There are so many other things Jesus did. If they were all written down, each of them, one by one, I can't imagine a world big enough to hold such a library of books. John 21:25 The Message

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Jesus was teaching, as was his custom, to a large gathering outside of a village near Nazareth. The people had listened carefully, almost hanging onto his words. This story may sound just like so many others you may have heard since Jesus’ ministry spanned three years over many miles.

“Teacher, you spend so much time with sinners,” one of the Pharisees, the Keepers of the Law, Simon by name, asked him, “it seems that you do not care enough about the Law of Moses.”

“It is because I do care about the Law, which you call the Law of Moses, which asks of you to worship and obey God that I teach and minister as I do.

“How must we worship, teacher. Tell us that we may follow you.” The man said, trying to trick Jesus.

“Does not the Scripture say,

But he's already made it plain how to live, what to do,
…what God is looking for in men and women.
It's quite simple: Do what is fair and just to your neighbor,
be compassionate and loyal in your love,
And don't take yourself too seriously–
take God seriously. Micah 6:8 The Message

Then the man asked, “Who then is my neighbor?” Jesus looked around at the crowd and swept his hand in a broad gesture without word. The man looked around and smiled, but in his heart he was angry. He had been taught that the Law was the way to seek God and Jesus had just shown him that to be fair and compassionate was the true way of following the Law.

“You look troubled, Simon. What lays so heavily on your heart.” That Jesus knew his name without asking did not occur to him.

“Should we not love God with all of our being… our heart, our mind? Our soul and strength?”

“Yes, but you should also love your neighbor as much as you love yourself.” Jesus smiled and looked again over the crowd. Simon saw the people; lepers, poor, gentiles…every one of those people that were unlike him, and he frowned. But something in his heart wanted to understand.

Simon stood back as Jesus touched the people; healing and blessing and showing compassion…the very example of what the prophet Micah had said. Slowly the crowd grew smaller; the setting sun peaking over the hills as Jesus continued ministering to the people until there were none left other than him and his disciples.

Simon stepped forward and touched Jesus’ arm.

“Master, would you be willing to continue this…discussion over evening meal?”

“That is very kind of you. I would very much enjoy breaking bread over… discussion.” Jesus smiled.

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Soon after at Simon's house...

As they reclined at the table, a servant came and whispered in Simon’s ear.

“Please excuse me, Teacher. There is a matter I must attend to.” He smiled, but his look belied his anxious mood. Before he could stand up, a young woman…a child actually, pushed past the servant and entered the room, falling at Jesus’ feet.

Simon jumped up and ran to grab the girl off the floor.

“I am sorry, Master, but this is…,” he said, pointing to the girl. Before he could finish his words, Jesus spoke.

“Her name is Adara.” He smiled down at the young woman, who was kissing his feet. She looked up and there were tears in her eyes. Tears that begged forgiveness and restoration, but spoke without words of rejection and a loss of hope.

“Master? This is no woman. He is my brother Mahlon,” Simon nearly shouted as the girl trembled, not in fear of her brother, but the loss of her brother through his rejection and hatred.

“What has she done to earn such scorn, Simon? Whom has she offended?”

“He pretends to be what he is not; he is an abomination...a disgrace before the Lord, Master. Can’t you see?”

“Surely he must see the disappointment Mahlon would be to our parents had they lived. The embarrassment he is to me to our village and our tribe. The shame he brings upon his name.” Simon thought. Jesus looked at him and smiled.

“Simon? If your parents had lived, they would see a daughter; industrious and hard-working who would be a blessing to them. If the village opened their eyes, they would see a good woman who cares for small children and animals; a kind and caring soul who loves without expectation. And if you opened your eyes, you would see a sister who loves you more than her own life, despite your neglect and disdain.” Simon’s eyes opened wide in astonishment.

“This man knows my thoughts…my heart. Surely he must be a prophet.” Simon thought even as his eyes darted to Jesus’ face; the man was stroking the woman’s hair as she kissed his feet once again.

“Master, truly you are a prophet. I believe you.”

“I am glad that you believe. Would that you believed before I spoke. It is easy to believe with evidence; so much harder to believe with faith alone.

“I am sorry. I will treat him with respect and care and I will forgive him.”

“All have sinned and do not meet the righteousness of God; even her…and even you. But she has done nothing to you for which she must be forgiven. It is you who require forgiveness; your hardness has broken both her heart and the heart of God.”

