Tuesday in the 4th week of Ordinary Time, February 3, 2026

Mark 5:21-43

When Jesus had crossed again in the boat to the other side, a large crowd gathered around him, and he stayed close to the sea. One of the synagogue officials, named Jairus, came forward. Seeing him he fell at his feet and pleaded earnestly with him, saying, “My daughter is at the point of death. Please, come lay your hands on her that she may get well and live.” He went off with him and a large crowd followed him. There was a woman afflicted with hemorrhages for twelve years. She had suffered greatly at the hands of many doctors and had spent all that she had. Yet she was not helped but only grew worse. She had heard about Jesus and came up behind him in the crowd and touched his cloak. She said, “If I but touch his clothes, I shall be cured.” Immediately her flow of blood dried up. She felt in her body that she was healed of her affliction. Jesus, aware at once that power had gone out from him, turned around in the crowd and asked, “Who has touched my clothes?” But his disciples said to him, “You see how the crowd is pressing upon you, and yet you ask, Who touched me?” And he looked around to see who had done it. The woman, realizing what had happened to her, approached in fear and trembling. She fell down before Jesus and told him the whole truth. He said to her, “Daughter, your faith has saved you. Go in peace and be cured of your affliction.” While he was still speaking, people from the synagogue official’s house arrived and said, “Your daughter has died; why trouble the teacher any longer?” Disregarding the message that was reported, Jesus said to the synagogue official, “Do not be afraid; just have faith.” He did not allow anyone to accompany him inside except Peter, James, and John, the brother of James. When they arrived at the house of the synagogue official, he caught sight of a commotion, people weeping and wailing loudly. So he went in and said to them, “Why this commotion and weeping? The child is not dead but asleep.” And they ridiculed him. Then he put them all out. He took along the child’s father and mother and those who were with him and entered the room where the child was. He took the child by the hand and said to her, “Talitha koum,” which means, “Little girl, I say to you, arise!” The girl, a child of twelve, arose immediately and walked around. At that they were utterly astounded. He gave strict orders that no one should know this and said that she should be given something to eat.

This Gospel places us on the shoreline, where faith and desperation meet. Jesus has barely stepped out of the boat when he is met by need pressing in from every side. A synagogue official, Jairus — respected, public, responsible — falls at Jesus’ feet and begs for his daughter’s life. Almost immediately, another story interrupts his plea: a woman who has been suffering, silently and invisibly, for twelve long years.

Mark deliberately weaves these two stories together. They mirror one another, and they interpret each other.

Jairus’ daughter is twelve years old. The woman has been hemorrhaging for twelve years. One life is just beginning; the other has been quietly draining away. One crisis is public and urgent; the other has been private and prolonged. Yet both meet Jesus in the same way: through faith that reaches beyond fear.

The woman’s faith is especially striking. She does not ask to be noticed. She does not even speak aloud. She believes that contact with Jesus is enough that holiness flows outward from him, not inward toward him. And she is right. The moment she touches his garment, she is healed.

But Jesus does not let her disappear back into the crowd. He stops. He insists on meeting her. Not because he needs information — he already knows what has happened — but because he wants relationship, not anonymity. When she comes forward trembling, he does not rebuke her. He calls her “Daughter.” In a single word, he restores not only her body, but her place in the human family and before God.

Meanwhile, Jairus’ world seems to collapse. The delay has cost him everything—or so it appears. The message comes: Your daughter has died. Why trouble the teacher any longer? How often that voice speaks to us: It’s too late now. Don’t bother God anymore.

Jesus’ response is as simple as it is profound: “Do not be afraid; just have faith.” He asks Jairus to believe not only when healing seems possible, but when hope appears extinguished.

Inside the house, Jesus encounters noise, grief, and ridicule. Death is treated as final; Jesus treats it as temporary. He takes the child by the hand and speaks words of astonishing intimacy: “Little girl, arise.” The God who spoke creation into being now speaks quietly, personally, to a single child — and life returns.

Both healings tell us the same truth from different angles: faith is not a technique; it is trust placed in the person of Jesus. Whether that trust is bold and public, like Jairus’, or trembling and hidden, like the woman’s, it is enough — because the power lies not in the strength of faith, but in the one in whom faith is placed.

And notice the final detail: Jesus tells them to give the girl something to eat. Resurrection does not abolish ordinary life; it restores it. Grace does not fly above human need — it comes down and meets it.

This Gospel assures us that no suffering is too small to notice, no delay too dangerous for God, and no death too final for Christ. Whether we come forward loudly or reach out in silence, the same Lord meets us, stops for us, and says: Do not be afraid. Have faith.