And behold, a man came, whose name was Jairus, and he was [a] ruler of the synagogue, and falling at the feet of Jesus besought him to come to his house,
Jesus has just come back across the lake, and a crowd is waiting when a man named Jairus pushes through and drops at His feet. He is a ruler of the synagogue — an official of the local place of worship — and he asks one thing: that Jesus come home with him.
Luke gives us both the man's name and his job. Writers point out how unlikely it was to find such a man at Jesus' feet.
Notice that the leading person in this episode was not one of the common people. Earlier in this Gospel history, the events were about common people. Jairus, the man asking, was a man of social and religious standing. He also came from the very class that actively opposed Jesus. Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea were honourable exceptions. Of the rest it was once asked with scorn, "Have any of the authorities or the Pharisees believed in him?" (John 7:48). So the Lord's mercy to this ruler shows that He is rich toward all who call on Him.
For such a man, the act of going down at Jesus' feet in public carried weight.
Jairus, coming to Jesus in his distress, showed Him reverence by falling at His feet — a mark of respect all the more striking because it came from a person of local standing such as a ruler of the synagogue was. The trouble of Jairus concerned his affections as a parent. He had one only daughter, about twelve years of age, and she lay dying.
He asked only that Jesus come to his house. Writers describe what that appeal reached in Christ.
He went to the house of Jairus at the earnest request of the sorrowing father. It was faith, so to speak, laying hold of the heart of Christ and pressing Him to answer its appeal. It was the heart of Christ delighting to meet the need of one who was casting his burden of sorrow on Him in full confidence. What comfort! What encouragement for every burdened soul, whatever the grief or pain! Come to Christ and draw out the sympathy and help of His grace and love, which never fail and never run dry. Truly all such will find that He has a heart for every sorrow.
Jairus asked Jesus to come to him. Writers explain why he asked in that way.
Jairus, the ruler of the synagogue, appeals to the Lord. "Falling at Jesus' feet, he implored Him to come to his house." This was how a Jew expected to be healed — the Messiah would come to his place.
Commentators also point out a limit in his faith:
Jairus, a ruler of the synagogue, fell at His feet, deeply broken because his little daughter was at the point of death. He did not have the faith of the Gentile centurion of Matthew 8:8-10. He thought the Lord had to come to his home to heal the young girl. The Lord graciously went with him.
One writer finds meaning in the name Jairus itself.
Jair means "the enlightener," and he was a ruler of the synagogue. His name and his position may both show us the failure and the power of law. The law had said, "Do this, and you will live." But life, as he admits, is only in the hands of Jesus. His sense of extreme need drives him to Jesus. When the law shuts us up to faith in Jesus like this, it is doing its right work.
Writers see a larger picture in the dying daughter.
In verse 41 we have Jairus' daughter, who lay dying. Here is a picture of Israel. The Lord was going to heal Israel, who was just like someone dying. But on the way the people crowd around Him. What He came to do, He did. Whoever could touch Him by faith received healing, as the activities of grace went out from Him.
What Jairus asked for was prevention. What he received was something larger.
In his affliction Jairus found his resource in an appeal to the Lord. He was heard, yet the coming disaster was not prevented, as he no doubt expected with more or less faith. Circumstances combined to hinder, and the Lord did not change the circumstances. Yet the appeal of Jairus did not fall on deaf ears. It was answered with a fullness of power that went beyond the father's faith, and the girl was restored to life.
- Need brings him. A ruler of the synagogue, from the class that opposed Jesus, is driven to His feet by his daughter's dying. Mercy meets him there.
- Need shapes his asking. He asks the Lord to come to his house, the way a Jew expected help from the Messiah. His faith was real, but smaller than the centurion's.
- Need lays hold of Christ's heart. He casts his sorrow on Jesus in full confidence, and Christ delights to meet it — an invitation to every burdened person.
- Need pictures a nation. The dying girl stands for Israel, whom the Lord came to heal while crowds pressed around Him.
- Need is answered beyond itself. The disaster was not prevented and the circumstances did not change. Yet the answer went past what the father asked for or believed.
because he had an only daughter, about twelve years old, and she was dying. And as he went the crowds thronged him.
Jairus, a ruler of the synagogue — the leader of a local Jewish place of worship — falls at the feet of Jesus. His one child is dying, and the Lord goes with him at once. Two details shape all that follows: the girl is an only daughter of twelve, and a crowd blocks the road to her bedside.
One writer traces that small word through Luke's Gospel and links it to the heart of the One who heard the father:
These small touches match the human tones that run graciously through the mind of the Lord in this Gospel. And the little word "only" belongs to Luke alone. It is used of Jairus's daughter, of the man whose child had an evil spirit, and here of the widow of Nain. Such a word would appeal to the tender heart of the Son of Man, and it is lovely and touching in its place. I wish we caught more of the same tender spirit, while we delight to discover it in Jesus!
Jairus asks the Lord to come and lay hands on his child. He is sure that would be enough.
Jairus, a ruler of the synagogue at Capernaum, had an only daughter (Luke 8:42) who was at the point of death. Sorrow had clearly bowed the father's heart. He fell at the feet of Christ and "implored Him earnestly, saying, 'My little daughter is at the point of death. Come and lay Your hands on her, so that she may be made well and live.'" He was sure of the outcome, if only the Lord would go to the house. At once the Lord responded, and went with him.
Asking the Lord to come was what a Jew expected. One writer also sees the nation's own condition in the dying girl:
This was the way a Jew expected to be healed — by the Messiah coming to his place. "He had an only daughter, about twelve years of age, and she was dying." Such was the condition of the daughter of Zion at that moment. Israel was proving that there was no life in them; but Christ is asked, and He goes for the purpose of healing Israel.
The people who crowd Jesus on this walk are not commended. Their nearness to Him gains them nothing.
The expectation of a miracle had brought a crowd around the Lord for a moment... It was mostly an idle crowd, exactly the sort that would soon be shouting, "Away with Him! Away with Him! Crucify Him!" There is no hint of anything better in them. Their thronging and pressing on Him was no good sign, but the opposite... No power went out of Him whom they pressed on, for their need, if they had any. They had no real dealing with Him at all.
In that same crowd, one woman touched Him in faith. The Lord did not treat the two touches alike:
The crowd was so thick that many people were bound to touch the Lord (Luke 8:45). But the Lord knows all things, and He would not confuse the touch of faith with the rude push of a curious crowd. He makes the same distinction today. Great numbers throng "places of worship" from all kinds of motives. Among them are true hearts who truly seek Him in humble faith.
The delay on the road did not stop the death Jairus feared. One writer draws out what that means for prayer:
The daughter was a child of twelve, so she was just entering the age of responsibility. The father was a ruler of the synagogue. The disaster hanging over them was the final one of death. In his distress Jairus found his resource in an appeal to the Lord. He was heard, yet the coming disaster was not prevented, as he no doubt expected with more or less faith. Circumstances combined to hinder, and the Lord did not change the circumstances. Yet Jairus' appeal did not fall on deaf ears. It was answered with a fullness of power that went beyond the father's faith, and the girl was restored to life.
The girl's age matches the length of the woman's illness. One writer reads the two together:
The woman's disease had lasted twelve years, and the dead girl was twelve years old. Putting the two together, we see in the child the only possible end of what was at work in the woman.
- Only. The child is an only daughter. That little word belongs to Luke alone, and it suits the tender heart of the Son of Man.
