The people of the village wondered why Hannah hadn’t married. A beautiful young woman past her teens and still unmarried was seen as very strange in that society. People talked, and had all sorts of theories as to why this was so. It was the fact her mother died when she was young and she had missed out on that motherly guidance. It was her father who wanted her to remain and take care of him. Or one thing that wasn’t a theory, nor was it voiced, Hannah was smart, strong-willed, and could disregard what people thought. More than that, she could disregard what people did, like dismiss the eligible men they got her father to suggest, one after the other.
Hannah’s father was a kindly gentle-spirited old man, a leader in the synagogue, and he loved his only child with a deep delight. Hannah’s mother had died during childbirth, along with her second child. Hannah was five, and was raised by an aunt who died five years later. Hannah then went to live with her father and help take care of him. He pretty much took care of himself, so Hannah was free to busy herself with household tasks, all the while listening in on what her father talked about with the many men of the village who came to see him. As a synagogue leader, he was seen as a man of clear-headed wisdom and sound judgement, well versed in the law and the prophets, but also a completely grounded man. People loved him, loved the way he listened and entered in to their concerns with a humility and generosity of spirit. It was the best education Hannah could have.
Yes, but the development of her mind didn’t bring a husband and that was what the villagers were concerned about. Especially when there were clear signs that Hannah didn’t share their concern. For the things her father was dealing with, as Hannah did the servant thing, made her much more enlightened, and aware, and with this came a resolve that she would make her own choices, in her own way, and in her own time. No wonder, in that patriarchal Jewish society, the folk were concerned about her.
Then something happened that changed all of this, and the people of the village had nothing to do with it. Her mother’s younger sister had a fall and Hannah was asked to take care of her. She lived on the coast, a two-day journey away, so travel arrangements had to be made. Or more to the point, whatever travel arrangements Hannah proposed had to be approved by her father. Travel was risky in those days, especially for a young woman without the protection of a husband.
Like Hannah’s suiters, one after another was dismissed as not approved by her father, until finally he decided on a man to accompany her, and when Hannah knew who it was, she was perplexed.
“But father, Eli is a cripple, how could he manage a trip to the coast let alone look after me?”
“He is no longer a cripple; they say that carpenter-turned-healer from Nazareth healed his leg”. “I don’t know how that happened, but he is the only man I could trust fully”. “He has a team of donkeys and goes there every couple of weeks.”
“But Father you hardly know him … he never goes to the synagogue … how do you know I would be safe, especially as we have to stay overnight somewhere?”
“Hannah, the synagogue is not the only place to learn about people”. “There is something about him that I can’t explain, only that I would trust him with my life”. “And yours too”.
Hannah felt safe with the arrangement. She was intrigued, and somewhat excited at the challenge of finding out what it was that her father could not explain. She also wanted to find out how come he no longer had a gammy leg.
Eli was not as she had remembered him. In about ten years, he had gone from a timid reclusive boy to a man who walked with confidence. Still reclusive and somewhat introverted, but a man with presence nonetheless. Intriguing. She felt this was going to be the journey of a lifetime.
And she quickly fell in love with the donkeys. Seven of them, or six and a colt. It was her first encounter with animals, or normal animals that weren’t about to be slaughtered. They each had their own personality and vied for Hannah’s attention in a cheeky playful way. She felt safe with them, although she would not be able to explain how they could protect her on the journey to the coast.
Hannah soon found out Eli was used to walking without talking. And she had to stifle the stream of questions she wanted to ask. She remembered her father saying ’set the scene and people will talk – it is about them not you’, and wished he could be here now and she could listen in. There was so much she wanted to know.
Hannah managed to set the scene without her father. It was in the late afternoon after several hours of a gradual but exhausting climb, when, they came to the edge of a plateau and there before them lay the coastal plain stretching all the way to the coast and the horizon. It took Hannah’s breath away; she had never seen anything like it and without thought or intent uttered the Hebrew shema: “Hear O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is one …”
Eli was startled, and lifted his hands with hers and recited it with her in an act of spontaneous heart-centered worship where lives become entwined in the presence of the divine – all the better for it being something that neither had planned. Or intended.
Hannah was started too. The involuntary worship was one thing, but holding hands with Eli was something that took her completely by surprise. She politely withdrew, in a strange mixture of bewilderment and excitement. Perhaps this trip will prove her father is not the only one dealing with things one can’t explain.
The donkeys didn’t need any explanations, finding some shrubbery to eat was all they needed. Hannah was surprised at how easily they carried their load without complaint, and moved with the same sure-footedness as if they were free of the burden. Eli stood near them, and gazing into the valley continued to pray softly, his hand gently stroking the nearest donkey when it wasn’t lifted heaven-ward.
“Where did you learn to pray?” Hannah asked later, knowing he never went to the synagogue.
“I didn’t learn to pray” Eli said. “I just talk to my father?”
Hannah remembered when Eli’s father had died some years ago, for he was well known and loved. “You must miss him” she said.
“Yes I do” he said. “But I talk with Yahweh. You see, the Lord is our God, but since Yeshua came, he taught us to talk with God as talking with a father who loves us”.
