And We Thought We Knew You:
Soul Journey With the Real Jesus
The Girl and the Lady
DESPERATION POINT
AD 16
Capernaum, Galilee [1]
         Jesus is just a nineteen-year-old teenager over in Nazareth.� Life for him continues the same as always. But here in Capernaum, two people's lives are being touched with tragedy.� Tragedy that some day will bring triumph.
         "It's a girl!� You have a baby girl!"
         Elder Jairus is proud.� Perhaps not as proud as if he'd had a son, but still he is proud.� Jairus and Ruth have been trying to have a child for many years.� Miscarriages.� Frustration.� Heart pain.� Desperation.�
         But this time, Ruth had stayed in bed for seven months.� She had been very, very careful.� "Come on now, sweetheart," Jairus would say, "there's a lot of things you can do from your bed.� Look what I fixed for your dinner."
         Each night the couple would pray.� "Oh God, be with the baby in Ruth's womb ~ our baby.� Bless him or her.� We are doing all we can.� Please do all you can too, God."
         At last the birth pains began.� A midwife was called.� At last Ruth has had their child.� Yes, indeed.� Jairus and Ruth have a baby girl.
         Now they can walk with their head high, and strut into synagogue with people oo-ing and ah-ing over their little bundle of joy.� Now, at last, Ruth can be the center of attention when her relatives and friends stop by with baby things for her. Now Jairus can start a dowry fund.� Now they can talk with other parents about the latest progress of their child's development.� Now they can watch with the other parents while their children play ball together, and get involved in races and other forms of child competition.
         "Sweetheart," he says to Ruth, "I'm so proud of you.� I knew you could do it."
         He leans down and kisses his wife and newborn.� They smile with that specialness only known when two people have created life.� Jairus cries with pride and relief that both mother and baby are doing fine.� Ruth cries with postpartum blues.� He tries to understand.
         "So, we have a lively Leah in our family now.� She has won the battle.� She lives.� And so now, in a lot of ways, do we."�
         In heaven, the angels pat each other on the back.� Especially baby Leah's guardian angel.� He's passing out feathers to the other angels.� Pink feathers. [2]
         "You did a good job making her."
         "Thank you."
         Elsewhere in the city that day is Sarah.� Sarah has had her menstrual period for six months straight.� She is worried.� Her doctor is worried.
         "When will you know more?"
         "Probably next week.� A very respected doctor from Sepphorus will be here.� I plan to consult with him.� I'll let you know what he thinks.� But in the mean time, I want you to examine you better in your home."
         The next day the doctor arrives with a midwife as his assistant.� Probing.� Poking.� Invading her body, her privacy, trying to ascertain her problem.� Embarrassment.� Humiliation.� Non-personhood.
         She becomes so tired.� Physically tired and emotionally tired.� She is so weak.� Getting weaker.� Needing to sleep more.
         Feeling less and less like a human.� More like a test animal.� More and more like a thing.� No identity.� No personhood.� No dignity.
         Three days later, the doctor stops by to see three happy people and to make sure Ruth is doing okay.� Indeed, all is smiles and roses and sunshine.� What a life they'll have together!� God is so great!
         Five days after that, Sarah's friend stops by to see her.
         "I made dinner for you.�� And I mended a couple of tunics I saw hanging up.� Is that all you need for today?"
         Sarah smiles and reassures her friend she will be fine.� But she is so tired.� The world is more and more tearful and droopy and misty.
         A puppy jumps up onto the cushion with her and nuzzles its head under Sarah' arm.� She puts her goblet on the floor to give a little attention to the only family she has.
         How desperately she misses her friends at synagogue.� She cannot attend as long as she is ceremonially unclean.� It is no disrespect to her, she realizes, for she cannot make this problem go away.� The idea is to emphasize how pure God is.� But still, it is hard on her. [3]
         Until the problem is cleared up, she will meet with others with similar problems who worship together in a home out in the country.
AD 19
         "Happy birthday, lively Leah!"� Ready to celebrate?
         Indeed she is.� And so is everyone else from the synagogue.�� Leah, who never knew a stranger, has won the hearts of everyone in the congregation. [4]
         "Here is a little doll I carved out for you, Leah."
         "Oh, a baby!" Leah responds happily.
         "How old are you, Leah?"
         "I'm three years old!� I'm big!"
         "Here's some raisin cakes I made.� Your favorite...."