- Dying. Jairus asks only that Jesus come and lay hands on her. The Lord goes at once. One writer sees Israel in that dying girl — no life left in her.
- Thronged. The crowd pressing on Jesus draws no power from Him. He still tells the touch of faith from the push of curiosity.
- Delayed. The Lord did not remove the hindrance, and the child died. Yet the answer went far beyond the father's faith.
- Twelve. Her age matches the woman's twelve-year illness. What was at work in the woman ends, in the child, in death — and only His power reverses it.
And a woman who had a flux of blood since twelve years, who, having spent all her living on physicians, could not be cured by any one,
On the way to a dying girl's bedside, a woman in the crowd was past all help. For twelve years an illness had drained her strength and her money, and no one could cure her.
The verse shuts every human door. She had not ignored her illness. She had tried every cure money could buy.
Humanly speaking, her case was hopeless. She had already spent all she had on doctors, but it did no good. Her cure, if it was to happen at all, must be free, and it must be a miracle.
The length of her illness is not a stray detail. One writer reads the number itself as part of the picture. (The phrases he quotes come from an older translation of Mark's account of the same woman.)
She had been ill for twelve years. She had "suffered many things," had "spent all," was "nothing bettered," but "rather grew worse." Twelve is the number that speaks of completeness in matters of human administration. Here it was complete misery. Every human resource proved a frustrating disappointment, not a cure. Complete poverty was the result, for she had "spent all."
She paid everything she owned and got nothing. The physician she was about to reach works on other terms.
Christ is the cheapest physician of all — He takes no fee… He wants us to bring Him nothing but broken hearts. When He has cured us, He wants us to give Him nothing but our love.
Her trouble was not only physical. Under the law of Israel her condition made her unclean, and one writer sees in that a picture of every sinner.
Her hopeless situation is a telling picture of a sinner. The picture is not so much of his blindness (the inability to see God's glory) or lameness (the inability to come to Him). Rather, the sinner is not only unclean but a constant source of defilement to others (see Leviticus 15:19 onwards). Her case also shows how unable human means are to deal with the problem of sin. The statement that she had "suffered" many things from many physicians underlines this.
What she believed about Christ was therefore remarkable.
How great her trial and sorrow must have been during those twelve years of uncleanness. Greater still was her faith, and the testimony she gave to the holy Person of our Lord. Everything that came into contact with such an unclean person became unclean. She believed her touch could not make Christ unclean, because He is holy. She also believed that His power could heal her.
Luke places her story inside another story. Jairus's daughter was about twelve years old; the woman had been ill for twelve years. Read side by side, the two cases say one thing.
The woman's disease had lasted twelve years and the dead girl was twelve years of age. Putting the two together, we see in the child the only possible end of what was at work in the woman.
Some writers also read this interruption on a larger scale, as a picture of Israel and its Messiah.
Christ was on His way to heal the nation. But on the way the poor woman came to Him. She had suffered a discharge of blood for twelve years. She had come to the end of all resources, whether in herself or in others, as she looked for a cure and found none. She came in the energy of faith, and at once she got relief. This is what has happened. The nation of Israel refused their Messiah. But faith proved His ability to save even while He was on earth, and it still proves it now that He is on high.
- Twelve years — the number speaks of a full and finished misery. She tried everything, and nothing worked.
- Spent all — human help took everything she had and gave nothing back. Her search for a cure left her poor.
- Shut out — the law made her unclean, and a source of defilement to others. Her disease cost her company as well as strength.
- Free and miraculous — every payment had failed, so her cure could only be a gift. The true Physician takes no fee. He asks only for a broken heart.
- The end and the answer — the dead child of twelve shows where the woman's twelve years were heading. The faith that reached Christ on the road still reaches Him now.
coming up behind, touched the hem of his garment, and immediately her flux of blood stopped.
Jesus was walking to the house of a dying girl when a woman nobody noticed reached from behind and touched the edge of His clothing. Why did her touch heal her when a whole crowd was pressing against Him, and why would the Lord not let it stay secret?
Twelve years had ended in nothing, so the cure, when it came, had to come as a gift.
Humanly speaking, her case was hopeless. She had already spent everything she had on physicians, with no result. If a cure was to happen at all, it had to be free and miraculous. She spoke to no one. She did not ask even an Apostle to help her; nor did she, like Jairus, fall at the Lord's feet and beg for His compassion.
The word points to something specific. Every Israelite had to wear a tassel on the edge of his clothing. She reached for that tassel with a faith that was far from perfect.
"Tassel," the fringe of Numbers 15:38 and Deuteronomy 22:12. Norris: "Faith, though disfigured by superstition, may still be blessed."
The law treated her illness as uncleanness, not just weakness. Her faith counted on one exception to it.
How great her trial and her sorrow must have been during the twelve years of her uncleanness. Greater still was her faith and the testimony she bore to the holy Person of our Lord. Everything that came in touch with such an unclean person became unclean. She believed her touch could not make Christ unclean, because He is holy. She also believed His power could heal her.
The contact ran the opposite way from what the law led anyone to expect.
Jesus is the only One who was ever here who could not be defiled. The touch did not pass any uncleanness into Him. Instead, power went out of Him to drive off the power of death and wipe out the stain.
Many bodies pressed against Him that day. Only one hand drew anything from Him.
His question also brought something else to light. Many had been touching Him in different ways, yet no other touch had drawn any power from Him. Why was this? Because, of all the touches, hers was the only one that sprang out of a sense of need, and faith. When these two things are present the touch is always effective.
There was no waiting and no room for doubt. Two people knew what had happened, each in a different way.
The woman got what she looked for and wanted at once; the cure was immediate. It is very blessed to think of what happened after this. She knew in her body that she was healed, and Jesus knew that power had gone out of Him. You could not persuade that woman, if you talked with her from morning to night, that she had not got the relief. She knew it by receiving the blessing; He knew it because the power went out of Him into her.
Her wasted years and failed treatments hold up a mirror. Writers see in them the human effort to fix what only Christ can fix.
The woman had spent all she had on physicians with no good result. What a picture of people trying to cure their ills by good works, charity work and religions of every kind! But it is Christ they need. Sin is draining away their very life-blood, and sin will not yield to human treatment. She only touched the hem of the Lord's garment, and she was healed at once. The simplest touch of faith taps the great resources of His power. His power could heal her disease. But His own death and blood-shedding were needed to take away sin, and her disease was a picture of sin.
She would have gone home healed and satisfied. He stopped her, because getting relief is not the same as knowing the One who gives it.
She had not touched the Lord in vain; she had got relief and was going away satisfied with that. But the Lord was not satisfied with that. He wanted her to know more than the power that could heal her; He wanted her to know the love He had for needy ones like her... Knowing the grace that saves us is wonderful. Knowing the One the grace comes from is the greater blessing.
- Empty — twelve years, every physician tried, every coin spent: a cure could only come free and by miracle.
- Edge — she claimed nothing but the tassel on His clothing, and faith can be blessed even when it is mixed with superstition.
- Reversed — her touch should have made Him unclean; instead, power passed out of Him into her.
- Distinguished — a crowd pressed Him, but only the touch of need and faith drew power; that touch always works.
- Enlarged — she would have settled for the cure; He stopped her so she would know the Person the grace comes from.
