Disclaimer: This is a fictional look at a bible story. No offence is intended to any beleivers. The story is the property of DorothyCollen, and all rights are reserved. Copyright 2011.

The Hem of His Garment

Based on Math. 9:20-22, Mark 5:25-34, Luke 8:43-48

Twelve years. Twelve long, miserable years. And she was at the end of herself....

She could still vividly recall the first time she realized she was different. She also remembered praying about it every day, trying everything she could think of to hide her “sin”. She had feared the difficulty it would cause, and her father, who was a member of the Pharisee sect fulfilled her fears, and then some. His reaction stung, even now.

She could remember all the stories from the Torah her father had taught her, back when he was still proud of her. Somehow, he always found the ones that showed God (or, as he insisted on calling Him, “He who sits on high, blessed be He”) as the Judge. The expulsion from Paradise, the judgment of Sodom, those were the type of stories her father had favored.

But her mother was different. She had always preferred the stories of mercy. The restoration of King David after he had sinned, the forgiveness shown by Joseph to his brothers, those were what her mother would read to her when she was little.

As a result of these conflicting views of God, she was conflicted on how to see him as well. But when the truth came out, about her “condition”, her heart had been broken by the fallout.

She had been forced to leave home, and lived with distant relatives far from the Temple. They had not turned her away, but they barely acknowledged her presence, and that wore at her heart. Since she had arrived, she had cried every night, and for a long time, she could not pray, because when she did, she saw her father, and she believed God felt the same about her as he did.

She was “unclean”, and would never be anything else.

Sadly, time could not heal her wounds; her condition could not allow it. She was reminded, every single day, that she was a failure; she was unable to ever approach the temple, much less God. No sacrifice, no prayer, could seem to make any difference, and she gave up hope and withdrew into herself.

She did no more than the minimum to stay alive, and her only prayer now was for a quick death. Since she was doomed in any case, unworthy of ever being right with her father or God, she just wanted her pain in this life to end, no matter what would happen afterward.

But even that prayer had gone unanswered, and as the years dragged on, she gave up on even that hope, and died inside. She went through the motions of living, but there was nothing at all behind her eyes.

Or at least, that had been true until this year.

For the last few years, there had been a growing excitement and anticipation in the community. Many of the scribes were sure that the time of the Messiah was at hand.

Everyone knew the stories from the writings of the prophets, that a deliverer would come and restore the nation to its proper place. As the oppression of Rome seemed to be growing stronger every year, everyone hoped that he would come soon.

There had been false Messiahs, men who had claimed the title, but none had succeeded, or even made any difference, except making things worse. At first, she had been too numb to pay any attention. What difference would it make to someone like her?

But then, one Sabbath, she had slipped into a meeting in disguise. She had known where the impulse had come from, but she felt called, and did not resist. No one seemed to even notice her presence. There, the local priest had chosen to read a passage from the prophet Isaiah. It was a strange choice, but it changed everything for her.

The passage started like this:

“He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows, and familiar with grief.....”

It pierced her, going through the armor she had built around herself, striking her right in her heart. Here was someone like her! Maybe not with the same problem, but someone who was a servant of God, but would understand what she went through.

But who was this man? Why did the prophet talk about him? And how did that jibe with the official view of the Messiah? She did not know, but she began to hope that such a one could maybe heal even her.

Thus, when the teacher called Jesus came back home after being away, and seemed to have amazing abilities, including healing the sick, she followed the crowd at a distance, becoming more and more intrigued as she watched him.

He was so different from the teachers of the Law. He quoted the Law, but somehow, made it his own, even changing it, something no one else would dare to do.

Plus, he was so gentle, taking time to talk and touch even the lowest person he met. Most of his followers were “sinners” but his presence seemed elevate them, make them seem specially favored by God himself.

And then there was the healings. No illness seemed beyond him, he could cast out a demon, or heal the lame and blind with a word or a touch, and soon the sick and tormented from all around were coming or being brought to him.

For some reason that reading of the scripture came to mind when she saw him, and, for the first time in years, she started to hope again. Her faith, long dormant, began to blossom within her.

Thus it was that Jarius, a ruler of the synagogue came to Jesus and begged him to heal his daughter, who was very sick. She realized they would pass by very close to where she was watching, and the idea of asking for a healing came into her mind.

But she could not bear having to share her shame with him, much less the crowd that surrounded him, so she agonized what to do.

“Perhaps, if I touched him, it would be just the same as if he touched me.” she thought.

She carefully tried to get close enough to reach him.

“Just a touch of his robe, and maybe God will heal me through him.”

She seemed to be given the first bit of luck she could remember having since her problems had started. It was like the crowd parted enough to let her slip through unnoticed, and soon she was just behind him.

With a trembling hand, she reached out, and touched the very fringe of her robe, praying as she did so.

Suddenly, she was whole, and knew it at once. She hoped to slip back away before anyone noticed, but Jesus stopped and looked around.

“Who touched me?”

She trembled. He was looking at her, and she was sure he knew exactly that it had been her, but wanted her to admit it.

One of his disciples said “Sir, we are surrounded by a crowd, how can you ask who touched you?”

“I felt the power of God leave me. Who touched me?”

He was looking at her again, and she could not could not deny it any longer.

“It … it was I, Lord.”

She fell on her knees before him, and sobbing, told him who she was, what she had been through, and how touching him had made her whole.

She waited for him to condemn her, to take back the healing, to demand she be punished, but he looked at her with love instead.