         Sarah has had to sell her house in the city and buy one in the country.� She had to forfeit buying it back according to the Mosaic Law because she was not cured and allowed to return to the city by then. [5]
         Sarah gets no relief from her endless visits to an endless array of doctors.� Each with their endless array of vague diagnoses.� They never really tell her anything.� Her menstrual period continues endlessly too.� Without let up.� Her life trickling away.� One blood drop after another.� And another.� Endlessly. [6]
         She continues to go to work every day at a weaving shop.� All except for days she has to pick up some herbs someone said would help her.� But one day she cannot go in.� The flow is too great and she is just too weak.
         "I'll be in tomorrow for sure," she assures her supervisor in a note.
         The next day she arrives at work ahead of time in her usual manner.� Never give them an excuse.� Bend over backwards to be an exemplary employee.
         "Sarah, could I see you in the back room?"
         They probably want to review with her a new weave they've been developing.
         "Sarah, you have been....";
         "Have been?" she repeats to herself.� Have been?� What does have been mean?� Now don't get excited.� Stay calm.� It is nothing.
         "You have been an outstanding employee.� But...well...that was in the past."
         Sarah grasps at the present.� Holds on for dear life.� Clings to time, and tries to pull it back.� She has worked here since she was a teenager.� She is good.� She knows she is good.
         "We find that you are not completing your assignments on time as consistently as we would like."
         "Well, I wasn't feeling up to my old self yesterday," she tries to explain.� Her supervisor goes on as though Sarah has not said anything.�
         "Sarah, you have no idea how much this hurts me to say this."
         "Well then, don't," she responds in her mind.� Don't force yourself to say anything that brings you discomfort.� Let's just keep things going the way they always have.
         She hands Sarah a small pouch.� "Your final pay is in there.� We just cannot allow your work to get behind.� We hired someone else yesterday while you were out.� She will be here shortly.� We would appreciate your cleaning out your work area now so she can put her things away.� I'm so sorry...."
         Sorry....� Sorry....� Sorry....�
         The words echo and bump into each other in her head.��
         Sorry....� Sorry....� Sorry....
         "But...."� Tears are rushing to her eyes.� Desperately she fights for control.� "I was just out one day."
         "You've been out a total of 23 days so far this year.� Plus you are slowing down considerably."
         "But, I'll get better.� I have this new doctor and...."
         "I have taken the liberty of writing a letter of recommendation for you.� You would be perfect for a job that is not quite so demanding."
         Somehow she finds herself in the outer courtyard.� There is another pouch nailed to the inside of the gate along with a small scroll with her name on it.�
         "We took up a collection in the shop yesterday to help with a few doctor bills.� Here is some money to help out.� We will miss you."
         The next day at her home out in the country, a messenger comes by from her most recent doctor.�
         "I just went by your shop to remind you of your appointment tomorrow.� They said you no longer work there."
         "Yes," Sarah responds softly.
         "They used to help you with your doctor bills.� Did that cease too?� We need to know that.� Do you have funds for your doctor visits and treatments?"
         Sarah finds another job.� It is not the kind of job she had before.� Not a whole lot of responsibility.� But she knows she can do it.� She is hired.� She is elated.
         They are aware that she will have to be off work for a few hours at a time for doctor appointments.� They can work around it.� But she must understand they will not cover her disease expenses.
AD 21
         "....So, what are you going to do this year, now that you are five?"
         'I'm help Mommy make bread.� I'm almost old enough to help her sew too!� I'm big!"
         "You're lively Leah indeed!"
         Leah responds by skipping around the room.
         "Well, how about some wool for your first tunic?� And a little-girl needle too?� Just for our Leah...."
         Leah grabs the fabric, holds it in front of her, and dances around her cousins enjoying the party.
         "Look at me!� I'm a princess!� Look at me!"
         "Hey, Leah.� Bet you can't catch me!"
         It has been four years now since Leah was forced to sell her home and buy one out in the country.� What she had thought would be a temporary arrangement has turned into a permanent arrangement.� After all, she is still considered ceremonially unclean. [7]
         At least this way, she is a little closer to some of the other cities and their physicians.
         Back and forth to more and more doctors.� Desperately searching.� Poking.� Probing.� Invading.� Conjecturing.� Trying this herb.� Trying that herb.� Trying this exercise.� Trying that exercise.���
         Sarah dips into her travel fund.� She cancels her trip to the Dead Sea for therapy in the salty waters.�
         More doctor visits.� More pricking and jabbing.� More experiments.� A new theory.� A new treatment.� Try it.� Be a guinea pig.� Perhaps you can get discussed at the next assembly of doctors in Sepphorus.
AD 22
         "....Seven years old!� You're getting to be so pretty, little Leah.� Pretty Leah!"
         "I'm going to start helping to carry water from the well this year.� I'm going to have a water jar and everything!"