Jesus looked at him and Simon saw that Jesus was crying. The wound to Adara’s heart, caused by cruel neglect and disdain, as Jesus had said, was being healed even as the wound from his own thoughts and deeds was widening.

“Forgive me, Master.” Simon threw himself at Jesus’ feet, weeping.

“It is not I from whom you must seek forgiveness, Simon, but from your sister.”

Simon looked at Jesus and then looked at Adar and saw for the first time, not a foolish, witless brother, but a sister; a beautiful child. She looked at him, and without a word spoken between the two, peace was formed as forgiveness passed between them. Simon embraced his sister for the first time as he bade farewell to his brother; not the person, but the idea he had kept so hard and fast in his judgment. Jesus smiled and spoke softly,

“Rise, Simon.” The man stood and smiled through his tears.

“I will get wine that we may celebrate this homecoming, Master. Thank you for opening my eyes.”

Jesus grabbed the girl by both hands and lifted her to her feet, kissing her on each side of her face. The tears of a prophet and teacher mingled with the tears of a beautiful child, filled with love and gratefulness. She smiled weakly and said,

“MmmmMaster.” Her voice was halting and she searched for words.

“How did you know…how…dddi…you know…mmmmy name?” she stammered.

Jesus looked into her eyes and smiled.

“Adara…it is I who named you.”

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A Day of Disappointment

“There are days when you are almost useless,” Simon glared at his sister, as if her slowness was her fault. She put her head down, vowing to be silent. Even after a homecoming of sorts, the girl remained a stranger in her own house, since everyone believed how worthless girls are to begin with, much less a boy dressed in girl’s clothing. That the teacher had explained to Simon about his sister meant little; especially now, even if no one but her brother knew.

“I don’t know why I allowed the Rabbi to fill my head with such foolishness, but I gave my word that I would allow you to do what you choose to do.”

Simon had given his word, to be sure, but it wasn’t to allow anything at all. With the Rabbi’s help, he had been able to see that he now had a sister. Where once stood a slow-witted boy now stood a shy-if-eager-to-please young lady.

But the Rabbi had departed, and they hadn’t seen or heard anything of him other than what Aaron the potter had said only a few months ago; something about loud and angry crowds walking through the city shouting his name. Other than that, they had heard nothing. Moving from the village of their parents ensured that Simon could keep his promise and his business, since only he and Adara knew about her origin.

“Suh...Simon? I finished cleaning. Mmmm...May I go pick some flowers?” The girl was shy, to be sure, but much of her timidity came from having to prove herself over and over every day. It mattered not that she was as kind as anyone could imagine. It mattered not that she toiled daily, doing not only the ‘woman’s’ work in the house, but also anything that came to Simon’s mind that his ‘brother’ might perform. She spoke quietly, as modest as you might expect from a young lady her age, and without a single complaint.

“Fine, but be back here quickly to prepare the midday meal!” She had baked some bread and it would take little time to finish, but Simon was almost more demanding now than before the revelation that set the family on edge. Without the Rabbi to speak to her brother, anything he had said was left without any encouragement.

“Yeh...yes, Simon,” she said and walked out of the house and up the hill. It took all the strength she had to face each day with the resolve that things would indeed turn out as the rabbi had promised. But Simon made her days feel as useless as he claimed and her nights as hopeless as the prospect of standing in two worlds but belonging to neither.

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“Simon ben Nathan. I’m very glad to find you here, since I’ve got a question for you. A very important question:” The man was taller than Simon and would have seemed more important than him but for their friendship.

“Benyamin! Funny you should show up here. I’ve been meaning to talk to you as well. That business arrangement we discussed.

“Oh, that’s not what I’m here for, but since we’re discussing business? I’m not very good at it, as you’d discover if you talked to my father.” He laughed a gentle laugh; a man who had virtually nothing but his good heart to show for his twenty years. He was, however, as good a worker as anyone would ever want, even if his right foot turned severely inward. That he worked hard and sought to be useful when many like him would likely be cast aside; it was a testament to the grace of the almighty, even if most felt otherwise.

“I will work for you, but only on one condition.” He smiled broadly and Simon tilted his head.

“You should agree to the wages we discussed, but what else could you want? I’m an easy man to work for,” Simon said, which flew in the face of what everyone in the village knew. Anyone who worked for Simon would be put to the task more than any other merchant. He treated his … he treated Adara like a hired hand; how much worse would it be for anyone who wasn’t a favorite sibling?

