Rev.
Debbie Cato
Leviticus 15:19-23 and Mark 5:21-43
Manito
Presbyterian Spokane
September 27, 2026
Strong
Women of the Bible – The Bleeding Woman
This is the
third sermon on strong women in the Bible that I’ve preached here at Manito. I think I told you that I decided to choose
strong women in the New Testament – strong women that Jesus met through his
ministry. I also decided to look at
women that you might not expect to be the focus of a sermon. You see, there are different ways of being
strong.
First I chose the Samaritan woman – known only by her ethnicity. Often, we look at the Samaritan woman and focus on what we assume to be sin. She’s been married five times and currently lives with a man she’s not married to. Surely scandal should be the focus for this woman. But that’s not the heart of the story. As I stated in that sermon, “Jesus interaction with this Samaritan woman at the well is transforming. She goes from hiding from people because she’s ashamed, to being an evangelizer for Christ. The community goes from shunning her because of what they had assumed about her, to believing her.” I think that’s a description of a strong woman.
My second sermon was about Mary Magdalene. Jesus healed Mary’s physical and mental well-being and that transformational healing led to Mary’s unwavering loyalty to Jesus. Mary was deeply integrated into Jesus’ community of disciples. She was a leading and devoted follower of Jesus. She stayed with Jesus during his crucifixion and as he hung on the cross. She was the first witness to Jesus’ resurrection. It was Mary Magdalene who was the first to proclaim the good news of Jesus’ resurrection. I ended this sermon saying, “Mary’s experiences remind us of the profound impact that faith and love can forge in our lives, and in the lives of others. The courage and hope portrayed in Mary’s story encourages us to push ahead, spreading love and light, ensuring that we each play our part in this grand narrative of faith.”
As you’ve already figured out, the strong woman I chose today is, as scripture describes her, “a woman who had been suffering from a hemorrhage for twelve years.” Once again, this is another woman without a name. She’s known by her ailment – she’s been bleeding for twelve years. Twelve years. Imagine! “Look! There’s that woman who has been bleeding for twelve years.”
First, we heard in the passage from Leviticus the true shame of this woman’s condition. According to Hebrew law, this woman was unclean. For twelve years this woman was considered impure. Impure. What a branding. Every bed she lay on was unclean and anyone touching the bed was unclean. Everything she sat on was unclean and anyone who touched what she sat on, was unclean. For twelve years. Twelve years.
The Jewish cleanliness laws were strictly adhered to. It is very likely that she was ostracized from any family she had. For twelve years! Ostracized from her community. For twelve years. After all, if anyone who touched her became unclean, she would not be welcome, anywhere.
This woman – I wish she had a name – had tried everything. Scripture tells us that “She had endured much under many physicians, and had spent all that she had; and she was no better, but rather grew worse.” This twelve-year quest for a cure would have drained her of her finances and it would have prevented her from participating in any activities during that time.
This woman was in a state of perpetual cultic impurity. So for twelve long years, this woman not only suffered physically, but she was shamed and isolated. That’s a lot of suffering. It would be easy to understand if she were depressed. If she were completely hopeless. It would be understandable if she felt bitter and angry. Yet there is nothing in scripture to tell us she that she felt this way.
This woman heard about Jesus, came up behind him in the crowd, and touched his cloak. This woman is bold! She’s strong! Everyone knew of her affliction. She was shamed and isolated from her community. But she heard about Jesus and believed that if she could just touch the hem of his robe, she would be healed. All she had to do was touch it.
Honestly, this woman blows my mind. Think about all the strikes against her. First, she was a woman – a 2nd class citizen in Jesus’ time. Then, think of the attitude the community must have had about her. Impurity was shunned. Impurity was a sin. Even today, her ailment is not something we openly talk about is it? It’s private. It’s personal. It’s embarrassing. Jewish law required her to be removed from the community. She was labeled “impure”. Even touching her made that person impure too. Then, think of how physically weak she must have been – she had been hemorrhaging for twelve years! She had to be anemic. Think how easily she could have given up. She had every reason to stay isolated. To suffer quietly. Over twelve years, even physicians could not help her. But that was not the end of her story. She did not stay away. She heard. She believed. She went. Think of the courage that took!
This woman reached out – literally. She had heard and she believed. “Even if I touch the hem of His robe, I will be healed.” So she stepped out. She was bold, people! She became part of the crowd surrounding Jesus and she slowly got closer and closer, until finally she was close enough. She bent over and brushed her hand against the hem of Jesus’ cloak. Barely touching it.
Notice that this woman is healed completely by her own initiative. She heard reports about Jesus and tells herself that if she can only touch his garment, she will be healed. Her action was doubly audacious – a violation of social codes for proper female behavior and a violation of religious law. Her unclean condition, her touch would also transfer her impurity to Jesus. Jesus takes no active part whatsoever in her healing, confirming the truth of His statement, “your faith has made you well.” The moment she touches the hem of His cloak – the very moment, her bleeding stops and she feels in her body that she is whole.[1] Imagine how that must have felt!