Hannah had never heard anyone say such a thing; not her father, nor the many men he spoke with. Such a profound idea, and stated with such certainty; from a man who didn’t go to the synagogue and worked with donkeys. She didn’t know what to think.
“Was Yeshua the carpenter from Nazareth?” she asked.
“Yes for a while, but also the sent one, the one to deliver us from our sin”. “The religious people didn’t believe him and had him crucified, but he came back to life”. “I know this, because I used to go to his workshop when I was a kid, and when he came back to life, he healed my leg” said Eli, fondly rubbing the colt’s muzzle as they walked.
Hannah could not believe what she was hearing. The storyline was foreign in every way. Her world was one with order and tradition, laws and reasons, well thought out and talked about endlessly. People didn’t come back from Sheol nor gammy legs got healed. And yet, she had to believe what she saw. Eli used to hobble around with a stick, a sad, isolated boy who kept to himself. And now, a man who walked purposefully and confidently, and no longer sad and isolated for he prayed to Yahweh as talking to his father.
The donkeys set a natural rhythm with the easy sound of harness leather rubbing on oak pack-frames. They had walked miles together, and the special companionship they had with Eli was something else that Hannah had never seen. She felt the scene was set, so she asked: “Tell me about Yeshua”.
Eli was happy to respond, happy enough for a distraction from his own thoughts that included the idea of getting to know Hannah better. This thinking was foreign to him, having resigned himself to the thought that he would grow old looking after his mother instead of a wife.
“I was abused by a family friend, and my mother thought talking with Yeshua would help me get over it … it did”. “That was before he went all over the place preaching and healing people”. “Then he came to see me after they killed him, so I believe he was who he said he was, God’s son”.
Hannah didn’t respond straight away. “My father wished he had never said that, I mean he was doing so much good healing people and casting out demons. The world would be a better place if he had stayed around doing that, and not upsetting the synagogue people”.
Eli nodded his head, as though in agreement. Actually he wasn’t.
“You see Hannah, the world is a better place now, and it is because of him doing more than preaching and healing people”. “It is because his death was part of a much bigger plan; he became the perfect and final sacrifice that dealt with the sin of the world”. “His death brought God near to us, and his rising from the grave means that death is no more than a corridor for us to pass through to be with them and each other forever”.
Eli speaking this way surprised the donkeys. So much so they had stopped to listen, as natural as you like. Hannah was amazed. And as if offering a final thought before moving on, Eli added: “My wounding and my leg were healed, and I am glad for that, but the real gift is the one that has changed my life”.
“And what gift is that?” asked Hannah.
“From seeing myself as a cripple, to a loved child; from one who didn’t belong, to one accepted into a family of people who love Yeshua as I do”. “We get together at home and remind each other about what he told us, and pray with each other”.
“What did he tell you?” Hannah asked.
“Well you know all about the law your father discusses, Yeshua told us the laws will all fall into place if we just do two main ones properly: love God, and love your neighbour”. Then Eli, aware of the late afternoon, and with a certain place in mind to stay that night, gently prompted the donkeys, and they were walking again, leather on oak the only sound for a while.
“My father talks about the men who have stirred things up again, I don’t know them but I hear names like Saul of Tarsus, James the Just and Apollos of Alexandria, are you involved with them?”
“No, like you, I have heard of them but don’t know them”. “The law seems to be the issue, some want to keep it in place, others say we don’t need it”. “Yeshua told us that the spirit he leaves with us will guide us, like a law in our hearts not our heads”. “I don’t know why anyone would want to add their own ideas to something so simple and pure as it is”.
They were settled for the night now. A small oasis with grass for the donkeys, two tents and a cooking fire. Hannah was pleased the conversation had come to its natural and unhurried end, for she had lots to think about and sort out in her mind. Somehow this day with a man and his donkeys had offered more profound insights than years of overhearing religious and learned men talk and argue. It perplexed her, for instance, that men who studied and read about lots of great biblical figures, men who had taught her everything she knew, had never said as much as Eli after knowing only one man, and talking about him with his friends. Then while Eli tended the cooking, something profound struck her – one went round and round in the mind, the other changed the heart – one talking and learning, the other listening and feeling. One talking in the synagogue, the other walking to the coast seeing the horizon from a plateau and praising God.
After the meal and before it was completely dark, Eli gathered the donkeys around him. She thought it would be to hobble them, but no. It was for something she had never thought could happen – something that changed her completely in a way that felt right. Eli stood with the seven donkeys all nudging in close to him, then he began to pray. It was the most beautiful prayer she had ever heard, although Eli wouldn’t call it that. He spoke with God, thanked him for safe keeping, for things that reminded him of the miracle of Yeshua, thanked God for his donkeys, naming each one, and for Hannah and himself, and asked that they would have the rest they needed, free from harm, and to enable them to wake well rested for another day walking together.
It was almost dark now, but Hannah could see through her tears all she needed to see. Here was a man who lived love without knowing it – love for his father, himself, and everyone else. Including his donkeys. Hannah, smart, strong-willed, and one who could disregard what people thought, was captivated by this love. Eli settled the donkeys, and as he walked toward her, she saw a quiet and gentle soul she could spend the rest of her life with.
So she did.
Merv Edmunds
Novermber 2024