“I’m not asking for the moon, Simon. I know the wages are more than fair. I wish to request something that only you can grant, though it has nothing to do with your business.

“Ask away, friend!”

“If it be acceptable and the will of the Almighty, I would like to discuss a merger of sorts.” Benny laughed softly once again; not a joke but just a way of lightening what might be a very serious moment.

“You have no business, Benny. What could you possible bring to me that would interest me?”

“it’s not me that will bring something of value, but you, Simon. I wish to propose a merger between our families.” Simon’s eyes widened in surprise. Benny’s sister Devorah was likely the prettiest girl in the village, but she was promised to Natan Ben Yakub.

“No, dear friend. You are the one to provide the means of the merger should it be acceptable to you. I wish to wed your sister Adara.” Simon put his hand up nervously.

“NN….no, Benny…. I …. She’s hardly of age….” His face reddened and he shook his head; not furiously, but enough to send a very plain message. One that Benny completely misunderstood given the circumstances.

“I….I understand.” He put his head down and sighed. There’s nothing like love at first sight, and nothing worse than being told it will never be.

“I’m…I’m sorry, Benny. She’s just not ready for marriage.” Simon was insistent, and rightly so, since Adara would hardly be ready for marriage in their lifetimes. But Benny believed it was he who fell short. In truth, in the eyes on the almighty, in a way we all fall short, and so they both were merely human and children of their generation.

But where the Lord closes a door, as they say, he opens a window. This window would shine a light on the two. A man born lame but still a good man, a just and kind and caring man. And a girl born out of time, as it says somewhere, but born at just the right time when reckoned if measured by the hand of G_d.

“I’m truly sorry,’ Simon lied. He wasn’t sorry at all. The last thing he needed was for Benny to discover just who and what Adara truly was. If that happened, Simon would lose an eager employee who was willing to do everything without any question and cheaper than anyone for miles around. He put his hand on Benny’s shoulder in sympathy when in fact he was relieved…until Adara walked into the house.

“G...good afternoon,” she said with her eyes quickly cast downward. She needn’t have been so subservient since not all men were like her brother. Had she raised her countenance she would have seen the sparkle in Benyamin’s eyes; deep olive and smiling, as the saying goes. Eyes that accepted the girl without question. Eyes that longed for the embrace she would offer had she known.

And eyes that were well aware of the beginnings of the girl; keen, sensitive, and caring eyes that knew from whence the girl had come. It mattered not to him, but it mattered even less to his best friend; the brother of the girl he had come to love from afar and from the past, since he had lived in the same village where the girl’s parents lived years before.

The same parents who had two children, Simon the elder, who was smart and resourceful. And Mahlon the younger, slow-witted child. Adara would have seen the look that she had seen once before, when the Rabbi had blessed her.

“You best be getting along, Benny.” Simon said, and his friend nodded reluctantly. Benyamin bowed slightly to the girl, who had yet to raise her head. He sighed and limped slowly out of the house and down the hill. Only then did the girl raise her head; only in time to see his figure disappear behind a bend in the path, but still in time to see the sun almost glint off of his nearly unkempt dark head of hair.

It reflected into almost a halo before he disappeared from view. She sighed deeply and hugged herself tight, believing understandably that hers were the only arms that would ever hold her….

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An Afternoon of Heartache

“What ….what di..did Benyamin …” The first words had no sooner escaped Adara’s lips when Simon cut her off,

“If it’s any concern to you,” he said; pausing with a look that was more than dismissive.

“He is coming to work for me.”

“He…Everyone says…he’s a good worker.”

“And for the money I will pay him, he will be a great worker.” Simon laughed. Adara put her head down.

“Now what?” His tone grew impatient in an instant; he had grown tired of accommodating her moods, if you could call them that.

“Wo..would you pay him more if…” She looked down at her own body; the connection between his lameness and her lack was completely lost on Simon.

“If he wasn’t lame, he would not be as desperate. What does that matter to you? It is none of your business,” he spat, completely missing the irony of his choice of words.

“Content yourself with being allowed to live under this roof, dear sister.” The favor he granted his sibling was certainly no favor at all. She looked around at all the work yet undone for the immensity of his demands. She grabbed a basket and walked to the door; her face turned away to hide her tears.

“I am going to the field. Devorah says that her father is allowing us to glean today.”

