Today, we celebrate the feast of Saint Blaise, the fourth-century physician-bishop martyr famous for saving a boy choking on a fishbone. We will get our throats blessed with crossed candles later at the end of the mass, but the intersection of Blaise’s medical background and today’s Gospel from Mark offers us a radical perspective on what it means to be truly well.
In the gospel today we meet two people at opposite ends of the social spectrum: Jairus, the "VIP", a synagogue leader, and an unnamed woman who has been hemorrhaging for twelve years. Usually, we focus on their faith. But today let’s look at their desperation through the eyes of a doctor like Blaise.
Making God Our Plan A
The woman didn't just have a physical ailment; she was a victim of a "healthcare system" that had failed her. Mark tells us she spent everything she had on physicians and only grew worse. Imagine the fatigue, not just biological, but the soul-crushing exhaustion of being a "case study" rather than a person. Then there is Jairus, a man of high status, reduced to falling at the feet of a traveling preacher because his power and status couldn't save his daughter.
There is a profound, and slightly humorous irony here: God seems to love it when our "Plan A" fails. Why? Because as long as we have a backup plan, we never actually touch the hem of His garment. We just window-shop for miracles.
Still Mattering
Consider the story of Dr. Paul Brand, a pioneering 20th-century surgeon who worked with leprosy patients. He once discovered that his patients weren't losing limbs because of the disease itself, but because they had lost the gift of pain. Without pain, they didn’t know when they were stepping on a sharp stone or touching a hot stove. Dr. Brand realized that pain is actually the body’s most intense way of saying, "I am still alive, and I matter."
The woman in the Gospel and Jairus were both in immense pain, one social, one emotional. But that pain was their compass; it navigated them toward the only person who doesn't just "fix" symptoms but restores identity. When the woman touches Jesus, He doesn’t say, "Your biology is corrected." He says, "Daughter." He gives her a family name. When He enters Jairus’s house, He tells the mourners the girl is "sleeping" a divine joke in the face of the ultimate "deadline" of death.
Christ in the Midst of It All
Saint Blaise understood this. He knew that the throat is not only the gateway for both breath and bread, but also for our voice. To have your throat blessed isn't just a superstitious insurance policy against a stray chicken or a fish bone. It is an invitation to speak the truth and to breathe in a life that isn't dictated by your condition.
The invitation for us today is this: let us stop trying to hide our hemorrhages or our dying situations from God to look respectable. Jesus isn't interested in our resume; He’s interested in our reach. Whether we are the prestigious leader or the exhausted outcast, the miracle happens in the "clutter" of the crowd, in the moments when we are messy, desperate, and reaching out.
So today, don’t just ask for a healthy throat. Ask for the courage to use that throat to cry out like Jairus, and the strength to use your hands to reach out like the woman.
- Today’s Readings
- Father Boby's inspirational homily was recorded live during Mass at the Father Peyton Center this morning. You can view the Mass (and the Rosary at the 30-minute mark) on the Family Rosary YouTube page.
- To join the Rosary and Mass Livestream, visit the Family Rosary YouTube or Facebook page at 11:30 a.m. Eastern, Monday – Friday. Consider inviting others to join, too! (*If you are not a member of Facebook and a signup window appears, simply select the X at the top of the pop-up message and continue to the livestream.)
