13th Sunday in Ordinary Time

The woman we meet in today’s gospel has been suffering from hemorrhaging for 12 odd years. This sickness would have rendered her permanently ritually impure. Anyone who came into contact with any blood whatsoever were considered ritually impure for a period of 7 days. This woman would have therefore been in a state of permanent ritual impurity and would have been shunned as a result. With great courage she rejected the dominant theology of the day that would have told her that this condition she was suffering was as a result of her own personal sin, or the sin of her parents. Instead she tackled the problem head-on and sought a medical solution, not a religious one. In order to have been able to consult the physicians, she would have had to have been a woman of great wealth, as it was only the very wealthy who had the luxury of visiting doctors at the time of Jesus. But the medical fraternity fail her dismally, and by the time we meet her in today’s gospel she is impoverished not only physically and emotionally, but also economically.

Then she hears about Jesus, but is perhaps so filled with a sense of her own shame by this time that she does not dare approach Jesus directly. Instead she pushes her way through the thronging crowds and grabs onto the cloak of Jesus, with faith that this alone will heal her. This woman has a curious relationship to Jesus – she has faith that he can heal her, but in some way she treats Jesus as a magical talisman, in other words she is almost happy to meld invisibly back into the crowd and slink away. But Jesus will not have it, and he immediately wants to know who has touched him. He wants to force this woman into a relationship with him. He wants her to know that her healing is not just purely a matter of stopping a blood flow. Jesus wants her to realize that her physical healing is only the outward sign of something far more substantial: her faith. Jesus did not just want her to slink off away into the crowd, and treat him as a magical talisman without even so much as them exchanging a glance. Jesus wants to affirm this incredible faith of hers, and tell her that it is this faith that has saved her.

What faith you might ask? Because, as faith goes, it is hard to see how the faith of this woman differs in any way from the crowds of people who flock to the false prophets of our day, seeking magical talismans of all sorts. Unlike Bartimaeus or Simon of Cyrene, this woman’s contact with Jesus probably did not lead to her becoming a disciple of Jesus (or else we would probably have known her name). So what exactly is the faith that Jesus is trying to affirm and make blossom here?

It is the faith of this woman in life, it is her resolute refusal to let sickness get the better of her – it is her resolute refusal to become paralyzed in hopelessness. Think about it, after having seen countless doctors, seen all her savings eaten up by these quacks who claimed they could heal her, after having been told by people just suck it up – you’re a sinner – this is your punishment, she refused to believe any of these narratives that were being pushed down her throat and continued hoping. She absolutely refused to believe that the life she was living was the life that God wanted her to be living. She refused to get comfortable in her victimhood and lick her wounds. She is the antithesis of the paralysed man in John’s gospel by the pool of Siloam. This woman refused to get comfortable with living life at 50%. She wanted life at 100% and she was going to get it. This is the faith that Jesus is talking about – this woman’s faith in life, and faith in a God that wants to give that abundance of life. Jesus saw himself as the agent of God’s abundant life – and says as much in John’s gospel – “I have come that they may have life and have it to the full.”

I have often thought of this gospel story as a powerful image for the way in which, often those who are in one way or another alienated from the Church will reach out to us and ask for our prayers. As a priest, I have been struck by those who approach me who have major issues with organized religion and have not darkened the door of a church in years. They approach me in times of crisis, perhaps a loved one is ill and they would like me to come and pray for them, or perhaps the loved one has passed on and they would like me to conduct the funeral. I have often thought of these requests as them grabbing onto the hem of the cloak of Jesus. Often they seem consoled enough by the contact with the Church that is the privileged conduit of God’s grace. However, this contact with the Church does not lead them to want to become members of the Church. They go on their way, like this woman, with a life more abundant for having touched the hem of Jesus’ cloak.

If we acknowledge that it is unlikely that we will ever see a world where all 8 billion people on the planet become convicted Christians, then we must also acknowledge equally that it will always be necessary for such people to be able to touch the hem of the cloak of Christ. Now I think that some people might find this problematic and might think – well it’s not fair for them to just come and freeload of our efforts. Perhaps we might want to say to such people: “if you’re going to take the best parts (God’s mercy and consolation in times of crisis) you should also be prepared to get stuck in the trenches with us and run the soup kitchen on Friday evenings and contribute to the new parish hall fund.” I think what we need to realize is that if Jesus was happy with the woman simply passing through his life and then waltzing off into the sunset, never to be seen again, then we need to be content with the same thing happening in our parishes. If Jesus didn’t make people jump through hoops in order to access God’s grace, then we shouldn’t do either.

OK, so I hear you saying, “well it’s all very well for you, Fr. Isaac, as a priest you get to decide who gets access to the sacraments and who doesn’t, what can we do as lay people?” I have two answers to this. Firstly, the sacraments are not the be all and end all of our faith practice. There is nothing stopping you from organizing with a group of fellow believers to go and visit and pray with someone who you know is in need of solace and comfort. Sometimes we need to be near enough for a person to reach out and grab the hem of the coat of Jesus. It was only because Jesus was an itinerant preacher that he was so accessible to people. We need to create the same accessibility to God’s grace through our own lives and through the places we visit and allow ourselves to be approached. Secondly, I think we need to move into a space where it is not just the priest unilaterally deciding who gets access to God’s grace and who doesn’t. When I was posted at a particular parish, I always made a point of empowering the lay faithful to help me make the decision of who got to have a Catholic burial, in order that this decision was not simply made by looking at whether they were paying their dues to the Church or not. When we are able to do this, we will have become like our Father in heaven, who is not parsimonious with his grace, but makes his sun shine on the good and the bad, his rain fall on the righteous and the unrighteous.

Questions for reflection

1. Have you got comfortable living life at 50%, and given up on a God who promises you life at 100%?
2. Where do you think God might be calling you to be the hem of the cloak of Jesus?
3. How can you make your parish into a more welcoming and accessible place for those who might feel alienated and cut off from God’s grace?