         "Well, open your present and see what it is."
         "A little-girl water jar!� Oh thank you, thank you...."
         "And what's this?"
         "A new cord to tie my hair back while I help Mommy!"
         "Well, for such a lively Leah, you need to be able to see."
         "I'll be so pretty."
         "Sarah, could I see you a moment after work?"�
         The same tone.� The same hesitance.� The same premonition of the unspeakable. �But it is spoken anyway.�
         "I am sorry."
         The same words.� The same fate.� The same rejection.
         Once more Sarah is given her final pay.� Once more she clears out her work space.� Once more she leaves out the door, never again to return.
         To the city square the next day.� Anyone need a maid?� I can cook.� I can sew.� I can sweep.� I can run errands.� But no letter of recommendation this time.� And no job offer.� Everyone knows how much Sarah stays sick.� After all, she still lives outside of town.� Money is running out.� Desperation is running in.
         She puts a mortgage on her home.� The bankers are kind.� They do not charge her interest on the loan. [8] She can live for awhile at least on this.
AD 25
         "....I'm nine this year.� I'm almost old enough to go to the city square by myself.� And I'm going to learn to read too."
         "But, sweetheart, you are so pretty.� Why would you want to know how to read?"
         "So I can grow up and teach other children to read.� Everyone needs to know how to read.� My Father says so.� I'll be a great teacher some day."
         "You bet you will.� You aren't called Leah the lively for nothing...."
         Sarah changes doctors once again.� She is running low on choices.
         "I wish you'd come here long ago.� I could have helped you.� But there's an even better treatment out now for hemorrhaging.� I'd like to try it on you, if I may."
         Sarah is more tired than ever.� She is more frail than ever.�
         "Doctor, do you think anything is ever going to work?� It has been nine years since the hemorrhaging started.� I don't even have a job any more.� I'm losing my identity.� I'm losing my value as a person.� I'm losing my life."
         "Come on, now.� We'll get to the bottom of this.� I'm confident of it.� There is a new herb treatment out.� Healing is right around the corner."
         But healing is not right around the corner.� Nor is another job.
         Sarah has almost used up the money from her mortgage.� She only has enough left to make payments, but not to buy necessities, and to pay for doctor visits.�
         Whenever anything out in the fields ripens, however, she goes out and picks what she can of what the harvesters drop.� The fruit trees come in first ~ along with the first crop of grain.� She can pick up the corners of the fields there since they are required to leave that for the poor. [9]
         The poor?� Yes, formerly successful, formerly vivacious, formerly prosperous Sarah is now poor.
AD 27
         "....Okay, everybody!� Line up!� Ready?� Set?� Go!"
         The birthday children run down the road by Leah's grandparent's house out in the country.� The idea is to get to the next house down the road and back again first.� The other house is small.� Another elderly couple lives there along with a spinster.� But they're all friendly.
         Sure enough, when the children arrive, the neighbor is out front grinding some meal.� Sarah stands and waves at the children.� A smile is all they have time to give her.
         "Get out of my way!� I'm passing you all!"
         "You'll never pass me!"
         The race is over.� Lively Leah ~ the name as caught on ~ comes in second.� That is good.� A guest gets to win, but the birthday girl still gets some attention.
         "Okay, children.� Come on in and have some refreshments."
         Everyone goes inside and Leah's grandmother presents everyone with an array of sweets.� Grandfather presents Leah with a brand-new large scroll with nothing on it, and a quill all her own.
         "Thank you, Grandfather.� I shall now make a speech."
         "Well, make it quick.� We're hungry."
         "Ladies and Gentlemen...."
         "Forget the speech.� Let's eat...."
         Once more Sarah changes doctors.
         Again the probing and poking.� Always invading her personhood, assaulting her dignity.� Again the failures, the duds, the dead ends.� More deterioration.� Deterioration of body.� And will.
         "Sarah, you have the privilege of being the most enigmatic patient I have ever had.� I just do not know what to do with you," he smiles.� "You've got the experts baffled.� Not everyone can boast of that, you know."
         She is not impressed.� She is angry that her doctor cannot even tell her the bad news with a sympathetic tone of some kind.� She weakly stands up and leaves without a word.
         Sarah's desperation falls into a deep depression.� She walks slowly, oh so slowly, out of the nearby city and heads for home.� She heads for the little house in the country, but not where she used to go.� She has lost her home.� She now rents a little room with a poor farm couple. [10]
Summer AD 28
         Jesus has now grown up.� He moved to Capernaum about a year ago.�
         "Elder Jairus, Jesus wants to talk to our congregation again."
