Matthew 9:18-26
While he was saying these things to them, suddenly a leader of the synagogue came in and knelt before him, saying, “My daughter has just died; but come and lay your hand on her, and she will live.” And Jesus got up and followed him, with his disciples. Then suddenly a woman who had been suffering from hemorrhages for twelve years came up behind him and touched the fringe of his cloak, for she said to herself, “If I only touch his cloak, I will be made well.” Jesus turned, and seeing her he said, “Take heart, daughter; your faith has made you well.” And instantly the woman was made well. When Jesus came to the leader’s house and saw the flute-players and the crowd making a commotion, he said, “Go away; for the girl is not dead but sleeping.” And they laughed at him. But when the crowd had been put outside, he went in and took her by the hand, and the girl got up. And the report of this spread throughout that district.
This passage could easily be divided into three posts, for it is divided by Matthew into three distinct scenes. But while each scene may merit close attention, I find holding them together equally rewarding. And so we will look at the whole and see what it tells us about Jesus.
Matthew, following Mark closely, employs here a story-telling technique as old as, well, story-telling: he is sandwiching one encounter within the first and second halves of another. The purpose is not merely chronological accuracy – just telling it like it happened – but also narrative intensity. That is, the scenes interpret each other, inviting us to pay attention to the similarities and contrasts between them. We might notice, for instance, that both scenes involve women, a girl in the prime of her life who has died, a woman who has suffered for much or most of her adult life.
With that major similarity as backdrop, we can also focus on contrasts. While the first, the girl, is being restored to life, the second is restored to community. (The bleeding described here has likely kept her from having children and that, in turn, was in the ancient world a social disgrace as well as a personal tragedy.) The first has someone to advocate for her; the second must advocate for herself. Correspondingly, the first is entirely passive in her healing, while the second is quite active.
Now, having compared and contrasted all this, we might notice one more thing, perhaps the binding similarity of these two stories. Both of these women are daughters. The first is born the daughter of a synagogue leader who comes beseeching Jesus on behalf of his beloved child. The second is called daughter by Jesus, restored to health and wholeness and commended for her great faith.
Might it be, then, that at the heart of these two mutually interpreting stories is Jesus’ promise that, whatever our outward similarities and differences, to God we are all beloved children? That we all are therefore worthy of dignity and honor? That God loves each and all of us the same?
I wonder: how might our daily attitudes, assumptions, and actions change if we believed that? I think, at the very least, we’d have some more really good stories to tell.
Prayer: Dear God, when we look around us, let us see people not primarily in terms of age or gender or ethnicity or occupation or economic status…or all those other things that while descriptive are not definitive. Rather, let us see your beloved children, our brothers and sisters in Christ. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
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