Touching The Hem Of Hope

The tepid rain soaked my filthy clothes but didn’t wash me clean. Nothing would ever wash away the stain on my life. So I hid as best I could as the searing sun dried off my clothes but left the damp stain between my legs.

I thought about better days with clean robes and acceptance in the community as hopeless tears flowed down my cheeks. How could God abandon me like this? I wanted to scream at him so he could feel the wrath of all my anger and bitterness but drawing attention to myself would have meant immediate expulsion from the village.

I decided to sneak to my next hiding place before someone noticed me. The hot sand made me choke and small rocks dug into my knees as I crawled through the crowded lane. Stabbing pain screamed through my stomach every time I tried to stand up straight. A red stain spread across the front of my damp tunic. 

A harsh voice bellowed, “She’s unclean; get her away from us before she taints us all with her foul sin.” It took all I had to raise my head and face my accuser, the currents of pain made me gasp as I looked into his hard brown eyes. 

It was the same physician who promised to cure me then and left me to beg in the streets when all my money was gone. He slammed me down onto the cobblestones with a fierce kick and started screaming, “Get out of here you putrid bag of filth. You don’t belong with God-fearing people.” 

How I hated this cold, heartless man. I knew that we should forgive our enemies but surely he must be an exception. I glared at him and wished he would suffer the injustice he had done to me but we both knew I was powerless. The rabbis taught us to help widows and orphans but they didn’t lift a finger for the destitute like me. 

My self-righteous tormentor lifted his leg to kick me again but stopped when the crowd started shouting, “It’s him, it’s him, the carpenter from Nazareth who performs all the miracles.”

Everyone forgot about me as they jostled for a better position to touch the master. It was all I could to do keep from being stomped to death. All the people clawed at his robe and screamed for his attention, they all wanted something. I wondered what this man would think about an unclean, helpless widow. I had heard whispers that he defied the endless rules put on us by the Pharisees. An unfamiliar hope entered my spirit, maybe he would help me.

Everything stopped when Jairus, the leader of our synagogue knelt before Jesus, and begged him to heal his daughter. “My little girl is dying, please Lord come and heal her.” A murmur came up from the crowd as they waited to see what Jesus would do. 

This was my chance, if I could just touch the hem of his robe while no one was paying attention. My knees scraped along the street as I crept up behind him. I felt my whole body creak as I stretched out toward his tunic. Just a little further and my hand brushed across the frayed hem of his clothes before I collapsed to the ground. Immediately a surge of relief swept through my body. I sighed and stretched as the tension flowed out of my muscles and joints. It felt so good to not have any pain. 

I was lying there oblivious to my surroundings when I heard a clear voice say, “Who touched me?” 

I could feel all the tension returning as fear replaced my new found peace. What would Jesus say? I was unclean and had the nerve to touch him. Who was I to interrupt the business of Jesus with my little problems? I was sure he would be angry with me. I knew I had to tell him the truth, but I wasn’t prepared for what happened next.

His appearance caught me off guard. He looked strong and tough, a scraggly beard surrounded his homely brown face. He looked more like a vagrant farm worker than a messiah. 

His eyes told a different story. His body was hard and weathered but his eyes were soft and kind, my voice quivered as I started my confession. "I ah, I touched you Lord.” Instead of rebuking me he just smiled and held out his calloused hand to help me stand up.

“I, I have been bleeding for twelve years Lord. My husband died, I have no family or friends and when I ran out of money I just gave up. No one wanted me around because of the blood, so I hid wherever I could so the priests wouldn’t kick me out of town. You, you were my last hope.” 

I expected him to be angry but instead he seemed delighted. I could feel his compassion surround me like the arms of a loving father as tears of joy soaked my face. Oh, how I loved this man, I wanted to be with him forever.

Jesus never looked away from me when the whispers started about him touching an unclean woman. The crowd gasped when he rested his hand on my shoulder and he chuckled softly. The stain was gone from my clothes and my skin tingled all over. I had never felt so clean in my whole life.

He gently lifted my chin until my head was held up high and he smiled warmly. “Daughter, you took a risk trusting me, and now you're healed and whole. Live well, live blessed.” When he wrapped his arms around me in a warm embrace I just bawled into his shoulder as all the disappointment, rejection and bitterness flowed out of my soul. 

He turned from me when a servant of Jairus approached. He smiled at me again and said, "I am so glad we got to meet each other, know that I will always love you, but now I must go, there is a child and her family that need me." I heard Jesus telling someone not to worry and the crowd closed around him as he walked away.

I just stood there and let tears of joy flow down my cheeks. Jesus had left but I knew I would never be alone again.