The Lutheran Hour
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"Talitha Cumi"
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Text: Mark 5:41
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Christ is risen! He is risen, indeed! Because Christ has conquered, death has been defeated and there will be, yes, Christ will bring together an unending reunion in heaven with all who believe on His precious name. Amen.
This message deals with death; to be precise, the death of a child. Having said that, I am fully aware that you may not want to hear a message about death. Death is always a sensitive subject, and right now, you may be more vulnerable to the topic than normal.
Having, in my quarter-century of parish experience, officiated and participated in over 300 funerals, I must tell you; death is not an enemy to me. Not normally. I have seen death welcomed by a 104-year-old lady who had long since outlived her spouse, her children, and her friends. Although she still had a clear mind, the world no longer made sense to her. She was ready to go home to her Savior. For many of my Christian friends who knew the Savior’s promise to take them through the valley of the shadow of death, there was no fear when their end came. Jesus had taught them that they never had to be afraid of shadows. When they breathed their last, it was not a struggle for survival; they were going home and we who were left behind were consoled by Jesus’ blood-bought words of comfort, compassion, and care.
But there were those times when death was not welcome; when its arrival was not wanted. Six times in my ministry I stood with parents as their child died; three times I arrived at a home or hospital mere moments after a little one had passed away. As I get older I find myself forgetting many things, but I think I shall never forget those nine dark days of death. I remember the parents. Every one of them would have died, been glad to die, for their little ones; but there had been no option for substitution. The parents had done what they could but what they could do hadn’t been enough. I heard their words of worried wonder: “Would it have made a difference if…” And the question remained unanswered. It would always be unanswered.
And then they would look to me and await my answers which they prayed would make a difference; which would help them make sense out of the ultimate in senselessness. You pastors and priests who are listening to me today know that look. Yes, my friends, you’ve seen the lost look in those eyes, and you knew humankind has never built a tool capable of measuring the immensity of pain in those hearts. What did you say? How did you respond? Did you feel as lonely and ill prepared as I? We may have had years of seminary instruction; earned countless credits in clinical pastoral education; been well versed in grief counseling, but we weren’t dealing with a situation which called for textbook knowledge.
Of course, you don’t have to be a pastor to find yourself under pressure when a child has died. Any of us who have been close to a mourning family feel our words inadequate. We wonder: “What can I say to heal the hurt? How can I begin to help mend the pain?” And which of us has the courage to address a grieving family and say, “It will be all right.” By the Spirit’s power and the Savior’s blood, it will someday be all right. But at that moment, normalcy seems far off and far away.
There are so many things we mere mortals know we should not say, cannot say when death comes calling. But none of us would dare speak those words which are recorded in the 41st verse of the 5th chapter of Mark. Those two words? “Talitha cumi.” Let me say them just one more time: “Talitha cumi.” Let me tell you the story of those two words. Jesus had just returned from the east side of the Sea of Galilee. There he had released a man from demonic possession, and for His efforts was politely, but firmly, asked to leave. He returned to Capernaum and a great crowd gave Him a warm, an overwhelming welcome. In the crowd we will note two special people who tried to get near Him. Those two are as different as night and day. One is a man; he is named Jairus. The other is a woman; out of respect for her difficulty, the Bible does not record her name. The first, Jairus, was prominent, wealthy, respected; while the woman lived in poverty, a virtual exile from the people who loved her. The man came publicly with a concern for his daughter, the woman slid stealthily, secretly, cautiously through the crowd. Of the two, Jairus reached Jesus first. Falling at the Savior’s feet, he publicly pleaded, “Come, help my little girl… lay Your hands of healing upon her… she is dying.”
Scripture records no talk of insurance policies; no scheduling of an appointment. It says, “Jesus went with him.” The distance was short, but the crowd was close, impeding their progress. How impatient that father’s heart must have been. “Hurry, hurry, hurry,” he would have whispered to himself. The clock was ticking, every moment was important, and they were going so very slowly. Then, almost imperceptibly, a hand reached out and touched Jesus’ robe. The Savior stopped, looked around, and asked “Who has touched Me?” His question seemed foolish. With that kind of crowd, who could tell who had brushed up against whom.
