How Do I Look?

Luke 8

 Just then there came a man named Jairus, a leader of the synagogue. He fell at Jesus’s feet and began pleading with him to come to his house, for he had an only daughter, about twelve years old, and she was dying.

As he went, the crowds pressed in on him. Now there was a woman who had been suffering from a flow of blood for twelve years, and though she had spent all she had on physicians, no one could cure her. She came up behind him and touched the fringe of his cloak, and immediately her flow of blood stopped.  Then Jesus asked, “Who touched me?” When they all denied it, Peter said, “Master, the crowds are hemming you in and pressing against you.” But Jesus said, “Someone touched me, for I noticed that power had gone out from me.”  When the woman realized that she could not remain hidden, she came trembling, and falling down before him, she declared in the presence of all the people why she had touched him and how she had been immediately healed. He said to her, “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace.”

While he was still speaking, someone came from the synagogue leader’s house to say, “Your daughter is dead; do not trouble the teacher any longer.” When Jesus heard this, he replied, “Do not be afraid. Only believe, and she will be saved.” When he came to the house, he did not allow anyone to enter with him, except Peter, John, and James and the child’s father and mother. Everyone was weeping and grieving for her, but he said, “Do not cry, for she is not dead but sleeping.” And they laughed at him, knowing that she was dead. But taking her by the hand, he called out, “Child, get up!” Her spirit returned, and she stood up at once, and he directed them to give her something to eat. Her parents were astounded, but he ordered them to tell no one what had happened.

Here’s the question: “How do I look?” You may wonder about this question, but to me, it was once all-important: “How do I look?” And you may also wonder about why it was so important to me. Read on as I try to answer this question and see what you think.

So, yes, “How do I look?” was a very important question to me. I emphasize “was” because after my encounter with Jesus, I’m not so sure. Perhaps “How do I look?” is no longer so important. Perhaps, it has been replaced, in fact, by another question. Yes, another question that now seems a lot more important to me than “How do I look?” Read on to see what new question has captured my full attention.

I’m sure that by now, you know that I am Jairus. And you no doubt know my position in the village of Capernaum, as I was a leader of the synagogue there. Speaking modestly, this was an important position in our community, a position of both responsibility and status. And you should also know that while priests essentially inherited their positions, I was elected by the community, chosen by my peers. I had an image that commanded respect and even admiration.

So, now you know. You know why it was important for me to look good to the people who mattered in our community. And you should also know that I worked hard on my image. It was not a careless thing, but one that required effort on my part. I mean, people looked to me for any number of things, like presiding at community events, serving in the capacity of what you, in your time, might call city planning, and even helping to resolve conflicts. And let me remind you that in this entirely Jewish village, there was no separation of our religion from the civic community. In your time, you might think of me as a mayor or council member, and you must also recognize that, as a result, much of my position was political in nature. Priests and rabbis were spiritual leaders, while I was more of an administrator.

Now, back to the story. Our daughter was sick: really sick, and getting worse by the day. She had a fever, and she was becoming weak, lacking the normal energy of a twelve-year-old. And you should know that our daughter was not a sickly child. No, she had no history of illness, and as a result, it was all the more unusual to see her so weakened.

Oh, and her name, omitted from the passage above, is Naomi. Yes, Naomi, a name handed down from generations in my family, relating to the long-ago story of Ruth. Naomi is her name and she is a special child, a lovely child and a joy to her mother and me. She is also, as the passage says, our only child.

Of course, we were concerned. You probably have little understanding of the medical care of our day. All I can say is that you should be very thankful for the care available to you in your time. Suffice it to say that, in our day, anyone getting sick was at considerable risk of never recovering.

Our concern for Naomi was increasing by the day. She was now bed-ridden, drifting in an out of consciousness, as her fever spiked and then fell and then spiked again. She clearly was not on a path to recovery.

As I said, in our time, there were few options for a situation like ours. And as we became more desperate, the name of Jesus entered our conversation.

But Jesus was a controversial figure. Yes, he had a reputation for healing, to be sure. But he also had a reputation for confronting our religious leaders. He called them out as hypocrites who loved the law more than they loved the people whom he called “the least of these.” Jesus was popular with the outcasts of our society, but increasingly, he threatened the power of the men in charge, people like me.

That’s when the question of “How do I look?” became a very difficult one for me.

You see, going to Jesus was not a good look for me. Not at all. Calling on Jesus for our child would show our entire community that I believed in him, and that I would entrust the health of my only daughter to his care. And just as our respectable citizens questioned the words and actions of Jesus, they would also question mine. The level of respect for me in the community would surely suffer if I went to Jesus.

I put it off for a time, hoping that Naomi would recover on her own and Jesus would not be needed. That way would protect my image and I would continue to “look good” in our community.

