He headed toward his camel, walking past Saba. “You will see,” he said, mounting. “And you too, warrior. Today will be your day of glory. If not today then tomorrow. Or the next day. But you must hurry, there is no need to linger.”
This was how I first met Stephen, that young man of great faith. Indeed, he led us with his courage—even Saba.
I decided not to wear the veil now, for I was safe in this company. We had only just mounted when Stephen turned in his saddle and spoke to me.
“You must not fear Sarah. She is said to be unclean on account of her blood for twelve years, and she is understandably shy so prefers not to speak. I’ve told her that Yeshua does not see those who follow him as unclean. Still, she too will be made whole at his hand. She must only have faith.”
Having made his proclamation, he turned and led the way up the slope.
I was mortified for the woman who followed me, for even among the Bedu a woman’s cycle of blood brought her shame. As I understood it, those women who worshipped the god of the Jews suffered even greater shame.
So I slowed my mount until her camel drew abreast. I couldn’t see her face clearly, but I could feel her silent humiliation as if it were my own. And was it not?
“He means well,” I said.
She rode on, face fixed forward, and I wondered if I only added to her disgrace.
“I was born an outcast in the desert,” I said. “Not unlike the lepers in your country. So perhaps we are sisters.”
She offered no comment.
“You are safe with us,” I finally said. “Saba will allow no harm to come to you.”
I was about to prod my camel to move on when she finally spoke. Her voice sounded like a young girl’s, though I knew she had to be more than twenty if she’d suffered bleeding for twelve years.
“You’ve met him?” she asked.
I turned to her. She was surely speaking of Yeshua.
“Yes.”
“He is as Stephen says?”
“What does Stephen say?”
She hesitated before answering, voice still faint. “That he brings new life with a single word. That the blind see and the lame walk.”
I was struck by the desperation in her meager voice. The world was full of kingdoms vying for power and glory, and yet were not kingdoms gatherings of people like Sarah, who only wanted to escape their fear and pain? Did not each one seek peace and love?
For more than a week I had wallowed in a stupor, pining for my own deliverance, but surely every common man and woman suffered, each mastered by their own fear. Who was I, then, to waste away in my own predicament?
Because Yeshua’s kingdom was a kingdom of people, not of land or gold or anything that could be protected by armies.
Because Yeshua lived to restore Sarah.
“It is true,” I said. “I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”
Then why was I still afraid?
She fell silent again and I spoke no more, because I didn’t know what else to offer her. I moved up to Saba, who told me of his visit to Sepphoris.
It had taken him much of the night to find Joanna in her home at the north end of Sepphoris, but she had withheld nothing from him because she already knew who he was. Rumors of the tall black desert slave who had accompanied Phasa on her flight had spread through the palace like fire. Surely, Herod despised Saba as much as he despised Phasa.
Herod was no longer at the palace in Sepphoris. His new wife, Herodias, refused to live in a city built for a Nabataean queen. The palace in Tiberias would be her home, far from any memory of Phasaelis.
Saba also learned that John, called the Baptizer, had spoken out against Herod’s marriage to Herodias, for she had been married to Herod’s brother. Inflamed by Herodias, the king had arrested the Baptizer and imprisoned him in his fortress at Machaerus.
Since that time Yeshua had gathered large crowds and spoken with even greater boldness for all to hear. Wherever he went he left awe and wonder. The teachers of the Law had sent their emissaries, who found mounting offense in Yeshua’s teaching of the way of salvation—this way into the kingdom of heaven for all who would release what had once been written and follow him.
Yeshua had gathered twelve disciples to his side, but many others also followed, women as well as men, sinners and outcasts whom he forgave with a word.
“He brings great danger to himself,” Saba said quietly as we rode. “Many fear he will be silenced.”
As his mother, Miriam, feared. Stephen overheard and now turned on his mount.
“Yeshua finds no threat in this rumor!” he proclaimed, lifting a finger. “You will see, he holds no grievance. So, then, we too must hold none. Rome only does what Rome knows. Herod only does what Herod knows. But we must offer them no judgment. All grievance comes from fear of harm. To release grievance is to believe in God and the one he has sent. Do only this to be saved. This is the way, you will see.”