Freedom Day

Leah didn’t know why she kept coming to the synagogue. She counted the days up in her head... every seven days for eighteen years, it had to be at least 400 times, she thought. At first people were sorry for her, and someone would take her arm to help her up the steps to section reserved for the women. But as the weeks and months went by she was left to struggle up the stairs alone more often than not, and she got the feeling that they were thinking, “What sin did Leah commit that the Lord would punish her like that...?” Well, who could blame them. Of course she wondered the same thing. She had racked her brain for some ritual overlooked, some work accidentally done after the Sabbath began, some inadvertent uncleanness. But she couldn’t think of anything, she had always been as careful as she could be. Leah supposed she should be grateful. After all, she was still able to cook and weave, even though she could no longer work in the small garden, and the neighbors were generous when the crops were good.

Today would be just like every other day, she thought, stopping to rub her back where it ached. She would struggle up the steps, ignore the mixed looks of pity and suspicion, and listen to the rabbi. It always seemed the same, though, about how the Roman occupation was God’s punishment for Israel’s sin and how careful you had to be not to have anything to do with Gentiles and other sinners in case their uncleanness rubbed off on you. No, she took that back. When they remembered God’s mighty deeds in the days of Moses and David, or when they read from the Psalms, Leah could remember how much she had yearned after God when she was younger, how full of zeal she had been to learn the Torah and do everything just right, so that she could be a true daughter of Israel. But it had been so long since she had actually believed the Lord would ever listen to her prayers and straighten her back again that she didn’t even ask any more. It was habit, really, more than anything.

Leah lifted her head as she approached the synagogue. She heard the sound of voices raised in excitement and saw a crowd of men gathered in front of the door. She wondered for a moment if today was a Holy Day, and dismissed the thought. “Probably somebody down from Jerusalem to tell us what we’re doing wrong,” she said to herself. Maybe she shouldn’t go in today. But her feet carried her forward and she found herself sidling around the edge of the crowd trying to get in without anyone noticing her. And then she heard it. “Woman!” She froze, ducked her head and tried to be invisible. “Woman, come here!” Her heart sinking, she moved slowly in the direction of the voice. When she saw the sandaled feet in front of her she stopped, keeping her head down, wondering if there was some new regulation keeping cripples out of the synagogue, the same as there was for eunuchs or prostitutes. A hand touched the veil covering her hair, and then moved gently down to her shoulder, and paused. “Woman,” said the voice again, “you are set free from your ailment.”

And she felt something, a - a tingling or - more like an untwisting - move through her body and - and suddenly she was standing straight, straight as she hadn’t been for eighteen years, and looking straight into the kindest eyes she had ever seen. “What - who - who are you?” she stammered, and then unable to keep still turned around, almost dancing, and lifted her arms to the sky crying out in a loud voice. “Oh God, Oh Lord my God, thank you, thank you,” she kept saying over and over again until all of a sudden she was pushed roughly aside. It was Avner BarNathan, the leader of the synagogue.

“How dare you profane the holy day like this?” Avner rebuked the man who had touched Leah. Turning to the crowd he raised his voice and pointed to Leah. “This is the so-called Reb Yeshua you’ve all been yammering about. Well, now he’s here, and you see how he disregards the law. Isn’t it just like a Galilean! Well, we’re not lawbreakers. There are six days on which work ought to be done; come on those days and be cured, and not on the sabbath day.” [v.14] He made shooing motions with his hands. “Go home. There’ll be no Torah lesson today. The show is over.” The crowd muttered, and one or two began to move away.

But the man Avner had called Yeshua stepped forward and said contemptuously to Avner, “You hypocrite!” And turning to the crowd he challenged them: “Does not each of you on the sabbath untie his ox or his donkey from the manger, and lead it away to give it water? “Yes, that’s right!” came a voice from the crowd. “You tell ‘em, Yeshua!” shouted another. And turning back to Avner, Yeshua said, “And ought not this woman, a daughter of Abraham whom Satan bound for eighteen long years, be set free from this bondage on the sabbath day?” [v.14]