Jairus's Daughter. Patti Rutka

she still had her sister with her.

      “What are you writing now?” Devorah asked as she brushed past Aviel and glanced at the papyrus.

      “I want to get out. I want to get out of here. I can barely look at people. You know I’ve wanted to go to a bigger city before this. Maybe Ephesus. Maybe Jerusalem. I need to get away from people’s scrutiny. There is no privacy in this tiny bowl of a town,” Aviel growled over her shoulder.

      “Aviel! Did Yeshua make you mad? How would you live? Who would you live with, and what would you do?”

      “Aunt Miriam and Uncle Mordechai. You know they would take me in. Oh, Devorah, you could come and live there with me too . . .” she turned to her sister with a desperate look, as if she would pack her things and leave that afternoon.

      “Aviel! What about Eemah and Abba? How would they survive? They need us! Surely it’s not so bad for you here—people care about you, that’s all. They just don’t know how to respond. And Daniel, maybe even Nathan, are interested in you . . .”

      Aviel snorted and turned back to the papyrus. She crumpled it and swept it off the writing table with her hand, then put her head in her hands. She wanted Devorah to understand, not challenge her now.

      “Devorah, you mean well, but you are still young as far it goes in knowing about men. Daniel is a good man, but he is my boyhood friend. And Nathan . . . Nathan is a snake. Just give me a little time to myself, please,” she grumbled.

      Devorah could see that her words could give no solace, so she came over to her sister and gently stroked her forehead and hair a few times, then left the room.

      As Sabbath grew closer, the ethereal peace that regularly descended on the town continued to elude the household. Aviel’s temper again flared at her father in the close quarters later that Friday afternoon.

      “I should have died! Instead I am an object of healing!” Aviel cried at her father with as much fire as she could manage, still drained from her illness. He had asked her what was troubling her. “It makes absolutely no difference how I’m supposed to respond to this, this . . . miracle,” she spat out at him as her hands flailed in the air. “All that mattered to Yeshua is that you believe he is the messiah. I have been used to prove something to you: that he is a divinely inspired healer. And now you are complaining how this complicates your life at the synagogue. Why do I care how difficult it’s made it for you? Has it occurred to you how I might be affected? I should have died and been in peace by now!” Jairus was uncertain as to what he had said that had provoked her.

      Overhearing in the next room, Rivka winced as she busied herself, thinking perhaps she had taught her daughter to loose her tongue just a little too much. What man would have such a girl?

      Aviel stormed out of the house in tears, stopping only to touch her hand automatically to the doorway’s mezuzah, which contained a miniature scroll of the Shema, the profession of faith every Jew knew by heart. It was the commandment to love Adonai, the One God, with all of one’s heart and soul. She touched her fingers to her lips, picked up her skirts, and fled.

      Jairus moved to the doorway while his eyes followed his beloved daughter. At least she was feeling better, he thought ruefully. As he watched her march toward the olive groves, he contemplated what to do with her next.

      “I think she is upset with me,” he remarked to his wife as she glided into the room and sighed. She put her hand on her husband’s shoulder.

      “Let her go off. Maybe she’ll find some of the answers that she’s been looking for in her heart instead of her head.”

      It was true: the town’s talk after Yeshua’s visit had been so intense that Jairus had made himself scarce from the synagogue for a few days, as if recovering with his daughter. When Aviel had questioned him about his staying at home, telling him she was fine and he could return to his normal duties, he admitted to her that he didn’t know how to explain to the elders what had happened. He was uncomfortable under his skin; he didn’t want to have to answer for having sought out Yeshua. Seeking out a miracle worker in and of itself was not such an unusual act, but Yeshua’s message about the imminent kingdom of God, along with the healings he’d done, had spread as all the most dramatic bits of human information do—as if people had nothing else occupying their lives but gossip.