Take Heart Daughter

It takes a minute to figure out what I’m looking at.

Feet.

My nose automatically wrinkles in aversion to the men’s bare sandaled feet in the picture but I keep looking.

A hand.

If I’m looking at feet on the ground then why can I see a hand? There is a hand outstretched amongst the feet, a small circle of light surrounding the tip of the index finger as it seems to point towards something in the centre. It draws your attention to one foot in particular amongst all the others, belonging to the person directly in front of you, white material of robed clothing undulating across the toes.

Why is my attention being focused on this central spot of the painting?

And then the magic of the art casts its spell. The elements of the scene begin to join together and become familiar.

It dawns on me that this is the story of Jesus healing the woman who bled for twelve years. Just the day before, I had read this very story in Matthew 9. Now I could see the dirty feet of the jostling crowd, Jesus in the middle of it with his blue and white striped, tasselled prayer shawl brushing against this one and that one. I could see the woman buried anonymously in the midst of all the feet, just an arm reaching out of the crowd to touch the fringe of the robe.

We’re at ground level. The level of aversion; to feet, dirt, and an ‘unclean’ woman. The level of impurity and shame, where people go unnoticed because religious regulations decree their exclusion.

Yet it is here at ground level, that we see a flare of brightness. The hand reaches the tassels of the prayer shawl and her own silent prayer is heard. Her bravery and belief do not go unnoticed. Light and hope erupt at ground level.

The story tells us how Jesus asks ‘Who?’ He wants to see her. He wants to draw attention to her but not so that he can berate or belittle her because he is angry. His words to her are kind and gentle. He acknowledges her courage born out of quiet desperation and faith. He raises her up from the ground, bringing her face to face with himself and with the crowd. He honours her, calls her daughter. With his words, he confers value and worth. You are family, I see you, and you are included. ‘Take heart, daughter,’ and immediately all that distinctive weight of intrinsic female struggle is lifted from her.

Sometimes it’s hard being a girl but this story and this picture help me take heart. They are a reminder that our personal prayers are heard and are answered by a Lord who understands. We can reach out without fear, take a risk of faith and live whole and blessed as a daughter of God.