L’hémoroïsse by James Tissot via Wikimedia Commons
My God, I do not love you,
I do not even desire it.
I am weary of you.
Perhaps I do not even believe in you.
But look on me in passing.
Hide yourself for a moment in my soul,
put it in order by a breath
without my knowing it,
without saying a word of it to me.
If you want me to believe in you,
give me faith.
If you want me to love you,
give me love.
I do not have any and I can do nothing for it.
I give you what I have:
And that tenderness which torments me
and that you see so well…
And that despair…
And that crazy shame…
My pain, nothing but my pain…
And my hope!
It is everything.
Marie Noël, 1883 – 1967, French Catholic poet
And a woman was there who had been subject to bleeding for twelve years. She had suffered a great deal under the care of many doctors and had spent all she had, yet instead of getting better she grew worse. When she heard about Jesus, she came up behind him in the crowd and touched his cloak, because she thought, “If I just touch his clothes, I will be healed.” Immediately her bleeding stopped and she felt in her body that she was freed from her suffering.
At once Jesus realized that power had gone out from him. He turned around in the crowd and asked, “Who touched my clothes?”
“You see the people crowding against you,” his disciples answered, “and yet you can ask, ‘Who touched me?’ ”
But Jesus kept looking around to see who had done it.Then the woman, knowing what had happened to her, came and fell at his feet and, trembling with fear, told him the whole truth.
He said to her, “Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace and be freed from your suffering.”