Jesus was not to be put off. He wanted to know. So He waited; He watched. Finally a lady came forward to confess she had been the one. She explained that for 12 years she had had an issue of blood. For 12 years she had been unclean; all she had touched had been made unclean. A physical relationship with her husband had been forbidden; the holding of her children, forbidden. She had been impoverished by the doctors to whom she had gone looking for a cure. Jesus had been her last hope, her only hope. To be healed is why she had touched Him; and now she was. Jesus gave His blessing upon the miracle which had already happened: “Daughter, your faith has made you well. Go in peace and be healed of your disease.” That is what Jesus said to her.
During all of this, Jairus had waited. Maybe on the outside he appeared patient; but on the inside, his father’s heart would have been anxious to get back to his sick little girl. I don’t know if he saw the men, men from the synagogue coming to meet him. I do know they told him, “Your daughter is dead, don’t trouble the Teacher.” Their words were cold, hard: “Your daughter is dead.” I can’t prove it, but I think, in their words, is the implication: “Your consultation and calling of Jesus has been a waste of time. Now your daughter’s gone, and there’s nothing He can do, nothing anyone can do.
Jesus ignored the men; didn’t pay them a bit of attention. His focus rested entirely upon the grieving father. To him the Savior said: “Do not fear. Only believe.” His words must have seemed somehow inappropriate. Jairus might have wondered, “What should I believe in? Dead is dead. These fellows wouldn’t have said what they have if they hadn’t been sure.” If Jesus’ words seemed inappropriate, it would not be the last time that day. When they reached Jairus’ home they found the process of mourning had already begun. Bad news traveled fast in a little town like Capernaum, and people always come together to mourn a child’s death. Jesus chided the crying crowd concerning the commotion they were making. “The little girl isn’t dead,” the Savior said, “She is only sleeping.” If anyone had ever said such a thing at one of the funerals where I was the officiant, he would have been none-too-gently escorted out. Strangely, the day Jairus’ daughter died, it was the mourners, not Jesus, who were dismissed. Jesus, accompanied by the parents and a few disciples, went to the side of the girl who still lay upon her deathbed.
How sad and small she must have looked lying there. If she had had pain, it was now over. Death had come for the little girl, taken her; and scarred all those who had loved her.
It was Jesus who broke the silence. He stepped to the side of girl’s deathbed, reached down and took her hand. Holding the little girl’s hand, Jesus spoke. A good counselor or friend might have said soothing sentences to the pained parents. But Jesus wasn’t there as a counselor or as a mere friend. Jesus was there as a Savior, as death’s defeater; and it was as the little girl’s Savior that Jesus spoke.
Years later Peter remembered those words and the sounds of Jesus’ voice. He had Mark write those words down exactly the way they had first been spoken. The words: “Talitha cumi!” Some Bibles translate Jesus command as: “Little girl, young maiden get up.” I like the Scottish commentator, who paraphrased Jesus words: “Lassie, time to wake up.” If an attending physician were to say those words to a dead girl, he would be up for review. If a pastor were to say those words, both he, and they, would be labeled as inconsiderate, inappropriate, and insensitive. But Jesus says those words in His unique role as the world’s Savior. And because He is the world’s Savior; because He is God’s sinless Son; because He can call the entire world into being with a word; His words are special. His words are the very power of God.
Jesus said: “Talitha cumi! Little girl, get up.” And she did. Yes, she did. At Christ’s command, death was forced to loosen its hold upon the girl. At Jesus’ order she began to breathe. If you’ve heard the story before, you’re not surprised. You know how it turned out. But to be there that day, not knowing what would happen, knowing that your dead daughter was breathing, was sitting up, was made well. What joy! What gladness! From despair to delight in an instant. Jesus had done what the Son of God alone can do: Jesus had done what He came to do: Jesus gave life where death once reigned.
Understand, it was not the first time Jesus had restored a child to a grieving family. Outside the city of Nain, He had given a young man back to his mourning mother. It would not be the last time that Jesus would reunite a family. At a cemetery in a Jerusalem suburb, He would shout: “Lazarus, come forth,” and three-day-dead Lazarus would come forth to be restored to his family and friends. Some commentators say Jesus was specific in calling out Lazarus’ name, because if He hadn’t, so powerful were the words of the Savior the entire graveyard would have risen from the dead that day. About that I don’t know, but I do know, as you read through the Gospels, you will not find a time when Jesus didn’t ruin a funeral by saying the word which raised a loved one from the dead.
