A Touch of Love

 

Reflections on the Woman with the Issue of Blood and the Raising of Jairus’ Daughter (Luke 8:41–56)

Sermon preached by Teva Regule, MDiv, PhD on Sunday, November 9, 2025

Glory to the Father, Son and Holy Spirit—One God. Amen.

This past week I had a touch of the flu—fever, body aches, congestion—in general, I just felt crappy. I didn’t want to be near anyone and no one wanted to be near me (except for the cat ;-)). I didn’t go out of the house. I was out of my routine and out of sorts. I felt isolated and irritated. I kept thinking of all the things I had to do, but didn’t have any energy to do any of them. I imagine that we have all been there. Our physical illnesses affect not only our bodies, but have a bearing on our minds and sense of self as well. Now, imagine feeling that way all the time. Although not a perfect analogy, in the general sense, this might give us a glimpse into the physical and mental state of the woman in our story today—the woman with the issue of blood.

Women, in particular, might be able to identify more closely with our protagonist. Imagine having your period not just once as month, but non-stop with all of the cramping, bloating, anemia, mood swings, etc. that come with it. Not only would one be physically drained, but I imagine psychologically drained as well.

However, this was not the totality of this woman’s condition and its implications. In addition to it’s physical and no-doubt psychological effects, her constant bleeding had made her ritually unclean according to Jewish law. Not only could she not go the Temple and, possibly, even the synagogue to pray with the community in this state, no one else could do so if they touched her.[1] She was most likely shunned—an untouchable; a non-person. So, for 12 years, she lived in a state of near total isolation from others. Deprived of the touch of another. The text says that she had spent her whole livelihood on doctors seeking a cure. One can imagine the mix of exhaustion, loneliness, anger, depression, and alienation she felt. She was not only estranged from others, but from herself, and, most likely, from God as well. She was, in effect, dying.
As Christians, we know that this is not the kind of world that God envisioned for His creatures. God created us to live in harmony and wholeness. The prophet Isaiah prepared God’s people for someone who would come to repair our broken relationships and “bring glad tidings to the lowly, to heal the broken hearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives and release the prisoners… and to comfort all who mourn” (Isa. 61:1–2). When Jesus begins His public ministry, He quotes from this mission of the unnamed servant prophesized in Isaiah (re: Lk. 4:16–18), proclaiming the fulfillment of this scripture passage. He has come to bring us back into the harmony with all from which we are estranged—other humans, animals, ourselves—all of creation—as well as our God. In His public ministry, He begins by healing those around him. Oftentimes, He does this just by the authority of His word. In the narrative in Luke, He has just rebuked the Gerasene Demoniac by His word. (This was the Gospel passage that we read two weeks ago.) He now heals in a different manner—by touch.

Touch is considered one of our most basic senses and one in which all the other senses depend. It precedes even our most basic needs for food and drink. If we don’t experience touch as an infant, we are likely to fail to thrive—in other words, to eventually die. Furthermore, sensory deprivation robs us of our bearings—a type of solitary confinement. Touch helps us to recover ourselves and reorients ourselves in the universe of others.[2] However, touch by itself, is not neutral. Unwanted touch can invade or impose on us. Whereas wanted touch can open us up to the other and heal. The meaning of touch is found within a relational context. In this case, it is within the context of faith imbued with trust. This unnamed woman sought out Jesus. Out of a life that seemed hopeless, she still had hope. According to the account in the Gospel of Mark, she had faith that He could heal her—according to the text, “If I but touch his clothes, I shall be healed” (Mk. 5:28). And so, she got up the courage (Mt. 9:22) to touch just the tassel of His cloak (Lk. 8:44). There was a crowd of people around Jesus, but immediately He felt this touch and was aware of a power going from Him (Lk. 8:46). In this case, He heals by being touched. According to the Gospel of Mark, the woman remarks that she “felt in her body that she was healed from her affliction” (Mk. 5:28). After she explained why she had touched Him, Jesus confirms that it was her faith that saved her and invites her to “go in peace” (Lk. 8:48). One can only imagine the relief and joy that must have accompanied this encounter. She is free from her “captivity.” She is no longer a prisoner to her affliction. Furthermore, she is no longer estranged from her family and friends. She could go to the Temple and Synagogue to worship God with the community and have a sense of wholeness within herself once again. For her, this touch of love led to healing that was not only a healing of the body, but one that reintegrated her whole self—body, mind and soul, both personally and communally. On one level, she was dead, but now has been brought back to life.

It is interesting that this account is sandwiched within the narrative of the raising of Jairus’ daughter. Prior to this account, a synagogue official named Jairus had approached Jesus to come to his house to heal his daughter who was dying. The story relays that she was 12 years old, the same amount of time that the women with the issue of blood had been hemorrhaging and, in effect, dying as well. After Jesus’ encounter with this woman, someone arrives with the news that the young girl had already died. However, Jesus asks Jairus to have faith and his daughter will be saved (Lk. 8:50). When He arrives at the house, He touches her—He takes her by the hand and commands that she “arise” (Lk. 8:54). Her breath returns and she immediately rises. She, too, is brought back to life through Jesus’ touch of love. Jesus heals not only be being touched, but by touching. The act of touch is a communion—one that is grounded in faith and trust in the love of Jesus and the power of that love to heal.

So, what does this story mean for us? For us, this is not just a story of Jesus’ historical ministry. But this healing power is available to us today. We, too, are called to experience the power of Jesus’ healing touch—whether receiving the touch of the water at baptism, or oil on our heads and sense organs during the sacraments of Chrismation or Unction or, the touch of the Body and Blood of Christ through the elements of bread and wine on the lips of our mouths in the Eucharist. By doing so, we can then share this healing power with others—whether is it sitting and holding the hand of a sick relative or just offering a hug to a friend in need. The power of participating in Jesus’ touch of love in faith and trust can help to realize His mission for the world—to “bring glad tidings to the lowly, to heal the broken hearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives and release the prisoners… and to comfort all who mourn” (Isa. 61:1–2).

Amen.

 

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[1] According to Levitical proscription, such persons would have also been considered unclean and would have had to undergo a purification process—cleansing their own bodies and clothes, waiting until a certain amount of time had passed and, possibly, the making of a sin or burnt offering.
[2] Richard Kearney, Touch: Recovering our Most Vital Sense (New York: Columbia University Press), 37.