Readings:
2 Samuel 1:1, 17-27;
Psalm 130;
2 Corinthians 8:7-24;
Mark 5:21-43

Collect:
Merciful God,
out of the depths we cry to you
and you hear our prayer.
May we so be attentive to the voice of your Son
that we may rise from the death of sin
and take our place in the new creation.
This we pray through Jesus Christ,
who lives and reigns with you,
in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
one God, for ever and ever. Amen

Reflection

It is so hard when all that we have worked for, all that we long for, all that we dream of, perhaps even all that we love, is lost to us. The experience of loss can be devastating. Not one we seek, nor enjoy and coming to terms with it is difficult.

Almost all of us have experienced loss these last 15 months, some so much, that it is hard to comprehend. Loss of income, loss of personal contact with friends and family, loss of self-esteem, even loss of safety. Some of our most vulnerable people have even lost the ability just to go out of their rooms.

Our experience of loss is complicated, loss of possessions, loss of friendship, loss of love and affection. When our ability to do what we’re used to doing is lost, when someone we love turns away from us or dies, we can express our grief by explaining to ourselves that this person, these freedoms, have been taken away. When we feel that things are out of control, then it is all too easy to think that another is responsible for the event, to blame someone else for our circumstances.

As I read David’s lament and the Psalm for today, however, I don’t hear any blame. Deep, deep sadness, expression of anger even, each pouring out their heart to God as clearly and directly as they are able. No punches pulled. Seems to me, though, that this lament is not one of passive acceptance. God is not be blamed, but God is not distant. Instead, invoked as one who is deeply, deeply involved, knows the significance of what’s happening … and cares. The psalm is especially interesting as this is one of those we think was said by pilgrims approaching Jerusalem (the group from 120 to 134). While the place of the temple is significant, notice that God is fully with them on the journey too.

I’ve been amazed again this week at the directness which the bible preserves when those in distress bring themselves and their distress to God, an honesty after which I aspire for myself – an honesty with myself, an honesty with you and an honesty with God.

Mark’s gospel has two events of distress rolled into one story and here too, those in distress do what they think best to resolve their very real and deep distress. In these stories lament has moved to action – they each do something. Lament is important, honest lament. But then it is time to act. The gospel story places this action in the life of Jesus, in whom there is acceptance and healing. While some have guessed at what the woman thought and felt about her condition, about herself and her place in society, the gospel doesn’t say. What we do know is that Jesus says, “Go in peace.” And notice both the little girl’s parents go in with Jesus. What’s Jesus’ response to them afterwards? Yes, Jesus heals the little girl, but then strictly orders them to tell no one. How odd is that! They are “overcome with amazement” (Mk 5:42 NRSV) but they cannot tell anyone. And this story ends.

We appreciate that these are stories within a larger story and that Mark is leading readers and hearers of these stories to an understanding of just who this Jesus is, an understanding that was challenging then, and remains a challenge to us today. Not only one to heal us, solve our problems or relieve our distress. One immersed in our life, whose life we share and who binds us together, all as God’s own people.

Barry Lotz