Mark 5:21-43
Today’s Gospel from St. Matthew gives us an abbreviated version of the story of the healing of the woman with a flow of blood. St. Mark gives us a fuller version of this story. We read there that
“There was a woman who had had a discharge of blood for twelve years, and who had suffered much under many physicians, and had spent all that she had, and was no better, but rather grew worse. She had heard the reports about Jesus and came up behind him in the crowd and touched his garment. For she said, ‘If I touch even his garments, I will be made well.’ And immediately the flow of blood dried up, and she felt in her body that she was healed of her disease.”
For many centuries, this story has been seen as an illustration of the nature and character of faith in the saving Word of Christ; and of the spiritual healing of the soul, that faith receives from Christ. The fourth-century church Father St. Ambrose said this:
“The woman was immediately healed because she drew near to him in faith. And do you with faith touch but the hem of his garment? The torrential flow of worldly passions will be dried up by the warmth of the saving Word, if you but draw near to him with faith, if with like devotion you grasp at least the hem of his garment. O faith richer than all treasures! A faith stronger than all the powers of the body, more health-giving than all the physicians.”
As we examine this story – and seek to learn some things about the woman, and about Jesus, that might not be immediately evident – we will thereby also learn some important things about our own faith. And one thing that we should especially notice, is that as the woman approached Jesus, she did so, both in shame and embarrassment, and in hope and confidence.
Why would she have felt shame and embarrassment? Because she was a woman with a discharge of blood, and because Jesus was a pious and observant Jew.
In our society, a woman with this kind of problem – caused perhaps by something like endometriosis – would be understood by her family and friends to be suffering from an unfortunate medical infirmity, and nothing more. But among the people of Israel, there were social ramifications of this kind of condition, which were compounded by what the Law of Moses said concerning such a condition.
The Book of Leviticus states:
“If a woman has a discharge of blood for many days, …all the days of the discharge she shall continue in uncleanness. As in the days of her impurity, she shall be unclean. Every bed on which she lies, all the days of her discharge, shall be to her as the bed of her impurity.”
“And everything on which she sits shall be unclean… And whoever touches these things shall be unclean, and shall wash his clothes and bathe himself in water and be unclean until the evening.”
The woman in today’s account was, by this standard, continuously “unclean.” Anything or anyone she ever touched, would also be considered “unclean.” And anyone who touched something she had touched was likewise “unclean,” according to the dictates of the ceremonial law.
This woman wanted to be healed. She had heard reports that Jesus had healed other people, by touching them. She was hopeful that Jesus could heal her as well.
But she also knew that if he were to touch her in the way that he had touched other sick, lame, blind, or deaf people, he would become unclean. She knew that he would become unclean also if he touched something that she had touched.
And she knew that Jesus knew this, too. So, she did not expect Jesus – as an observant Jew – to be willing to touch her and heal her, if she presented herself to him in a forthright manner, and told him the whole story of her problem.
Because of what the Mosaic Law said about someone like her, she was too ashamed to approach Jesus directly and ask him for his help. That would have been too much to ask of a pious Jewish man, she thought. And so she resolved not to do it.
And yet there was still this hope – this yearning – for the healing that she sensed deep down she could still receive from Jesus. She sensed that there was something about Jesus that went deeper than his identity as an observant Jew.
There was something about him that was bigger, and more merciful, than the restrictions of the Mosaic law. And so she decided to take a chance, by sneaking up behind him and touching just the fringe of his garment.
That too, of course, would have made Jesus ceremonially unclean, because he would thereby be touching something – namely, his own clothing – that had been touched by the unclean woman. But she was going to give it a try anyway, very discreetly, in a way that she hoped he would not notice.
In one way, her plan did work as she had hoped. She was healed. But in another way, things did not turn out as she expected. As soon as she had received her healing, St. Mark tells us that
“Jesus, perceiving in himself that power had gone out from him, immediately turned about in the crowd and said, ‘Who touched my garments?’”
We do see here some evidence of certain aspects of the mystery of the incarnation of the eternal Son of God in human flesh, and of the mystery of Jesus’ laying aside the full use of his divine powers and knowledge during the time of his life on earth.
According to his humanity, in his state of humiliation, Jesus did not consciously know who had received a healing from him. But according to his divinity – his loving and compassionate divinity – Jesus had graciously and willingly healed this woman.
In spite of her shame, her hope had been fulfilled. In spite of the human Jewishness of Jesus, Jesus as the incarnate Son of God had not been repelled from this “unclean” woman.
