Her bleeding began after the birth of her fourth child. That, of course, was normal. What was not normal was that it did not stop. That was 12 years ago.
Twelve years is a long time. It’s a long time even when life is good and the years slip gently by, but if you are poor, or ill, or lonely and each day is a trial, then 12 years seems like an eternity.
This woman had been suffering from haemorrhages for 12 long, lonely years. She knew that her husband was a good, just man, who loved her, but how could they continue to live as husband and wife when her very touch defiled him? Not only that - but the bed she lay in would be unclean, anything she sat on would be unclean, so that anyone touching them would have to wash their clothes and bathe and would be unclean until the evening. How could she even live in the same house when her very presence was a constant pollution?
Still her husband was a kind man. When he realised that the problem was not going to go away quickly, he found her a little house on the edge of the village to live in and made sure that she had food, clothing and all she needed to survive. Not only that, he paid for doctors in the hope of finding a cure so that they could return to a normal life.
So many doctors, so much money, so much promised and so little delivered! In fact she seemed to be worse off than before and, at last, when all the money for doctors was gone, so was all their hope of a cure, and all their hope of a normal future together.
She lived a solitary, lonely existence. It was bad enough to be parted from the husband she loved and who loved her, but to be separated from her children was a different kind of heartbreak altogether. Her husband could not look after 4 children by himself, especially when one was just a baby, so he sent them to live with his sister in the next village. She could no longer be involved in their day-to-day lives; she could no longer cuddle their hurts away; she could no longer kiss them goodnight, in fact, she seldom even saw them, and sometimes it felt that this was more than she could bear.
She had not been at the wedding last year when her eldest daughter got married. Now her daughter was expecting a baby – a new generation was coming into being - but that grandchild would grow up without having a proper chance to get to know his or her grandmother. Sometimes, when she lay down at night, in her desolation and despair, she hoped that she might not wake up again.
She searched her heart to find what sin she had committed to bring this dreadful, endless punishment on her. She did not delude herself that she was without sin, but hers were the usual, ordinary, run-of-the-mill sins. She used to listen to gossip and occasionally, when it was something particularly exciting, she couldn’t resist passing it on. She had sometimes thought badly of others without justification, but, thankfully, she had usually kept those thoughts to herself. She was prone to be quick to make judgements before she knew all the facts of the situation. She had at times been impatient with her husband and children – something she bitterly regretted now that she was no longer part of their day-to-day lives. How differently she might have acted had she known what the future held!
Surely other people committed sins just like these without enduring punishment like hers. Why did she have to endure this draining, degrading, defiling condition? She sometimes felt that blood loss left her drained of energy, but what did that matter when there was little enough to spend her energy on? She was depressed. She missed her life in the community and, of course, she missed most of all her life in the heart of her family.
In the early days friends would often come past her little house and speak to her through the window, sharing the day to day events of their lives with her, bringing to her their joys and sorrows, but as the years went by these visits became fewer and fewer, so she became more and more isolated.
She rarely left her house and when she did it was usually late at night or early in the morning when she was unlikely to meet anyone who could be polluted by her touch.
Then one day, when she was sitting by the window of her little house, she overheard people talking excitedly about a travelling preacher who was in the area. It seemed this man had a reputation not only for the wisdom and compassion of his teaching, but also for his ability to heal seemingly impossible conditions. She heard of lepers made clean, the blind made to see, the deaf made to hear, the lame made to walk.
For the first time in an age she felt a tiny spark of hope. As quickly as the spark ignited, she began to think, “How could she come close to this man in her condition?” But the spark refused to be entirely quenched and she decided to go and hear what this preacher had to say. If she stayed a little distance from the edge of the crowd surely that would be safe enough.
She dressed carefully. She padded herself so that no blood would escape and give her away. She put on a large veil that would shade her face and could be pulled closer to disguise her should she by chance be seen by anyone she knew. Then she made her way slowly to the edge of the crowd.
Even from that distance she could feel and sense something powerful about this man. She was still deciding what to do when she saw he was talking with someone and then they moved off together with the crowd following. She, too, felt compelled to follow, and, unable to resist a pulling that she didn’t understand, she joined the crowd. She still feared being recognised so she kept her veil pulled closely around her face and worked her way through the crowd towards the teacher.
She still wasn’t sure what she was going to do. He was still walking with an important-looking man. It would be unthinkable for any woman to go up to any man and just speak to him, so it was doubly impossible for a woman like her. Even if she could summon up the courage to do the unthinkable and dare to speak to this teacher, she could not bear it if he were to reject her because of her condition. But if she did nothing she was in danger of losing him again in the crowd and her last, fragile hope of cure would be gone with him. So she thought maybe, just maybe if she could touch the edge of his robe that might be enough to cure her, and in that crowd he would never know of her defiling touch. So got as close as she could, reached out her hand and touched a tassel on his robe – it was the merest brush of her finger, but in that moment she felt the flow of blood stop, she felt her strength and vitality returning.
She meant to slip away back into the crowd, but to her horror the preacher stopped in his tracks. “Who touched my robe?” he said. His disciples said, “What do you mean? In this crowd, with everyone pushing and jostling, dozens of people have touched you.” The woman prayed silently, “Dear God, please let him believe his disciples and go on his way.” But this was another prayer of hers that was not to be answered. The teacher carried on asking who had touched him, saying that he had felt the power go out from him, and he looked around to see if he could find who had done it.
When the woman realised that she could not remain hidden she came and knelt before him. She could hardly believe that she had dared to do what she had done and was terrified of his reaction to her. She was unclean, her very touch a defilement, a pollution - and she had passed her uncleanness on to him. Not only that, but in pushing her way through the crowds, she had defiled other people as well. Trembling with fear she blurted out her whole story and to her surprise what she received from him was not condemnation, but commendation. He looked at her with such compassion, such love in his eyes. “Daughter”, he said, “your faith has healed you. Go in peace and be free from your suffering.” In that moment she knew beyond any possible shadow of doubt that this was no temporary relief from her troubles, but that truly a miracle had occurred. She was cured! She realised that a life of health lay before her with all its promise of love and joy and peace.
And that is all we need to do – to reach out our hand to Jesus, our Lord and saviour.
If we just reach out and touch, we can find healing.
If we just reach out and touch, we can find wholeness.
If we just reach out and touch, we can find peace.
If we just reach out and touch, we can find life in all its fullness.
If we just reach out and touch, we can find eternal life.
All we can ever want or need is there if we just reach out and touch.
