Encountering Christ
Original sermon given on The Second Sunday after Pentecost, June 7, 2026 written and delivered by Pastor Jeff Leininger at First Saint Paul’s Lutheran Church.
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“Encountering Christ”
Matthew 28.16-20
Encountering Christ
In the name of the Living God and the risen Christ. Amen.
This morning’s gospel squeezes together several people’s encounters with Christ all into one narrative. It at first appears too much, like a painting that’s too busy; or a film with too many subplots. It reminds me of the famous line from the film Amadeus where the emperor offers advice to Mozart (!) on a Mozart’s new composition: “Too many notes, simply too many notes… just cut a few, and it will be fine.” St. Matthew the tax collector; the Synagogue Ruler pleading for his daughter; an unclean woman with a medical condition; and the Ruler’s daughter herself raised. It’s a lot.
But like Mozart’s response to the emperor, if you’ve seen the film, I believe there are the perfect amount of “notes” in today’s reading. You see, each of these individuals encounter Christ in very different ways, for different reasons, with different needs, but they all get the same Jesus. This is comforting for us today, isn’t it? How diverse our needs, how different our prayers, how varied the ways we approach him, but the same savior receives us all.
Let’s start with Matthew, the Tax Collector. He doesn’t even approach Jesus at all actually. He’s totally just sitting there, counting his shekels, minding his own business, when Jesus intrudes into his life. Matthew doesn’t beg, reach out, fall before Jesus. There’s no dramatic moment recorded — although it must have been scandalous, as the dinner party makes clear. “This Jesus eats with tax collectors and sinners!” the Pharisees remark.
Unasked, Jesus calls out to him. Matthew’s life is unexpectedly invaded by the Man of Mercy — the friend of sinners and the fellowship-er with sinners. Up he stands, off he goes, following Jesus wherever he might lead — and we’re reading the very gospel Matthew recorded for us.
So, Jesus barges into Matthew’s work, but then this Ruler barges into Jesus’ work. We’re told more about him from the parallel gospel accounts. He’s the Synagogue Ruler in Capernaum, named Jairus — a prominent layman who leads the business and administrative end of the synagogue — certainly a position of great honor in that society. Unlike Matthew sitting at his tax booth, who doesn’t seek or ask, Jairus falls down before Jesus and begs, pleads. And with what boldness! “My daughter has just died but come place your hand and she will live.” This is an astounding prayer. Somehow, he recognizes Jesus’ power as greater even than death. Jairus intrudes into Jesus’ life and ministry, with the boldest and most audacious of all prayers.
But sandwiched into this story of a man’s bold prayer for his daughter, we encounter yet a third person’s encounter with Christ — and how different hers from his. She doesn’t face Jesus head on, but approaches from behind. She doesn’t call out to him but speaks only in whispers to herself. She is not an honored figure in the synagogue, nor a sinner with money like Matthew, but is unclean, unnoticed, unannounced. Her condition, perhaps some kind of uterine hemorrhage, means she is ritually unclean. So, the synagogue Ruler has both money and honor; Matthew has some money, but no honor. But she’s got neither money nor honor.
Again, we’re given more details from the other gospels. Luke describes the intensity of the crowds, pressing in on Jesus almost crushing him. Mark tells how her quack doctors eagerly take all her money for cures that will never work. The account we read this morning shows a timid, unclean woman, not even bold enough to ask, but stretching out a quivering hand just to touch the hem of Jesus’ garment. She does not lay herself front and center before Jesus with boldness, but quietly, secretly, from behind has faith: “If only I touch his garment,” and she is both healed and restored.
The last of the characters encountering Christ in today’s gospel — the finale in the musical piece with just the right amount of notes — is the Synagogue Ruler’s little girl, Jairus’ daughter. St. Luke gives us her age — she’s 12 — and the information that she’s his only daughter. We also know that she is actually dead (not just mostly dead), for the professional grieving unit has already showed up and Jairus was told not to even bother Jesus anymore.
But she’s not dead to Jesus, who is the Lord over life and death. He takes her cold hand in his, and lifts her out of her sleep of death, to stand renewed and alive before him.
Four people. Four encounters. Four scenes. Four “notes” but just the right amount. For in these diverse encounters with Christ, we are given a picture of the different ways we also encounter Christ.
Sometimes the Lord just sort of shows up (doesn’t he?) like with Matthew at the tax booth. He plops into our lives, calls us to follow, and off we go wherever he leads. There are other times when, like the Synagogue Ruler, we feel bold enough to lay ourselves bare before him, bold enough to ask the most audacious prayer in confidence and faith: “Come, put your hand on her, and she will live!” Many times, however, we’re rather like the woman with the issue of blood, unclean, unnoticed, unannounced, not even worthy enough to face him or even speak to him. “I don’t need much. Don’t want to bother him. There’s so many pressing in around him. Just the hem of his garment, is all I need, and I’ll be on my way.” All of us, however, one day — sooner or later, young or old, rich or poor, bold or timid, honored or unclean — all of us will lie down like the 12-year-old girl. We will lie down in death, and there’s only one hand which will have the power to raise us from our sleep of death.
However they first encountered him, however surprised, bold, timid, loud, quiet, front and center arms extended, or trembling hand from behind — even in the lifeless body of the girl — they all got the full Jesus, and none of them would ever be the same again.
You see, he is the Man of Mercy for all sinners; the Divine Doctor for every ill of the soul however we encounter him. He does not arrive according to our timetable, or in a manner we would choose. There’s no app that tracks him or map that follows him or bargaining which finally wins him over. Rather, the crucified, risen, ascended and reigning Lord remains always the friend of sinners all — however and whenever he meets them.
The same Lord who barged into Matthew’s booth, heard the prayers of a father for his child, felt the faith of an unclean woman, and grabbed the hand of a dead girl, went all the way to the cross in mercy for us. He himself dines with us this morning, in this holy meal where he is our guest, host, and main course.
And he is risen from the dead — just as he said — giving his word and promise power beyond anything we encounter in this world. He calls, forgives, hears, knows, loves, holds, raises.
We are reconciled before him by grace through faith, for no amount of sacrifices, no heaping piles of piety, no righteous deeds placed before him could ever be enough. But he is enough, who encounters us with his mercy, and enters into our lives this morning, as the friend of sinners, to fellowship with sinners.
Come soon Lord Jesus. Amen.
Image: JESUS MAFA. “Healing of the Daughter of Jairus” from Art in the Christian Tradition, a project of the Vanderbilt University Divinity Library, Nashville, TN. https://act.library.vanderbilt.edu/artworks/56455 [retrieved June 8, 2026]. Original source: http://www.librairie-emmanuel.fr (contact page: https://www.librairie-emmanuel.fr/contact).