And Jesus said, Who has touched me? But all denying, Peter and those with him said, Master, the crowds close thee in and press upon thee, and sayest thou, Who has touched me?
A crowd is crushing in on Jesus, and out of that crush one woman reaches for His clothes. His question — who touched Him? — sounds impossible to answer, and the whole verse turns on the difference between the crowd's pressure and her touch.
Everyone denies touching Him, and Peter's reply tries to make the question go away. Jesus will not let it drop. He insists that what happened was neither an accident nor the shove of a crowd.
A woman with an urgent need crossed His path. She had spent everything she had on doctors, and no one could cure her. It was, humanly speaking, a hopeless case... It was useless for Peter or the others to explain it away, when all denied it. It was useless to say that the crowd was pressing in, and so why ask who touched Him. The Lord stood by it: somebody had touched Him. It was not a crowd's pressure. It was not an accident. It was clearly one person who had touched Him. There was the real resort of faith, however weak.
Peter's objection makes good sense. That is its weakness — it counts the crowd but not the One asking.
The disciples judged the Lord's question by "common sense," which always deceives in the things of God. This case called for faith, not common sense. All the circumstances in it were the reverse of common. They ignored how unique the One asking was. If they had not, Peter and the others would never have said, in that dismissive way, "Master, the crowds surround you and are pressing in on you — and you say, Who touched me?"
The ESV ends the verse at "pressing in on you!" The words after that come from an older translation.
Many bodies pressed against Him. One hand drew from Him. The verse turns on that difference, and three words catch it.
But Jesus distinguished between the touch of faith and the jostle of idle curiosity. It has been said, "Flesh presses; faith touches." The crowd was there to hear or see some new thing... But the woman's touch was of a different order. The contact of her finger expressed a deeply felt need for the Lord's mercy to step in on her behalf. It also expressed her confidence that the mercy she needed was there in the person of Jesus. She could find it nowhere else in this sad and disappointing world.
If many were touching Him all the time, the obvious question is why power went out for her alone.
The Lord, of course, knew who had touched Him and why, and that power had gone out from Him. But the disciples' question raises an interesting point. With all the pushing and shoving, many people were touching the Lord all the time. So why did power go out for this one woman alone, with a life-changing effect? Was she the only one who had a need? Surely not. It was the woman's attitude that made all the difference. She had come to Him with a deep sense of her need. She knew she could not solve the problem herself. She came in faith that Jesus, and Jesus only, could heal her.
He already knew who had touched Him. So He asked for her sake, not for information.
Why did the Lord bring about this situation? We can be quite sure it was not to embarrass her but to bless her. Had the Lord simply let her go, she would have felt that her act was unauthorised and her healing a stolen blessing. She would also have missed the chance to really meet and get to know her benefactor. The Lord wanted her not only to be healed, but to know that He had blessed her, willingly and permanently... Her safety was not to be based on her feelings, but on His word.
The scene repeats itself wherever people gather around Christ's name.
Peter, always ready, objected to the question. The crowd was such that many were bound to be touching the Lord (Luke 8:45). But divine omniscience was not likely to confuse the touch of faith with the rough push of a curious crowd. In the same way He tells apart today the great crowd who fill "places of worship" for all sorts of reasons, and the true hearts among them who really seek Him in humble faith.
- Pressing — the crowd pressed against Him and got nothing. Being near Christ in a crowd is not touching Him.
- Touching — one woman came with a deep need and the belief that He alone could heal. Her touch alone drew power.
- Knowing — the disciples answered from common sense and missed who was asking. He knew the difference between a jostle and faith.
- Asking — He raised the question to bless her, not to expose her. Then her healing would not feel stolen, and her peace would rest on His word.
- Applying — the same two groups stand around Him still. The question is not whether you are in the crowd, but whether you have touched Him in faith.
And Jesus said, Some one has touched me, for *I* have known that power has gone out from me.
The crowd was pressing in on Jesus from every side, yet He stopped and said that one person had touched Him. How could He tell one touch from a thousand, and what was the power that went out of Him?
The objection sounds reasonable. In that crush, everyone was touching Him. Jesus refused to accept it.
It was no use to say that the crowd was pressing round Him, so why ask who touched Him. The Lord held to it: somebody had touched Him. It was not the crowd's pressure. It was not an accident. It was clearly one person who had touched Him. In that touch was the real appeal of faith, however weak. Crowding around Him could draw no power out of Him. That was not how Jesus healed.
The crowd and the woman wanted different things from the same Person, and He read the difference.
It has been said, "Flesh presses; faith touches." The multitude were there to hear or see something new. They were driven by the common craze for novelty… But the touch of the woman was of a different order. The contact of her finger expressed a deeply-felt need for the mercy of Jehovah to step in on her behalf. It also expressed her confidence that the mercy she needed was there for her in the person of Jesus. She could find it nowhere else in this sad and disappointing world.
The healing power did not come from her. It was in Him, and faith drew on it.
Luke 8:46 and 6:19: it is the power to heal which resided in Christ, and became effective when the touch of faith was there.
Jesus did not have to look around and guess. His question was not ignorance, and the same discernment operates now.
God, who knows all things, was not likely to confuse the touch of faith with the rude push of a curious crowd. He makes the same distinction today. Many people crowd into "places of worship" for all sorts of reasons. Among them are true hearts who really seek Him in humble faith.
The verse says He knew because He perceived it. One writer explains what that perceiving was.
He knew this not by carefully noting the actions and character on show in those around Him. He perceived in His spirit, and knew in Himself, the unspoken thoughts and choices taking shape, moment by moment, inside the hidden souls of men. He saw them as clearly as He saw physical things that others could only know through their senses.
She had what she came for and was ready to disappear. His question exposed her in front of everyone — and it was kindness.
We can be quite sure that it was not to embarrass but to bless her. If the Lord had simply let her go, she would have felt that she had no right to do it, and that her healing was a stolen blessing. She would also have missed the chance to meet and get to know the One who had helped her. The Lord did not want her only to be healed. He wanted her to know that He had blessed her, gladly and for good… Her safety was not to rest on her feelings, but on His word.
The power that left Him met her body. He then gave her something the healing alone could not.
She had not ventured to touch the Lord in vain, she had got relief and was going away satisfied with that. But the Lord was not satisfied with that. He wanted her to know more than the power that could heal her. He wanted her to know the love He had for people in need like her… Knowing the grace that saves us is wonderful. But knowing the One from whom the grace comes is the greater blessedness.
His question also brought her out into the open. One writer draws a lesson from that for everyone who receives from Him.
She had received from Him; now she must acknowledge it. She received it in secret. She must confess it openly. That was only right. Is it not the same now? If we have received an even greater blessing — life and salvation, bought at the cost of His atoning death — should we not confess it openly?
- Need — her touch carried a deeply felt need, and the certainty that mercy was in Jesus and nowhere else.
- Touch — crowding is not contact. Pressure drew nothing out of Him. One touch of faith drew everything.
- Power — the healing power was in Christ Himself. It worked the moment faith reached for it.
- Word — He asked His question not to shame her but to bless her, so her safety rested on His word and not on her feelings.
- Person — the greatest gift was not the cure but the Healer. Relief brought her to the One whose love had relieved her, and sent her out to confess Him openly.
And the woman, seeing that she was not hid, came trembling, and falling down before him declared before all the people for what cause she had touched him, and how she was immediately healed.
