The Dead Girl’s Father

Jairus saw the crowd, and although he couldn’t see the man, he knew the Teacher he sought was near. He just had to push through the sea of people. The throng was thick, and due to the fervor caused by a man reported to have cast out demons and healed the sick and spoken with more authority than any Pharisee, Jairus’s stature as a respected leader at the synagogue was of little use in opening up a way. But his elbows helped.

Jairus slipped passed a father carrying his son on his shoulders, and right there in front of him was the man he was convinced was his only hope. Immediately Jairus dropped to his knees before him.

“My little daughter is so sick she’s about to die,” he said, his eyes downcast, his throat constricting.

He didn’t know if he should continue. The dusty feet before him didn’t move. The crowd threatened to swallow him whole. Gathering all his courage, he dared look up and made eye contact with the one the demons called the Son of God. Eyes as deep as the ocean and as piercing as the sun met Jairus’s gaze. His countenance, both welcoming and fierce, filled Jairus’s heart with confidence to continue.

“Please,” he said, clasping his hands in front of his chest, “come, and lay your hands on her so that she might get better and not die from this.”

The one called the Christ took Jairus’s hands in his and pulled him to his feet.

“If you’d lead the way,” Jesus said.

Jairus looked back every few seconds to ensure the Teacher was still right behind him. They had to hurry. His daughter had been on borrowed time for the past few days. The constant pressing in of shoulders and arms and elbows made each step a chore.

“Make way!” Jairus said. More shoulders and arms and elbows. “Hey, get out of the way, will you?” he yelled. Jairus looked back at Jesus, who said not a word.

Didn’t they have any idea how important it was that they let him through? Didn’t Jesus know?

The next time Jairus turned around, Jesus wasn’t behind him. He immediately shoved his way between two men and found Jesus standing behind them. He had stopped and was looking around him.

“Who touched me?” Jairus heard Jesus ask.

“Don’t you see all these people?” one of his followers yelled above the din. “What do you mean ‘Who touched me?'”

A woman standing just behind Jesus lunged forward and fell on her hands and knees at Jesus’s feet. She reached up for Jesus’s hands, and he held them as the woman began describing what had just happened to her. Jairus couldn’t make it all out between her sobs and the noise of all the people swarming around them. Something about bleeding that hadn’t stopped in twelve years and unending, ineffective doctors, and the loss of all her money.

“We don’t have time for this,” Jairus said audibly, though his words were lost entirely in the buzzing of the crowd.

The woman continued. She said she knew that if she could just get to Jesus, if she could just reach out and touch his clothes, she’d be healed. And that’s exactly what had happened. Those close enough to have heard stared in wonder at the woman and at the one who had made her whole.

Jairus wanted to push the woman aside, take Jesus by the hand, and continue their trek back to his house. Jesus held her hand and her gaze as if she were the only person there.

“My daughter,” Jesus said, his eyes ablaze with power and compassion, “your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease.”

As Jesus was still speaking, two of Jairus’s household servants approached him from behind. He didn’t acknowledge them and instead kept his eyes riveted on Jesus, who pulled the woman to her feet and clenched her hands a final time. Jairus watched as the woman disappeared into the crowd. Perhaps now they could continue.

It only then occurred to him how odd it was his servants had come to find him in the crowd. They knew his plan was to come right back home with Jesus.

Their faces told him the news before their words did.

“No,” Jairus said.

“Your daughter is dead. Why bother the Teacher any further?”

Jairus’s heart dropped, and his hands began to tremble. So that was it then. They hadn’t made it in time.

Jesus stepped forward to Jairus’s side. “Don’t be afraid,” he said. “Only believe.”

First Jesus stopped and wasted precious time talking with this sick woman, and then he had the audacity to tell a father whose little girl had just died not to fear but only believe? Jairus’s eyes blurred with tears.

“Peter, James, John, you three come with me,” Jairus heard Jesus say. “The rest, stay here.” Then turning to Jairus, he said, “You, too. Let’s go,” and he took Jairus by the wrist.

Like the Israelites through the Red Sea, so passed Jesus, Jairus, Peter, James, and John through the sea of people. A crowd had gathered at Jairus’s house. The wailing could have been heard three doors down. Jesus let himself in.

With a confidence known only to children and fools, once inside Jesus asked them, “Why are you carrying on like this? Don’t you know the girl is not dead but asleep?”

Some snickered. Had Jairus himself not been standing there, they might have thrown Jesus out.

Had he come only to mock their pain?

“All of you, outside,” Jesus said.

At first those gathered inside Jairus’s house froze. Several sets of eyes bore into Jarius to see whether or not they had to obey the command of this stranger. Jairus’s eyes dropped to the floor. He gave a weak nod, and the house emptied amid scoffs and muttering.

“Jairus, the little girl?” Jesus asked.

Jairus’s wife, Jairus, Jesus, Peter, James, and John went into the room where the little girl was lying. Jesus bent down next to her and took her hand.

What had Jesus said? His words echoed, almost audibly, in Jairus’s mind’s ear: “Don’t be afraid. Only believe.”

How could he say something like that? Of course he was afraid. This could undo their entire family, starting with him. She meant more to him than the sun in the sky, and now she was gone. This was his wife’s little girl, the apple of her eye. And Jesus just wanted him to believe? He could think of a place Jesus could stick all that “just believe” business.

Sorrow and rage washed over him in alternating waves. And then Jesus spoke.

“Little girl,” he said, addressing his dead daughter’s corpse.

Surely he had entertained this madness long enough and it was time for Jesus to leave.

“I say to you….”

Jairus took a step forward toward Jesus, but his wife pulled on his arm.

“Arise,” the Teacher said.

The room fell completely silent. No one moved or even breathed. And then, as if she really had just been sleeping, Jairus’s daughter opened her eyes, blinked, looked around, and then sat up.

Jairus’s wife rushed past Jesus and took her daughter by the hand, pulling her to her feet.

Jairus, Peter, James, and John stood thunderstruck.

“You must promise me that you won’t tell anyone what happened here today. Do you promise?” Jesus asked.

All Jairus could manage was to nod his head.

“And someone get her something to eat.”

The girl’s mother rushed out of the room and returned with some bread.

And Jairus wrapped his daughter in the biggest hug he was capable of giving her.