WI don't know if you have met, or know anyone like this; let me call her Sally. She could be sitting among us. Sally is generally quiet; she's an over achiever; she's successful in her job. She had always been that way: in high school she belonged to everything and kept up in her academic studies as well. She was voted the nicest personality because she was easy to get along with, easy to like. She was both fun-loving and had a serious side to her as well. Sally continued along in a similar pattern in college. In fact, she met her future husband at school, an up and coming young man, too, who went on to graduate school to become a doctor. Everything was perfect on the outside. They married when they finished schooling. In public, everything was just fine.
At home, however, behind closed doors, a different story began to unfold. He loved her; she loved him. He loved her almost to a fault allowing her to do more studies and expecting her to continue going this direction. The least provocation, however, whether it was something Sally did or that he perceived, and he would become angered: She was later than he expected; the supper wasn't hot enough; why leftovers, why do I have to wait for dinner, who do you think you are anyway? In not too much time, going around on tiptoes, being as careful as one could be, or as some would describe, walking on eggshells, none of that worked. Soon, without any provocation, he would erupt into an anger that left her bruised and scarred. Sally became scared to death. So scared, it was impossible to tell anyone. She could hear the questions, you're making it up, why did you marry such a person if what you say is true? The changes were subtle; they did not come all at once. It seemed impossible to get out of the marriage without suffering even more. How could she safely ask for a divorce? She felt like she was in a catch twenty two situation. How could she have enough money to even contemplate leaving? No matter which direction Sally chose, if she remained with him, her life was in jeopardy; if she left, her life was in jeopardy. And then that evening came, Sally found herself quickly dialing 911. She had to hang up though before help answered the phone call. By the grace of God, five minutes later, two policemen were at the door: one immediately started talking with her husband, separating Sally and her husband; the other, spoke individually with her and unbidden gave her the phone number of a safe house. Sally left the apartment; she sought safety while her husband was still busied by the policeman.
Sally is not only a spouse – alone in her suffering. Even though there is an advocate group in AARP, Sally can also take the form of someone like Sam, the elderly father of Jeannine. Jeannine and her family took Sam into their home. He's frail now; his memory isn't great. Sam depends on his daughter for his care and life. During the day, Jeannine takes him to all his appointments. She prepares his meals and makes his bed. She gets him to the bath and walks beside him to give him the physical prop of stability. She hears his repeated questions; experiences his inability to place one foot in front of the other carefully while maintaining his balance. She cleans up the spills of soup and tea. She washes his clothes. Jeannine's world has becomes Sam's. Jeannine gets exasperated with this small world confined to three rooms and the doctors' offices, and now limited conversations. Her harsh sometimes threatening words of reproach, her too firm grips surprise and intimidate Sam. But what can he say? What can he do? What are his choices? Sam finally mentions in a half quizzical manner some of this to the doctor's nurse practitioner when she notes finger-like bruise marks on his arms.
Unlike the two present day examples I have lifted up, the woman in Mark's gospel is unnamed; she is known only as a woman in the crowd. In many ways, even though I named Sally and Sam, they are among many unnamed, abused spouses and elderly parents. Apparently, on the outside they live okay lives even as their bruises and scars accumulate.
I try to imagine what this unnamed woman in the crowd Mark describes is like. She is alone in a public place. This is surprising and unheard of for a woman of repute would not go unaccompanied in public. The custom is to protect the women folk in honorable families from outside eyes and possible unclean thoughts. On the other hand, if she has been suffering from 12 years of hemorrhaging, she would be considered unclean. She would necessarily be put to one side. No one could associate with her for fear that they, too, would become unclean. Being unclean meant she was unable to be a part of any temple activities, and anyone in contact with her would also be declared impure and unable to participate in temple activities. She had no choice but to go it alone; no one dared be with her. She was isolated from friends and family. I try to imagine how she survived, how she was able to sustain herself. Was food thrown her way? Where did she stay at night? Was she a beggar now? Her isolation and helplessness remind me of the isolation of our present day wife, Sally, and of the elderly Sam.
The text tells us that the woman of the crowd seemed to have been, at one time, one of means. She had had physicians who caused her to spend whatever she may have had. But to no avail; in fact, she was worse off now. Mind you physicians in Jesus' day were not as physicians today. For the most part, without modern day technology and knowledge, they were philosophers, that is, they spoke of healing but dared not touch anyone who was ill or intervene when anyone was ill for fear they would be put to death if something went wrong.
There were other healers of the day, they were known as folk healers. Jesus was probably considered by some to be among them – a folk healer. In fact, he performed miracles; we know him as the Great Physician. Healers, this healer brought healing to all who wanted to be healed. And, oh, how she wanted healing. I am not talking necessarily about curing but of healing where peoples' lives are restored, where the meaning of one's life is restored. I am talking about being made whole. I am talking about salvation. This woman in the crowd was not only saved, she was not only healed but she was cured; the text tells us that.
The woman in the crowd had heard of Jesus; the text tells us that also. The woman in the crowd still must have retained a good sense about herself even though everyone around her saw nothing but the threat of disease; she still held onto hope, even though the shouts to stay away, the insults hurled and the ensuing isolation kept her dodging from one corner to another. She held onto hope. She went forward and when she realized Jesus was in the crowd, she summoned all her resolve and reached out just to touch his garments. Now that was an outrageous thing for her to do – to reach out and touch a man, to reach out and possibly infect another. She reached: immediately, she was made well.
The audacity of it all: even though everything, every message being given her from those around her was one of doom, she retained a sense, a glimmer of well-being within herself so she could reach out in hope. I think that's what Sally experienced: the one she had trusted the most eroded away her sense of wholeness and self. But somewhere in the midst of it all, she held onto something, hope, and she went for the telephone when things were about to go totally awry; she called on hope, that's what had her dial 911. That's what had Sam speak, as well. Yes, he spoke reluctantly at first, but he was able to let it all come tumbling out as he admitted to the nurse practitioner all of what he endured at the hands of his own daughter. He knew he loved his daughter; he knew also what he was enduring was not right. He was not living life wholly as he might.
And do you remember what happens next as Jesus recognizes that something has just happened? He turns and asks, “Who touched me?” The unnamed woman in the crowd knows she has been healed; she recognizes that her hope has been answered: her hope is realized in this Jesus. Her faith is answered in this Jesus. What else could she do but to fall on her knees trembling? She fell on purpose to the One in whom she had hope and faith that would bring her wholeness.
There is hope for this unnamed woman in the crowd. Through God, there is healing that brings us closer to wholeness and restoration into a community and relationships. Jesus calls out, not woman, but he says, “Daughter, your faith has made you well.”
For all who live isolated by fear, there is hope. We don't need to be an abused spouse or elder. If fear is what drives us to act or not interact, know I/you/we can reach out in hope and faith to the One who takes our unfounded fears, and can change our lives. We don't have to be an abused spouse or elder but we just might know of such a situation, we just might be contributing to such as situation. We can reach out, too, to the One who loves, who restores even us.
The unnamed woman in the crowd knew. Sally knew; Sam also knew – falling on purpose is seeing the situation in which we are in completely, seeing ourselves completely, and letting go of the mixed-messages out there and in here. Falling on purpose is reaching out to the Source which will change our lives truly, deeply, wholly from the inside out so we, too, hear, ‘Daughter/Son your faith is what makes you well.' Falling on purpose is knowing to whom and what one bows. It can only be God the very source of our wholeness.