“Do not talk with anyone; if they learn you are my….they will make me pay for what you glean.” More than a caution, he was angry that she even brought it up; preferring instead to not consider what she had to say and do for him, much less for herself.

“You need to stay away from those girls…if they find out…” Adara’s ‘condition would likely be seen as a stoning offense had they not been under the ‘liberality’ of Roman rule. Nevertheless, if his sister was unmasked, so to speak, his business in town would be ruined and they would be forced to flee to parts unknown. But even worse was that he was completely and utterly shamed that he even permitted his former brother to continue the subterfuge. He glared at her with a disapproving smirk. She turned and caught his expression.

“Sss…Simon,” she began to cry, but pulled herself back and shook her head.

“I…feel….it is …y…you act like the Rabbi never ….” She paused and looked away before saying finally,

“I wish I was never born.” She glanced back at him before running out the door and out the door.”

And while Simon did resist the urge to shout at her in agreement, he did harbor those same feelings about her in his heart.

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“Mother?” Benyamin called out as he entered his home.

“I’m right here, sweet child; you don’t have to shout!” Mara stepped close and greeted her son with a kiss on the cheek.

“Simon …I am going to work for him.” He half-smiled. They could use the help, since his bartering with the families in the community only went so far, and she was looked upon as ‘young’ and had a reasonably healthy son for support. She patted his cheek.

“You look so excited, o light of my life.” Benyamin completely missed his mother’s humor and spoke.

“Oh, yes, mother….so happy!” She patted his cheek a little harder.

“You can’t lie to me, Benny…I’m your mother. It is…impossible.” She chuckled.

“What is so wrong in the midst of such welcome good news?” She stared at him with the same sympathetic love that cleaned a scraped knee or held him when children would tease him when he was little.

“Simon….Simon said that Adara… That she is not ready for marriage.” He sighed deeply. The young man would resist all the bullying in the world. He looked at his lameness as a challenge to seek the grace of his creator.

“Benny?” Just the mention of his name seemed to strengthen him; at least to where he could display his disappointment in safety.

“Does he know?” A conspiracy of two aimed at a well-intended if impossible outcome,

“No, and I wasn’t going to tell him. She deserves better, Mother. She didn’t ask…” His voice trailed off as he looked down at his feet.

“No more than you or I or your father, may his memory be a blessing. What was it that Rabbi had said?”

“That the man was born blind so…” He looked again at his feet.

“The works of his creator…your creator…Adara’s creator, bless that sweet innocent child…”

“Would be shown.” Benny lowered his head, almost ashamed of complaining. Mara squeezed both his hands.

“Then what we must do is pray that she and you are somehow blessed with the grace to live no matter what happens.” She half smiled, evoking a discouraged frown from her son.

“It’s not fair…” he protested even as the tears welled up in his eyes. If anyone had a right to complain, it had to be Mara; a mother of a cursed child and a widow all too young. But her spirit and her heart belied her name; she was anything but bitter, and her faith gave her son hope even as she spoke to him.

“There will be justice in this world, but fair? No, my sweet boy. Life just is what it is. But we shall also pray for a miracle.”

“I would give every chance of being whole if it meant instead that Adara would know what it would be to be complete.”

“And don’t you think that He who created you knows that? No matter what happens, Benyamin, never give up hope.” She patted him on the cheek one last time.

“Come; sit and eat before you dinner gets any colder,” she laughed softly before turning back to serve the evening meal.

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The following day...

Benny walked up to Simon’s shop and stepped halfway into the open doorway. Adara had just finished cleaning and was getting ready to leave. She hadn’t noticed Benny’s arrival, and with her head down slightly from the familiarity of the shop, she walked straight into him.

“P…please forgive m…me,” she said, putting her head down once again from embarrassment. Wanting to be kind, he cupped her chin softly with his hand and lifted her face. She looked into his eyes; eyes that once again offered her nothing but calm acceptance. She went to apologize once again, her head pulling away from his welcome touch. He stepped forward and pulled her close despite her attempts to flee. She struggled in his grasp and he released her.

“N…no….” She turned and stepped close to the wall by the doorway. Leaning against it, she began to sob. Between his need to be a comfort and his desire to love her despite her own ‘infirmity,’ he was unable to resist the helpless and hopeless girl. He stepped close once again and embraced her softly from behind.

And years of feeling less that whole; a lifetime of self hatred and shame began to fall away as she welcomed his embrace. She buried her face in his chest and gave way to the strength of his arms as she recalled the unconditional acceptance of the teacher who had named her so long ago. Her sobs shook Benyamin but he held her close; his body the refuge she desperately needed. But an angry voice came from the doorway.

