[ p. 149 ]
BACK IN CAPERNAUM
Mk. v. 21-43 ; Lk. viii. 40-56 ; Mt. ix. 18-31.
On His arrival He was enthusiastically received. The fishermen who had witnessed the stilling of the tempest the previous night, had told the story when they came ashore in the morning; and when His boat was sighted rowing back across the Lake, the populace poured down to the harbour to welcome Him and escort Him home. His progress thither was stayed by the approach of an unusual sort of suppliant. He was a Ruler of the Synagogue, named Jair— “one ruler” says St. Matthew, thus tersely depicting the novel scene. He was a Pharisee, and the Pharisees were generally the Lord’s bitter enemies (Cf. Jud. x. 3; Mt. ix. 18 R.V. marg.); and in virtue of his official dignity he was an exalted personage. It was surprising that he should mingle with a jostling crowd, and still more surprising that, as they fell aside to let him pass, he approached Jesus and knelt down before Him.
What was it that had thus conquered his hostility and humbled his pride ? His only child, a little daughter twelve years of age, was lying at death’s door; and, forgetting his prejudices in his sore distress, he had bethought himself of the despised Teacher who had wrought so many cures among the people, and had come to implore His succour. “My little daughter,” he pleaded, “is extremely ill. Pray come [ p. 150 ] and lay your hands on her, that she may be saved and live.”
Without a word Jesus turned and accompanied the Ruler; and the crowd followed, pressing upon Him in their eagerness. There was no time to lose; for the child was dying. Jesus had healed many sick, but never yet had He raised one who was dead : and it seemed essential that He should arrive while the child still lived. There was no time to lose, and it would distress the anxious father when their hasty progress was interrupted. In the crowd there was a woman who for twelve long years had suffered from hemorrhage. Tradition has it that her name was Veronica; and the historian Eusebius tells that she belonged to the Phoenician town of Caesarea Philippi just beyond the northern frontier of Galilee. In his day early in the fourth century—there was a house there, reputed to have been hers, and before it stood a brazen statue of a man and a woman kneeling at his feet with outstretched hands—the monument which, it was said, she had erected in grateful commemoration of her meeting with the Lord. It may have been authentic. Certainly the woman was a Gentile (Cf. Lev. xv. 19-30); for there was ceremonial defilement in her malady, and no Jewess so afflicted durst have mingled with the crowd (Mk. iii. 7,8). And it is written that among the visitors attracted by the Lord’s fame to Capernaum when He began His second year’s ministry there were some from Phoenicia.
Being a despised Gentile, and shrinking, moreover, from disclosing her hidden malady, the woman would not openly approach Jesus, and she had mingled with the crowd in the hope of winning a cure by stealth. [ p. 151 ] In her heathen fashion she regarded Him as a magical personage, and fancied that there was a healing efficacy in mere contact with Him, were it only touching His clothes (Cf. Ac. xix. 11,12). It was indeed a superstitious notion, but there was faith in it, and faith, however blind and ignorant, never misses its reward. She pushed through the throng till she got close behind Him, and then she clutched the tassel of His mantle; and instantly her hemorrhage ceased.(Cf. Num. xv. 38-40; Dt. xxii. 12)
He had felt the clutch of her nervous fingers, and recognising it amid the pressure of the crowd as a suppliant’s appeal, He turned and asked “Who grasped Me ?” He espied the woman, “trembling like a guilty thing surprised.” Concealment was impossible, and she knelt down before Him and confessed all. He might have respected her reserve and spared her the exposure, but He had a better blessing for her than the healing of her hemorrhage, even the benediction of His grace. “Daughter,” said He, “your faith has saved you. Go in peace.”
The words were on His lips when a messenger arrived from the Ruler’s house to tell him that his child was dead and it was useless to bring the Teacher. He could do nothing now. “Fear not,” said Jesus; “only have faith.” The house was close by, and bidding the rest of His disciples remain with the crowd He took Peter and James and John with Him and entered. A distressful scene confronted Him—a troupe of professional mourners beating their breasts and bewailing the dead. Such was the ancient custom, still maintained in Palestine ; but despite its familiarity it pained the Master with His knowledge of the [ p. 152 ] Eternal Loving-kindness which divests death of its terror and reveals it as “the gate of life,” a falling asleep to awake in the light of the Father’s face. “Why,” He asked, “are you making a din and weeping ? The child is not dead but sleeping.” They answered with bitter laughter, and He turned them out of the house. Then with His three companions He followed the father and mother into the chamber where the child was lying, and grasping her hand He said in the kindly Aramaic vernacular : Talitha kum, which means “My lamb, rise”—the endearing phrase of a mother when she woke her child. And the child obeyed. “She immediately arose and,” says the Evangelist, “walked about.” She had “fallen asleep” in mortal weakness, wasted by sickness; and she awoke well and strong, her sickness gone, her health restored. The parents were amazed. They could scarce believe it true until He bade them give the child food; and when they saw her eat, then they realised that she was indeed alive.
So startling a miracle would occasion infinite wonderment ; and, dreading the inevitable commotion, He enjoined reticence and quietly took His departure. He was very weary, since His brief slumber in the stern of the boat, so rudely broken by the tempest, was the only rest which He had enjoyed all last night; and He would fain get home. Among the loiterers about the Ruler’s gate were two blind men, and on His emergence they raised an appealing cry: “Have pity on us, Son of David !” It was the Messianic title so constantly on the lips of the multitude and so distasteful to the Lord by reason of the false idea which it expressed and the idle expectation which it [ p. 153 ] encouraged; and He paid no heed. They followed Him, still clamouring : “Have pity on us, Son of David!” and so resolute were they that, when He reached home, they pressed in after Him. Their importunity moved Him, bespeaking as it did not only their sore need but the faith which, however ignorantly, they reposed in Him ; and now that they were within doors He might grant their petition unobserved by the multitude. “You have faith,” said He, “that I can do this ? ” “Yes, sir/’ they answered. His com passion overflowed, and since they could not see His face and read there the sympathy that was in His heart, He passed His kind hand for a token over their eyes. “According to your faith/’ said He, “be it done to you ” ; and their eyes were opened.
Then He bethought Himself of the stir which would arise were the miracle reported; and His manner changed. “He frowned upon them.” “See !” said He ; “let no one get to know of it.” He would have had them steal away unnoticed; but they could not contain their gladness. They went out of doors and told the story, and it was carried all over the town and beyond it.