Jesus, the one the people call Messiah, He is coming to town!!! This is my chance, my last chance to be rid of this blood, uncleanness, and shame! My sickness has caused so much pain and suffering. For the last 12 years of my life, I have been labeled by the people of Capernaum as unclean. I have been banished to a self of isolation and loathing. At first, I had excruciating pain in my abdomen. Pain that left me doubled over and eventually left me so weak and helpless, all I could do was lay on the ground crying. I begin pouring blood as normally done by the women in the community, but it continues for a much longer period and is much more plentiful. I must take myself to the edges of the community, where it is cold and empty and heartless. People recoil at the mere look of my being and rush to the other side of wherever I am. As soon as the blood ceases to pour and I can begin to count the days for me to begin to have human interaction again, the pain rushes in again and the horrendous cycle begins all over. I become weak both physically and mentally and am not sure at this point which is worse, the physical pain I feel or the emotional scars I bare. Scars caused because of the looks I get, scars because of the silence I must endure, scars due to the isolation for fear of my uncleanness. Scars caused because I am all alone in this world. Scars caused because life is so hard in this land with no hope.

        I have gone to physicians, astrologers, and soothsayers. I have gone to palm readers and magicians. As I visit, they too look at me with disgust, but yet are so willing to take my offerings. Bundles of wheat, jars of olive oil, shekels of silver, none were ever denied. I have had my blood drained for purity, been surrounded by water and herbs, bandaged in animal feces and various balms of the area. I have been surrounded by incense and chanting. Nothing has worked up to this point, years and years of this, twelve to be exact, and no ending in sight. Twelve years of repeatedly being filled with hope that this person will be able to rid me of this disease. Twelve years of following the directions and recommendations in utter detail. Twelve years of my hard work being handed over in the hopes of a cure, so that I can return to the community I enjoyed as a young girl. Time after time, these hopes are shattered. Hopes shattered on the ground as a jar broken into tiny pieces. Every piece is a sliver of my soul, a thread of my heart, a fiber of my being. I have offered all that I have and all that I am, and now it is only me and my sickness. As I look for answers, look for a way out, I gaze at my cave. It has become my place of safety.               The only place I can exist where people do not recoil or run away from my presence. Now I hear the other people in this unclean place I am forced to exist, speak of this man called Jesus. I listen to them as they tell things that they have heard back from our lovely city. I was banished so long ago, but I can still remember the streets and the smells and the way the air felt. I listen as they tell stories of how He changed water to wine, how He caused a great abundance of fish for a daily catch. Stories of how He healed the lame and the leper, how He commanded a storm to cease, and how He cast out demons. All day I listen to these stories. At first because I have nothing better to do out here, but then a spark ignites in my heart. Dare I begin to believe again in the possibility of an end to my misery? Dare I to contemplate a life free of this pain and blood, free from my weakness and vulnerability, a time that I begin to laugh again? I can’t remember the last time I smiled or laughed. Being alone in isolation atop these sandy hills, forced to look down on the lushness of the land that surrounds the sea, it has extinguished any joy or laughter I once had in my life. I am forced to look as people come into our unclean spot and after some time are purified and declared clean again and allowed to come back. That option is and never has been offered to me.

           Now these people speak of a Jesus, a messiah that we have been waiting for, longing for since the days of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. This Jesus who can heal sick and command both the seas and demons, he is my only hope. Finally, my countless cries and endless prayers will be answered. This Jesus will be able to take away the pain that I was afflicted with for an action that I do not remember. At some point, I did something to anger God and cause this affliction to come on me, and after my many years of suffering, this Jesus, the Messiah we have been waiting for, is here and will break this curse. I must find out when Jesus is to come to Capernaum. I must find out when it is my turn to be declared clean again and take my spot in the community as a human. As I race around asking and begging people to tell me when Jesus is coming, the newest leper of our exile hill told me that He was coming today! Today, oh the excitement builds as I allow myself, if only for a moment, to believe all this could be true!

        Today is my day and I must get ready! I use what water I have left from the morning trip, to clean myself as best I can. Though they are tattered and dirty, I wrap myself in my finest garments and make sure to have extra garments for the bleeding secured. I grab the last vile I have of olive oil, one I was saving for such an occasion as this, place my sandals on my feet and begin to run towards the town. As I run, I am filled with excitement for the new life I am about to have. Just then my weakness takes hold and throws me to the ground. I roll down the hill, scraping my knees on the rocks and ripping parts of my garments to shreds. When I finally stop tumbling, I sit for a moment to collect my thoughts, but only for a moment, I check to make sure the vial is secured and then begin running again. Nothing and I mean nothing is going to take this dream away! I run and jump on the boat before it sails across the Sea of Galilee. I just made it. I sit and rest for a moment, but only a moment. A passenger recognizes me and starts hurling insults and is filled with rage at the fact that I would dare to get on this boat with the clean citizens. He continues to yell and grabs a large staff and orders me to go to a side where no one else is. I am thankful at this point for my uncleanness because if I was not unclean I would have encountered quite a beating. I listen to him and he may not be physically hitting me but his words are like whips striking my body.

