Mary is desperate. No one will welcome her in their home or business, even to do the most menial tasks. How will she keep from starving or being molested if she keeps roaming the streets?
I was so happy when Yeshua took me aside
, and asked if I would take a
talitha into my home.
I gladly agreed. Her name is Mary’am the same
as mine, but to differentiate between the two of us,
I will call her by her Greek name, Mary.
She is a sweet youthful maid, but has
suffered much. If all the
talithas He finds
are as sweet as her, I would gladly open
my home to them.
The thin, wispy clouds were being tinted
a peachy-pink by the setting sun.
As Mary trudged slowly down the lonely
city street, she was hardly aware of how
their glory reflected against the white of the
buildings. She passed through the
shadow of a large sycamore tree.
Farther on, a playful breeze
ruffled the leaves in a group of fig trees, and tossed their coolness back to her.
She did not notice. Unfortunately, that was long ago. Her Abba and Imma had
sunk to a watery grave when the ship they were taking
to Phoenicia had capsized in a terrific gale while the moon
shamefacedly hid its face behind a cloud. A thousand times
Mary had wished she had gone along on that journey. Because
she hadn’t, she was forced to survive on her own resources
which ended up being by the most ancient trade known to
womankind.
She had often bitterly pondered why no one showed
tzedakah, mercy, compassion, justice, to her? If they didn’t
practice it, their Jewish lineage was supposed to be considered
suspect, but it was as if her own Jewishness was being held in
question instead! Since no one seemed to remember the rule,
many wenches ended up as zonahs just like she had. What else
could a helpless, ignorant woman do?
nightclothes before the crowd parted to let them through.
How humiliating it had been, but it had taken scarcely an
instant to realize that the Pharisee had worse things in mind
for her than just public humiliation! He wanted her stoned!
She would have collapsed into a heap if he had not been so
roughly holding her up by the arm.
Mary wanted to search the young rabbi’s eyes to see if they
were kind, but did not have a chance. He seemed to be intent
on making markings in the sand with a stick. If I could only
see his eyes! Then I would know if He would be condemning or not.
The Haberim and some others kept hurling accusations about
her, but He did not respond. Curiosity began to nudge away
the fear as she began to question why He was being so calm.
Then He looked up, and although his voice was quiet, it held
so much authority that a thrill ran down her spine.
“Let him that is without sin cast the first stone!”
Mary tensed as she waited for the sickening thud of that first stone
hurtling through the air, and prayed that it would knock
her out instantly. It did not come. It never came. She peeked
at what He was writing on the ground, then looked up at his
face. It was kindly! It was full of tender forgiveness! Out of
the corner of her eye she saw the men slink away one by one,
until even the haughty Hibernim were gone.
Now Yeshua’s voice was soft and gentle. “Neither do I
