To Touch the Edge of His Cloak

A reflection of Luke 8:43-48

I see, I hear, the rabbi who heals the sick, the lame, the deaf, the blind.

His face, stricken with weariness as the soldier in the heat of battle, does not show signs of anger though surrounded by a pressing crowd. Compassion and sadness is the only thing that can be seen through His eyes, mirroring the actions He took for others. His caring for those around him was like a father would for his children. His voice softens my soul and encourages my heart. The truth of His words sinks deep to the core of my being like a rock falling to the bottom of the sea.

I did not notice until the thud of the ocean floor broke me into tears.

I crumble, hurt and in pain. Nowhere to turn, no place to go. But would a rabbi such as He, ever care for me? Would He look at a lost soul with those same eyes of compassion? I am the worst of the worst and I do not deserve mercy. But just maybe, if I could only touch the edge of His cloak. If I could only taste a drop of the living water, to take the smallest portion I could, then maybe it would be enough for me. I don’t need much, I don’t ask for much. He would not know that I am in pain or alive. What could I give to a man such as Him? He came for others, but not possibly for me.

I had to reach and touch His cloak.

If I could just crawl on my hands and knees. To approach with my face scraping the ground that others walk on. I have nothing to be proud of, nothing to keep me from being judged. I push through the crowd, only my will driving me closer. I had to know if He was real, that His power could heal a broken soul such as me. I reached out, blinded by the crowd, my desperation for salvation the only thing that kept me focused. My fingers grazed the cloak, touching the edges of a thick cloth. I felt and sensed the power of life flow through my finger as the rushing force of a mighty river.

A voice, filled with compassion and love, said, “Your faith has healed you. Go in Peace”.