The woman had hoped to take her healing quietly and slip away in the crowd. Instead she stands exposed in front of everyone. Why would the Lord, who had already healed her, not let her go in secret?
She had every reason to stay hidden. What opened her up was not pressure but His presence.
The woman hid herself, for there was shame in her. She was aware of the disease that had needed healing. "But she could not be hid." The heart always shrinks from opening up while it is turned in on itself. But when it looks at Christ, it opens to Him. That is always the effect of being in the presence of Jesus. Shame, reputation, character, all give way before the sense of what He is.
Her fear was not shyness. Under the law her condition made her unclean.
Because He knew her secret act, she had caught a glimpse of the divine majesty of Him whose garment she had touched. And while He was so holy and so mighty, how unworthy was she! Was she not, according to the requirement of Jehovah's sacred law, a polluted and defiled woman (Lev. 15:19)? Had not the stern command gone out that if any man or animal touched the mountain of Jehovah's holiness, it must be stoned (Ex. 19:12-13)? Jehovah, who came down on Mount Sinai long ago, was now in Capernaum. So the woman came to Jesus in fear and trembling. She had become the vessel of His power, but she did not yet know the word of His grace.
The Lord's question looks harsh until you ask what she would have carried home without it.
Why did the Lord bring about this situation? We can be quite sure that it was not to embarrass her but to bless her. Had the Lord simply let her go, she would have felt that her act was unauthorised, and her healing a stolen blessing. She would also have missed the chance to meet and get to know her benefactor. The Lord wanted her not only to be healed but to know that He had blessed her, willingly and with permanent effect. He did not want her to go away without hearing His words "go in peace". Her safety did not rest on her feelings, but on His word.
She did nothing heroic. She confessed in the only way she could.
She did not stand up and declare in a polished speech the blessing she had received from Him, confessing the One who had healed her. That would have been going outside her proper place and position. Nor did she face the proud Pharisees in private, as the man in John 9 did. She was only a poor, weak woman, and she did not have the courage for that.
Instead she spoke to Jesus, and the crowd overheard.
She confessed to Him — surely an easy and delightful task — and in confessing to Him, she confessed before all the people.
(The older reading says she declared it to Him before all the people. The ESV says "in the presence of all the people.")
What happened to her once, the Epistles later state as a rule for everyone.
The disciples of Jesus heard her declare "why she had touched him, and how she had been immediately healed." The confession of her lips completed the faith in her heart, and everyone present heard it. The Epistles teach this same pairing of faith and confession as the two things required from man for his blessing through the gospel: "For with the heart one believes and is justified, and with the mouth one confesses and is saved. For the Scripture says, 'Everyone who believes in him will not be put to shame'" (Rom. 10:10-11).
Private dealings with Christ come first. The public word follows, and the trembling is normal.
Anyone must first deal with Jesus, and learn the lessons of His healing grace in secret, before he can truly confess Him before others. Jesus turned around in the crowd. She heard His voice. His loving eye picked her out from among thousands. The woman fell down before Him and told Him all the truth "before all the people." With fear and trembling, I admit, as we all feel when we first leave the long-familiar ranks of unbelief.
- Hidden. Shame keeps the heart closed. Standing in front of Christ opens it, and reputation gives way to who He is.
- Faced. The Lord stopped her not to shame her but to bless her — so the cure would not feel stolen and she would meet the One who gave it.
- Feared. Her trembling was real: an unclean woman had touched the Holy One, and she did not yet know His grace, only His power.
- Confessed. She made no speech. She spoke to Jesus, and the crowd heard. That is confession the most timid person can manage.
- Sent. Faith in the heart, confession with the mouth, then His own word of peace. Her assurance rested on what He said, not on how she felt.
And he said to her, [Be of good courage,] daughter; thy faith has healed thee; go in peace.
A woman healed in secret is now standing in front of the whole crowd, having just told Jesus everything. She was already healed and could have slipped away unseen. His answer shows why He stopped her.
His first word to her is a family name. She came for healing and left holding something she had not known she could claim. (Some translations of this verse also include the words "Be of good comfort.")
She did not know when she came up that she had a title to Himself. So she modestly retreated as a debtor. It is very right that a debtor should carry herself with humility; but Christ is more to you and me than that. The healer puts Himself into relationship. When He asked after her she began to tremble. Her faith had measured her title to touch Him. But she was not ready to look at Him when He called her face to face — not until He said, "Daughter, be of good comfort." There is no spirit of liberty in our souls if we do not know relationship.
He credits her faith, but the healing did not come out of her faith. It came out of Him, and faith was how she reached it.
Faith knows our need. It also knows we are helpless to meet that need. And it sees something of the excellence of the Person of Jesus — it sees that in Him there is grace and power to meet the need. Faith also makes a person humble. The needy soul is ready to take the lowly place and to say, like the woman, "If I only touch the fringe of His garment, I will be made well." We do not have to do some great thing to secure the blessing. That would only feed our pride. We become willing to be nothing and to give Christ all the glory. The power is in Christ, not in the faith. The touch of faith secures the blessing by putting us in touch with the One who holds all the merit.
The blessing was never attached to the cloth she touched.
Nothing here encourages any superstitious reverence for the tassel of His robe that she touched. The Lord declared to the woman in the hearing of all that the faith within her had saved her, or made her whole.
She was already healed before He spoke. What her confession gained her was His word.
By His questions Jesus brought the woman to the point of confession. In keeping with the spirit of the gospel, the faith of her heart had to come out in the confession of her lips. That brought her more blessing, for she received the words, "Your faith has made you well; go in peace." Without that word, the dread that her illness would come back might have shadowed her mind. Her faith, shown in the touch, brought the healing. Her confession brought out the word of assurance that set her mind at ease. How many people today lack the full assurance of salvation because they have lacked the courage to confess His Name fully.
She had felt the change in her body. He did not leave her standing on that feeling.
She received more than the feeling of being healed. She also received the full, definite assurance from the lips of the Son of God that her faith had made her well. Every believer must have the clear, authoritative Word of God about the absolute certainty of his eternal salvation. Nothing but this can give certainty. With His Word, she may well indeed "go in peace."
The phrase was an ordinary parting greeting in that world. Jesus said the same words to one other person.
One woman came to Him in Simon the Pharisee's house for the forgiveness of sins. He said to her what He said to this woman who came to Him for a physical benefit: "Your faith has saved you; go in peace" (Luke 7:50). Because of this connection we can rightly treat these words as carrying more weight than the ordinary farewell greeting of that region. Peace, as it is meant here, is something the soul owns inside. It is the opposite of worry and anxiety, which at their worst can rise in a person from a sense of guilt before God or from the fear of death. Only assurance from God can drive that anxiety away. So peace follows faith, and it belongs to the mind and heart.
Even the first word of the two carries weight. He sends her off; He does not leave her hovering.
Some people never seem to learn its force in their experience. They may be sincere believers. But they hang about Christ with doubts, and they do not know the forgiveness of sins or present peace. They keep asking Him to make them whole and hoping for pardon, when Christ says to them, You are forgiven: "Go."
- Touch — the power was in Christ, not in her faith or in His clothing; faith put her in contact with the One who had it all.
- Confession — He healed her in secret, but assurance came only after she said out loud what He had done.
- Daughter — He did not send her off as a debtor who took something; He named a relationship she had not dared claim.
- Word — He moved her certainty off her feelings and onto His spoken sentence, which holds when feelings fade.