He had healed her, and caused her not to be unclean any more. And then he sought her out, so that he could talk to her; and so that she would know that he did care about her personally, and was willing to embrace her in his mercy.
St. Mark continues:
“He looked around to see who had done it. But the woman, knowing what had happened to her, came in fear and trembling and fell down before him, and told him the whole truth. And he said to her, ‘Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease.’”
Her faith had made her well – in her body, and now also in her mind and soul. She would go forth from this encounter with Jesus, not only with a sound and healthy body, but also in spiritual peace.
This woman’s approach to Jesus in her need is indeed an example for us, in how we approach the Lord. She approached him in shame and embarrassment, but also in hope and confidence. We, too, approach our Savior in shame and embarrassment, and also in hope and confidence.
The woman with the discharge of blood was judged by the ceremonial law of Israel to be unclean, as far as her life in society was concerned. We do not live under that law.
But we do live under the unchanging moral law of God, as embodied most clearly in the Ten Commandments. And we are judged by that universal law to be morally unclean before our holy God, because of our sins.
A true faith in Christ is always shaped by an awareness of this. We do not approach Jesus in prayer, and especially not in our participation in his Holy Supper, without a sense of shame on account of our moral failures.
When we assess ourselves in the light of the Ten Commandments, we are embarrassed before God. And so we know that if God is nevertheless willing to embrace us – and to allow us to embrace him – it will be because of his goodness, and not because of ours.
The proper Christian attitude toward God and the things of God is not a frivolous and unserious attitude. We do not come to Christ with a feeling of entitlement to his blessings.
Instead, we come in humility, and even with some fear and trepidation. We are ashamed of ourselves, as we ask him for forgiveness for our disobedience, because we know that we have no real excuse for that disobedience.
An honest comparison of the unrighteousness of our lives, to the righteousness of God’s moral law, would remove from us any illusion that we somehow deserve forgiveness, or any other blessing from God. We do not.
But in spite of this, we do come to him. And we come in hope.
We hope for his mercy; and we humbly expect to be healed in spirit, and to be enriched by his love, because God is not only holy and righteous, but is also merciful and loving.
This is not just wishful thinking on our part. He has proved that it is so, in the sending of his Son to be the Savior of the world.
Through the saving work of Jesus Christ, God has redeemed us from the guilt and power of sin, and has himself atoned for our many transgressions against his goodness. And we are confident that we will receive from Christ the help that we need, because God has promised that he will help us.
The Book of Lamentations assures us that
“The Lord is good to those who wait for him, to the soul who seeks him.”
In Psalm 121, we therefore sing:
“From where does my help come? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth.”
Jesus came to this world not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many. Jesus comes among us now, in his Word and Sacrament, also to serve: to forgive, to heal, to save.
This is the gift of the gospel that God invites us to believe. And Jesus reinforces and underscores that divine invitation when he says, as reported by St. Matthew:
“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”
We know, therefore, that we truly are welcome to approach Christ, to touch him, and to be touched by him.
During the time of his earthly ministry in the nation of Israel, our Lord’s body was cloaked and covered with the cloth and fabric of his literal clothing. Now, during the time of his exalted and mystical presence with his church – as his church makes disciples of all nations – Jesus is still cloaked and covered.
He, in his divine glory, is cloaked and covered today with the earthly elements of bread and wine, as he is truly present for us in the Lord’s Supper. He is present today in the midst of a whole crowd of people who, by the judgment of God’s moral law, would be counted as “unclean.”
But he comes to call such people – people like us – to repentance and faith. Specifically in his Supper, he comes to invite communicants to touch him, with lips and heart.
And by his forgiveness, he promises to heal our spirits, and to make us clean: on the inside, and before God. On another occasion, Jesus said:
“Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. I came not to call the righteous, but sinners.”
As the Great Physician from heaven, Jesus not only cleanses from our conscience the moral disease of sin that had made us unclean, but he also gives to us true spiritual health: the health that comes from the renewing and regenerating grace of his indwelling Spirit.
Jesus was not unwilling to be the friend and Savior of the woman with the discharge of blood, in her weakness and need – even though she feared that he might be. He is not unwilling to be your Savior either, in your weakness, and in your need for what only he can give.
Jesus will not turn us away, because of our uncleanness. He will not be repelled by us, on account of our failures and flaws.
As we reach out to him, and take hold of him by faith, we are assured that he also reaches out to us, takes hold of us, and will never let us go. And in the knowledge of this divine love, we are comforted by these words, also from Psalm 121:
“The Lord shall preserve you from all evil; He shall preserve your soul. The Lord shall preserve your going out and your coming in From this time forth, and even forevermore.” Amen.