Jerusalem has been packed this week. It’s the week of Passover/Unleavened Bread, and the city has swelled with visitors.
I mentioned in my last post about witnessing the priestly blessing at the Western Wall. It took some effort to leave, flowing with the crowd like a giant blob oozing its way along the pavement. If you haven’t been here, there’s something you need to understand about Middle Eastern personal space: it doesn’t exist. We weren’t so much shuffling forward as being pushed forward.
It was in this context that one in our group reminded us of a story of Jesus as he walked along in a crowd. “As Jesus was on his way, the crowds almost crushed him….’Who touched me?’ Jesus asked. When they all denied it, Peter said, ‘Master, the people are crowding and pressing against you.'” (Luke 8:42b, 45). Jesus is crammed in a crowd, and he asked who touched him?! I could imagine someone sarcastically responding, “Who didn’t touch you?”
But there was someone there who had touched him, grasping his clothes for healing. “And a woman was there who had been subject to bleeding for twelve years, but no one could heal her. She came up behind him and touched the edge of his cloak, and immediately her bleeding stopped” (Luke 8:43-44) That was who he meant. She believed he was the Messiah, who, according to the prophet Malachi, would have healing in his wings (Malachi 4:2, where “wings” can also mean edges, like the edge of his garment). Her act of faith rewarded her.
