Spiritual Reflections on the Gospel of Mark: Touching the Untouchable

This morning’s lectionary reading came from the Gospel of Mark, focusing on the moment when Jesus heals a man with leprosy (Mark 1:40–45). It’s a story I’ve heard many times, but today it struck me differently.

“A leper came to Him begging Him, and kneeling said to Him, ‘If you choose, you can make me clean.’ Moved with pity, Jesus stretched out His hand and touched him, and said to him, ‘I do choose. Be made clean!’” (Mark 1:40–41, NRSV)

What really stayed with me was the simple, stunning fact that even though Jesus would show again and again that He can heal with just a word—from a distance, as with the centurion’s servant (Matthew 8:5–13) or when He raised Lazarus (John 11:1–44)—He chose, in this moment, to reach out and physically touch the leper.

In Jesus’ time, lepers were not just physically ill; they were social and religious outcasts. According to the Law of Moses (Leviticus 13:45–46; Numbers 5:2–3), they were required to live outside the community and announce their presence by crying out “Unclean! Unclean!” so others could keep their distance. They carried the weight of being seen as spiritually unclean, untouchable, unredeemable. The idea that anyone would move closer to a leper—let alone touch them—was unthinkable.

But Jesus did exactly that. He closed the distance everyone else kept. He crossed the barrier that fear and ritual purity laws had built. His healing was more than a physical cure—it was an act of restoration and redemption. It was as if, in that touch, Jesus was declaring: No one is too far gone, too unclean, too unworthy to be reached, healed, and loved.

While I reflected on this, another story from the Gospels came to mind—the woman who suffered from constant bleeding (Mark 5:25–34). She, too, was untouchable in the eyes of her community. Imagine her daily shame, the discomfort, the isolation—she was likely used to people recoiling from her presence. And yet, she believed that if she could just reach out and touch the hem of Jesus’ robe, it would be enough.

What moves me is that her faith was hidden—quiet but desperate. She didn’t ask Jesus directly; she didn’t want to be seen. She simply reached out, hoping for healing. And Jesus, feeling that act of faith, stopped everything. He saw her. He called her “daughter.” He named her faith and made her whole again.

Both of these stories remind me of that image so many of us hold dear: a human hand reaching up for the hand of God. In these moments, Jesus not only allowed the “untouchable” to reach for Him—He reached back, closing the gap that the world had forced open.

There is such a powerful lesson here for me today. No one is beyond compassion or hope. No one is unworthy of being restored. We are not defined by what society labels as unclean or unworthy. Christ shattered those barriers, then and now. He made clear that every person is redeemable, saveable, healable—and loved.

It’s easy to think of ourselves—or others—as too far gone, too broken, or too lost. But the Gospel of Mark reminds us that our faith, even a hidden touch on the hem of His robe, is enough. And when we reach out, we find that Jesus is already reaching back.