Only after the woman’s assertive action of touching His robe and being healed does Jesus become an active part of this story. Jesus senses that something in His body has changed. He sensed some power leaving His body. He asks, “Who touched me?” This seems like a futile question in the midst of a crowd of people pressing against Him. But this question indicates that the woman’s touch was one of faith – a distinction from the jostling of the crowd. [2]
Have you ever been shamed because of something about yourself? Perhaps a physical feature; perhaps a past mistake you made. Maybe you’ve been shamed and isolated because of a physical or mental disability. Perhaps you’ve been made to feel shame because of a mental health challenge that you have that others don’t understand. Maybe you have been diagnosed with a physical condition or illness that somehow feels socially unacceptable. Something that makes you feel less-than. Isolated. Alone. Afraid people will think less of you. An embarrassment.
I cannot imagine myself in this woman’s position. I hate to impose on others. I never want to be a bother. I don’t want to feel like I’m in the way or asking something of someone that they’d rather not give. My hunch is that women have been particularly conditioned to avoid imposing on others.[3]
I think it’s not only that we don’t want to impose, but that we have a very broad understanding of what might be an imposition. We expect people to be upset when we ask something of them; we expect them to be irritated, resentful, even angry. And, sometimes they might be. And you know, that’s okay. But what if we are not imposing as much as we think. What if there is fine line between imposition and interaction? What if people like to be asked, to be valued, to serve?
I think you know that I retired from pastoring Fairfield Community Church because I got quite ill. I was in the hospital for a couple of weeks and went home on oxygen and using a walker because I was so weak. I was not able to be at church – to serve at all. Because of things in my past, it is VERY difficult for me to not only ask for help, but, to accept help. Plus, as the pastor, it was my role to care for my congregation. Not for my congregation to care for me. I was the pastor.
For months, people brought me meals. For months, someone did my laundry – including my underwear! Someone changed my sheets. There was a person who drove me to doctor appointments. In fact, when I finally resigned, the congregation even came and packed my house and moved me – and no, it wasn’t because they wanted to get rid of me!
I cannot begin to explain how hard that was for me. To me, the roles were backwards. I was supposed to be the caregiver. I felt like a burden. Like a responsibility they felt on top of their own lives. I felt like I was weak. I even wondered if people thought I was lazy. But I needed the help. I could not do those things myself.
At my retirement, the congregation gave me a journal that they had written in. I wept as I read it later that day. So many of the entries spoke of the gift it was for them to be able to care for me. They thanked me for “letting” them bless me. How good they felt feeding me and meeting my needs. How good it was to reciprocate my care for them. I was very humbled. And it was a reminder that maybe asking for help isn’t an imposition after all. Maybe it’s a blessing for those who are able to step up and help.
Jesus certainly did not condemn that woman for being an imposition. If He had been concerned about the delay she caused, he could have just kept walking. The woman had touched His cloak and been healed. He could have felt her touch, been irritated, and kept going to a “more important” task; to healing the daughter of Jairus, a leader of the synagogue. Someone more important than just an impure woman. But Jesus does not keep walking. He stops and asks who had touched him. He gives the woman more time and energy than she asked of him; more than she thought she needed[4].
The narrator of this passage says that the woman tells Jesus “the whole truth”. We often think this is an imposition too, don’t we? To share the fullness of our stories, to share the sad realities of our lives. I don’t know exactly what she tells Jesus. It’s possible that “the whole truth” takes a while to tell – yet another imposition. But Jesus listens. He’s not annoyed. He isn’t impatient. He calls her daughter and sends her away healed and in peace.[5] This woman’s twelve years of illness constituted a social death in which she was barred from community and family. Her courage; her boldness resulted in complete healing and redemption.
The boldness of this woman – this woman who suffered a shaming illness that made her impure for twelve years is a reminder to us that we must also be bold! We must be strong just like this woman when we are faced with hardship, with adversity, with something you perceive as embarrassing, or something someone told us we should be ashamed. We too must have the courage to reach out for help. We can learn from both the woman’s willingness to impose herself on Jesus and from Jesus’ gracious response to her reaching out. Indeed, human action is not an imposition. It is what we are here for. We are called to serve one another in love.
Thanks be to God! Amen.
[1] Newsom and Ringe, Women’s Bible Commentary
(Expanded Edition) with Apocrypha, 1998. Westminster John Knox Press. Louisville, KY. P. 355
[2] Ibid.
[3] Harader. Prone to Wander. A Lenten Journey with Women in the
Wilderness. 2025. Herald Press. Harrisonburg, VA. P.136.
[4] Harader. Prone to Wander. A Lenten Journey with Women in the
Wilderness. 2025. Herald Press. Harrisonburg, VA. P.136.
[5] Harader. Prone to Wander. A Lenten Journey with Women in the
Wilderness. 2025. Herald Press. Harrisonburg, VA. P.136.