30 June 2024 – 13th Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year B)

by Fr Fabian Dicom

I am quite sure I have given you this scene or this scenario before, either in some programme or even maybe in another homily. But nevertheless, I will repeat this.

Just imagine you are on the way to church to attend the ONLY Mass for the weekend. Or incidentally if you don’t know, there are more than 20 over Masses on the Island, Penang Island from Saturday evening till Sunday evening. So perhaps no choice for not going to church, right?

Anyway, this is the last Mass you are going to catch before the weekend ends. You have been told by your catechism teacher if you miss the Mass, it is a grave sin and perhaps you may even go to hell. Not true.

Just then you witness an accident and you see persons injured, bleeding and all. And just to give you the scene even more precise, it is in one of the lanes in Island Park, not on the main road. So nobody is around because most of the houses are all closed in Island Park.

What do you do? What do you think you will do? Would you stop and help the person, take the person into your car, get blood all over the place?

Or you would think that you have to come to church because of the consequences. You may be a commentator, you may be a server, you may be the musician, you may even be the priest. What happens? If I don’t come here none of you will have the Mass. But anyway Fr FA is around.

Just think about it.

And to make it even more exciting, forget about church. You have this interview that will define your life, the greatest interview and if you most probably getting it and you would have made it. Would you go for the interview or hope someone else helps the injured person? Okay, just to get you into thinking about these things.

Now on a more domestic front, you must have had experiences of just getting ready to go for an important meeting, a fantastic dinner engagement and then you hear this word: “Ma, I fell down.” or “I’ve got a stomach ache.” Whether true or not, we are not sure, but you have to cancel your plan. There is an interruption. And this can happen to anyone, parents, happens to caregivers quite a bit, social workers, to all of you in the ministry, in the church.

You plan and you want to carry it out and then there is an interruption. Okay use the interruptions in this parish. It can happen to you, it can happen to me. 

Now this morning I want to talk about interruptions in our lives. Now please don’t take the negative connotation of interruptions because I am quite use to hearing my mother tell me “Don’t interrupt me when I am talking.“

It is like when things are going in one direction, you have to pause. And the continuous process doesn’t flow. So basically it is that. So let us look at it in a neutral sense.

So I want to talk about interruptions in our lives, in the context of our Gospel today. It often happens when we have a plan in mind and set out to accomplish it with a sense of purpose and determination. Then unexpectedly someone comes along and interrupts us. This interruption can delay our progress, causing us to miss the timing we had in mind for our task.

In these moments, it is easy to feel a bit frustrated and impatient. And as we might be eager to get back to what we think we are supposed to be doing, we might find ourselves silently wishing for the person to move on quickly so that we can resume with our activities.

I must admit I can be like that at times. But honestly, over the years, I have come to understand that every encounter is in some way providential.

What might initially appear to be an interruption can be exactly where we are meant to be. The person who unexpectedly crosses my path, potentially disrupting my plans, might be the very person the Lord has sent into my life. Instead of viewing such encounters as interruptions, it is often more fruitful to see them as moments of grace and opportunity.

What I intended to do may not be what is most important. Rather the true call of the present moment, the here and now, may lie in the person who stands before me right now. 

And honestly, life as a priest for me, I mean it has not always been smooth. There are times where I am at my lowest, I am feeling uninspired. In the words of the spiritual life, we call it a dry period. And I want to carry on. How do I do it?

I am tired, I am busy, I want to do many things and then there is an interruption. I am called to administer the sacraments of anointing of the sick. Or there is someone who is really in need. Okay, I minister and this has happened to me many times. And in that process, in that process I had been touched.

And suddenly I see the Gospel alive in my encounter with that sick person, in that encounter with that poor person. The words in Matthew 25:40 Whatever you do to the least of my brothers, you do to me. And I experience the Jesus in that person.

More than me doing something for that person, through him or her the Lord touches me, gives me the strength and affirms me that “Fabian, you still continue. This is where I want you.“

I was reminded by all that by today’s Gospel reading. One of the synagogue officials, Jairus, pleaded with Jesus to come to his daughter who was desperately sick. Jesus set out with him on this very important journey. On the way to the house of Jairus, Jesus had an encounter with a woman which delayed him. It took up precious time yet Jesus did not react angrily or dismiss her. Indeed, the contrary was the case.

