Luke 8:43-48 And a woman having an issue of blood twelve years, which had spent all her living on physicians, neither could be healed of any,… Who is this wan, feeble woman that struggles through the swaying crowd, and watches her opportunity to stoop and lay her hand on the Healer's garment? This, say the Evangelists, is a poor woman afflicted for twelve years with a disorder, a haemorrhage, which was then held to warrant divorce — a disorder which rendered her" unclean "in the eyes of the law, so that she could neither enter temple nor synagogue. This, says Eusebius, was Veronica, a woman of wealth and repute, who dwelt in Casarea Philippi, at the northernmost extremity of the Holy Land, hard by the main source of the river Jordan, in a lonely valley at the foot of Hermon. "I, Eusebius, have seen her house in that city. And to this day [some three centuries after the miracle], before the gate of her house, on a lofty block of stone, there stands a brazen sculpture; on the one side, a woman drops on her bended knees, with hands outstretched as in supplication; and, opposite to her, stands a man, erect and tall, becomingly clad in a mantle, who extends His hand to the suppliant. At her feet there springs a certain strange plant, which rises as high as the hem of her garment; it is held to be an antidote to all forms of disease. This they say, is a statue of Jesus Christ." Eusebius goes on to argue the probability that Veronica caused it to be erected, since it was a custom of the Gentiles to erect statues to those who had healed them; and Caesarea Philippi being, not a Jewish, but a Phoenician city, mainly inhabited by Greeks, we have every reason to believe that Veronica herself was a Gentile. But whoever she was, and whencesoever she came, she had heard of Jesus, and conceived a hope that He would heal her. A woman who had spent all that she had, only to suffer more from her doctors than from her disease, in her despair would be very apt to betake herself to One who at least demanded no fee, and who was reported to have wrought many marvellous cures .... But why does she select the hem, or border, of His garment? Perhaps because in her diffidence she thought herself unworthy to do more. Perhaps because in her faith she thought even this would be enough. Perhaps simply because she thought the border of His garment might be most easily touched without attracting attention Beyond a doubt, her faith, though genuine, was darkened by superstition. In His grace the Lord Jesus corrects and enlarges her conception; He disentangles the truth in it from the error. But mark how He does it, how patiently, how gradually. At first it is her superstition, rather than her faith, which is confirmed But why did He not let the poor woman creep quietly away with her boon? Why compel her to tell her sad story of womanly pain and suffering in so many ears? Simply because He loves her too well to let her go away with half a blessing. Simply that He may teach her that it is her faith, and not, as she thought, her mere touch, which has saved her. It is a pathetic story, a story — 1. Full of hope and gracious incentive for all who believe, however weak their faith may be. 2. Conveying also a lesson of warning. Many thronged and pressed upon Christ; many touched His clothes; yet only one touched Him. 3. Teaching also a lesson of invitation. According to the Hebrew law she was impure, and made all she touched impure; but she ventured to touch Jesus, and, instead of making Him unclean, He makes her clean and whole. Now, whatever our sins may have been, we can hardly be farther from hope than she. And however faintly we may turn to Christ, however ignorantly, we can hardly do less than she who hid herself in the darkness and the crowd, and laid trembling fingers on the edge of His garment, to see what would come of that. Jesus did not know her or her story — did not know even that it was she who had touched Him. Yet she was healed. Why? Because His will is always for the health and salvation of men. Virtue is stored up in Him, and flows forth from Him at every touch of faith. (S. Cox, D. D.) THE WOMAN WHO CAME BEHIND HIM IN THE CROWD. Near Him she stole, rank after rank; She feared approach too loud; She touched His garments' hem, and shrank Back in the sheltering crowd. A shame-faced gladness thrills her frame: Her twelve years' fainting prayer Is heard at last; she is the same As other women there. She hears His voice; He looks about; Ah! is it kind or good To drag her secret sorrow out Before that multitude? The eyes of men she dares not meet — On her they straight must fall: Forward she sped, and at His feet Fell down, and told Him all. His presence makes a holy place; No alien eyes are there; Her shrinking shame finds god-like grace, The covert of its care. "Daughter," He said, "be of good cheer; Thy faith hath made thee whole"; With plenteous love, not healing mere, He would content her soul. (G. MacDonald.) Parallel Verses KJV: And a woman having an issue of blood twelve years, which had spent all her living upon physicians, neither could be healed of any, |
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