Mark: Sandwiches With Substantial Filling
by Paulist Fr. Rich Andre
July 2, 2018

Paulist Fr. Rich Andre preached this homily on the 13th Sunday of Ordinary Time (Year B) on July 1, 2012, at then-Blessed John XXIII Parish and Catholic Center in Knoxville, TN. The homily is based on the day’s readings: Wisdom 1:13-15, 2:23-24; Psalm 30; 2 Corinthians 8:7, 9, 13-15; and Mark 5:21-43.



Mark the evangelist loves to use a writing technique called “the Marcan sandwich,” where he’s telling a story, and then he interrupts himself to tell a second story before he returns to finish the first story. Our gospel today is perhaps the best-known of the Marcan sandwiches.

It’s pretty clear that Mark wants us to make some kind of connection between the healing of Jairus’ daughter and the healing of the woman with the hemorrhage. But what exactly is it? Well, they’re both about healing. They’re about the healing of women – one is old and one is young. Both deal with touch – Jairus asks explicitly for Jesus to lay his hands on his daughter, while the woman deliberate tries to touch Jesus’ cloak in a way that he can’t physically feel what she’s doing. Another idea that’s prevalent in the gospel of Mark is the idea of insiders and outsiders. Jairus is the ultimate insider, as a synagogue official, known to the readers by name. The woman is the nameless outsider, forbidden by her condition from entering the synagogue. But in contrast, it is the public synagogue leader who looks to receive a healing in private, away from the crowd. The woman with the hemorrhage only risks touching Jesus because of the crowds pressing in on him. 

Jesus comments on the faith of both the woman and Jairus. Now, a lot of people would argue that this is where the real contrast lies between Jairus and the woman with the hemorrhage. They paint Jairus as having relatively little faith, and the woman having extreme faith. I’m not sure if the facts presented by Mark are that clear cut. Jairus met Jesus at the shore – it could be because he didn’t want anyone to see him, but it could also be because his daughter was at the point of death. 

Permit me to build a sandwich of my own. Our second reading comes from the fascinating second letter of Paul to the Corinthians. While we call it “the second letter,” it’s probably a combination of at least two different letters that have been pieced together, and they’re probably at least the fourth and fifth letters Paul sent to the Corinthians. Some of the previous letters have not been handed down to us, so it’s a bit of mystery trying to figure out the context of this letter. It’s clear that the Corinthians have had some disputes with Paul and things are now on the mend.  Paul’s trying to accomplish a lot of different things in this letter: patch things up with the Corinthians, inspire them to be reconcilers, and urge them to be examples to Christians living in other parts of the Roman Empire. But such a mishmash of ideas has led Paul to some beautiful theological ideas here. His main message: the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ should inspire us to live lives of generosity, gratitude, and interdependence.

For many of us here, we know someone who is, in many ways, the epitome of generosity and gratitude: Dr. Ruth Queen Smith. We might think of her as being fiercely independent, but then there are moments where she surprises us. Just the other day, commenting on her recent medical trials, I said to her, “They say that God doesn’t give us more than we can handle. You seem to be able to handle a lot.” Ruth responded, “I disagree. God gives us more than we can handle. We need to depend on others in the community to help us handle what God gives us.” 

And with that image in mind of our interdependence, let’s return to Jairus and the woman with the hemorrhage. As I’ve prayed with it, I’ve come to believe that the healing of the woman with the hemorrhage is essential to the story of the curing of Jairus’ daughter. 

Jairus is probably frantic that the crowd is slowing Jesus’ progress towards the house where his daughter is dying. For Jesus to stop and listen to the woman whom he has just cured of a hemorrhage had to be aggravating to Jairus, as precious moments ticked by. And then Jairus receives word that it is too late: his daughter is dead.

If Jairus had not just witnessed the healing of the woman with the hemorrhage, what would he have done? I wonder if he would have given up hope. Would he have thought that it was too late to save his daughter? Would he have listened to Jesus when he said, “Do not be afraid; just have faith”? 

It is the woman with the hemorrhage, the ultimate outsider, forbidden from even entering the synagogue for twelve years, who provides the synagogue official with a reason to trust Jesus with the impossible. He with the most influence and prestige was enriched by this least powerful member of the village community. 

Or, in the words of St. Paul talking to the disparate, disgruntled Corinthians: “[T]hough [Christ] was rich, for your sake he became poor, so that by his poverty you might become rich…. [Y]our abundance at the present time should supply [the] needs [of those who are burdened], so that their abundance may also supply your needs.”