- Peace — "Go" ends the hovering, and "in peace" is inward calm in place of guilt and fear, the same word He gave the forgiven woman in Luke 7:50.
While he was yet speaking, comes some one from the ruler of the synagogue, saying to him, Thy daughter is dead; do not trouble the teacher.
Jesus is still speaking with the woman He has just healed. Then a runner arrives from the house of Jairus, a ruler of the synagogue. The girl has died, he says, so there is no point in troubling the Teacher any longer. The verse sets two things side by side: a delay that cost a father everything, and a human verdict on what Christ can do.
Jesus had stopped on the road, and the stop cost the man who was waiting on Him.
Yet this created a delay which must have tested the urgently pleading Jairus most severely. And while the Lord was still speaking to the healed woman, someone comes from the ruler's house saying, "Your daughter is dead: do not trouble the Teacher." But an answer came to feed his drooping faith: "Fear not; only believe, and she shall be made well."
The words sound considerate. Commentators read them as the crowd's plain common sense about death, and weigh what that politeness was worth.
They expressed what would be the practical, matter-of-fact opinion of the people, if not of the apostles too: "What could the prophet of Nazareth do when death had seized its prey?" Believing He could do nothing, they would trouble Him no further. But, as an old writer quaintly puts it: "Here were more manners than faith — 'Do not trouble the Master.' Unbelief is all for sparing trouble, and thinks every good work tiresome. What nature counts a burden is pleasing and delightful to grace. Is it any trouble for a hungry man to eat? Saviour, it was Your food and drink to do Your Father's will. And His will was that You should carry our griefs and take away our sorrows. Our coming to ask You again and again is our happiness; it cannot be Your trouble."
Behind the polite phrasing, one writer sees an enemy at work.
On this ground of unbelief, Satan soon sends in the verdict of hopelessness: "Why are you still troubling the Teacher?" It all had the mark of Israel, the world, and its worldly state... Now Jesus must act in resurrection or not at all. But He ministers in grace against the schemes of the enemy who suggests it was too late.
Luke does not soften the report. One writer points out that the Greek verb here is the exact one for a settled state of death.
Strictly, apethanen says only that someone died. Still, death is final for the present, so the word can stand for the condition of death, which it implies: if one died, one is dead. But where exact precision is intended, the perfect tense appears — as in Luke 8:49, "Your daughter is dead," tethneken.
That finality is the point. The messenger's reasoning is sound — for man.
But now the news is brought that the child is dead: why trouble the Teacher any more? Death, for man, is the end of hope; and, as far as he is concerned, it is meant to be so. For this very reason, it is here that God can show Himself where man is powerless. "Do not be afraid," says the Lord in answer to such a message; "only believe." Unbelief may claim its right to mourn and weep, unreal as much even of this is; but it is faith alone that can see the glory of God.
Notice, too, who speaks first.
Before Jairus could speak to the Lord, the Lord addressed him: "Fear not; only believe, and she will be well." What limit could be set to the power that answers faith?
One writer reads the scene as a picture of the nation the Lord came to. The case proves worse than anyone thought, and He is more than equal to it.
Such turns out to be the real condition of Israel — not sick only, but dead. But Jesus carried within Himself the secret of resurrection. He is equal to every emergency. He knew both the girl's need and His own mighty power infinitely better than they did. He did not come down to do what others might have done. An angel may stir the pool of Bethesda for a man not too weak to step in at once. The Son gives life to whom He will.
The interruption on the road belongs to the same picture, and reaches into the present.
We may trace here a likeness to the present ways of God. He is still on the way to raise the "daughter of Israel" up to life and blessing. Meanwhile others — and those mainly Gentiles — are giving the touch of faith and getting the blessing.
- Delay — The pause to bless the woman tested Jairus severely, and the news of death came during it.
- Message — "Do not trouble the Teacher" was courtesy without faith. Unbelief thinks every good work is a bother.
- Verdict — Luke's word is precise: she is dead. Death is the end of man's hope, and it was meant to be.
- Reversal — Where man is powerless, God shows Himself. The Lord speaks before the father can, and faith alone sees His glory.
- Picture — Israel is not sick only, but dead. He carries resurrection in Himself, and meanwhile faith's touch draws blessing on the way.
But Jesus, hearing it, answered him saying, Fear not only believe, and she shall be made well.
The child was dead. As far as men could see, that closed the case, and there was no reason to trouble the Teacher further. Jesus does not argue with the news. He gives Jairus something to stand on while it is still ringing in his ears.
The timing of the Lord's answer is part of the mercy. He does not wait for the father to react.
If a gracious Lord had not seen the danger and stopped his rising unbelief, perhaps the father's hope would have perished too. Then no room would have been left for this miracle, because faith, the necessary condition, would have been missing. "As soon as Jesus heard the word that was spoken, He says to the ruler of the synagogue, Be not afraid, only believe." There is something very gracious in that "as soon as." The Lord spoke at once. He left no time for a thought of unbelief to slip into the father's mind, much less to come out of his lips. Such a thought might have stood in the way of a cure altogether. Instead He filled his mind at once with words of encouragement and hope.
(That line is Mark 5:36 in an older wording. The ESV of Luke 8:50 reads, "Do not fear; only believe.")
The messengers reasoned about death the way everyone does.
Death, for man, is the end of hope; and, as far as he is concerned, it is designed to be so. For that very reason, this is where God can show Himself — where man is powerless. "Do not be afraid," says the Lord in answer to such a message; "only believe." Unbelief may claim its right to mourn and weep, though much even of that is unreal. But faith alone can see the glory of God.
Jairus had already believed one thing about Jesus; the news forced a larger question.
Jairus had been quite confident about His ability to heal; but now, what about death? — that was the great test of his faith, and of the power of Jesus. "Do not fear, only believe," was the word. Faith in Christ will remove the fear of death for us as well as for him.
The command has no object stated. Commentators fill it in from the One speaking.
Jesus, in comforting the poor father, tells him not to fear, but only to believe, and his daughter would be made whole. It is faith in His Person, in the divine power in Him, in the grace that comes to exercise it, that receives joy and deliverance.
Luke's account is noted for putting that Person forward more plainly than the parallel record in Mark.
"Only believe" carries faith in Himself, whose power is always involved in any question about it, and yet is only one element of it. But His Person as such is not so much in the forefront in Mark's Gospel as it is in Luke's.
The verse ends with a promise: "she will be well." The Greek word behind it also covers the woman healed just before this.
It is worth noticing that the word sozo is usually translated "save" in the New Testament. Here it is used in its general sense of deliverance, for the healing of this woman in all three accounts: Matthew 9:21-22; Mark 5:28, 34; Luke 8:48. It is also applied to the restoration of the daughter of Jairus, Mark 5:23; Luke 8:50... In these instances the Greek word is translated "made whole," or "healed."
Jairus had felt the delay. The Lord's answer met him there.
One can imagine the distressed anguish of Jairus in all of this, including his feeling that the Lord had not come quickly enough. How comforting then were the Lord's immediate words, "Do not fear; only believe, and she will be well" (v.50). As in the case of the woman, so here, the solid assurance of the word of the Lord Jesus is wonderful.
Kelly reads the dead child as a picture of Israel.
