I remember the first time I saw him. I was standing outside of the synagogue, not really wanting to be noticed. I know I'm not allowed inside, but just being close by always makes me feel at ease. Makes me feel like I could have an encounter with God at any moment.
I'm no scholar, not even taught much, but I know the stories. God appeared to people, spoke to people, worked through people, and blessed them abundantly. One time I was told he even spoke through a donkey! I would have loved to be there to see that! And since the time I was a little girl I have always imagined that I would have that experience one day. That somehow God would speak to me, directly to me, and I would know that it was him.
I never got too close to the entryway of the building, I always kept my distance. I've been through so much and I know the people gossip about me. I hear the whispers, I see the looks. It hurts so bad that sometimes I lose my voice from the screams of my cries. Sometimes I wish I just wouldn't wake up the next day. But no matter how mean they are to me, I still have to come to the synagogue. I have to. I can't miss my chance to have God speak to me.
I was by the corner this particular day. A Pharisee had woken me in the middle of the night for my services and then spit on me and called me filthy when we were done. He said women like me were worse than dogs. I didn't want to see him come out of the synagogue so I stayed close enough to feel like I could hear God if he decided to talk but far enough away that Mr. P wouldn't get a good glimpse of me.
There was a lot of chatter inside. People seemed shocked and confused. A million things raced through my mind. I wondered if Mr. P had finally turned into salt. That would have been a nice gesture. I wondered if one of the teachers was struck dead or if a page in the scroll was torn.
As the people came out they said things like "have you seen him before?" and "I've never heard such teachings before." Suddenly a man overtaken by a demon started shouted at the guy who was teaching that day. He called him Jesus of Nazareth and asked if he had come to destroy us. I thought it was another rouse of a person claiming to be the one that would deliver us from our oppression. People kept making this claim so often that I'm sure the real Messiah wont be around in my lifetime.
Then the demon-possessed man said the other guy, Jesus of Nazareth, was the Holy One. Well this Jesus didn't seem affected by his words at all. He turned to the man and said something and then man began shaking violently! I have never seen anything like that in my life! He started howling like an animal and I swear I saw the spirit leave him and fly away. My heart was racing, my mouth was dry, my stomach was in knots, and I could barely breathe.
Who was this guy? Where did he come from? Nazarene? Nothing good ever comes from there. Did he say something inside that made everyone feel so perplexed? What is going on? Is this really happening?
Just then, I noticed Mr. P so I scurried to where he couldn't see me but I kept my eye on him. He just stared at the new guy with....fear maybe. Could have been awe. I don't know exactly, but it was weird. It's like everything and everyone couldn't help but feel different around this guy. This stranger in our mists that was supposed to be one of us but was so different than all the other leaders around here.
I stayed around for a while longer and people could not stop talking about the Jesus of Nazareth. Most people were afraid of him. Some felt threatened. But I, I was intrigued. I needed to know more about this guy. For some reason I felt like I had known him before but I couldn't recall meeting him ever.
​Whoever this man was, I had a feeling this wouldn't be the last I heard of or seen of him.
Story adapted from and inspired by Mark 1:21-28
More to come so stay tuned!