A few days ago someone told me that several years ago he blocked a friend of his from contacting him. They had some very different opinions about life and the world and their relationship had become difficult. He said, “I regret that I did that. I don’t know why but I’ve recently started thinking about him. I think he’s in Seattle. I’m going to reach out to him. I want to go see him and reconnect.”

I thought about people with whom I’ve lost touch or from whom I’ve disconnected. You probably have some people like that in your life too.

Last week a woman sat in my office and said, “I’m just so tired.” I saw tears welling up in her eyes, ready to flow. “It’s been one thing after another,” she said. “No matter how much I do or how hard I work it’s never enough. Something always happens.” She talked about money, her relationships, and how the Robb school shooting has affected her. She said, “I’ve lost myself.”

The bucket of her life is leaking faster than she can fill it. I know what that’s like. I suspect you do too. Haven’t you had times in your life when the outflow was greater than the inflow and you were left drained of life? Maybe you’re feeling drained today.

The week before last I had a conversation with a young man in his mid-thirties. He and his wife have good jobs and a good life together. He said, “We could keep doing this another fifty years and we’ll be fine but…” His voice trailed off and I thought to myself, They won’t be fine and he knows it. He said, “When all you do is work you lose time and I’ve lost the last five years. I want to work less and live more cheaply.” “What do you really want?” I asked. He said, “I want time for family. I want to eat better and be more healthy. I want to slow down.”

I think he knows that his life is bleeding out and that he has to stop the bleeding. No one else can or will do that for him. He’s got to take matters into his own hands. That’s a truth I’ve had to face again and again in my life. I’m still working on it. I wonder in what ways that truth is coming up in your life.

I tell you those three stories because I think they are modern day versions and retellings of the story of the hemorrhaging women in today’s gospel (Mark 5:21-43). She “had been suffering from hemorrhages for twelve years.”

If you read the commentaries about this story they’ll probably tell you that this is menstrual bleeding and the woman is ritually unclean. Maybe so, but I think the story is bigger and more important than that. That’s why I began this sermon with the three stories I just told you. 

The hemorrhaging woman is a metaphor and image about our lives. I want us to see and name the ways in which we also are hemorrhaging. And I want us to do something about it. I don’t want to live an anemic life. And I don’t want that for you or Uvalde.  So let’s explore and play with that image a bit. 

What do you imagine it would be like to bleed for twelve years? That’s along time. What comes to mind when you think of hemorrhaging and bleeding?

The woman is probably anemic. So she’s tired and worn out. She’s weak and probably feels dizzy and faint. She might be in pain. Maybe she feels powerless and overwhelmed by the last twelve years. She might be confused, fuzzy in her thinking, and feel lost. The color has drained from her life and she’s probably pale. The warmth and vitality of her life are leaking out. After twelve years she’s got to be desperate for healing and a change, something to stop the bleeding. I’ll bet she’s scared. And I’ll bet she feels isolated and disconnected. 

What about you? Is any of that descriptive of your life today? Those aren’t just physical symptoms or consequences of bleeding. They also describe spiritual and emotional conditions. 

What parts of your life are bleeding today? Where’s the hemorrhaging? What is draining you of life? What is causing the vitality, color, and warmth of your life to leak out? 

Maybe it’s busyness and exhaustion, apathy and indifference, boredom and a lack of curiosity. Maybe it’s grief and sorrow. Maybe it’s something from your past. Maybe it’s fear. Maybe it’s taking people, time, or life for granted. Maybe it’s a loss of meaning and purpose. Maybe it’s self-doubt and self-criticism. Maybe you’ve become isolated, disconnected, and out of touch with yourself, others, the world, or the divine. Maybe you’ve outgrown your life and it’s too small and no long fits.

We bleed out in a thousand different ways. But here’s the thing that strikes me about the woman in today’s gospel. She knows what she needs. It’s taken her a while to find it but she knows. “If I but touch his clothes I will be healed,” she says. 

She can no longer wait on others to fix her life. She refuses to be defined or limited by the circumstances of her life. Today she reaches beyond those circumstances and takes matters into her own hands.

What if that’s true for us as well? We may not know that we know, we may not trust that we know, we may be afraid of what we know, but somewhere deep within ourselves we know what we need. I’ve seen that in my life and I heard that from each of the people whose story I told you. They knew what they needed. 

They needed to connect or reconnect, to reach out, to get in touch with something larger than and beyond themselves. That’s what the bleeding woman does in today’s gospel. She “touched [Jesus’] cloak” and she was transfused with the gift of new life. 

What would that be like for you? What do you need today? With whom or what do you need to get in touch? How might you reach out and reconnect today? 

Do you need to touch the cloak of love, the cloak of peace, the cloak of forgiveness, the cloak of healing? Do you need to get in touch with the cloak of your own dignity, beauty, and worth? Do you need to touch the cloak of courage, hope, and second chances? Do you need to reconnect to the cloak of beauty and gratitude? What cloak do you need to connect to today?

You got it? You know what you need? Let’s not live an anemic or bloodless life. Touch the cloak.

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Image Credit: By James Tissot – Online Collection of Brooklyn Museum; Photo: Brooklyn Museum, 2008, 00.159.111_PS2.jpg, Public Domain, Wikimedia Commons.