Wednesday, March 6, 2024 – Lent Four: Jesus asks! Tough Questions for a Lenten Faith
In the crowd that
day there was a woman who for twelve years had been afflicted with hemorrhages.
She had spent every penny she had on doctors but not one had been able to help
her. She slipped in from behind and touched the edge of Jesus’ robe. At that very
moment her hemorrhaging stopped. Jesus said, “Who touched me?” (Luke 8: 43 -44, The Message Bible)
The imperative command, not to
touch, has been instilled in our minds since we began to toddle around in our
diapers. Some touching can indeed be inappropriate,
unwelcome, troublesome, uninvited, rude, intrusive, even risky. During Covid, even welcome touches – hugging, kissing, embracing,
handshaking – became taboo. It hasn’t totally recovered, even now. Besides, our
hands are too full and busy with our cell phones to actually reach out and
touch someone as that old Bell ad used to say.
The woman in our Gospel story was
untouchable according to the Levitical Law. Her bleeding made her a pariah in Jewish
society. She shouldn’t have even been in that crowd that day. If the others had
paid any attention to her or knew about her condition, they would have sent her
away. She was regarded as unclean and therefore unfit for human contact. She would
have to be very careful as to how she could approach Jesus with such a large crowd
about her.
“She slipped in from behind…” But it was much more than just that. The text,
to me, implies that she was scrambling on her hands and knees. Maybe she had
been pushed down. Maybe she fell down in the crush. But I get the picture of a
woman crawling in the dirt just so she might touch the hem of Jesus’ robe. How humiliating.
How desperate. How demeaning.
Yet, Jesus, despite the crowd, shows
his deep, compassionate sensitivity towards others. “Who touched me?” Perhaps the woman froze at that moment. Was she
in trouble? Would Jesus scold her, reprimand her, mock her, take back the
healing. If she kept quiet, perhaps Jesus would move on.
But Jesus didn’t move on. “Someone
deliberately touched me, for I felt healing power go out from me.” (v.46) I
think that he needed to put a human face on the person. He needed to know the
person first hand. He needed to create more of a relationship than a fleeting, anonymous
touch. So, she came out of her exile, so to speak, and confessed her bold and audacious
action, simply touching the hem of Jesus’ robe. There was no condemnation –
just more abounding grace. She was made to feel welcome and joined the family
of God “’Daughter,’ he said to her, ‘your faith has made you well. Go in
peace.’” (v. 48)
Reaching out to Jesus Christ is
something that anyone, no matter what or no matter who, can do at any time. Whether
we seem to be crawling along or lost in the crowd or bleeding inwardly, metaphorically,
the Love of Christ is available to us. In suffering, in pain, in crisis, in emotional
upheaval, even in dying, Jesus stands out as a source of power and mercy. He
makes the difference in our well-being. He rescues us from the rigid standards
of judgment and beliefs which make us out as outcasts. Jesus Christ draws us back
into his fellowship as daughters and sons within the scope of his compassion and
grace. When we reach out to Jesus, our faith finds a response. We are given a
peace which passes all understanding.
I used to think that the hymn, “He
Touched Me” was too sentimental, too gushy. But in light of this story, it makes total sense
to me today.
Shackled by a heavy burden
'Neath a load of guilt and shame
Then the hand of Jesus touched me
And now I am no longer the same
He touched me, oh, He touched me
And oh, the joy that floods my soul
Something happened, and now I know
He touched me, and made me whole
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