Jesus Got It Right!

by The Rev. Bebe Baldwin

Mark 5:1-20
Mark 5:24b-34

Who was the man who lived in the tombs, who was “dead” to his family and community? Had he ever worked, married, nurtured children? What was his name before he became “Legion?”

Who was the woman who defied convention to touch Jesus? What was her life before she became “unclean?” Why was she all alone in the crowd?

You may wonder why I have chosen to link these two stories. The conditions of the two characters were very different. Yet, if we try to step inside the stories, we find that the two persons had much in common. Each was isolated from the community — the man because of mental illness and the woman because of a chronic physical condition. For too many people who live with disabilities, isolation is a way of life.

Let’s consider first the story about “Legion.” The Gospels relate many healing narratives from Jesus’ ministry, but few give us the rich details or describe in so powerful a way the isolation experienced by so many people with disabilities. From the story we learn that he lived among the tombs, that he had broken his chains and shackles, but that he continued to cry out and to harm himself.

“Legion,” the name he gave to Jesus, was a military term for a company of soldiers. For first century Jews, the soldiers would have been members of the Roman occupying force. The man Jesus met was believed to be the victim of another kind of occupation. In Jesus’ culture, people believed that demons caused some illnesses, including mental illness. They believed, and the man himself must have believed, that demons had occupied his body and were controlling him. He was feared, isolated and “dead” to his community.

But Jesus heard the man’s cries and felt his pain. We are reminded of the words to Moses from the burning bush, “I have observed the misery of my people … I have heard their cry … I know their suffering.” (Exodus 3:7) Jesus didn’t run away from the man who was so feared. Instead, he spoke to him and asked him his name. For the people of the Bible, names had a special significance. A name expressed the reality of the person.

But, unlike the villagers, Jesus saw the person first, not his illness. The man was more than his name. Jesus knew that beyond the confusion of voices that had occupied the man’s mind, beyond the crying and the violent acts, he was a person loved by God. Jesus knew that the man was more than his illness.

Let’s move on to the second story, the account of the woman with the hemorrhage. She was not sent to the tombs but she, too, lived in isolation. Because of her bleeding, she was ritually unclean. The sacred law forbade anyone to touch her or anything she had touched. (Leviticus 15:19-28)

Women went to the ritual bath for purification after each menstrual period. For the woman in the story, however, there could be no ritual bath. She had been bleeding for 12 years.

We can only imagine what “cures” she may have tried, what sacrifices she may have made in order to be healed. She had spent all she had and now, she was alone, shut out of much of the life of the community. She must have thought of Jesus as her last hope. We can picture her pushing her way through the crowd, probably well-covered so that others would not shrink away.

When Jesus felt her touch, he could have reacted with anger. He was a faithful Jew and the woman was “unclean.” She may have touched one of the four tassels on his garment that marked him as a religious man, a member of the covenant people. What audacity! What brazenness!

Jesus could have turned on her and accused her of making him “unclean.” Instead, he saw the person first, not her condition. He accepted her bold action and the risk she had taken. He told her to go in peace. He recognized her as a person valued by God.

Too often, people with disabilities are seen as “the blind,” “the deaf,” “the handicapped,” etc., etc., not as persons first. As an adult who had to learn to live with a disability (vision loss), I had to come to think of myself as a “person first.” It was something like finding a new identity.

I had always loved to read; I had taken great pride in my academic achievement. Facing a life without books was like looking into a black hole. Was my love for books to be taken from me? I was terrified.

As I was struggling, a wise friend told me, “Bebe, you are more than a pair of eyes!” Her words helped me to begin my process of healing. They helped me to remember that I was a person of worth, to learn that I could accept my disability as part of who I was instead of being crushed by it. Like the “unclean” woman, we do not have to accept the barriers set by society. We do not have to accept isolation!

Jesus was a boundary breaker. His ministry was a ministry of inclusion, not of isolation. He made it possible for both the people in our stories to be restored to their communities.

The man who had been “Legion” begged Jesus to let him go away with him. His village, in fact, did not want him back. They even begged Jesus to go away. Perhaps they felt safer when the man was kept in the tombs. Nevertheless, Jesus sent him back. Was Jesus, too, rejecting the man? Not at all! He knew that healing was not complete outside the community.

We don’t know how her community felt about the woman who had been “unclean.” Would they accept her after years of isolation? Would they trust the unconventional woman who had dared to reach out to touch a rabbi?

In Jesus’ culture, “healing” meant being restored to the community. This goes way beyond what is commonly thought of as a “cure.” In our “enlightened” culture, we confuse the two.

