Living on the fringe

They stand on the edge, looking over the heads of others, seeing their goal in the distance. 

They are not the majority, although they are often silent.  Pressed to the outside, on the fringe of the norm, their job pays not quite enough, their skin is too brown, their accent is off-putting, their body is misshapen.  They are the trailers on the classic bell curve, and they have little hope of ever making it to the top of the hill, to stand among the accepted and acceptable, those who don’t have to worry about living on the fringe. 

Some are anonymous – the older couple who don’t qualify for Social Security, whose health is sinking and whose mortgage has another 5 years.  The teen whose sexual reality doesn’t conform.  The father of 3 who never eats lunch otherwise his children won’t eat supper.  Some are instantly recognizable.  They wander the streets, they know the locale of every free meal in the city, they live on that street where fleas and cockroaches and violence are common.  

But they are all living on the fringe.  They live in a world of hurt where dreams have a very short shelf life and hope is a rare commodity.  They trust the promises being made by charlatan and politician and that charismatic preacher on the street.  They trust because in the end, something is better than nothing….…which is probably why those people mobbed Jesus wherever he went.  What is a 5 mile walk when, at the other end you just might be healed, you just might be fed, you just might find a bit of respite?

All they needed was to touch the fringe of his garment; whatever his power, whatever its source it could come to them through the fringe of his prayer shawl.  Maybe, just this one time, someone on the fringe could be healed by the fringe of this unknown teacher.

Just maybe.  It was worth a try.  Reaching, stretching, hoping, needing.  

What about you?  Bring back any memories?

Mark 6.30-34, 53-56