Twelve long years of being unclean.  When I think back on it now, it seems like an unbearable time, and I’m amazed that I survived it.  No thanks for that can go to the many different doctors I saw: they didn’t heal me at all; instead, I kept getting ever so slowly worse.

Hundreds of years ago, there was a king of Judah who was afflicted by a disease in his feet as he grew old.[1]  He suffered terribly and looked for doctors to heal him, but nothing helped.  Our scriptures describe his search for a medical solution in a way that shows that it was not the best answer, saying that “even in his disease he did not seek the Lord, but sought help from physicians.”  Well, that was the same with me for all of those twelve years.  When my problem started, I found a doctor and hoped that he could cure me.  He couldn’t, but he could take my money.  Oh, yes.  He was good at that.  After a while, I looked for another doctor to see whether he could do better.  Unfortunately, the only thing he did better was taking my money.  Over the years I tried many more doctors, but just like with King Asa, my quest failed.  King Asa died with his problem, and it looked as if I would do the same with mine.

Scripture is written to help us to learn.  Examples from the lives of all sorts of people are intended to help us to learn about God’s wishes.  But when you are unclean, nobody wants you around in synagogues or any other assembly of the people.  At our synagogues we have readings from scripture, but they could not help me.  In Jerusalem we have priests and experts in the law, but not for me – no-one would even talk to me.  Instead, I was left on my own, trusting human doctors rather than God, spending all of my money and gradually getting sicker.

Ironic, isn’t it, that someone who could have learned from the example of King Asa was never able to hear it?  God has provided guidance and help, but the very people who need to hear them most cannot do so!  It’s only now that I am clean again that I have been able to hear this example read in the synagogue.  I wonder how many others have missed out on words of God that they needed because of being unclean?  Of course, this is not God’s fault.  Others could have told me, but did not – for whatever reason.  Maybe I should have been asking more.

When you are unclean because of a discharge or bleeding, whether you are a man or a woman, you cannot interact ordinarily with other people.  Anyone you touch, or anyone who touches you, becomes unclean.  Any bed you lie on, any seat you sit on, is made unclean.  Ordinary life is utterly impossible.  This curse I had suffered for 12 years.

Many people had been cured by Jesus, so he was always surrounded by people who wanted to be cured.  People in front of him, people behind him, people crowding around everywhere.  So what could I do?  If I tried to go to Jesus and let people know that I was unclean, everyone would tell me to go away and refuse to let me anywhere near.  Believe me, I know – it happened all the time near my home.

Yet if I joined the throng without warning anyone, I would be touching many people and making them all unclean.  Even if they didn’t know it, God would.

What should I do?  I could keep spending what little money I had left on doctors and getting slowly worse, or I could try to get close to Jesus.

I made up my mind that I had to go and see Jesus, but I hadn’t worked out how I would manage it.

Stories about Jesus were spreading all over the countryside, but there was one that got my attention more than any of the others.  People spoke of a leper who had approached Jesus and said, “If you are willing, you can make me clean.”

It was just as simple as that, and Jesus’ reply had been just as simple: “I am willing, be clean.”  Then he touched the man and he was cured of his leprosy.

So much better than my visits to doctors!  They always want to know my medical history, how long the problem has lasted, how weak I feel, how many other doctors I have seen, what medicines have been tried, and so many, many more questions.  But Jesus didn’t need to know any of that – he just cured people.  It almost makes me feel sorry for doctors!

Apparently Jesus had had just two more things to say to that man: he forbade him from telling anyone what had happened and he told him to go to the priest and offer the sacrifice required for his cleansing.  I don’t know about the cleansing, but from what I hear, the man has never breathed a word to anyone about his healing – the reports have spread from other witnesses.  Being unable to tell people how he had been healed must have made things very difficult for him.  Old friends who had met him would have asked, “How did you get cured?”  I couldn’t imagine what sort of answer one might give.  Could it be: “I can’t tell you that” or “It doesn’t matter, what matters is that I am better”?  I knew that if I was successful in my goal, I might have to work out such an answer myself.

