From the Sunday Note, with additional thoughts:
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 Jesus,
“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.”
Mark 5:25-34, from Sunday’s Gospel
Let the woman’s problem stand for the sort of things most of us suffer from today: some habit or part of our personality that bedevils us—isolates us from others or constantly gets us into trouble. Something that we cannot seem to change or get rid of. In her day, her problem would isolate her, weigh heavily on her marriage, and make her unwelcome at the Temple. For us it might be a compulsive behavior or judgementalism or timidity or cynicism or boastfulness or… .
After years of struggle in her situation she hears about Jesus healing people and decides to approach him, quietly, almost surreptitiously, hoping for a healing touch. Not out-and-out appealing to him, notice, but just trying to brush lightly up against him, to see if that would help. Many people try the same tactic in our day. Desperate for help with a problem they have learned over the years they cannot lick, they toss out a prayer, admit their inability to do, to be, or to act differently, and hope against hope that there is someone there to hear and help and heal them. But they do not want this to become public. They want a quiet, private healing, they can follow up with by living exactly as they were before, just without having to struggle with the debility anymore.
She touches Jesus’ clothes. She is healed. She hoped that was exactly where things would stop. If we are ever in this position—let this be a warning to us. Jesus wants more. He wants a relationship. He wants someone who will own up to the truth. Trembling with worry, she “confesses” her fault, only to have Jesus turn the confession upside down: her timid, surreptitious prayer for him to heal her, he announces, was simply her repentant heart turning to him in faith! Shaky as it was, it was her reaching out to him in hope and trust that he could heal her. A person in that position who approaches him he will address, tenderly, as a “Daughter” or a son coming back to our Father in heaven.
Naturally, he will expect a daughter or son who has been accepted, healed, and embraced, to let people know, so they, too, might approach him. This need not mean preaching on street corners— quiet conversations with a hurting friend or relative is more often how the Kingdom grows.
For further reflection:
Christians believe we were created because God wants to share the joy He has in love. Created by love and for love. That, and only that, is God’s will. That is why we should struggle against our own negativity, our fear and lack of understanding, and trust him in everything. Ask yourself–where do I let fear and lack of trust inhibit my response to what God invites me to do?
Your thoughts, comments, questions welcomed!