“Your faith has made you well....daughter.”

Her strength gone, she collapsed at that last word, and lay on the ground weeping in gratitude, and then Jesus did something even more amazing than healing her, he crouched down, he bent down to her! He, who was everything, bent down to her, who was nothing. And then he raised her back up to her knees, laid a hand on her head, and said, “Go in peace.”

She staggered to her feet, and fled, and once again the crowd parted to let her pass. She ran all the way home, and showed herself to her relatives. They had tolerated her before, but they now rejoiced with her, and a party soon followed.

After the party, she lay down, praying and thanking God for her healing, when she heard His voice fully for the first time in her life. Afterward, she fell asleep, knowing she had to obey that voice, that starting tomorrow, she had a job to do.

She had to return to her home, and meet once more with her father.

She struggled with the instructions she had received as much as Abraham had when he had been told to sacrifice his son. How could she do this? And yet, how could she not, considering what had happened to her?

Finally, she had arrived at her father's house, and knocked. Her mother answered, and stared at her in shock.

“Is it...is it really you, my child?”

“Its me Mama. I saw a great man, a prophet, the one they call Jesus, and he healed me. Is Papa home?”

“Not yet. He has been at meetings with the other Pharisees all day.”

“I will come back then later.”

“You could...you could come in, and wait. I … I have missed you. And...and I a so sorry that I let your father kick you out.”

She said “I will talk about it when Papa comes home.” , and went inside.

The silence was awkward, and she wondered to herself how long she could keep silent. She was just about to give in to the urge to speak when her father came home.

He came in the door, and stood, staring at her.

“Hello Papa.”

“What... what are you doing here?”

“I am healed, Papa. Can’t you tell? This man, Jesus, who has been talked about throughout the land, has made me whole. And I praise the Almighty for my healing.”

At first shakingly, then with growing confidence, she told them what happened.

She watched her father's expression change, the hard look that had become so familiar to her softened, and tears came to his eyes. He staggered, and sat down on a chair, and wept.

“Not a day... not a day has gone by that I have not thought of you. I hated myself for sending you away. I … I was so worried about the others judging me, I let myself reject my own child.”

“Papa, Momma, I have a message for both of you. A message from God himself.”

At the mention of that holy name, never spoken but once a year, her father looked up at her, and then hung his head in shame, while her mother fighter

“What message could it be, but judgment?” they both thought.

“He has commanded me to say... I forgive you.”

“Forgive?” her father said.

“I was forgiven my doubt, my fear, my rejection of him in the face of my distress. I … I can do no less.”

Her mother rushed over, and her father rose up, and together they hugged her fiercely, and the three of them wept.

After a while, they parted, and her father said, “Let me hold a party, daughter, please. I want to share my good news.”

Soon, a celebration was held, and she saw many of her friends, neighbors, and relatives for the first time in a very long time, and each one kissed her and welcomed her home.

Finally, the party ended, and she came out of the house to find her father staring into the distance. She came up beside him, and slipped an arm around him, and asked, What are you thinking, Papa?”

“I... I am glad you are home, my dear. But I can't help but grieve the loss of my son. But I understand, he was never really real, was he?”

She looked at him, and understood the grief he was feeling. All the dreams and hopes he had held for his son were gone. And she saw how the fear of that loss had led him to his anger when she had told him what she was.

“I...I am sorry I couldn't be him for you, Papa.”

“I know hon, and it isn’t your fault. And God has now been gracious to me, for I lost what was never there, but have had my daughter restored to me.”

“And I have my Papa back, at last. But what will you do now?”

“I .. I do not know. I think I have to leave the council. I have heard how they talk about this man who healed you, and I don’t think I could stand hearing it anymore, after what I have learned today. Maybe...maybe he will come here, or one of these followers you saw, and teach us the right way to serve God.”

“I....I am sure of it, Papa, but I think some bad things must happen first. The way I saw that passage in the writings, the one that gave me hope again, he will be like the scapegoat is in that ceremony.”

He looked at her, and remembered the passage she meant, and saw clearly what she was talking about, and then he wept, and said, “How... how can that be? And if it is true, then ... where will our hope come from?”

“Where it has always been, Papa. From God.”

“I am still having to get used to saying that name out loud. I will try and hold on to faith.”

“You will Papa. You are a good man, who loves God, and He will help you.”

“I still don't understand how you can call me good, after how I treated you.”

“Don't you remember what the Torah says? 'Come, let us reason together, although your sins be scarlet, you will be made white as snow'. When we repent, God not only forgives, but puts it behind him, forever.”

“You have become wise, much wiser than this foolish old man.”

“Not because I am special father, but because of Him. He will do the same for you, if you seek his wisdom.”

“I will try, my daughter.”

“I have waited my whole life for you to call me that.”

“And I am only sorry it took me so long.”

She kissed him, and said, “Already forgiven. I am just glad to be home, and whole, at last.”

“As am I to have you home, and whole. But we should get some rest. Another day will be dawning soon.”

“It has been a good first day of my true life, and of being your daughter.”

“And I have now have a second chance to be a father.”

“God will bless that chance, if we let him.”

He smiled, and saw her strength, her faith, and felt it come into him as well. If she was right about that man, there would be some truly dark days ahead, so they would all need that strength, but for the first time, he saw not just the justice of God, but his mercy as well, and knew they could make it.

Together, the three of them.

As a family, at last.