Sarah

by

Pepper L. Bauer

Sarah squinted into the evening shadows and tried to get a better view of the hill in the distance. She sighed in frustration and tugged absentmindedly at her soft, earth-colored robe. The silhouetted figures gathered on Golgatha were so tiny at this distance; she couldn't really see what they were doing. She rubbed her eyes with her little ten-year-old fists and rested her arms on the terrace wall surrounding her comfortable home, high on the Western Hill in Jerusalem's Upper City.

The Sabbath hour was fast approaching and the adults in Sarah's household were busy with last minute preparations. Sarah climbed onto the wall, sat down, and let her sturdy legs hang over the side. She swung them in time to a tune she heard earlier in the week at the marketplace in Jerusalem. While she stared at the skull shaped rise on the horizon, her mind reviewed the events of the past week. What an amazing week it had been.

It was Sarah's favorite holiday: Passover. She loved this time of year. It was so exciting. Pilgrims came into Jerusalem from all over Israel. The marketplace was filled with foreign people and exotic merchandise. A little girl could spend hours there, mesmerized by the vast array of wares the merchants offered.

The people were interesting too. Different skin colors and unusual clothing all served to stimulate a child's imagination. Sarah would go to the well to get water for her family and disappear for hours. Her mother understood, and smiled at her when she returned, nostalgically remembering the magic of youthful curiosity.

Sarah continued to swing her legs and think about the past week. It had been exhilarating, scary, and disturbing, all at once. It all started Sunday. A man rode into town on a young donkey.

Sarah heard a commotion while she was in the city at the marketplace and ran to see what was happening. She squeezed between a frenzied mass of people and peered out from between their jostling bodies. A beautiful man, with soft hair and beard, and incredible piercing eyes, sat astride a colt with such confident dignity that Sarah felt drawn to him. She wanted to touch him; have him notice her, smile at her. She heard someone say that he raised a man named Lazarus from the dead. Someone else said his name was Jesus.

The crowd was yelling and waving palm branches. "Hosanna, Hosanna", they shouted. "Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!" "Blessed is the King of Israel!"

Breathless, Sarah finally pushed and shoved her way to the front of the throng. She stood panting in the street watching Jesus' slow progress. Men and women were running into the road and throwing palm branches and coats on the ground in front of his mount.

Laughing, a young man handed Sarah one of his palms. She shyly stepped forward, squatted down, and laid it on the dirt. The top of her head tingled, and looking up, she caught Jesus staring at her. He smiled.

To Sarah, Jesus' smile seemed infinitely sad and sweet. A chill went up her spine; involuntary tears filled her eyes. Then, the crowd surged forward, and Jesus was swept out of her sight.

Sarah was awed. With a child's intense infatuation, she soaked up any news of this mysterious man she could find during the week. It wasn't a difficult task. Everyone was talking about Jesus. Her parents, relatives, and vendors in the marketplace gossiped about nothing else. Sarah couldn't understand many of the complicated religious arguments she overheard, but even though Jesus seemed to anger many powerful people by challenging the status quo, she realized he was really compassionate and gentle.

"Jesus chased the moneychangers from the temple with whips made from cords", Sarah heard adults say. She had to grin; she'd liked to have seen that. "Jesus healed the sick; made the blind to see." Sarah thought of her beloved partially blind grandmother and cried.

Sarah tried to see Jesus again, but only caught glimpses of him in the city, surrounded by masses of people. Jerusalem was stirred up like she had never seen it before. Sarah felt jumpy and expectant, like something momentous was about to happen.

Soon it was Thursday. Out of town relatives arrived to celebrate Passover with Sarah's family. With the bustle involved in helping her mother with holiday preparations, thoughts of Jesus faded.

After the meal, Sarah stepped out onto the terrace to look down at the beautiful twinkling city lights while her extended family visited inside. She loved living on a hill. Glancing over her beautiful Jerusalem, she noticed a wavering line of bouncing lights heading towards the Garden of Gethsemane. She peered closer. What were they? Torches? She wondered what was happening.

Listening carefully, Sarah thought she could hear faint shouts drifting up to her in the night air. The lights stopped at the garden, formed a circle, and then headed back towards her neighborhood and the High Priest's palace, bobbing even faster. Her interest peaked; Sarah watched the city for hours. At one point the lights traveled towards the temple and Pilot's Judgement Hall, then back towards her house and Herod's palace.

Sarah was getting sleepy and trying desperately to stay awake when she noticed the now familiar dancing lights heading for Pilot's Judgement Hall again. Her stomach felt queasy, and she had a bad feeling about this. Finally, sleep overcame her concern; she curled up on a bench and descended into dreamland.

Now, it was Friday evening. Sarah sat on the terrace again, watching the drama from a distance, and trying to make sense out of the previous week. She was confused.

All day Friday, Sarah heard rumors about Jesus. A relative told her father that soldiers arrested him Thursday night, in the Garden of Gethsemane. She overheard a neighbor woman telling her mother that he was about to be crucified. The adults acted very secretive and whispered when she was around. Sarah's mother wouldn't let her leave the house, not even to go to the well. She never allowed Sarah to go into the city on crucifixion days.

Everything seemed so tense, like the world was holding its breath. The afternoon got unusually dark. Sarah's mother had to light lamps, and the birds went to roost. It lasted for three hours. Then, the earth shook, and they were all startled by a loud crash. There were reports of rocks splitting wide open. It seemed like even nature was agitated.

Sarah looked at the setting sun. It was Sabbath now. The figures on Golgatha had dispersed and her mother was beckoning her to come inside the house. She sighed. The grown-up world was so puzzling. How could people scream Hosannas at a man one day, and hate him less than a week later? She wasn't sure she ever wanted to grow up.

Sunday morning dawned bright and beautiful. After being cooped up all day on Saturday, observing the Sabbath, Sarah was ready to get out of the house and stretch her legs. She grabbed the water jar and offered to make a trip to the well. Her mother patted her silky brown hair and laughed with pride. "Go on, my little colt, work off some of that energy. We can't keep you tethered for long."

Sarah burst out of her house and headed for the Gennath Gate and the pool of water just beyond it. When she reached the gate, it occurred to her that Golgotha wasn't far away. Suddenly she wanted to see the "Hill of the Skull"; maybe it could help her make some sense out of last week. She needed some closure.

On the way to the hill, Sarah walked through a beautiful garden area dotted with caves and tombs. It was so quiet and peaceful. She passed a tomb with a huge stone setting next to entrance. It looked like a giant hand had pushed it aside. "That's odd", she thought.

Walking further down the path, Sarah heard the buzzing of voices ahead. Not wanting to be spotted and quizzed about her presence in the garden, she slipped off the path and into some dense foliage.

Sarah crept forward and peered through a veil of leafy branches. She could see a woman kneeling on the ground and crying, a bright light shinning in front of her. Where was that radiance coming from?

Crawling closer, Sarah thought she heard the woman shout, "Rabboni". What was the other voice saying? She strained to hear.

"Don't hold on to me, for I haven't returned yet to my father." It was a wondrous voice, and made the hair stand up on Sarah's neck. She had to get closer and see who was speaking.

Suddenly, Sarah slipped, crashed through the bushes, and fell on the path. The woman was gone, but the man remained, shining like the sun. It almost hurt to look at such beauty, but Sarah shielded her eyes and stared. He smiled gently at her, then disappeared.

Sarah stood up, dusted herself off, and slowly walked back towards the pool to draw her family some water. She didn't need to see Golgotha now; she had her closure; for Sarah had recognized the awesome being, and knew her life would never be the same.