My dear brothers and sisters, to appreciate this story, the context, or to understand who this person is is very important. For 12 years, she had suffered from a condition that not only caused her physical pain but also made her ritually unclean according to the Jewish law. Some of these practices are followed in certain cultures until today. This meant she was ostracised from her community. She couldn’t go into the temple to worship also. Living a life of isolation and rejection.

Yet she shows remarkable courage and faith by reaching out to touch Jesus’ cloak, believing that even this small act could bring her healing. When the woman touches Jesus’ cloak, she is healed instantly. When Jesus noticed that power had gone out from him because of the woman touching his clothing, he stopped, turned around in the crowd and asked: Who touched my clothing?

He wanted to meet this woman. In spite of the urgency of the journey on which he had set out, Jesus does not let her slip away unnoticed. He stops and seeks her out, gives her the dignity of being seen and heard. Let me repeat this: He stops and seeks her out and gives her the dignity of being seen.

My dear brothers and sisters, that is so important: Being seen and heard.

Eventually, the woman came forward, frightened and trembling, not knowing what to expect. Jesus addressed her in a very tender terms: My daughter.

“My Daughter” he said, “your faith has restored you to health.“

By calling her ‘daughter‘, Jesus not only heals her physically but restores her to her community, acknowledging her worth and place among God’s people. No more in isolation. No more ostracised. You are one of us. All of you, she is one of us.

He engaged her in a very personal way. He called her into a personal relationship with him. This was the task of the moment.

Now some people, for sure, and that has not changed until today, some people would have seen this encounter as an unfortunate interruption because as a result of the delay, Jairus’ daughter had died before Jesus could get to the home.

Yet, for Jesus, this encounter with the woman was of ultimate significance. It was a moment of grace. It was a prelude. It was a introduction to even more wonderful moment of grace in the house of Jairus. And Jesus before that assures Jairus saying: Do not fear. Only believe.

When Jesus arrives at Jairus’ house, he raises the girl from the dead, restoring her to life and reuniting her with her family. This aligns with a passage from Wisdom, the First Reading, which states that God did not make death. He desires life and health for His creation. God’s original intent is for wholeness. We must believe that. Not suffering. Not death. Even in the rites at the funeral, we hear “Life is not ended but changed.“

That is God for us. For our life continues.

The Gospel teaches us to embrace life’s interruptions. What seems like a distraction can be where God calls us. When plans go awry, it may open space for unexpected but valuable opportunities.

Jesus exemplifies this by fully engaging with the woman who touched his garment. Showing that attending to interruptions can be part of doing God’s work without neglecting other important tasks.

And I am sure I am not telling you something new because if you really look into your lives, you have probably similar experiences.

In our Second Reading, Saint Paul in his letter to the Corinthians encourages the community to excel in faith and love, emphasising generosity and equality. And this is the way we are called to respond in today’s Readings. 

This reflects God’s desire for us, for you and for me, to alleviate suffering and to preserve dignity of persons around us, and to help restore them to be part of the community, in the context of our lives, here and now.

As we reflect on these miraculous healings, let us also consider how you and I can be agents of healing and justice in our own communities.

How can we reach out to those who are suffering, marginalised or isolated?

How can we create spaces where people feel seen, people feel seen, heard, people feel loved?

In a world that often values independence and self-reliance, today’s Gospel calls us to a different way of being. It invites us to recognise our interconnectedness, our interconnectedness even in our interruptions. And to lean on each other in faith.

Whether we are like Jairus, advocating for a loved one, or like the woman seeking healing for ourselves, we are reminded that we do not walk this journey alone.

When we set out on a journey, my dear brothers and sisters, what happens on the way can be more important than arriving at our destination.

Let me repeat that: What happens on the way can be more important than arriving at our destination.

May we have the courage to reach out in faith, the compassion to support one another and the trust to believe in God’s power to heal and transform our lives.

Amen.

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