No, Jesus’ resurrection of the little girl was not the first time He defeated death; it would certainly not be the last. The day would come, the greatest day the world has ever known, that Jesus would, with His own resurrection, defeat death for Himself and all who believe on Him as Savior. Even as some of His dearest friends were preparing to finish His funeral, a living Lord would come out of His borrowed tomb and let the world know that the grave no longer had to be a place for final farewells. On Resurrection Sunday, Jesus gave God’s great good news to mourners that a new life, a better life, a permanent, and joy-full life was a possibility for all and a God-given reality for those would believe on Him as their substitute, their Savior, their Redeemer, and their Lord. In His life Jesus deflected every temptation the devil had tossed at Him; kept perfectly every law that we, the sons of Adam, have broken; and, by His suffering, agony, and death, paid the price which was demanded by the sins we have committed. With this work, His work, done perfectly and completely, by His own glorious resurrection, Jesus told the world His sacrifice had been accepted and that now even death has been defeated. This Lord’s day, mourners can find hope, for Christ has conquered; Jesus has defeated death, not just for Himself, but for all who, with repentant hearts, acknowledge Him as their atoning, forgiving Lord.
You who mourn, believe this, hold on to this: Jesus does not stand and watch your life at a distance, remaining unmoved and unconcerned by your pains and troubles. Look at His birth in Bethlehem. See Him despised, rejected, bruised, beaten and crucified for your salvation. All this He suffered so you might have salvation, so you might have hope. Little wonder Isaiah, by inspired prophecy, could say that the conquering Christ would be called: “Wonderful, our Counselor, the mighty God, the everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace” (Isaiah 9:6). Knowing that Jesus has substituted salvation for sadness, heaven for hell, Saint Paul was able to write: “…In fact Christ has been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep. For as by a man came death, by a man has come also the resurrection of the dead… in Christ shall all be made alive” (1 Corinthians 15:20-22 excerpts).
Paul could sometimes get complicated. Let me simplify his words, God’s words for you. Faith in Jesus as your Savior is based on fact. In fact, Jesus was crucified; and in fact Jesus rose from the dead. In fact, God has accepted His substitution and sacrifice for us. In fact, Jesus has paid for our sins. In fact, Jesus has promised, on Resurrection Day, to reunite all those who believe on Him as Savior. In fact, on Resurrection Day, all who believe on Him will be raised and made alive; mothers and fathers will be reunited in the great family of faith. Never again will they be separated; never again will they be parted; never again will they know pain. Never.
Do you remember how, at the beginning of this message, I talked about how, at the death of a child, I felt ill-prepared? That wasn’t an exaggeration. Grief can be a great steamroller and human wisdom can seem so trivial, trite, and tired. May I tell you what I found when facing such sorrow and sadness? I found this: precisely at those moments when I had nothing to say, Jesus spoke most clearly: He said, “I am the Resurrection and the Life. Whoever believes in Me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in Me shall never die. Do you believe this?” (John 11:25-26). To those who believe, Jesus gives hope. Even at the death of a child, Jesus gives hope. No, I’m not saying that there are no more tears or sense of sadness, that every heart could immediately echo Jesus’ Garden of Gethsemane prayer, “Your will be done” (Matthew 26:42). I am saying because of Jesus, pain and loss, death and grave no longer have the final word.
You family members who mourn the loss of a child, who feel the oppression of death’s darkness all around you, today the Holy Spirit holds out the comfort which comes only from the conquering Christ. Today the Spirit points you to the Savior who alone can say, will say, to your child of faith: “Talitha cumi,” “Lassie, it’s time to wake up; little boy, it’s time to live.” The day of reunion is coming. Until then, believe the Bible when it says: “The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.” If you need to know more about the Savior’s victory, call us at The Lutheran Hour. Amen.
LUTHERAN HOUR MAILBOX (Questions & Answers) for July 2, 2006
TOPIC: The Believable BibleANNOUNCER: Can we trust the Bible? That will be our topic for the next few minutes as Pastor Ken Klaus responds to several related questions from a listener. I’m Mark
Eischer.KLAUS: Hi, Mark. Well we ought to be able to wrap this up quickly. The answer is: Yes, we can trust the Bible.
ANNOUNCER: But I think it gets more complicated than that. After all, the men who wrote the New Testament were all disciples of Jesus. So they are not what you would consider to be impartial observers. So, can we really trust what they say? And the second question, the related question to this: Since the Bible has been copied, translated, and retranslated so many times over the centuries, how do we know it’s still accurate and that we can trust what it says?
