Posted: 16 Sep 2013 06:54 AM PDT
A Retelling of Mark 5 and Luke 8 by Tova
All scripture references are taken from the King James Version of the Bible
All scripture references are taken from the King James Version of the Bible
I stare at him in shock. This feeling I've had, inside of me, is bleeding? It can be fixed, he says... with a miracle.
***
That same day...
Looking at my wife, I smile; then turn back to my little girl, my firstborn. She smiles at me.
"We did it, Jairus," I hear my wife say. "We've been blessed."
I nod to her. Gently taking her hand, I squeezed it with the force of my love. This child filled something in me that I hadn't know was void.
***
Twelve years later...
Oh please, Messiah! Come, take me away from here! Save my daughter!
All night I have worked, my husband beside me. All night, yet still she fades. Our only one, our blessing.
Please, Messiah! Please!
The Messiah.
I turn to my husband, "Jairus, search out Jesus. Find Him, beg Him to come."
Briskly nodding, he steps out, and leaves. I turn back to our daughter-- pale, on the threshold of death.
***
I
must get to Him. He can heal my daughter. No matter what the Pharisees
say; No matter if I lose my place in the synagogue; I must find Him
***
The
man from the synagogue hurries past me. I can barely touch his hem as
he rushes past. I am too weak to go many places now. I just sit here,
focusing on living.
Too
many physicians. Too many herbs. My issue is just the same, or worse,
than it was twelve years ago. I just wait here for my chance; for my
time.
The
lepers speak of Him, as do those who were lame. Jesus of Nazareth, the
Savior. He can heal me. I must wait for Him. Even if I only touch His
cloak, that will be enough. I just need Him near.
***
Stretching,
I step off of the ship. Across the sea, I'd just seen a mad man freed
from the legion of devils which had bound him. Musing, I looked at the
man walking in front of me, meeting the people. Nothing much on the
outside, a normal face and stature. Yet inside, you could tell, He was
pure, radiant, loving, innocent, guiltless, and all other things good.
Whenever His eyes rested on me, I knew He knew me, and loved me in spite
of that. A feeling rose up with in me, which I'd come to recognize. It
was the feeling He brought, and that thoughts of Him brought. It rose
from my heart into my throat, and tried to express itself, but my mind
understood that there was no words which could conjure this feeling,
except words expressed by Him.
A man is racing through the crowd, right up to the Master. Falling on his knees, he cries out, "Lord, my little daughter lies at the point of death: I pray thee, come and lay thy ahands on her, that she may be healed; and she shall live"
How amazing that this man, a ruler of the synagogue-- where many have rejected the Master-- should show such faith.
Of course, the Master agrees, and follows the man. The crowd follows us, pushing in from all sides.
***
I can see an unusual crowd coming. Could it be? Yes! I see Him! He is at the front, smiling, with His hands reaching out; comforting, accepting gifts. Where His hands can not reach, His eyes go. Bridges of light offering love to one and all.
I
don't ask for His hands, or even for a glance from His eyes. I just
need a bit of his garment, a brief contact, and I will be whole.
He's approaching. I gather my strength. Just one moment... please.... It happens! Through the crowd, I reach, and barely catch the tip. I feel a surge coming in me, and my bleeding stops.
***
The Master is no longer following the ruler. He's looking around. What could He be looking for?
"Who touched me?"
Confused, I ask Him, "Thou sees the multitude thronging thee, and sayest thou, Who touched me?"
"Somebody hath touched me: for I perceive that power as gone out of me."
Power. Had some devil come? Or was it something more simple, more righteous?
***
He's searching the crowd. Could He have perceived my small touch? I didn't disturb Him, did I? I never meant to cause trouble. I never even spoke.
Soon, He will see me. Trembling, I step forward, and our eyes meet. All my fear washes away with those love-bright eyes. I tell Him what I'd done, and why.
"Daughter, be of good cheer. Thy faith hath made thee whole; go in peace."
***
As the Master speaks, a servant runs up to the ruler--Jairus-- who has been waiting impatiently behind us. I catch their whispered words: "Thy daughter is dead. Trouble not the Master." Turning, I can see the ruler's face fill with despair. He nearly drops, but miraculously, the Master is there.
"Fear not, only believe, and she shall be made whole."
***
"Whole"
I hear the word, floating above my dark thoughts. I look at the woman,
the cause of this delay. She had just been made whole. Maybe the Lord
could make my daughter that way, too. Alive. Happy. Whole.
***
Oh Messiah! Oh my daughter!
He did not come! Jairus... he was not here.
My daughter! The last feverish throws! Oh, horrid memory!
Why are these people here. Trying to seem sad, beggars in rich clothes. Oh my daughter!
Messiah! Bring her back! Please, bring her back to me!
***
Three of us follow the Master and Jairus: Peter, my brother John, and myself. Working our way from one crowd to the next mob-- the one surrounding Jairus' house.
Distinctly, we hear the tumult, sounding like one, loud, confused noise. Above the minstrels and mourners, the Master casts his voice.
"Give place, why make ye this ado, and weep? The maid is not dead, but sleepeth."
***
Who is this man, to disturb us?
We have seen the girl, there is no breath in her. Does he take us for fools?
He is deserving of ridicule, and mockery.
The audacity! This common man, never seen before in this house, presumes to make us leave.
The master of the house does nothing. He just wallows in his own sadness as we are escorted away.
The audacity!
***
Oh my daughter! The Messiah has not come!
The noise dims around me dims. I look up from my daughter's death bed.
Through my tears, I see a man, light radiating from him. He approaches, and I turn back to my child, and lay, weeping, across her still body.
***
The hope that first woke in my heart on seeing the woman made whole has grown.
This
man could heal my daughter. Still, seeing her eerie quietness, I
cannot help but cry. I go to kneel by my wife, one hand on her
shoulder, the other on my child's knee.
***
"Talitha Cumi. Damsel, I say unto thee, arise."
Through my sobs, I feel a different throb. My daughter stirs.
***
The
three of us look at each other, astonished at the power the Master
holds. To be able to raise from the dead... what a wonder. What a gift
for these two parents, who are now embracing the maid.
Finally, they remember who has blessed them, and they turn to the master.
He tells them to tell no one what had happened.
Then, with a gentle smile, he reminded them that the maid should have something to eat.
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