But waiting only heightened the risk. After all, maybe she might worsen to the point where even Jesus could not heal her. Then, I would be responsible for the death of our beloved daughter.

So, I acted. My wife, of course, had encouraged this decision to go to Jesus long before I finally did. I am sorry to say that, but it’s true.

I had wished to find Jesus alone, as a private meeting with him would help preserve my image in the community. But Jesus was rarely alone, and by now, I did not have the luxury of waiting for just the right moment. So, we would meet in public, in full view of the entire village.

As you know, there was a crowd. And when the opportunity came, I had to answer the question that had now, of necessity, replaced “How do I look?” Now, the question was: did I truly believe in Jesus, this controversial figure, who was, in fact, a man whom I had criticized for his views about justice and for his attention to the poor and outcasts of our community? Did I believe in him? Did I believe enough to publicly risk my reputation by asking him to heal Naomi?

I knew that it was time. So, I went forward, almost holding my breath as I approached Jesus. I had no idea how this appeal to Jesus would unfold. There was no rehearsal of my plea. I was totally unprepared. And frightened. Would Jesus respond? Would he listen to me? He had healed others, but mostly the blind, deaf, poor and others who were considered outcasts. But would he heal my daughter, the child of a prominent person, a leader in the community?

It seemed strange, so strange. For some unknown reason, courage was given to me to approach Jesus. It must have been from a source outside of my body, because all of a sudden, I found myself kneeling in front of Jesus, aware of the surrounding crowd, but firm in my conviction to ignore any adverse reaction from them. In the moment, I no longer cared how I looked to them, but only felt love for my daughter and hope in this man whom I had disparaged in the past.

And Jesus responded. Yes, he responded to come to my home and heal Naomi. And he did so without judgment. Yes, he could have responded cynically, commenting for all of the crowd to hear, to note my position as a leader, and to rebuke me for judging those in the crowd as inferior to me. But he did not, and so we started for my home. And as the passage says, the crowd followed, curious to see how Jesus would work his miracle.

I wished that they would just go away. But they did not. And then, it got worse. Why? Because, hidden in the crowd was a woman, who by our law should not have even been there. As you no doubt know, the woman was concealing a bleeding condition, one that should have kept her off the streets. By our law, she was unclean and it was a violation of the law to even touch her.

Orthodox Icon

When you read the passage above again, you will see that the woman stopped the procession. Actually, Jesus stopped it when he felt her touch his cloak. The next few minutes were surreal as Jesus sought to discover who touched him, as he argued with his disciples, and as he questioned her and healed her and then sent her on her way.

Those few minutes proved to be very costly to me and my family. Because by the time we resumed the walk to my house, a report came that Naomi had died. I couldn’t help my anger that my daughter had died because Jesus stopped long enough to heal that unclean woman.

But Jesus would not be dissuaded, and he pressed on, despite the finality of the report of Naomi’s death. From that point on, my mind was in a daze, questions swirling, wondering what I could have done for my daughter, and beginning to grieve my life without her.

That’s when Jesus spoke, words that seemed to cut through the anger, fear and guilt that I was feeling.

“Do not be afraid. Only believe, and she will be saved.”

So now, the question had come one step further. “How do I look” had been replaced by the question of belief that Jesus could heal my daughter, just as he had healed so many others. But now, the question was much more serious: could I believe that Jesus could bring her back? Not just to heal her body, but to restore her life. Could he do that? Could he bring her back?

The passage above does not record my reply to Jesus. Because in fact, I was quiet, not audibly responding. But I firmly believe that Jesus somehow looked into my heart, not needing spoken words to know what I was feeling. And honestly, when he did, I felt such a warmth and such a confidence and such a feeling of relief, really, that the words of Jesus could be trusted. And in spite of so many mixed emotions, of fear, guilt, and grief, he kindled a flame of hope in my heart, one that seemed in some mysterious way, to actually connect me to his heart, the very heart of Jesus.

I am sorry that my words so poorly convey what this was like.

You know how this story ends. And all I can say is that the restoration of Naomi’s life is only part of it. There is a second thread to this story, and that is the way that Jesus connected to me, deeply, heart to heart: first, to the unclean woman, and then, as to one wholly undeserving, to me. Yes, to me. The connection to the heart of Jesus was truly beyond words to describe it.

So now, the questions have come full circle. “How do I look?” no longer occupies my attention like it once did. Now, I want to look, not like a leader of the community, not like the prominent person I once was, but now, I want to look like a follower of Jesus. I want to look like the person whom he could have judged, but did not, the person who did not deserve his mercy, but still received it, and the person who mysteriously felt deeply connected to him, heart to heart.

That’s who I want to look like.