I hoped so.

Finally, one day news came that Jesus was in town, and I made up my mind to do something.  I still had no firm plans, but I was determined to go to Jesus and see what happened.  By that time I was sure that Jesus could heal me, and would be willing to.  The only question was how to give him the chance.

When I arrived at the place where Jesus was, it wasn’t hard to tell that he was there, although I couldn’t see him.  The crowds were even worse than I had imagined they might be.  As I approached Jesus, I couldn’t see what was going on, but I heard that a leader of the synagogue was kneeling before Jesus, begging him to go with him to heal his daughter.  Then Jesus stood and followed him, with his disciples, and I could see him.

Oh, what should I do?  This visit could take some time, and if I stayed in the crowd close to Jesus for too long, someone might recognise me.

I was in a torment of uncertainty.  Should I join the crowd and ignore my uncleanness?  Or would it be best to go back home and wait until tomorrow?

In the end, I decided to join the crowd and see whether an opportunity would arise on the way to the leader’s house.  I just couldn’t wait.  As the crowd moved, still packed close around Jesus, I gradually worked my way through it.  You will have to believe me in this, but I really did do the best I could to avoid touching people.  However, I confess that I did brush against some people.  I was in such a state that you can’t really imagine what it was like.  I should have stopped and let the crowd pass, but I couldn’t.  I know that was wrong.  I had always tried to avoid making others unclean in my affliction, but I failed badly on that day.

Eventually I was close enough to Jesus that I could almost touch him, but not quite.  I was off to his left and a short way behind, when suddenly the crowd stopped for some reason – you know what crowds are like.  I still couldn’t quite reach him, but it occurred to me that if I bent down and stretched out my arm past people’s legs, I could probably just reach the edge of his cloak.  So I bobbed down and looked through the sea of legs and clothes, quickly identifying Jesus’ legs and his garment with the tassels on the corners including the blue thread that the law required.  I reached out desperately, right as the crowd started to move, and just – only just – managed to touch his cloak.

The response was amazing.  I knew instantly that my bleeding had stopped.  As quickly as I could, I pulled back my hand and stood up again, all in one fluid movement.

That was my experience of the encounter, but apparently Jesus too had been able to feel the power that had stopped my bleeding.  Straight away, he stopped and turned, looking around and asking, “Who touched my clothes?”  Oh, it was frightening.  My euphoria at being having been cured suddenly became terror.  I dreaded being caught.

I wasn’t next to him, so there was still a chance that I wouldn’t be caught.  I started trying to edge away, but Jesus’ reaction and his words had caused the crowd to pack itself even more tightly around him.  There was no escape.

Jesus was looking around at the crowd, and everyone he looked at said quickly, “It wasn’t me.”

Peter, one of his disciples, said to him, “Master, the crowds are all around you and pressing on you!”

Jesus’ voice wasn’t harsh or angry as he replied, but it was insistent: “Someone touched me, for I know that power has gone out from me.”

All of the people right next to Jesus had denied touching him, and now he was looking further afield… looking at me.

I suppose it was my feeling of guilt at having made people unclean that made me so frightened, but I spoke to him anyway: “It was me,” I said, my voice shaking.  “I have been bleeding for twelve years, and no doctor can heal me, so I came and touched just the edge of your cloak, just the tassel, and now I am healed.  I knew that you could heal me, so I didn’t need to talk to you, but I am sorry… my uncleanness…”

My words stumbled to a halt and I looked pleadingly at him.  Jesus smiled at me and encouraged me.  He told me that my faith had made me well.  As soon as he said it, I knew that it was true.  I had never doubted that he could heal me.  What a wonderful man, to inspire such faith in a sick woman!

There was just one more step which I hadn’t even realised was needed.  I had felt wonderful after one simple touch of his garment, but then Jesus said, “Go in peace and be healed of your disease,” and suddenly I knew that an even greater healing had come upon me.  I can’t explain it any more than that, but I was fully, completely cured by Jesus’ blessing – and filled with peace as well.

[1] 2 Chronicles 16:12; 1 Kings 15:23