Homily 616 – 19 APE
Holy Transfiguration, Ames, Iowa
November 3, 2024
Epistle:  (194) 2 Corinthians 11:31-12:9
Gospel:  (39) – Luke 8:41-56

In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, One God.

In today’s Gospel reading, we get a twofer.  There are two very separate stories happening here.  In the middle of one thing, another complete story happens.

It’s that middle story I’d like to focus on this morning.  The woman with the issue of blood.

What we may not realize, that the people of that day certainly realized, is that having blood coming from you, in any way, would keep you out of the temple.  It would keep you from doing anything remotely related to the worship of God.

And that came with consequences, as they understood it.  To use the modern language, a person who was bleeding couldn’t be saved.  At all.  They were doomed.

We still have some of those things in our church today.  We don’t mention it much, but someone who was actively bleeding cannot serve on the altar.  A priest friend cut his thumb during proskomedia and had to get stiches, and as long as the wound was bleeding, he couldn’t serve.  If it was bound up, no problem.

This is to make sure that no one – at all – can ever accuse us of using blood sacrifice in our service.  Ours is an unbloody sacrifice.  This may be the origin of some traditions about women in the church, but with modern hygiene practices, those issues are no longer troublesome.

But that wasn’t the case for this woman.  Being saved by God, and living out her part of the covenant with God, was of primary importance to her.  So much so that she spent everything she had on physicians trying to be healed.

Would we do that today?  I’d like to hope so, but I’m not sure we do.  I’m not sure we understand what is at stake.  It is our life.  The God who created us, who created humanity, who created everything that exists, wants only our love.

Wants only that we can set aside our ego and be truly real with Him.  The one who gave us life.

We are the ones who continue to need to be healed, and have our will and our ego put back in the proper relationship to the connection with God.  That connection that is pre-eminent.  Or at least, should be pre-eminent in everything we do, say, believe – everything in our lives.

But instead, many of us put pre-conditions on God.  We say, “I’ll give this much to God, but the rest is for me.”

That ugly ego thing.  That self-interest thing.  When will we realize that the only – and I mean, absolutely only – thing that will make us whole, and make us happy, and make us fulfilled is the fullness of the presence of God in our lives?

We try to fill that hole with stuff – material things.  Or with movies, or with career, or with sports, or with power, or with celebrity.

None of which will heal us.  None of which will get at the real problem, which is our stubborn ego – our pride.

This woman in the Gospel gave up everything to seek healing.  And she also understood that by touching Jesus, she was risking everything.  She hoped to go unnoticed, but that didn’t turn out well.

By Jewish law, that touch made Jesus unclean.  Now, she likely knew this, but had such faith in this healer, this prophet from Nazareth of Galilee, that she decided to risk it.  What she didn’t know was that the moment she took that step, and stretched out her hand, she was healed.

And with it, her hopes and dreams and desires took on a new meaning.  Everything was possible because God was now possible for her.

And it is for us as well.

I probably should have been giving this more attention all along, so please forgive me.  But God doesn’t tell us to crucify our egos before He will accept us. Not at all.  He stands ready to walk with us, standing beside us and around us, even when we don’t realize it.

The distractions of our life – the money, power, entertainment – those distractions mean we simply don’t recognize God’s presence.  And all we have to do is return our focus to Him.  This is what crushes the ego, and this is what is called repentance.

It is our equivalent to reaching out to Him, like this woman with the issue of blood.  And He is always there, waiting for our repentance, waiting like the Father of the Prodigal to return, having already forgiven us for straying.

In turn, like the woman, we receive healing.  Over, and over, and over again.  And not just physically or emotionally.  Our spirits are healed.  Our hope is healed.  Our dreams are healed.

The other story, the wrapper around this one, so to speak, is about another healing.  A little girl is healed from being dead.  And the broken hearts of all those around her, mourning her loss, were healed as well.

This woman, this ruler’s little girl, Lazarus of Bethany, the son of the Widow – all those raised from the dead by Jesus – each and every one of them eventually died again.  The Church Fathers tell us it is important to keep in mind our own repose.  Not to be morbid or morose.

But to remember that death, the separation of our soul from our body, is not the end.  And it can either be an eternal tragedy, or it can be an eternal triumph.  God wants it to be a triumph.

Hopefully, I pray, all of us want that triumph as well.  That is, after all, the reason we exist in the first place.

In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, One God.  Glory to Jesus Christ.