“I give you a job and this is the thanks to give in return.” Simon stood with his arms at his side; his fists balled in rage. He strode quickly to the two and pulled them apart; casting his friend out through the doorway onto the path. Benny stood up and went to speak.

“It isn’t what you think…”

“Don’t you dare presume to tell me what I think. You’re a cripple…less than a man! Your whole family is cursed.”

“But Simon…” Benny tried, but Simon would not let him explain.

“Leave…I have no use for you!” His glare and the pounding of his right fist on his left hand gave Benny little hope that things would ever be good again. He wiped the tears from his dusty face and limped away quickly down the hill. Simon turned to face Adara. Whatever had happened, a transformation of sorts took place, if only for a split second. She stood taller than she ever had and spoke perhaps clearly for the first time in her life.

“YOU…you had no right to treat him that way. He is your best friend and he deserved better.” Simon stood for a few seconds; shocked at her reply. But without thought at all, he allowed his own demanding, unreasonable anger to take over. She went to speak again but he stepped close enough to where he could see the pleading in her eyes and struck her in the face with the back of his hand.

“You….our father named you…rightly. You have been sickly all your life, Mahlon,” he practically snarled the name as a curse.

“I can’t stand the sight of you!”

She rose timidly to her feet; her face assuming the all-too familiar expression of shame; now altered slightly to once again welcome the hopeless despair that had been abandoned all too briefly. She staggered to the door; still reeling from the strike to her face now coupled with a torrent of tears that practically blinded her. She looked back at him; never remotely deserving the arrogant dismissal, she nevertheless took ownership of all the blame for his behavior, saying at last,

“I hate myself….I wish….I…waah……were deh….dead.”

“So do I,” he yelled as she walked through the door and was gone.

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It had grown dark almost too early in a way. Simon had been crying; some remorse, perhaps, but mostly self-pity over his own loss. As he lit the lamp on the table a tall figure stood at the door; bathed from behind by moonlight. Efraim ben Abram stood holding a frail twisted figure; his tears fell upon the girl's face

“Simon….your sister….they said she was walking aimlessly…not looking…Roman horsemen…didn’t see..” He choked back a sob. Simon stood up but seemed to be frozen; just staring at his friend.

“Simon? SIMON! Don’t you understand? Adara is dead!”

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A Morning of Miracles

Efraim stepped into the dimly lit room, and only then did Simon notice the two women standing behind him; such was the difference between their slightness and Efraim’s girth. He turned and nodded at the two.

“These are my friends, Simon.” He spoke softly, noticing that Simon seemed to be in shock. Both women walked over to the table and began clearing it. One took the lamp and placed it on the hearth; the low light cast an odd shadow on the opposite wall as both figures gained an immensity beside Simon’s own shadow.

“Place her here, Efraim.” One of the women spoke with authority even as her face indicated that she wept along with the girl’s brother, as the Teacher had encouraged. The second woman nodded and stepped next to the table even as the big man laid the lifeless body down.

Simon looked at the girl’s face; her expression seemingly frozen between death and eternity. She had been crying and her look was not one of fear but of sadness. Simon put the back of his hand to his mouth, biting it to stifle a sob. The first woman half-smiled even as she wiped the tears from her eyes.

“Do not fear, Simon. She is only asleep.” She took a deep breath. The Teacher had told her and the other followers that they would do ‘greater’ things, and she hoped that his words alone would give her the faith to believe. A look of anxious dread crossed her face; the fear that she would somehow be unworthy or incapable or inadequate mirrored the lack she still clung to in her heart. Her companion stepped close and rubbed her arm.

“You can do this….” She looked over at the girl’s body and back.

“…Because it is the One who created her who will perform the miracle.” She squeezed the woman’s arm and kissed her cheek lightly. The woman turned to her and nodded.

“What? What miracle?” Simon looked at the two and back at Efraim. His expression indicated that he had no idea what was about to take place, but a moment later he smiled, indicating a confidence that literally strengthened Simon. What Simon needed most wasn’t a building up, but a breaking down. He stared at his sister and wept; finally reaching that point of surrender; not for his own sake, but for the sake of his sister, and perhaps many others as well.