Such turns out to be the real condition of Israel — not sick only, but dead. But Jesus carried within Himself the secret of resurrection. He is equal to all emergencies. He knew both the girl's need and His own mighty power infinitely better than they did... The sick and now dead girl is the pledge of this. He who tells her father not to fear but to believe will redeem the pledge He gave long ago.
- Bad news comes first. The report from the house treats death as the end of the matter.
- His word comes faster. Jesus speaks the instant He hears, leaving no gap for unbelief to take root in the father's mind.
- His word names the real limit. Death is where man's hope stops. That is exactly where God shows Himself, and faith alone sees His glory.
- His word has an object. "Only believe" is not confidence in general. It is faith in His Person, in His divine power, and in the grace that puts that power to work.
- His word carries a promise. The word behind "she will be well" is the one usually translated "save." What He pledged to one father He still holds out to a whole nation.
And when he came to the house he suffered no one to go in but Peter and John and James and the father of the child and the mother.
A crowd has followed Jesus through the town, and a girl has just died. At the door of her home He stops almost everyone and takes only a few inside — and commentators ask why.
Luke names the three disciples in an order that is his own. One writer notes it, along with the other times this same group was singled out.
"Peter, John and James." This order is found only in Luke — here, and at Luke 9:28 and Acts 1:13. Three times these three were singled out for special occasions: here, at the Transfiguration, and in Gethsemane.
The pattern held through the rest of the Lord's life on earth. The same three saw His glory on the mountain, and the same three were nearest to Him in the garden of Gethsemane on the night He was betrayed.
There were three occasions (all special in character) on which Peter and the two sons of Zebedee were alone privileged to accompany the Lord Jesus. We refer to His journeys to the holy mount, to the house of Jairus, and into the recesses of Gethsemane.
The number was not random. One writer reads it against the legal rule that decided when evidence counted.
The three disciples chosen were enough to give testimony to the fact of the resurrection. Two witnesses were enough to make evidence valid in a court of law, but three made it more than enough.
Outside and inside the house were paid mourners, people whose trade was death. Their presence clashed with the One who was about to undo it.
Jesus did not let the crowd that had followed Him through the town come near the house of Jairus. Another crowd was already filling it. Once inside, the Lord put out the noisy mourners. Their unpleasant trade had made them used to the sight of the dead. They knew the girl was truly dead, and they could not grasp that what was death to man was sleep to the Lord. They were completely out of place where the One who gives life to the dead stood, so He sent them out. He did not even let all the apostles into the room where she lay. He chose only three — Peter, James and John. He raised the widow's son and Lazarus in full view of the public. Here the dead child was indoors, so the scene had to be more private.
This quiet, indoor miracle stands out when set beside the other times Jesus raised the dead. At the town of Nain He stopped a funeral procession in full public view.
The raising of Jairus' daughter was a private matter, with only her parents and three chosen disciples present. The raising of the young man in Luke 7 was, in contrast, a very public matter.
The dividing line at the door was faith. The people Jesus put out had mocked Him.
To people, death destroys every hope. Yet the word of Jesus was, "Do not fear; only believe." To her parents and friends it was death, but to Him it was only sleep. And the very unbelief of those who mourned her shows us that she really was dead, in the ordinary sense of the word. The mocking unbelievers were all put out and only a few who believed saw His work of power.
Several commentators read the scene as a picture of what God will yet do for Israel. One of them sees a day still to come in the small group He took inside.
This is a picture of Israel, a nation dead before God (and the Gentiles are dead too, of course). Yet Jesus encourages them and says, "Only believe, and she will be well." When He came to the house, He allowed no one to go in except Peter and James and John, together with the father and the mother of the girl. Those three are the pillars of the future glory, when He will come forth as the resurrection and the life to the dead nation.
Another writer takes the same picture further, giving the parents their own place in it.
The witness of the three disciples was all that was needed. They stand for the core of the faithful remnant, at the time when Israel comes to spiritual life after the Tribulation. The father and mother stand for the earlier natural relationship — Israel connected with the fathers.
- Chosen. Jesus singled out Peter, John and James three times: here, at the Transfiguration, and in Gethsemane. Only Luke lists them in this order.
- Enough. Two witnesses made evidence valid in law. Three gave more than enough witness to her resurrection.
- Excluded. Jesus put the paid mourners out. They had no place where the One who gives life to the dead was standing.
- Private. He raised the widow's son in front of the public. This girl He raised indoors, with only believing eyes watching.
- Prophetic. Commentators read the small group as a picture of Israel. The three stand for a future faithful remnant, and the parents for the nation's link to the fathers.
And all were weeping and lamenting her. But he said, Do not weep, for she has not died, but sleeps.
A house is loud with mourning for a dead child, and the Lord answers the noise with one word: sleep. Why call a dead girl asleep, and why did that word draw laughter instead of hope?
His first word to the room is "Do not weep." The mourners were hired, and His sharp words hit their performance, not real sorrow.
The Lord was always tender and gracious to people in distress and pain. Yet He rebuked the show of routine grief over the daughter of Jairus. He entered the courtyard of the ruler's house and said to the hired mourners, "Why are you making a commotion and weeping? The child is not dead but sleeping." His sharpness struck at their hypocrisy and pretence, for their sympathy was not sincere.
There was also a financial interest in the girl staying dead.
They would have lost their work, so to speak, if she was not dead; and their pay would be gone too. Man had brought all that in. All that was needed was for them to give place, if He was there.
The Lord was not softening the facts.
The Lord is in the presence of death; but He will not allow death to stay in His presence. "The child," He said (and how true it was!), "is not dead but sleeping." In just the same way the Spirit says believers are asleep: "through Jesus, God will bring with Him those who have fallen asleep." … Unbelief may weep and wail and make all kinds of commotion, and with little real feeling after all; for it can just as easily laugh Jesus to scorn.
Scripture uses two different words: one for His death, one for His people's.
Let us look closely at the words used here. We can be sure they are exact, as always in Scripture. "Jesus died"; His saints only "fall asleep." With Him it was real death, in all its severity as the judgment on sin. It was the sign and type of a deeper judgment. With them it is only "sleep" — rest and refreshment, from which they rise to a day that never ends and never fades.
Applied to this girl, the word marks out who she was.
He knew that hers was the sleep of the redeemed, not the death of the lost. As later with Lazarus, He came to wake her out of that sleep.
He speaks exactly, but the word has a limit.
It is important to notice that here, as everywhere, sleep is said of the body. It is the right word of faith for death. How dark is the unbelief that twists it, as some do, into making the soul material! He who is the truth speaks of the thing as it really is.
Their laughter was not honest doubt, as an earlier famous laugh in Scripture had been.
His words, "The child is not dead," ran straight against their professional knowledge. They had no faith in Him and no reverence for His words to weigh against His apparent contradiction of the facts. So the Lord's dignified rebuke of their noise only struck them as absurd. Mixed with some spite at His interference, they laughed Him to scorn. It was the laughter of folly, while that of Abraham and Sarah had been the laughter of unbelief.
That scorn was already written into His portrait long before it reached its worst.
Sadly, such ridicule from man belonged to the appointed sufferings of the Messiah. But it was written of Him, "All who see me mock me" (Psalm 22:7). That scripture reached its climax at the cross.
(The older translation of Psalm 22:7 reads "laugh me to scorn," matching the word used of the mourners here.)
One writer reads the scene wider still: the girl pictures Zion, God's city and people.