         "Can't allow that any more," Jairus replies stoicly.� "He claims the power of healing.� He is out of place doing that.� He is turning our assemblies upside down with those so-called healings.� I just don't believe the man.� We'd have to be mighty desperate to have that man preacher to us.� I think we have had about all of Jesus we ever want." [11]
         "That is just as well," an elderly member adds.� "He has recruited Matthew, the government tax collector.� Jesus' reputation is in jeopardy.� I understand he is over at Matthew's house right now having dinner with all his turncoat cronies." [12]
         "Well, I think our congregation has seen the last of Jesus for awhile.� See you next week.� I am going home to my daughter's birthday celebration."
         "Oh, how old is your lively Leah now?"
         "Twelve."
         Although Sarah has not been allowed to live in town for several years now, she sometimes walks to the city gate or the square nearby in the hopes of seeing old friends from her former congregation.�
         How she misses it.� Hearing the scriptures read by old familiar friends.� Hearing comments on their meaning by old familiar friends.� Listening to prayers led by old familiar friends.�
         How lonely it is, worshipping alone.� The little group she used to worship with outside of town disbanded last year.� She was the only one left.�
         What she would give to be together with her congregation again. �But it is not possible.� It never will be possible.� Deep down Sarah knows this.
         She sits down on one of the public benches where, during the week, city elders often sit.� She is early, so listens to the talk of the less religious, those not in the synagogue worshipping.� Chattering about this thing and another.� Mostly she is not interested in any of it.� The world is going on without her.� But one conversation catches her attention.
         "Didn't you get invited to Matthew's big dinner?"
         "What dinner?";
         "He has quit his job collecting taxes.� Today he's having all his friends at the tax houses and the big importers-exporters to his house for dinner.� Well, I guess we weren't big enough."
         "And that Jesus is going to be there?"
         "That's right."
         "I hear he's planning to become our next king."
         "Then maybe they're all out there plotting how to overthrow the present government."
         "Do you think he'll perform some of his healings to convince them to follow him?"
         "Anything is possible."
         Sarah has followed them out the gate a little way eaves dropping.�
         "Sirs.� Excuse men, sirs.� This Matthew ~ do you know where he lives?"she asks.
         "Sure.� Everyone does."� The man stops and points.� "See that hill over there?� Go over there and look for the biggest house on it.� That'll be Matthew's."
         "Thank you, sirs.� By the way, do you have any idea how long a banquet lasts for rich people?"
         "I'd say four or five hours.� They are probably just now getting started.� You have plenty of time if you're planning to go there.� Of course, if you're looking for work, you might better go some other day."
         Looking for work?� That is one way of looking at it.� The Pharisees certainly call it work.� Healing, that is.� Yes, Sarah is looking for work.� But done by someone else.� A divine work.
         The men are confused but do not pursue conversation with a strange woman in public any longer.
         Sarah heads for home quickly.� She puts on a fresh pad for that which drains the life out of her body, washes her body from a bowl in her room, and puts on a clean tunic.� It is not a good one.� None of her clothes are.� But it is clean.� She must do this.� She ~ as ceremonially unclean as she is ~ is about to be in the very presence of the divine.
         As they walk, for a second time that day, into town, she prays.� "Oh, MY God.� Make Jesus see me.� Make Jesus understand my needs.� Make Jesus want to heal me.� I'm desperate, God.� I'm so desperate...."
         Her worded thoughts stop to absorb and echo over and over what she has been saying in a form of spiritual amen.�
         She resumes.� "Oh, MY God.� I don't know what else to do.� I have tried everything.� There is no hope for me.� I will forever be an outcast.� Please, God, don't let this happen to me.� Please, God, grant me my hope."
         Once again the absorbing, echoing, meditating amen.� Once again lifting hope like a feather in the wind, hoping it will be sufficient enough to rise to the feet of God.
         "God, where are you?� I need you!� I need healing!� But how can I dare to presume that I, a ceremonially one, should touch divinity?� I who am no longer allowed to live in town, I who am no longer allowed to attend synagogue, I who am no longer allowed to be close to all that represents you.� What presumptuousness.� I dare not approach Jesus.� But, God, I do not know what to do.� Oh, God...."
         Tears mingle with defeat and gradually movement is detecting in the germ of her faith.� Dare she, who has been rejected by the synagogue, hope?� Dare she, who has been rejected by the city, believe?� Dare she, the least of all humans now - lower than a worm crawling under the soil ~ approach near to Jesus?
         "Oh, my God, I dare not touch him.� I dare not touch your Jesus.� Oh, God, help me....� Help me...."
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