“Oh Lord….show your mercy and your fierce love to this man? Please restore his sister to him?” The woman did not close her eyes, but instead looked upward with a believing smile. It might have been almost presumptuous but for the calm gleam in the woman’s eyes; a look that indeed said ‘I cannot, but I know someone who can.’ She breathed out a relieved sigh; the kind one might give out after finishing a test without knowing the outcome.

“I don’t understand,” Simon said. His arrogance was gone, and his question wasn’t one of insistence but instead a desire to understand just what the will of his creator would be. That the creator had intended all along for this moment in time had not yet occurred to any in the room except for the tall, almost quiet Efraim. He didn’t know how or when, but he had trusted that something good would indeed take place that very night.

A moment later his faith was rewarded as the girl stirred slightly, opening her eyes. She looked up into her brother’s face and beheld a tearful smile. Gone was the anger and pride. No longer a man among men, but a child in the presence of the miraculous.

“A...Adara?” He spoke her name for the first time without reluctance. Acceptance came not from being in good standing with his Teacher. Love came not from a place of reluctance, but from a heart that truly rejoiced that he had a sister, and that she was indeed alive. He fell upon her and wept tears of repentance; all the while crying softly and speaking over and over,

“I have a sister…” She felt gentle hands lift her head as one of the women placed a blanket underneath to serve as a pillow. She gazed up, seeing their faces from upside down, but still knew that the eyes that gazed back were loving and caring. For only the second time….actually for the third time, she felt the love that everyone longs to know. She began to cry; softly and with a joy almost never present before as one of the women leaned forward and bestowed a blessing via a kiss to her forehead.

“Be at peace, child. Our creator is not through with you yet.” She backed away, clutching the hand of the other woman.

“Only you, dearest, could be the vessel of deliverance for this family. Only you,” she whispered, squeezing the hand that held hers tightly; a nervous habit borne out of fear but now a gesture of trust.

“Because I am just like her? I am a servant like you, my dear girl.” Andrea put her head down; humility mixed with a small, lingering bit of shame as other old habits held on tenaciously as well.

“Because you know how she feels, my sweet. And never forget.” She grinned wryly and shrugged her shoulders almost playfully before adding at last,

“We may only be servants, but we are His servants….” She paused and her whisper almost became a giggle.

“And I’m yours!” Andrea said softly in reply; the smile on her face indicated a tenuous peace borne of acceptance and what some believers might have considered almost false testimony since she presented herself as she saw herself.

Born Andreas on the island of Cyprus to Alexandros and Irene, two Roman citizens who died in the child’s youth. But reborn in a manner of speaking; not only in the spirit, as some might say, but reborn in the very core of his…her being, much like the child who lay safely before them. Something that would bind the two together in both understanding and spirit.

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The following day…

Benyamin sat at the table with his head cradled in his arms; despondent would have been inadequate to describe his heartbreak. His mother came in, holding a basket with vegetables from their garden; a bright smile lit up her face even as she seemed to have been crying.

“Did you hear? One of the followers of the Rabbi … a woman….Hah!” Mara laughed and Benny looked at her sideways; after the time he endured the afternoon before, he was in no mood to play silly games.

“Your Adara, bless her, Benny….a miracle. She was ….” Mara paused, wondering just how she could tell her son. She took a deep breath.

“They say she was trampled by a Roman’s horse!” Benny’s face started to twist into a mask of grief. Mara stepped closer and grabbed his face with both of her hands.

“No…my dear sweet son. She is alive. Followers of the Rabbi…. It is a miracle. Perhaps you might seek them out.” She eyed his twisted foot and smiled; always accepting and understanding, she nevertheless sought and pled and petitioned through prayer for her son. His eyes cast downward and he frowned.

“Never for me, Mother. She needed me and I walked away. My shame was not only in what Simon said, but in my cowardice. I left her in a time of need because my feelings were hurt. I don’t deserve a miracle, Mother. Perhaps I never did!”

He stood up and kissed her on the cheek; a gesture almost in passing as he fled quickly out the door and down the hill. Mara stood at the doorway. Any other might have wept sadly, but she was like no other, and walked calmly back to sit where Benny had been only moments before. She looked upward before cradling her head on her arms as she prayed with confidence that her son would indeed see the miraculous in his life.

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Many weeks later…

Benny had avoided even walking past Simon’s home; fearing the inevitable confrontation he would face with his own feelings of incapable fear set against the power of the almighty. But an errand added to a very muddy alternate path forced him to venture near the very place he sought so desperately to avoid.