The spirit of scorn then and there was only a small sample of what is to come. But people like that can have no lasting share in the blessing. … But the word of gracious power will go out from Him. In His eyes the virgin daughter of Zion was not dead but sleeping, and she will rise. And He who at last wakes her from that death-sleep will care for her. He will strengthen her for the great work Zion will then be called to.
- Grief — Much of the wailing He interrupted was hired and hollow. He rebuked the sham, never real sorrow.
- Word — Calling death "sleep" is not a soft word but an exact one. Death cannot stay where He is.
- Sleep — "Jesus died"; His people only fall asleep. He bore death as judgment so that theirs would be rest — and it is the body, not the soul, that sleeps.
- Scorn — They trusted their own expertise over His word and laughed. That same mockery reached its height at the cross.
- Waking — The word that raised her will raise His sleeping people. It will wake the daughter of Zion for the work still ahead.
And they derided him, knowing that she had died.
They had come to wail for a dead girl, and now a stranger tells the room she is only sleeping — so the weeping snaps into laughter. Luke is careful to record why they scorned Him, and that reason raises the real question: what did their certainty prove?
The mockery is not just an ugly detail; it is part of the evidence. These people were not confused about the facts, and their ridicule proves it.
Unbelieving people may be quick to explain this away and say it was only a trance. But the case of Lazarus proves any such idea false... How terrible that the musicians and the people laughed at Him in scorn! They mocked Him. That by itself was evidence that they were fully convinced she was dead.
The crowd in the house was not simply neighbours. Mourning in that world had become a trade, and the noise was being produced by people who were paid to produce it.
In the case of the daughter of Jairus there was a "tumult" with weeping and great wailing; these were probably hired mourners (as is the custom to this day), for "musicians" were also present.
That detail explains the sharpness of the reaction. If the girl was not dead, their engagement ended.
"He said to them, 'Go away, for the girl is not dead but sleeping.' And they laughed at him." They would have lost their work, so to speak, if she was not dead, and their pay would have gone with it. Man had introduced all of that. All that was needed was for them to step aside, since He was there.
Their scorn had a logic. They were the experts on death in that house, and His words cut straight across what they knew.
His words, "The girl is not dead," clashed directly with their professional knowledge. They had no faith in Him and no respect for His words to set against what looked like a contradiction of plain fact... so they laughed at Him in scorn. It was the laughter of folly, as the laughter of Abraham and Sarah was the laughter of disbelief.
This room was a small rehearsal of something far worse that He would meet later.
Sadly, such ridicule from man was part of the sufferings appointed to the Messiah. But it was written of Him, "All who see me mock me" (Psalm 22:7), and this scripture reached its climax at the cross.
(Older Bibles use one phrase in both places: they "laughed him to scorn".)
The mourners heard a plain mistake about the facts. It was no mistake. He was measuring death by Himself.
The Lord Jesus rebuked this useless noise and told them the girl was not dead, but asleep. The people then laughed at Him in scorn. That was folly: they did not see that He had deeper reasons for speaking this way than they understood. To Him death is no more a problem than sleep.
He used the same word of Lazarus later on.
Later on we find the Lord speaking of Lazarus as "sleeping." It was His way of speaking... He raised her from her bed, the young man of Nain from his coffin, and Lazarus from the grave. Each case took the same power — the power of Him who is the Resurrection and the Life.
He did not argue with the scorners. He put them out, and raised the girl without them.
As for all the rest, who were weeping and mourning, He put them out when they mocked His words, "Do not weep, for she is not dead but sleeping." They believed their senses, not His word; and the scornful will not see the blessing. But He took hold of her hand and called, "Child, arise."
This scene points beyond one house. The mockers in it stand for a wider unbelief, and the sleeping girl for a nation that will be raised.
The spirit of scorn there and then was only a small sample of what is to come, and such people can have no lasting share in the blessing. Many in Israel who sleep in the dust of the earth will awake: some to shame and everlasting contempt, and others, just as certainly, to everlasting life. But the word of gracious power will go out from Him in Whose eyes the virgin daughter of Zion was not dead, but sleeping; and she will arise.
- Knowing. Luke says they knew she was dead. Their certainty is what turns the mockery into proof that a real corpse lay in that house.
- Hired. The wailing was a paid job. If the girl was only sleeping, the work and the pay were gone, so the mourners turned on Him.
- Folly. Their expert knowledge of death collided with His word. They had no faith to set against the facts as they saw them, so scorn was all they had left.
- Sleep. He was not mistaken about her condition. To the One speaking, death is no bigger problem than sleep.
- Outside. He did not debate the scorn; He put it outside. Only those who had not laughed saw Him raise her, and the scornful have no share in the blessing.
But *he*, having turned them all out and taking hold of her hand, cried saying, Child, arise.
The daughter of Jairus, a synagogue leader, has just died, and his house is full of mourners. Jesus clears the room, takes her hand, and calls her — so who is this, that death obeys His voice?
Before He touches her, He puts out the crowd that had laughed at His word. One writer notes what their mockery proved instead.
The group mourning her laughed at Him for the words He had just spoken. That only gave fuller proof of the reality of the miracle. Everyone knew she was dead. If she was raised up after that, everyone had to admit His power to raise the dead. The voice that had woken the widow's son at Nain now woke the daughter of the synagogue ruler at Capernaum.
Another writer notes what the mourners lost by laughing.
He put out everyone else who was weeping and mourning, because they laughed at His saying, "Do not weep; she is not dead but sleeping." They believed their senses, not His word. The scornful will not see the blessing.
Touching a dead body made a person unclean under the law. Here the touch works the other way.
Instead of pollution getting into Him through the touch, power went out from Him to dismiss the power of death and blot out the stain.
He does not stand at a distance. He takes the dead child's hand, and then He speaks.
The Lord acted at once with simple directness. He took the child by the hand — He did the same when He healed Peter's mother-in-law. He then called to her, and Mark records the actual Aramaic words He used, "Talitha cumi."
One writer traces the meaning packed into those two Aramaic words.
The mighty power of His voice of love drives away the darkness of death's night. He uses the words a mother would use to wake her child at the start of a new day — "Talitha Cumi." Inside the greeting "Talitha" is the thought of "freshness"; "Cumi" carries the suggestion of "established," "standing up in strength." Happy indeed are those who hear the voice of the Son of God, and are made to live, and to "walk in newness of life."
He speaks to her, not about her. Luke's next words say her spirit came back. One writer shows how that fits the way Scripture speaks of death.
There was an immediate response from the spirit-world. In Luke's words, "her spirit came again." This matches the general language of Scripture. There, death means the soul and spirit leave the body. Rachel, "as her soul was departing," named her son Ben-oni (Gen. 35:18). Elijah prayed about the dead son of the widow of Zarephath, "Let this child's life come into him again" (1 Kings 17:21). As they stoned Stephen, he said, "Lord Jesus, receive my spirit" (Acts 7:59).
No one else could give such a command. Another writer sets Him beside the angel at the pool of Bethesda, where a sick man still had to get himself into the water.
But Jesus carried within Himself the secret of resurrection. He is equal to every emergency, and knew far better than they both the girl's need and His own mighty power. He did not come down to do what others might have done. An angel may stir the pool of Bethesda for a man not too weak to step in at once. The Son gives life to whom He will.
Commentators also read the dead girl as a picture of the whole nation.
