The Woman with an Issue of Blood

S. Mark v. 25–34

There is a well-known series of pictures in Christian Art known as “The Stations” on the Way of the Cross. In one of these our Blessed Lord lies prostrate on the ground, and a woman is wiping the great drops of sweat from His face with her veil. That act of tender sympathy was regarded by the early Church as so Christlike a thing that she clothed the episode in a beautiful and romantic form, maintaining that the impression of His face was left upon the veil; 1 and the sister of mercy who ministered to Him in His distress has come down to posterity by the name of Veronica, or “The True Likeness.”

According to one of the Apocryphal Gospels, which is known for its preservation of some probable traditions, she was the woman for whom Jesus had wrought this miraculous cure. If the identity may be assumed, it was not merely an act of womanly tenderness and compassion, but a grateful return for remembered loving-kindness.

Further, as corroborative of the truth of this miracle of healing, the Father of Ecclesiastical History testifies, three centuries after its occurrence, that he had seen at Caesarea Philippi, which was said to have been her native town, a monument erected in commemoration of the event. “At the gates of her house, on an elevated stone, stands a brazen image of a woman on her bended knee, with her hands stretched out before her like one entreating. Opposite to this there is another, of a man, erect, of the same material, decently clad in a mantle, and stretching out his hand to the woman.” This monument Eusebius associates with the case before us by a superstitious belief, which he says prevailed in the neighbourhood — viz., that there was a mysterious plant growing at the base, which year by year, as soon as it reached as high as the hem of the brazen garment, became a kind of antidote to all manner of sickness and disease.

The circumstances of the cure are very familiar. Our Lord was on His way to the bedside of a dying child, followed by a crowd of people, all expectant and eager to see for themselves an exhibition of His healing power. Their curiosity had been excited by the rumours of His “mighty deeds” in Capernaum, nigh where they were.

Jesus was probably clad as the Jewish Rabbi invariably was. On His head He would wear the Oriental turban, on His feet sandals or shoes, according to the season of the year; His inner or under dress was the close-fitting tunic, reaching almost to the ground, and gathered in with a girdle: it was “without seam, woven from the top throughout,” while over this was thrown “the Tallith,” with the hems or fringes for which such careful directions were given in the Law, and to which such deep significance was attached: “Thou shalt make thee fringes upon the four quarters of thy vesture,”... “that ye may remember, and do all My commandments, and be holy unto your God.”

It was, no doubt, from the almost superstitious reverence that had grown up for this part of the dress, that the woman was impelled to grasp it, in the hope of being cured. For few would deny that there was a strong element of superstition in her faith. Our Lord, however, judged her according to the standard of her times, and saw underlying her conduct at least the principle of that which He ever regarded as a claim upon His recognition. And so her touch was immediately responded to. But He would not let her depart till her faith had been lifted on to a higher level, and she was thoroughly convinced how great things she was capable of effecting by it. Hence the conversation that followed. “And Jesus, immediately knowing in Himself that virtue had gone out of Him, turned Him about in the press, and said, Who touched My clothes?” The question brought no answer, but it provoked a remonstrance from the disciples. We find from S. Luke that S. Peter was their mouthpiece. It creates a little surprise that we should be indebted to another Evangelist for the knowledge of this, because that Apostle was so careful in reminding S. Mark of much that told to his own disparagement. But it was no idle question, as they supposed. There were many around Him who had need to be healed, sick, no doubt, with countless infirmities, and they had touched Him again and again as they pressed upon Him, but they were not cured as she was. And Christ would tell them why it was. They had not touched in faith.

The poor woman had not dared to come forward, knowing that her disease made her unclean. She was afraid that, if

Zizith, but which Jesus wore is doubtful. The four articles — the turban, the girdle, the sandals or shoes, and the Tallith — would be divided severally to the four soldiers, while the fifth, the Chithuna, was raffled for by all. Cf. Life and Times, i. 621-6. she threw herself in His way, some of the bystanders to whom she was known would cry out “Unclean,” and her shame would be exposed in the presence of the multitude. So it was that she pushed as closely as she could, and then grasped the fringe of His robe, and felt at once that the issue of her blood was stanched. And when Jesus called for her “that had done this thing,” she hesitated for a moment; she heard the remonstrance of S. Peter, and hoped, perhaps, that nothing more would be said; but as the Saviour insisted, and looked round, it may be He caught her anxious look, for “she came, and fell down before Him, and told Him all the truth.”

And what followed? We lose some of the force of the language in the English translation: “Daughter, thy faith hath made thee whole; go in peace, and be whole of thy plague.” They are different words x in the original, and the first is greater than the last, — “Thy faith hath saved thee” — saved thee not only from bodily infirmity, but from the soul’s sickness: go in peace, and carry away deliverance from the lower, as a pledge and witness of that which is higher.

The story teaches the rightful place of faith in the work of salvation. That none can be saved without faith is so plainly set forth in Holy Scripture that “he may run that readeth it;” but at the same time it is taught with equal emphasis, though it may be more through acts than words, that it is the touch of Christ which effects the cure, whether His hands are laid upon us, or ours are stretched forth to lay hold upon Him. This poor sufferer had faith before she touched; she believed, however imperfect her appreciation of the reality, that Jesus was possessed of the means of healing, and that, though every other remedy had failed, He could still bring relief. But it was not till she laid hold of something external to herself, till she brought herself into actual contact with Him, that her end was gained.

It is the same in the Christian life now. We have faith in the efficacy of the Incarnation for the purification from all sin, and the Sacraments are given for the application of its virtue to each individual. They are the means by which we may follow up the internal conviction by the external act; by which the faith which satisfies us of the all-sufficiency of Christ, may make us partakers of the Divine Nature, and quicken us by the life-giving power of His Body and Blood. Herein faith and works, the inner and the outward, are so combined, that they not only cannot be severed, but that the result, so happily produced by the combination, may in accordance with Scripture phraseology be ascribed to the one or the other.

God the Holy Ghost tells us by the inspired Evangelist that the drying up of the fountain of blood was the immediate consequence of her touch. God the Son, on the other hand, gives her the assurance of His Own lips that it was her faith that made her whole.

Note: It is an interesting study to discover the dea underlying the mediaeval legends: — e.g. in the betrothal of S. Catharine to the Infant Jesus is represented the union of the pure and holy Christian soul with the one absorbing object of its love; in the leafy covering into which S. Etheldreda’s staff budded to protect her from the heat, the shelter which her great foundation at Ely offered to many generations. For that of Veronica cf. Eucharistic Poems by A. Gurney.

Note: The date of the Apocryphal Gospels is uncertain, but some belong to the second and third centuries.

Note: Our Lord is usually represented without any head-dress. Edersheim has shown in an interesting chapter upon Jewish Dress that it was held as disrespectful to go with a bare head. The under garment was called Chithuna, and is represented in the Greek xLT^v’ There was another upper garment besides the Tallith, called Goltha. Both had fringes,

Note: cre’crw/ce, the same expression as in verse 28 — saved or delivered — often used in deliverance from bodily ailments, with a further sense underlying it. vyirjs, whole, healthy, sound.