“Benyamin?” Simon’s voice came from the open doorway as Benny tried to hurry past the home. In a moment, he was being hugged by his friend.

“I have worried about you. I should have come to your home sooner.” Simon shook his head and bowed it in shame.

“Forgive me, Benny. I was wrong about so many things. I have been such a fool, but the light of the creator has dawned again in my eyes, and I see what is right and just. I am so sorry I treated you so shamefully. And you are my best friend.” Simon fell to his knees and hugged Benny’s legs, weeping hopeful tears. Benny shook his head in wonder before helping Simon to his feet and embracing him.

“Of course.” Benny certainly did the right thing, but he remained angry with Simon. It was almost a magnanimous gesture on his part, since he had been hurt by his friend. Forgiveness for forgiveness's sake alone might be helpful, but being bitter because of being justified helps no one; something Benny would only see in the clarity of time and distance.

“I’m glad you happened by, Benny. You can say goodbye.” Simon wiped his tears from his face with his sleeve.

“Where are you going?” Benny seemed relieved; perhaps Simon’s departure would leave things safer. Perhaps things were going to get better. They already had gotten better, but dramatically different than for what Benny had hoped.

“No, my friend. I am not going anywhere. You’re just in time to say goodbye to Adara.” He smiled proudly at the mention of his sister’s name; likely the first time anyone in recent memory could recall, but now a frequent part of his daily routine.

“What? Adara is leaving?”

“Yes. She is going to travel to Antioch with Efraim and the two women who follow the Teacher. They have been called…” Simon’s voice trailed off. To what Adara was called was still somewhat foreign to Simon, but in changing his attitude, he had come to trust her judgment. It mattered little that he did not understand; she understood and for him that would be enough, since in changing his heart, Simon had retrieved a faith he held as a little boy long ago. Adara was going to be safe and in the very hand of the creator.

“No…that can’t be.” Benny shook his head. He felt a soft hand touch his shoulder; a gentle reminder of what could have been.

“It is, my sweet Benyamin.” Benny turned to face Adara, and beheld for the first time a woman brimming with confidence and assurance. There was, for the first time, not a single syllable of hesitant fear as she looked completely at peace. She stood a bit on tiptoe and kissed him gently on the cheek.

“I am so glad to know you are alright. I feared for you.” This is from the woman who, only weeks before despaired to the point of near death. Her thoughts now were only for others; not because she felt unworthy for her own sake, since she didn’t, but because she felt for the first time a purpose in life that went beyond her fears and sadness. She felt alive and that her life mattered, and that it mattered for something much bigger than herself.

Benny stared at the woman; she seemed almost a stranger. He wondered what the miracle had performed in other ways. There had been no change in that regard; why would it remain a mystery to anyone who might care, but Adara still knew in her heart of hearts that she had never been Mahlon the weakling boy; no matter what form she held. She was a woman, plain and simple; a woman with a purpose and a call. She looked up and smiled at Benny before kissing him once again.

“I love you, Benyamin. I always have and I always will. I pray that the creator will reveal his purpose for your life even as he has revealed mine.” She squeezed his hand and nodded to Simon.

“I’m sorry, Benny, but I’ve got to go,” Adara said even as two women and a very large man rode up to Simon’s house on a cart drawn by a very content-looking donkey. She waved at Simon and he waved back, fighting off the tears without much success.

“I love you!” She said to her brother as Efraim stepped off and helped her into the cart.

“Be at peace, Benny,” she said finally before the four were carried off down the hill. Benny followed the course of their cart until it disappeared slowly around a bend obscured by some trees. He turned and looked at Simon. His friend’s face turned quickly from pride to concern as Benny frowned.

“What will I do now, Simon?” Benny cried. Simon put his hand on Benny’s shoulder and half-smiled.

“Just what you were created to do. And maybe I can be of support as you discover just what that is old friend, alright?” He patted Benny on the back, which seemed to be of little help as his friend collapsed in his arms, sobbing at last.

“What am I going to do…I love her…”

Simon patted Benny on the back softly.

“I know, dear friend. I know.”

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This presentation combines the previously published Adara's Story with Benyamin's Treasure

Love Theme from the Motion Picture The Robe
composed by Alfred Newman

A reading of To Theristea will be helpful to provide the context of this story and Adara’s call.

http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/fiction/26306/theristea

Artwork adapted from At Her Master's Feet, a painting by Del Parson, and As It Began to Dawn, a painting by Elspeth Young