This is a picture of Israel, who are dead before God (as are Gentiles too, of course). But Jesus encourages them, and says, "Only believe and she will be made well." When He came to the house, He let in only Peter, James and John, with the father and the mother of the girl. Those three are the pillars of the coming glory, when He will come forth as the resurrection and the life to the dead nation.
- Touch. He lays hold of a dead hand and is not stained by it; power moves outward from Him instead.
- Voice. He calls her with the words a mother uses to wake a sleeping child — strength delivered in tenderness.
- Life. Her spirit returns at His word. Scripture describes death as the spirit leaving the body; here it comes back.
- Faith. Those who trusted their senses laughed, and He put them outside. Those who believed His word stayed and saw the miracle.
- Promise. What He did for one girl in one house He will do for a dead nation — the Son gives life to whom He will.
And her spirit returned, and immediately she rose up; and he commanded [something] to eat to be given to her.
A twelve-year-old girl has died, and the mourners have laughed at Jesus for calling it sleep. Now He takes her hand, and what follows — a returning spirit, an instant recovery, a call for food — tells us who He is.
Luke's wording assumes that something left the girl and had to come back. Commentators call this the Bible's normal way of describing death. They point to other places where the same thing happens:
There was an immediate response from the spirit-world. In Luke's words, "her spirit returned." This matches the general language of Scripture. Death means the soul and spirit leave the body. Rachel, "as her soul was departing," named her son Ben-oni (Genesis 35:18). Elijah prayed about the dead son of the widow of Zarephath, "Let this child's soul come to him again" (1 Kings 17:21; the ESV reads "life" here). Stephen, as he was being stoned, said, "Lord Jesus, receive my spirit" (Acts 7:59).
The word "spirit" itself repays attention. One writer sets it beside "soul":
Scripture often uses "spirit" for the spiritual part of man, in contrast with his body. Luke 8:55 says, "Her spirit returned." That confirms the clear distinction between the two… "Soul" is tied to its action in the body, though clearly distinct, and is more connected with life, so it stands for life. "Spirit" is more the active, intelligent consciousness, or the seat of that consciousness, which belongs to the inner man.
Prophets had raised the dead before. Set the two side by side and the difference in method is hard to miss:
Here the Lord's conduct is simple and dignified. It stands in striking contrast with that of the Old Testament prophets when they worked similar miracles. The Lord spoke and acted in His own right. The prophets had to look above and pray hard for a power that was not in themselves… Elijah stretched himself on the child three times and cried to the LORD… The Lord's way was different. He took the child by the hand and said, "Talitha cumi," and at once she got up.
She did not wake weak. Mark adds that she walked, and commentators read that as proof the work was finished in a moment:
The body of Jairus' daughter came back to life and rose up at once. She was strengthened as well as made alive, for she was able to walk about. Mark records this with the detail typical of his style. She was twelve years old, so walking was natural for her at that age. But here her walking showed that her restoration was as complete as it was immediate.
The command about food is easy to pass over. One writer asks what it pictures:
This is more than His tenderness. He commanded that "something should be given her to eat." What does that mean, if we take it out of the picture and apply it? He is the One who gives life, and He is the One who provides for the sustaining of the life He gives. What is the something? Shall I tell you? Christ. Not doctrines, not theories, not notions, not thoughts, not opinions; Christ — that is the "something." If you have been made alive by Him, He commands that something should be given you to eat. Nothing can sustain or nourish or uphold the soul but Christ.
Notice, too, who was told to fetch the food:
The Lord, having restored the girl's life by His own inherent power, directed the parents to give her food. The restored life needed the usual means of support. They could supply that themselves, so no miracle was needed. The Lord expects us to do what we can do ourselves. He uses His own might only where we are helpless.
One writer sees in this sleeping girl a picture of the nation of Israel, and reads her rising as a pledge of what is still to come:
In His eyes the virgin daughter of Zion was not dead, but sleeping. The word of gracious power will go out from Him, and she will arise. And He who at last wakes her from that death-sleep will care for her. He will strengthen her for the great work to which Zion will then be called. It was, however, only a passing act of power then; the time had not yet come for more.
- Word. He acted in His own right — no stretching over the body, no crying to heaven, only a hand and a call.
- Spirit. What returned had first departed. Scripture treats death as the spirit leaving the body — not the person ending.
- Life. She rose instantly and walked, showing the restoration was complete, not gradual.
- Food. The One who gives life provides for its sustaining, and the something given is Christ Himself.
- Hands. He raised her; her parents fed her — He does what only He can, and expects us to do what we can.
And her parents were amazed; but he enjoined them to tell no one what had happened.
A dead girl is alive again, and her parents can only stare. Then the Lord tells them to say nothing about it.
One writer reads the parents' amazement as paralysis: they were too overwhelmed to act. He then points to the one Person in the room still thinking about what the girl needed.
No wonder her parents were astonished at that word of power, so bewildered that they seemed unable to act. Or was it that, in their joy at receiving their only child alive again, they forgot everything else? He did not forget. He knew her needs and cared for them — and she was only a girl! Did He ever use His power without revealing His heart? He told them to give her something to eat. In her wonder and joy, even the mother did not realise that the child needed food. But He did. He was more thoughtful for her than her own mother.
The command runs against what we expect from someone with such power. One writer explains what the Lord was working for instead.
The charge "to tell no one what had happened" was completely contrary to all human ideas. People love publicity, but the Lord did not. He worked to make God known. Only faith understood His works, and His works confirmed that faith.
So what exactly did the charge forbid? Jairus, the girl's father, was a public figure. One writer weighs who the Lord spoke to, and what He told them not to do.
The Lord charged them — presumably those present in the room where the girl was — that no one should know this. The instruction seems to mean that they were not to set out to spread the news of the miracle. It could not mean that the child's raising must stay a secret. Jairus was a public figure, and the news that his dead daughter had come back to life could hardly stay hidden.
One commentator ties the silence to how the nation had received the Lord Himself.
But this was only a passing act of power at that time. The moment for more had not yet come, and Jesus charged them to tell no one what had happened. If they would not receive Him, and refused His word, there was no point in publishing His power.
Another writer points to a case earlier in the chapter where the Lord gave the opposite order:
Unlike the case of the man of Gadara (v.39), the Lord told the people here not to report the matter to others. The Lord wanted no mere awakening of the curiosity of the crowds.
So who was this miracle for? One writer answers by comparing the few in the room with the crowd outside.
But Jesus does not seek the crowd here. This display of power is only for the comfort of those who feel their need of it, and for the faith of those who are truly attached to Him. The crowd know that the girl is dead. They mourn for her, and do not understand the power of God that can raise her up. Jesus gives back to her parents the child whose life He had restored. So it will be with the Jews at the end, while most around them still do not believe.
Commentators differ on why He asked for silence. Some tie it to the nation's rejection of Him. Others point to the gap between faith and mere curiosity.
- Power — one word from the Lord called a dead child back, and her parents could only stand there amazed, too overwhelmed to act.
- Heart — He never used His power without showing His care. He thought of the girl's next meal when even her mother did not.
- Silence — people love publicity, but He told the parents to tell no one. He worked to make God known, and only faith understood His works.
- Scope — a leading family could never hide such news. He was not asking them to bury the fact, but to keep from spreading it.
- Timing — the nation had refused Him, so publishing His power was pointless. This raising was for the few who believed, and it points to what He will do for the Jews at the end.