There are many people in the Bible who experienced firsthand the healing power of Jesus. Most of them remain anonymous: the blind man, the deaf-mute man, the 10 lepers — “if they were written every one, I suppose that the world itself could not contain the books that would be written” (John 21:25).

One person often stands apart from the rest: The woman with the hemorrhage (Matthew 9:20-22, Mark 5:25-34 and Luke 8:43-48) is beloved through the ages, especially by those who also suffer such chronic illnesses.

But who was this woman? And what lessons of her faith does she have to teach us today?

One way we can better empathize with her is by better understanding her suffering. Many translations say she suffered from a “hemorrhage” and others call it “prolonged bleeding,” but it is universally accepted that she suffered from an abnormal menstrual bleed. The woman’s condition today would be referred to as menometrorrhagia — or “prolonged uterine bleeding outside of one’s normal menstrual cycle.”

However, this condition is more of a catch-all statement rather than a true diagnosis, as menometrorrhagia is usually caused by another underlying factor. It is possible that this woman suffered from von Willebrand disease, a genetic blood disorder that prevents one’s blood from clotting. Other possible causes could be uterine fibroids, hormonal imbalances, endometriosis or other chronic conditions.

How many women today can empathize with being told by doctors, “We’re not sure what’s causing your pain or infertility?” This particular frustration is one that the woman with the hemorrhage keenly understood, as Scripture even says that she went from doctor to doctor, only for her condition to worsen. And even more so, how frustrating to have a condition so disruptive! Furthermore, she certainly suffered from infertility, adding to the already heavy cross that she carried.

But the weight of her cross was heavier still. For a Jewish woman in first-century Galilee, not only would a prolonged period be frustrating, but it would also be devastatingly isolating, both physically and spiritually. As long as she bled, the woman would be considered niddah or “unclean.” She would have been forbidden to touch her spouse or anyone, lest she pass her uncleanliness onto them. The most severe consequence was being cut off from the Temple, lest she pollute the house of the Lord.

In sum, if she was Jewish, she would have suffered 12 years of isolation from her community and her God. To add to her shame, she might have been told that her condition was due to a sin she committed, much like how the man born blind was told by the Pharisees. Prolonged, persistent and undiagnosed illness; spiritual desolation; and public shame — these were all experiences felt daily by this woman with the hemorrhage.

And yet, she believed that if she could touch the hem of Jesus’ garment, she would be healed. A woman suffering from menstrual bleeding was forbidden to touch her husband’s clothes. Yet she dared to touch the fringe of the Eternal Bridegroom’s cloak, revealing a new layer of her faith that her unworthiness wouldn’t deter God himself. And so Christ responded: “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your affliction” (Mark 5:34).

Though she never appeared in Scripture again (that we know of), the woman with the hemorrhage was not so quickly forgotten by the Church. The Eastern Orthodox Churches celebrate her as St. Veronica, with her feast day being July 12. It is unclear if she is the same Veronica who wiped the face of Jesus. However, there is a poetic beauty between the stories of the Veronicas: the woman who found healing touching the hem of Jesus’ garment and the woman who attempted to ease Jesus’ suffering on the Way of the Cross by offering him her head garment.

Though there is debate as to whether they are one and the same, the woman with the hemorrhage earned the name Veronica, meaning “true image,” as her home held an early image of Jesus. An early Christian historian, theologian and bishop named Eusebius of Caesarea (c. A.D. 260–339) recounts in his Ecclesiastical History his visit and veneration of the home of the woman with the hemorrhage. He writes:

For there stands upon an elevated stone, by the gates of her house, a brazen image of a woman kneeling, with her hands stretched out, as if she were praying. Opposite this is another upright image of a man, made of the same material, clothed decently in a double cloak, and extending his hand toward the woman. At his feet, beside the statue itself, is a certain strange plant, which climbs up to the hem of the brazen cloak, and is a remedy for all kinds of diseases.

Not only was her home a site of pilgrimage to see this early depiction of her miraculous cure, but it also became a site of healing itself. Eusebius also notes the plant that grew up toward the hem of Jesus’ cloak and provided medicine for a variety of diseases. What delight she must have felt to be so keenly reminded of the healing power of Jesus, and what a gift that her home became a fountain that brought even more healing to those who came to believe in Christ!

Sadly, this statue was not to remain a permanent structure. Around A.D. 361, Emperor Julian — nicknamed “the Apostate” as he was raised in the Faith but later rejected it — made it his mission to re-establish paganism as the state religion. He demanded the statue of Christ and the woman of the hemorrhage to be removed and replaced with a statue of himself. Though the statue of Christ and this woman are lost to history, Julian’s statue did not stand for long. Destroyed by a strike of lightning, the demise of Julian’s statue acted as a divine reminder of who is truly the Lord of our lives.

In 2020, archeologists discovered ruins of a church in Caesarea Philippi which they believe to be this woman’s home. They speculate that the site was less of a basilica, but more of a memorial, which fits Eusebius’ description of the home. During their excavation, they uncovered an altar to Pan beneath the ruins of the church. It should not be lost on us that Pan was revered as the god of fertility. Here reveals a flicker of Divine humor — the once-pagan site to the god of fertility is a site commemorating the moment when Jesus, who is Lord over all of our lives, including our fertility, healed her of her suffering.

This woman’s story is one of powerful faith and hope. Her suffering, shared by women throughout the centuries, was not overlooked by God. He saw her in her anguish, restored her to wholeness, and welcomed her back as his daughter. Though they no longer exist, even the statue and plant were signs that Jesus did not come just to heal one woman, but his healing power is for all. Though our physical sufferings continue, the message is clear: Christ sees us. He never intends to leave us alone, but always is making something new in each of us.