KLAUS: Mark, if you don’t mind, I’d like to take the second question first. The one that says: Since the Bible was copied so many times, can we trust it? I think the person is thinking of the Bible like that game we used to play in school where you whisper a story in the ear of one person, and they repeat the story to the next person, and it keeps on going until you get to the last person. That person recites the story and everybody is amused at how much everything in that story has changed in the re-telling. So much so that sometimes it’s almost unrecognizable.
ANNOUNCER: Right. And since the Bible’s been passed along through so many hands, so many different copyists, how can we trust it not to have become corrupted in the process?
KLAUS: The problem is, that kind of thinking doesn’t hold up as far as the Bible’s concerned. The Bible is not just another human book. It’s not a fair comparison. No, it should be stated that we don’t have the original manuscripts written by the authors of the Bible. We do have thousands, over 6,000 copies of the Greek manuscripts that were produced very close to the time that the originals were written.
Now, if you compare those documents, you will find that, like Ivory Soap, they are pretty pure.ANNOUNCER: How pure is pretty pure?
KLAUS: Well, they agree with each other over 99 percent of the time.
ANNOUNCER: But that still leaves 1 percent of disagreement.
KLAUS: It does. And most of those disagreements are pretty obvious: spelling errors and small changes in wording. For example, one text might say, “Jesus” and the other might say, “Jesus Christ.” All in all, the result is an almost miraculous degree of accuracy.
ANNOUNCER: Something you wouldn’t expect.
KLAUS: No, it isn’t. And I think there are two reasons for that: First, all Scripture is given by inspiration of God. The Lord Himself had a vested interested in making sure His story of salvation comes to us unaltered. The second reason is the copyists of the Bible knew they were making valuable copies of God’s own book, and they weren’t going to take it upon themselves to edit it. They wanted others to receive it as unaltered as they had.
Another point we should add here: The Bible isn’t generally translated from one language to another, to another, to another, getting fuzzier and fuzzier along the way. It comes from the original Greek or Hebrew directly to us, in our own tongue from the original.
ANNOUNCER: But getting back to that first question: the people who wrote the Bible did so from what might be considered to be a biased position. Therefore, can we trust what they say?
KLAUS: Well, we have to ask: Were the writers of the Bible biased?
ANNOUNCER: I would say so.
KLAUS: I would, too. Like Peter and John said at their trial (Acts 4:20) “We cannot help but speak of the things that we have seen and heard.” That’s pretty biased.
ANNOUNCER: And if they’re biased, does that mean they can’t be trusted?
KLAUS: They can be trusted. The disciples told the truth when they wrote their eyewitness accounts of what Jesus said and did.
ANNOUNCER: And why do you think that way?
KLAUS: You know, if they were reporting from an over-biased position, you’d think they might want to make themselves look good. They don’t. They talk about how they didn’t understand Jesus; how they fell asleep when He asked them to pray; how they at first didn’t believe the resurrection.
Further, they were sharing God’s story of salvation with a sinful world. That’s not something these men would have discarded easily.
If they were writing from an overly-biased point of view, they probably wouldn’t have talked about the arguments they had, the difficulties in sharing the Gospel they encountered.
If they were writing down lies and falsehoods, I doubt if they would have done so at the cost of their own lives.
ANNOUNCER: How would you sum this up?
KLAUS: Were the writers of the Bible, biased? Yes. Did they believe what they were saying and writing? Also, yes. Does that mean that they are inaccurate? No. The ultimate question is not whether you believe what the prophets and apostles wrote, it is whether you believe the Bible is God’s Word accurately describing His plan of salvation.
ANNOUNCER: Thank you, Pastor Klaus. This has been a presentation of Lutheran Hour Ministries.
Music selections for this program:
“A Mighty Fortress” arranged by John Leavitt. Concordia Publishing House/SESAC
“Children of the Heavenly Father” arranged by Henry Gerike. From Blessed by the Concordia Seminary Chorus (© 2000 Concordia Seminary Chorus)
“Lord, Let at Last Thine Angels Come” by J.S. Bach. From Through the Church Year by the Seminary Kantorei (© Concordia Theological Seminary, Ft. Wayne)
“Ach, Herr lass dein lieb’ Engelein” by J.S. Bach. From Werke für Blechbläser von Bach, u.a. (© 1988 Hänssler-Verlag, Stuttgart)
“Liebster Jesu, wir sind hier” by J.S. Bach. From Richard Heschke at the Hradetzky in Red Bank by Richard Heschke (© 1993 Arkay Records, San Jose, CA)