A.D. 30(110)

“Sarah? Please…”

And then we were upon the inner circle, with many pressing close to Yeshua, touching his arms and garments while his disciples tried to keep a semblance of order about their teacher. He seemed unwilling to send any away.

There were two women in front of Sarah, between her and Yeshua, and I thought she would push them aside, so desperate did she appear. Instead, being slight, she bent low and shoved her arm between them, and reached for the tassels of Yeshua’s woolen tunic.

I let loose of her then, surprised by her boldness. And though my vision was blurred, I could not mistake what happened.

Sarah, having reached far, then stumbled and fell to her knees, panting, with me now several paces behind, Saba by my side. If Yeshua had not stopped, the crowd might have trampled her.

But he did stop, abruptly, lifting up an arm and looking about.

“Who touched my clothes?” he asked.

The crowd hushed and Peter, who stood close enough for me to recognize, looked about.

“You see the people crowding against you, master. Are they not all touching you?”

Yeshua turned, searching, and those near him backed up, giving him space. Sarah was on her knees, but at least ten others stood between her and Yeshua.

I saw her body quietly shaking with sobs.

I saw Yeshua looking about.

And I knew already why he was so determined to know who had touched him, though so many had. The thought sent a chill through my bones.

“Who touched me?” he asked yet again. “I must know. Who?”

Unable to contain herself, Sarah lunged to her feet and stumbled forward, pushing past the others, then falling to her knees again before Yeshua.

“It was me, Lord,” she sobbed, clinging to his garment. “Please forgive me.” She lifted her face to him. “I knew. I knew that even touching the hem of your garment would free me. I touched you.”

For a moment, no one moved.

“And I felt it leave me as I did,” she wept. “Forgive me. I beg you.”

I wanted to rush forward and throw myself at his feet too, but I was terrified that I did not have Sarah’s faith. Not even Stephen seemed to.

Yeshua reached down and touched Sarah on her head. He spoke in a tender voice, as a father might speak to his young child.

“Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace and be freed from your suffering.”

The words crushed me. He had called her Daughter.

Daughter, your faith has healed you. Yeshua had saved her from her suffering.

Sarah was weeping with gratitude now, bowed low.

I was about to run to him, terrified and desperate at once. But one of the disciples took Yeshua’s arm and whispered something in his ear.

The master nodded, looked at those about him once again, then spoke plainly.

“I must go now, along with Peter, James, and John. Remember what you have heard and seen here today.”

And then he turned and left. The people parted for him in silence, as if none could resist his will. “Jairus’s daughter is dead,” I overheard someone say. “He goes to see the daughter of the synagogue’s ruler.”

But I too was a daughter, and I too would surely be dead soon.

A terrible sorrow swallowed me.

Yeshua was gone.


SARAH had been made whole.

We returned to the house and it took her a long while to find the words to speak of the power she’d felt flowing up her arm and down her spine. Like no sensation she had ever felt, she said. It was a fire that had swept through her body, burning up every trace of her affliction. She still spoke in a meek voice and was yet a frail woman, but in every other respect Sarah seemed to be a giant in my eyes. She seemed to see the world with new vision.

But she couldn’t find the words to explain how one could gain the faith that had made her whole. Though she could see with new eyes, I was still blinded and outcast.

Stephen suggested that this display of the master’s power should chase away all my doubts and fill me with great courage. Instead my fear only deepened.

For I had not been made whole. I had not rushed to touch the hem of his garment. I had failed even here, north of the Sea of Galilee.

Many were called, as Stephen had said, and I was terrified that I was one of those who could not find the faith to follow.

When the sun was setting, Saba, quiet from all that he had seen, approached me to ask what I now planned. We didn’t know when Yeshua might return, and Stephen wasn’t to be found, so I didn’t know.

“I need to be alone for a while, Saba.”

He dipped his head. “As you wish. But then perhaps we might find another way. Aretas waits.”

“Do you think I don’t know this?” I snapped.

“The tiger crouches. You find yourself lost in fear.”