My name is Abigail; I am the only child, the only daughter of a poor couple, a couple who had longed for a son, and were given me instead. I was no beauty, and because my parents are too poor to scrape together even a meagre dowry I remain unmarried to this day. My neighbours would smile as I walked the streets trying to eek out a meagre living selling cakes. Sometimes they buy from me, but I suspect this was out of pity rather than desire for unfortunately I was not a great cook either!
Recently my father's health has deteriorated, and I have needed to pay for a physician, our home is now even more sparsely furnished as I have had to sell some furniture to meet their bills. I was becoming desperate, if only I was not so useless and worthless, if only I was not such a burden. My desperation showed on my face twisting my features, and in my cooking souring my skills even more.
There was only one person I knew who I considered more unfortunate than me, my neighbour, old Martha. Martha had been unclean for years; she had started her monthly bleeding and had never stopped. She was pale and thin, and penniless now that she had spent all of her money chasing an elusive cure. Martha had one thing I lacked though, she had faith, and she never gave up on the belief that one day God would heal her; I am sure she would have died years ago.
Yesterday I set out as usual, hoping that some strangers would be in town to buy my wares. I was feeling glum, and had know idea that I was about to change from the inside out, for things I saw that day changed me. From that day onwards I would view myself differently, from that day onwards I was able to think of myself as a person of value rather than an object of scorn.
As I said I was feeling glum as I left my home, but my step soon quickened, there was a buzz in the air, an expectation that I had not encountered before. To my shock and surprise I saw old Martha making her way through the crowds, intent on going somewhere. I hurried after her, she was in danger, she should not be out among all of these people; she would contaminate them with her uncleanliness. Martha was in a hurry and I found it hard to keep up with her. It was then that I began to listen to the crowd; Jesus was coming, Jesus the teacher and healer. Jesus loved by the people and looked on with suspicion by the religious leaders and rulers, could old Martha be trying to get to Jesus I wondered as I hurried after her.
I soon spotted Jesus and his disciples, they had been met by Jairus the synagogue leader and a group of elders, Jairus was begging Jesus to come with him, his daughter was dying, and Jesus was his last hope. It was strange to see this drama played out before my eyes, but then Jairus was an unusual one, it was said he loved his daughter deeply, she was not an object in his eyes!
Jesus agreed to come with them, and the crowd pressed in as they set off for Jairus' house. It was then I saw old Martha lunge for him, pushing through the crowd she reached out and touched his cloak, and then fell back into the crush, only I noticed a strange lightness on her face. Well I thought I was the only one to notice; Jesus stopped and turned, scanning the crowd "Who touched me?" he demanded.
Martha came forward reluctantly, trembling with fear. Jesus reached out and touched her, the look of love and compassion on his face was almost more than I could bear, and then he spoke, his voice filled with warmth and authority. "Daughter your faith has healed you," he said, "go in peace." I have never witnessed anything like the transformation in old Martha, her face shone, and the years fell away from her, I'd forgotten that we were almost the same age!
Suddenly the crowd fell quiet, a group of men came running towards Jairus; "You don't need to bother the teacher any more," one of them said, his voice was filled with sadness and a little fear, "Master, your daughter has died." Jairus looked distraught, and turned to run home when Jesus laid his hand upon Jairus shoulder. "Take me to her," said Jesus.
What now I wondered, so I followed Jesus and Jairus along with, Jairus' servants and Jesus' disciples to Jairus' house. Outside the official mourners were gathering, their wails pierced the quiet air. Jesus quietened the wailing throng; "She is not dead" he spoke with authority now, "She is sleeping". Then turning to Jairus he repeated his request: "Take me to her!" I don't know what happened next, but I do know that instead of mourning there was a celebration, for the little girl was restored to her family alive and well.
I walked home amazed by what I had seen, and the more I thought about it the more wonderful it seemed. Then suddenly this morning as I was baking I realised I was humming happily, as I waited for my cakes to bake I thought more deeply. This man, this teacher, this Rabbi, this healer, had touched my heart as surely as he had touched old Martha and Jairus little girl (Sophia I think her name is). He had reached out across barriers of gender and what the law would call clean. He had reached out and life had been restored within the broken and fragile Martha. He had reached out and life had been returned to the little girl. I was a witness to these wonders, and somehow through my witnessing life and hope had been restored to me.
Today I sold all of my cakes; they came from the hearth smelling sweeter than they had ever smelt. My family and I will eat well tonight. Today I was told that the smile on my face made me look different, even beautiful. I know that I fee different! Tomorrow I will ask in town about this Jesus, this teacher whose actions match the power of his words, this man, this bringer of life.
