An Issue of Faith

*The following article appeared at FaithWriters.com on 8/19/21.

The sun was rising in the east, casting warm brushstrokes of yellow and orange across the Mediterranean sky. A rooster crowed in the distance, and then another, as the woman stepped out of the doorway into the cool morning air. It was her custom to rise early, and this she did without fail, going about her daily routine in relative obscurity, for the woman was unclean, and her life was a solitary one.

Against tradition and conscience, she left the privacy of her dwelling and began walking. She breathed in the salty air of Capernaum, grateful to be alive after the many years of her infirmity, but bitter and hopeless from the countless physicians who had attended her with their useless remedies. All her money had been spent in the pursuit of a cure. She was weak from the malady, an incurable chronic hemorrhage, and according to Jewish law, it rendered her ceremonially unclean. She was an untouchable. An outcast. She was no one’s daughter, no one’s friend, and no one’s neighbor, not anymore, not since the impurity.

How she longed to be restored to her family and her community and her God. How many times she had imagined the day that she would finally bring her offering to the Temple and be declared clean again. Then everyone who had shunned her would receive her again. No longer would she have to endure the disdain of others as she passed by, evidenced by their expressions of disgust, or the stares of the women whom she had once gathered water with, and the whispers between them, hurtful words disguised by half-turned faces. This was the shame she could not bear. Stripped of her dignity and humanity, she felt fully invisible and fully conspicuous.

The woman continued on for a while until her thoughts intersected with the sound of voices echoing ahead from the road to Chorazin. The familiar feeling of anxiety ran cold across her chest, and she instinctively pressed her palm against the front of her tunic, then with a trembling hand pulled the frayed linen head covering a little lower over her face. Her heart beat faster. A crowd was forming in the distance. She should not even be out in public. If she was seen, she risked further humiliation. Every fiber in her weary body tingled in fear and urged her to turn back, to return to her place of isolation and concealment, but this time she would not.

The gap between them became shorter as the crowd increased in number along the narrow road dotted with igneous-rock dwellings. She dared not move along in unison with the throng, so she stayed back, giving ample separation between herself and the curious gathering. A group of young men ran past her and she overheard them say, “The Teacher is here!” Despite her isolated existence, she knew about Him, this Jesus of Nazareth. She had heard that He could heal people – that He did heal people. And now He was here in Capernaum. She dared to think it: Would He heal me?

Fueled by faith in a man she had never laid eyes on before, determined to try just one more time -– for this, she was certain, was her last hope -- she navigated her way through the mob, desperate to see the renowned rabbi. Her head was spinning with the sudden rush of adrenaline as she pressed on. There He was, “the Master,” as He was called, flanked by His disciples, His most trusted inner circle.

One singular irrational thought occupied her mind: “If I just touch His garments, I will get well. If I just touch His garments…”

Availing herself of her only opportunity, she darted forward into the open space, her gaze firmly set on the edge of the Master’s robe as it trailed gently behind Him. In that moment of reckless reverence, she held the flaxen hem in her hand and watched as the fringes passed through her trembling fingers.

Her healing was instantaneous. Before she could fully comprehend it, Jesus turned and said, “Who touched Me? For I perceive that power has gone out from Me.”

She had hoped to hide herself, receding back into the crowd, but His power held her there, spellbound and speechless, unable and unwilling to disguise her presence from Him any longer.

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Scripture account from the synoptic Gospels of Mark 5:28; Luke 8:43-48; and Matthew 9:20-22