be unclean. Every bed on which she lies during all the days of her discharge shall be treated as the bed of her impurity; and everything on which she sits shall be unclean, as in the uncleanness of her impurity. Whoever touches these things shall be unclean, and shall wash his clothes, and bathe in water, and be unclean until the evening. If she is cleansed of her discharge, she shall count seven days, and after that she shall be clean. On the eighth day she shall take two turtle doves or two pigeons and bring them to the entrance of the tent of meeting. The priest shall offer one for a sin offering and one for a burnt offering; and the priest shall make atonement on her behalf before the Lord for her unclean discharge. (Leviticus 15:25-30)

So, from the midst of a crowd, this unclean woman came up behind him and touched the back of his cloak, and immediately, she felt a change in her body. The bleeding had stopped! She was healed! And she was healed, not so much by what Jesus did as by what she did. She knew what she needed to do to be healed, and she took action to make it happen. It wasn't Jesus' garment, but the woman's faith that made her well.

The story of this woman is set in the midst of another story in each of the three Gospels in which it appears. In this other story, Jairus, a ruler of the synagogue, comes to Jesus and falls on his knees, pleading, “My little daughter is at the point of death, come and lay your hands on her, so that she may be made well and live.” Jesus is approaching Jairus' house when the woman approaches Jesus. These two stories are interwoven in Mark, in a literary pattern that repeats itself throughout Mark's gospel. The stories interpret each other, and by looking at both of them, we can learn more about each of them.

In both stories, there is an extreme need for healing. The woman has been bleeding for twelve years; as long as the little girl has been alive! And the little girl is close to death. In fact, before Jesus is able to get to her house, she does die. Both the woman and the dead girl were considered unclean. Anyone who touched either one of them, would, according to Levitical law, be considered unclean themselves. In both stories, Jesus dares to move across social and religious boundaries to offer healing and restorative grace. Jesus was not concerned with the laws of ritual purification. Both the woman and Jairus' daughter are healed immediately, and when Jesus speaks to the woman, he calls her “daughter,” foreshadowing the healing of Jairus' daughter that is to come.

In both of these stories, the characters move from faith to fear to faith. When the faithful woman touches Jesus' garment, he feels the power go out of him. He turns around and says, “Who touched my robe?” “What do you mean, who touched your robe?” the disciples ask. “Can't you see, there's a crowd pressing around you?” But the woman knew what had happened, and she came forward in fear and trembling, and fell down at his feet, telling him what happened. At this, Jesus gave her a second healing. “Daughter your faith has made you well, go in peace and be healed of your disease.” Not only was she healed of a physical ailment; she was no longer seen as unclean. Jesus declared her well and did not demand that she wait for seven days to be clean again. She was treated with respect and dignity. She was whole again.

Jairus approaches Jesus out of his faith to ask for healing for his daughter, but when Jesus is delayed and the messengers come to tell Jairus that his daughter has died, he fears that they are too late to help her. Jesus, overhearing the conversation, says “Do not fear, only believe.” From faith to fear to faith again. It's a constant cycle we all deal with, especially when it comes to grave illness.

Dr. Andrew Weil, author of Health and Healing writes, “We know health well in its absence. When we are sick or injured we have no trouble knowing how things should be. A pain should not be there. An arm should move freely. A rash should go away. ‘Freedom from disease' is a common dictionary definition of health. Since disease comes from the Old French word meaning ‘lack of ease,' we are left with a doubly negative sense: health is the absence of an absence of ease.”[1] And yet, the root of the word health is the same Anglo-Saxon root that gives us whole (w-h-o-l-e) and holy (h-o-l-y).[2] In Greek, the word Mark uses for well is the same word for saved (sozo). When Jesus tells the woman, “Your faith has made you well.” He is literally saying, “Your faith has saved you.”

Being well or healthy then, means being whole, being saved, being complete. If we use this definition of health, then healing is always possible, even when a cure is not. Do you understand the distinction? A cure is elimination of the disease, or the dis-ease. Healing is being one in body, mind and spirit. Sometimes people are cured, but they still need to heal. Sometimes, people are healed before they die of their illness. Healing is possible even if a cure is not. Healing is possible even if a cure is not. Healing means being one in body mind and spirit. When we separate body from mind and spirit, or spirit from body and mind, or mind from body and spirit, we deny ourselves health. We deny ourselves wholeness. We deny ourselves holiness. We are made in the image of God, and all that we are, is holy: gray hair, expanding waistlines, warts, pimples, wrinkles and all.

There's a Pfeiffer cartoon from the early 1970's which depicts a very serious looking man standing and looking out from the page. He says: “This is my body. I'm not fond of my body. The older it gets, the more out of control it seems to be in public. I'm not fond of my body. It's unpredictability is disturbing. These days it looks best in winter clothes. I'm not fond of my body.” And then he says, “Oh, but I am fond of my head. It charms, it captivates, it amuses, it is under control in public. I am very fond of my head.” And then you notice in the next frame, that the head has slightly separated from the body. Not much -- it doesn't seem to bother the individual at all. The head is looking down at the body and saying, “In fact, if we didn't need it for transportation, OUT IT WOULD GO!”

The mind-body-spirit split is oh-so-common in our culture. But the separation of mind, body and spirit is a very dangerous heresy that we practice. We are holy beings, made in the image of God.

In the Talmud, I am told, is a reference to angels that walk before each of us as we go about our way here on earth, announcing, “Behold, the image of God, behold, the image of God.”

Not only are we made in the image of God, but the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and that very act of incarnation changed our flesh, our spirits, our souls, forever. Once we believe this, not just in our minds, but with our whole beings,

we are on the road to healing whatever it is that ails us, whether that ailment is physical or mental or emotional or spiritual. We are moving from fear to faith.

A few years ago, Jeff and I were standing with some friends on the edge of a cliff, overlooking a vast landscape of virgin forest, and watching a glorious sunset. It was a special moment. One of our friends took a deep breath and sighed, “Ah-ho.” “What does Ah-ho mean?” we asked, and he explained that it's a word used in a number of Native American traditions. It's kind of like, “Amen!” Literally it means, “Today is a good day to die.” He went on to explain that when you're living life to the fullest, any day is a good day to die. Ah-Ho is an acceptance and an affirmation of whatever life may bring.

In Spontaneous Healing, Andrew Weil writes, “...The most common correlation I observe between mind and healing in people with chronic illness is total acceptance of the circumstances of one's life, including illness. This change allows profound internal relaxation, so that people need no longer feel compelled to maintain a defensive stance toward life. Often, it occurs as a part of a spiritual awakening and submission to a higher power.”[3]

This total acceptance that Weil refers to is the movement from fear to faith. True healing. True wholeness. True holiness. For as we move from fear to faith, we come to terms with our life and the possibility of our death. And as people of faith who believe in life after death, (whatever form it may take,) we know that death is nothing to fear. Ah-Ho!

[1] Andrew Weil, Health and Healing, (New York: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1995) p. 41.

[2] Ibid., p.42.

[3] Andrew Weil, Spontaneous Healing, (New York:Fawcett Columbine, 1995,) p.100.