        After I receive the lashes dealt, I am comforted by the fact that this is not going to happen ever again. As the boat docks, I am ordered to wait until everyone else leaves, but I don’t care, by now I have broken so many rules and I do not want to miss my meeting with Jesus. I break through the crowd and receive many elbows to the ribs and smacks on the head. I race through and leap to the shore. I get my footing and begin to rush to the town center. There are so many people there, gathering around like something amazing is going to happen. I will never be able to make it through all these people. If they notice me, they will immediately start to alert people and then I will either get flogged or pinned down, either way delaying my time with Jesus. I make my way through the crowd, barely even noticed. Everyone is talking and gazing to see a glimpse of Jesus.             Maybe that’s it, it is unfathomable for me to think that this Jesus would even stop to speak to me, if He truly is the Messiah, then He knows I am unclean and will not touch me. Maybe if I just catch His eye, if we just look at each other He can heal me. I continue to think about this as I try my best to move forward through the crowd. I remember the stories the people told speaking of His healing. In the instances I recalled hearing, Jesus touched the person He healed. I must touch Him, not only a gaze alone. As I get closer to the path, there are so many people. There are elbows and feet and legs and I squeeze through and get swept up and tossed aside. There He is, I see Him. The crowd that has gathered began to erupt, shouting praise to Jesus the Messiah, Hosanna and glory. I feel the excitement bubbling up inside me. It is almost ready to erupt, I shout, “Jesus, Jesus over hear please Jesus”. No response, He can’t hear me over the crowds, but that is ok, He is drawing closer. Again I cry, “Jesus, Jesus here I am Jesus”. Still nothing, I try to jump and wave my arms as I cry, “Jesus, Jesus”. Then snap! My sandal strap breaks and I am on the sandy ground. Maybe this is where I belong, here in the dirt. I truly am no better than the dirt beneath my feet, the dirt on which I was now laying. That was probably just a wishful thought. The actual thought that I could be healed from this cursed body and finally be free again. I broke out in laughter, which quickly turned to tears. Oh no!! My worst nightmare had occurred, as I am down here on the ground, in the dust, Jesus passed by. I look and see my only last chance for healing pass by.

         Then a strange thought enters my mind. From the way the others had spoken about this Jesus, He had the power from above. Therefore, if I am only able to touch even the tiniest thread from the hem of the garments that He was wearing, that should be good enough right? The spark of hope that I thought was extinguished now grew brighter than ever. Wait, wait, is it possible, Jesus has stopped to talk to someone. This is my chance, I crawled through the legs of the crowd, and with everything in me I lunged forward. I was only greeted with a thud from the ground. Sand in my mouth, blood on my garments, and aches all over my body, I rose up and extended my hand and called out “Jesus”. Just at that moment, I saw as Jesus looked, causing his garment to fly in my direction. I grabbed it. As the material touched the middle finger on my right hand, instantly my body was warm. It was as if a power, that similar to lightening, ran through me. I lay on the ground in awe of what just occurred. “Who touched my garments?” I heard Jesus exclaim. Oh I became filled with fear, what if He finds out that me, a once unclean woman touched Him. Does He want to take back what just occurred? One of His disciples replied, “You see this crowd of people and yet you are going to ask who touched you? It could be any of them”.

       Fear comes over me and grips me tight, begins to choke me to the point I feel like I cannot take another breath. I stand to my feet . I feel different as I stand up. My body feels rejuvenated, my body feels different. I feel like a chain has been lifted. No longer am I bound by the chains that imprisoned me in this sick body, I am free, I am free! I freeze as I see Jesus, looking around. Is He going to know it was me? Is He going to take this great healing back? Is Jesus going to take this freedom that he bestowed on me, back? What should I do, where should I go? At that moment, gripped with fear, our eyes locked, and I knew that He knew. At that moment, I raced toward Him and fell at His feet. In my hands was the vial of olive oil. The tears streamed down my face and I could not tell if they were joyful tears or sorrowful tears. I began to worship this Jesus that is the true Messiah. I began to shout His praise and thank Him for healing me. I began to shout how I had been tortured for the last 12 years because of my sickness. I told of how I was imprisoned in this body and cast into exile. I was so overcome with emotion that I began to shake and tremble. Then I told of how I heard of Him, and I had journeyed so far and I knew that if I was only able to touch His clothes that would be enough to make me whole. After all of this, the tears, the fears, the thankfulness, He looked at me with such love. I have not received a look like that since I was a small child running up and down the streets of Capernaum with my friends, laughing and playing until the dark. I extended my hands that had cuffed within them the vial of olive oil.

        Jesus gentle hand touched my cheek, a feeling I had never felt before. “Daughter, your faith as healed you. Go in peace and be freed from your suffering”. I looked into His eyes, He was serious. He was not taking my healing from me. Jesus, the Messiah, was giving me this healing, this gift for free! I gazed at His eyes, so loving and so calm. I turned and walked away. I did not go back to the cave, I was never going back there. That was my past life. I returned to the city I loved, the city I was born, the city of my dreams. As I walked back, down the dusty streets filled with such joy and life, I pondered what all had actually happened in the brief moments preceding this point. In a matter of minutes, my life was changed forever. One brief encounter with Jesus, and my world was filled with freedom. I knocked on the door of my childhood. The lady that greeted me knew me all too well. Tears streamed down her face as we exchanged an embrace and held each other. She invited me inside and we spent the rest of the afternoon sharing stories