Twelve years have I bled,
A gross of months remained unclean.
No amount of hyssop may be of aid,
No band of scarlet yarn bind this wound.
Not soon shall I forget the burden I have borne.
And even should the bleeding cease
Yet one more week shall I be put away.
But of what import may those days be?
A dozen years have I lived to die,
Your blood coursing through my veins.
The breath of the Almighty gave me life—
Why now should I be afraid?
Each morn when I arise, I arise unclean
And the place where I have lain, defiled.
No one may approach my bed and its taint.
To raise a sheet is to share the curse.
And through the day I dare not sit
For if my child should take my place
She must wash all that she wears
And bathe, remaining unclean ’til night falls.
Would my husband dream of lying with me,
Of joining with my flesh these dozen years?
For seven days would he be set aside—
Because of me be cast from the synagogue.
Those who are older should have room to speak
For with passage of years grows sage advice.
But the Spirit of God swells my breast
While the chests of the wise and learned sag.
I am a new wineskin, yet am about to burst.
Will you listen? Shall I tell you what I think?
I did not ask for this,
Yet this blood remains.
Twelve years have I bled,
Seven score months without relief.
Yet find me pure, Lord.
Test my motives and my heart.
I trust in your promises
And live according to your truth.
You and I belong to God; we both were formed of clay.
Dread not my words, and I shall not fear your touch.
So hear me: God speaks, and speaks to you now—
When you lie down, when you sleep, and as you wake.
Even should my deathbed cast shadows upon your soul
‘Tis the light of God that lies in wait.
Count me not with those who choose evil
Or bind my fate with that of thieves.
My hands are unclean, to be sure,
But not with evil plans and schemes.
I have not filled my days with wrong,
Set apart as I am from all that is wicked
As well as from all that salves the soul.
It is a foul holiness that I endure.
A messenger from heaven shall bear these words:
Rescue this one from the grave; be thou her ransom.
And you shall rejoin: God has received me with joy—
I have become as blameless as my child.
Turn my way and lavish me with mercy
For I am isolated in my distress, Lord.
Cast your eye upon my sorrow
And bend your compassion upon me.
Look upon the stars—are they soiled by your flow?
Because I am clean, do they shine more brightly?
I long to worship again in your presence,
To find shelter in the Lord’s sanctuary.
To this end I dare to stand my ground
And reach out to him as he passes.
Know only this; our hearts hear: Come be with me.
And the blessed heart returns: Lord, I haste.
Will the world end should I touch his cloak?
Is my filth more weighty than his glory?
Is my blood enough to mar the spotless?
Or shall his power make me clean?
Peter writes about the events of Mark 5:21-43 (and parallel accounts). The call and response are the words of the woman and girl who are the subjects of the passage.
The lament of the woman is based on Psalm 25 and Psalm 26. The spirit-filled vision of the girl is inspired by Job 33.
The narrative invention is that the girl’s father and the woman’s husband are the same man… that the woman lost her family as a result of her perpetual ritual uncleanliness. (A lot of study in Deuteronomy on Numbers went into this piece!)
At the point of death, the girl prays not for herself, but for her mother.
———————————
God rescued me from the grave,
and now my life is filled with light. (Job 33:28)
You brought me up from the grave, O Lord.
You kept me from falling into the pit of death. (Ps. 30:3)
You have turned my mourning into joyful dancing.
You have taken away my clothes of mourning and clothed me with joy,
that I might sing praises to you and not be silent.
O Lord my God, I will give you thanks forever! (Ps. 30:11-12)
A further note: All three accounts of these two seemingly unrelated incidents record the fact that the woman had been bleeding for twelve years, and that the girl was twelve years old. Somehow, for all three writers, those were very important but unexplained details. In all three accounts, also, the incident with the woman also interrupts the incident with Jairus and his daughter. So as a writer, I decided to explore why these facts were important — and invented a connection between Jairus, the girl, and the woman. So in my invented history, Peter knows all this because he knows these people — and is very moved by the tragedy of that personal disconnection, and the tension between what being faithful to the Law costs this family, and the joy that faithfulness to God brings them in spite of it. So he writes from that perspective.