There were basically two games to play in primary school at break time. Either you joined the rush after the tennis ball that was our football substitute, where large stones replaced the goalposts and the crossbar was in our imaginations, or you chose to chase after someone until you were close enough to touch them at which point you shouted 'tig' or something like it. This was only occasionally a mixed sport, as it was considered dangerous and indeed a form of betrayal for a young gentleman to be running after a female member of the class or worse still, being pursued by a wild young lady in full view of other pupils and teachers. Why, it was enough to put you off your milk and of course the greater embarrassment was if she actually caught up with you and touched your garment. You see it was considered OK and expected to be able to run faster than a lady but to suffer the ignominy of discovering a female on your shoulder after she had given you a ten yard start was more than any right thinking senior boy could bear. And for some reason you found that the same girls always chased the same boys and vice versa, a bit like a more energetic from of 'the farmer wants a wife' where you always knew who was going to be picked by whom. Maybe, unknown to us, this was indeed some very early form of courtship ritual in the playground before boys and girls actually discovered that they might like each other, though by wife's stories, I think she had been playing tig much longer than I was.I hadn't played tig for over twenty years and then one night in the eighties, I was flicking through the television channels when I came across what was loosely being described as a sport on Channel Four. It was being played on a big space that I think they called a court, with two teams seemingly running about like mad eejits (idiots to the uninitiated in Ulsterisms) and trying to touch members of the opposite side. This was tig to me, but tig with an Indian accent and advertised as Kabaddi. Apparently, though I'm no expert, teams consist of twelve players, but only seven are allowed on the 'court' at any one time. The team that attacks first, sends out a 'raider' whose job is to chase after the opposition and touch as many of them as possible, at which point they have to leave the court, before returning safely to his own side. But here's the catch. He has to do all this while continuously shouting 'kabaddi,kabaddi,kabaddi...' and doing it all in one long breath. And to add to his problems, the team that is being attacked is allowed to use what are called 'stoppers', some rather large gentlemen, who try to prevent the attacker from returning to his own side of the court before he runs our of his one long breath and the 'kabaddis' disappear. If he's good at his job, he scores a point for every member of the other team he touches and an extra two points if he manages to touch the whole team. The added advantage is that the attacking side 'revives' one player on their team who was touched and had to leave in a previous attack by the opposition. A bit confused? So was I, especially about how you could be sure that the 'raider' only took one breath and also how you could prove that a member of the opposition was actually touched. I guess it's all a matter of trust at the end.
And isn't that exactly what the woman with the blood disease had, when she touched the hem of Jesus' garment for she knew in her own heart that would be enough to cure her of her illness. for she said 'If I only touch his cloak, I will be healed.' Yet Jesus immediately knew He had been touched and turned to her saying 'Take heart, daughter,your faith has healed you.' What faith, what trust and what power. Some time later, after walking on the water and calming the storm, as He came to Gennesaret, much the same thing happened again, for 'when the men of that place recognized Jesus, they sent word to all the surrounding country. People brought all their sick to him and begged him to let the sick just touch the edge of his cloak, and all who touched him were healed.' (Matthew 14v35&26). I have read that story many times and today I realised something that i had missed so many times, for the key is not just the healing power of our Lord but the difference he makes when we recognize Him for who He is. When we encounter the Son of God, we know that being close to Him changes our lives completely and not just because He can heal us but because we learn to grow more like Him. I guess when He touches us we are never the same again.
