THOUGHTS OF A NUN

The New Eve Meets the New Adam

March 4, 2007

Mark 5:24b-34

On the surface of it, today’s Gospel passage is the story of a miraculous cure through the healing power of faith – something we get pretty used to when we read the gospels regularly.  I believe, though, that it carries a meaning that goes far beyond this simple concept, powerful though that may be on its own. This woman, through her bold action – born of desperation – seems to set in motion a healing that reaches far beyond herself.

To see this, we need to look at her story in its larger context.  Her healing comes in the middle of the story about Jairus’ daughter…a resurrection – or resuscitation – story that bears a lot of similarity to the story of the raising of Lazarus, which we will read together on the final Saturday of Lent.

It is no accident that this woman’s story is nestled into the raising of the daughter.  There is a web of similarities and contrasts connecting them.  The woman’s affliction has gone on for 12 years…the girl is 12 years old.  Jairus is an important person, a leader of the synagogue; the afflicted woman is a nobody – we don’t even know her name.  The central strand of that web is faith.  “Daughter”, says Jesus to the woman, “your faith has made you well, go in peace”.  Then, just a few verses later, he is saying to Jairus “do not fear, only have faith.”

So what happens to this woman is more than just another miraculous healing.  It points the way to the very conquering of death that we look forward to celebrating at the end of Lent.  In fact, tucked as it is into the heart of the resurrection story, what happens to the woman seems somehow to be the key that unlocks the mystery of the young girl’s salvation.  

So I’m going to give her a name.  I’m going to call her “Eve”.

Like the first Eve, this Eve breaks all the rules.  According to Levitical law, a woman in her condition was expected to separate herself from society, and in particular not to touch anything sacred.  But, like the first Eve, she chooses to reach out and take that which has been placed within her grasp.  

That’s where the similarity ends, though.  In all other ways, her story is just the reverse of Eve’s…kind of Eve spelt backwards.  The first Eve has everything, and loses it all.  Through her actions, she brings down punishment on herself and the whole human race: expulsion from the garden, with hard work and toil being the way food will be procured; death, with painful childbirth being the means through which life is carried on.  This New Eve has nothing left to lose, and gains new life.  The first Eve feels ashamed, and hides from God.  This New Eve feels terrible fear, but comes forward and confesses.  All of that, perhaps, is what makes this such an apt story to consider as we make our way deeper into the “bright sadness” that Alexander Schmemann calls the Lenten Journey.

The New Eve reached out and touched the cloak of the New Adam…so, next week, we will approach and touch the wood of his cross.

The New Eve told him “all the truth”, as we will attempt to do in our personal confessions over the coming weeks. 

But before we can do that, we need to realize that, like the New Eve, we have nothing to lose and everything to gain.  We need to bring ourselves to something approximating the state of this New Eve, and emulate her.  Not that we need to experience devastating illness or destitution, or despair.  But we need to recognize that we are not in control, to let go of our need to take care of our own destinies.  In fact, what we need to do is to enter fully and deeply into the prayer we recite in our daily Lenten services, the Prayer of St. Ephraim.

“Dispel from me the spirit of discouragement and slothfulness, of ambition and vain talk.  Instead give me the spirit of prudence and humility, of patience and charity”.

When I first met this prayer, it sounded kind of harsh to me.  I’ve worked pretty hard most of my life.  Who’s Ephraim to tell me I need to pray my way out of  “slothfulness”?  and what’s this about “ambition and vain talk”.  I’m supposed to fight off my slothfulness, but have no ambition?  I don’t understand.

Perhaps the problem is that we are used to thinking of slothfulness from the point of view of our American – dare I say, at least for myself, Protestant – work ethic.  That’s not the point.  The point is not lack of activity and busy-ness.  The point – and this I owe to Schmemann’s discussion of this prayer in his book on Great Lent – the point is to understand this condition, in Schmemann’s words, as

“that strange laziness and passivity of our entire being which always pushes us ‘down’ rather than ‘up’ – which constantly convinces us that no change is possible and therefore desirable.  It is in fact a deeply rooted cynicism which to every spiritual challenge responds “what for?” and makes our life one tremendous spiritual waste.  It is the root of all sin because it poisons the spiritual energy at its very source.”

It leads us, ultimately, it turns out, straight to that next problem, the ambition part…the idea that the only way to fix our situation is by abusing our relationship with others, by seeking and striving for power. 

But the New Eve shows us there is another way out of the dilemma.  In fact, there is only one way out – through the mercy of God.  By reaching out and touching – grabbing onto – Christ in faith.  As the power of love and life flowed from Christ into the New Eve, so may our spiritual energy be reversed – from the draining and enervating “discouragement and slothfulness” to the new life of  “prudence, humility, patience and charity” flowing from Christ.  We cannot make this reversal happen by ourselves, but we can bring it upon ourselves through faith.