People in the Bible did not know the kind of individualism that is so prevalent in our society. As Kathy Black wrote, “for first century peoples, it was one’s sense of being in the community that was crucial, and illness or disability interfered with one’s being in the community” (Kathy Black, A Healing Homiletic. Nashville, Tennessee: Abingdon, 1996). For Jesus, and for us, “healing” included the whole person, the emotional and the spiritual self within the community.

In our culture it is assumed that anyone with a disability needs to be “cured.” I have a friend who is blind who says, “if someone offered me a ‘cure,’ I’d take it, but I don’t need it.” As a person with a disability, I agree. I will never be “cured,” but I, like everyone else, am called to be “healed.” We need to recover the Biblical wisdom that “healing” means that persons are included, respected, and able to participate in the community. (Actually, I believe that when persons with disabilities or mental illness are excluded, the community itself needs healing. It is a broken community.)

Our society still treats people with disabilities as “unclean.” We may be shunned or ignored because those who are “able-bodied” (at least temporarily) feel uncomfortable, aren’t sure how to relate to us, or don’t make the effort to accommodate us. Scripture may even be used to “prove” that our disabilities are punishment for our sins or evidence of lack of enough faith!

People who live with mental illness are often especially feared. News stories about violent crimes committed by people living with mental illness add to these fears. Actually, people with mental illness are more likely to be victims than perpetrators of crime.

Perhaps the most concrete example of isolation to the “tombs” is the huge population of people who are homeless. A recent survey in my own state found that more than 80 percent of people living in the streets had at least one disability. Most live with multiple challenges. One half of the people in the study were living with mental illness. One in four homeless men was a veteran, many of whom have post traumatic stress disorder. (Overview of Homelessness in Minnesota, March 2007. Wilder Research, St. Paul, Minn.) In his remarkable stories of people living in the streets because of mental illness, Craig Rennebohm makes the point, again and again, that each person needs a circle of support, a caring community and an end to isolation (Craig Rennebohm with David Paul, Souls In the Hands of a Tender God. Boston, Mass: Beacon Press, 2008).

Even in good economic times, the rate of unemployment among people with disabilities is very high. Many of our friendships begin or are centered around our places of work. When employment is denied, persons face not only financial stress but can also be cut off from interpersonal relationships. The result is isolation.

So how about the church? Are we breaking down the walls of isolation? Or, are we mirroring the culture with its lack of understanding, its fears, or its prejudice? We are told that 90 percent of people with disabilities do not attend church. Is this because of lack of interest in the spiritual life? Certainly not! But, churches that are inaccessible and do not welcome people with disabilities into full participation — and leadership — could just as well be screaming, “unclean!”

I recently was told of a family that was barred from church because of a child who has autism. I know of a young man who could not be considered for church membership because he has mental retardation. In another church, parents had to fight for adequate parking space because the usual “handicapped parking” did not serve the needs of their children.

In each of these cases, and in many more, churches are imposing isolation on persons with disabilities, and often, upon their families. Families, too, need circles of care because of the extraordinary energy and time that may be required in support and advocacy with or for a family member who has a disability. When there is secrecy or shame because of a disability, as is often the case with mental illness, the result is isolation.

So what can and should the church do? We can follow Jesus’ example. He saw the person first, not the disability. He knew that healing took place within the community. But there is something else we should not miss in the story of “Legion.” Jesus would not let the new disciple go away with him, but the story says that “Legion” began to tell his own story of what Jesus had done for him. He used the gifts God had given him. What wonderful gifts, what wonderful stories the church is missing because we have not been willing to value the gifts and to listen!

Perhaps in breaking the isolation the last point is not important. People with “disabilities” are people with abilities. Those of us who live with disabilities want to serve our churches and our communities. When I was struggling with vision loss, I was terrified that I would not be able to continue the work I loved. A wise colleague told me, “you’ll do everything you’ve been doing; you’ll just do it differently!” Is there any better way to break the boundaries of isolation than to accept, respect and use the gifts of people with disabilities?

Who was the man who lived among the tombs? Who was the woman who was “unclean?” They are among us today. They are the persons who are feared, shunned, stereotyped, shamed, thrown away, ignored or devalued because of a physical disability, a developmental disability or mental illness. Jesus offered the way to restoration, inclusion and participation. He broke the barriers. He got it right. When will the church and when will our communities follow his leading?

Acknowledgment

I am grateful to Kathy Black whose book, A Healing Homiletic, has helped me in my effort to understand Jesus’ ministry of healing.