From the Relief Society Magazine, March 1946 –

All Is Known

By Irva Pratt Andrus

Like the winged seeds of the dandelion, the word was wafted over the land. In the village of Bethany, Sarah, the daughter of the widow, Tabitha, heard it, too. At first she paid scant attention to the strange tales.

“Did you hear that at Capernaum a centurion’s servant, sick these many years, was healed of palsy by this Carpenter of Nazareth?”

“Did you know that it is said two blind men could see as well as anyone after this man Jesus touched their eyes?”

“Did you hear? Did you hear?” Everywhere, of a sudden, people were talking of strange happenings in the land about the Sea of Galilee.

Running here and there through the village upon errands for her mother, carrying a bowl of broth to the sick, a spray of almond blossoms to one unable to get out among the spring glories, hurrying always, as must the only daughter of a poor widow, Sarah heard these things, and gradually she became filled with a great need to know more of this man of Nazareth. Now she paused often in the shadows before the inn to hear the latest word of passing travelers.

“Never have I heard such doctrine,” one dusty traveler said. “He was in Galilee and great multitudes of people were gathered about listening. Do you know what he said? He said, ‘Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.’ Did you ever hear anything like that? That isn’t all, either. he said that the meek would inherit the earth.”

“I was there, too,” said another traveler, “and he looked down at us, many were dirty and wretched, too, but he said, plain as anything: ‘Ye are the light of the world.’ He looked as if he meant it!”

“Whence hath this man this wisdom and these mighty works?” many asked.

Whence, indeed, thought Sarah. I wish he would come to Bethany. Perhaps he could heal Tabitha of the swelling and pains in her arms and legs and take the tired look of suffering from her face. perhaps he could cure Simon, who is good and wise even though a leper. Perhaps – oh, there was so much to do in Bethany.

So much to do in Bethany for all the poor, the sick, the lame, the blind, and so much to do for Sarah. She was ashamed of the thought. She, who was young and strong, who often heard those less fortunate call after her: “Bless you, my child,” and yet she was so desperately in need of help. Deeply hidden, where others could not know, a great bitterness and discontent had been growing for many weeks within her. Sometimes she saw it reflected in her eyes as she stooped to draw water from the well, and she was afraid; afraid that Tabitha, who was so patient and good, would some day see it and be hurt by it.

When trying to think back to find when this terrible thing within her had begun, Sarah thought it must have been when she first began to notice the tired, drawn look upon her mother’s face. Tabitha was so good, so kind, so generous, and yet she must suffer so. together they scarcely were able to earn a bare existence, and each time Sarah carried a bowl of soup or a morsel of food to ot hers she knew that Tabitha would say she was not hungry when evening came.

All this, and more, of need Sarah knew, and yet often on the road to Jerusalem she saw gay and laughing pe9ople dressed in rich robes and followed by numbers of slaves. Upon the masters’ hands and about their throats were shining jewels, and they were rude and haughty to any who chanced to be at the well as they drew up.

Here, in the village of Bethany, daily she saw the rich and she knew the poor. This, and many small things, fed the discontent within Sarah. She could not know of what all the bitterness was made. Of what value the many tasks she must do daily if they led only to old age, to disease, to poverty? why should bright jewels and jingling coins make such a difference?

“This Jesus cares nothing for money or goods,” one traveler said. “He got Matthew, who was a receiver of customs, to leave everything and follow him.”

What could he have said to Matthew? Was there an answer to all the suffering and struggling that piled up into days? Did he tell Matthew something that made security and comfort seem as nothing?

“What does he look like?” many asked.

What would such a man look like. Sarah felt that she must know. some day she must see this Jesus, for perhaps he knew the answer to the hopelessness and fear within her.

Some day he may come to Bethany, she thought.

Perhaps she would meet him on her way to the well, or by the olive grove where she watched the sunset when she was not needed by Tabitha. at the thought she felt breathless and frightened. She had heard that he answered great multitudes freely, and they were strangely comforted. Word had come that Jesus had even quieted a storm upon the Sea of Galilee; perhaps he could still the storm of doubt and discontent within her.

Once it was rumored that Jesus was, indeed, coming to Bethany, but Sarah was kept close at home with the sickness of Tabitha who was at times unable to move from her bed. For days she administered to the needs of her mother, and in her solicitude almost forgot the coming of Jesus.

When Tabitha was well enough for Sarah to once more go about the village, she learned that Jesus had been to Bethany. he had been to the house of Simon and had cured him of his leprosy. Sarah could scarcely believe that he had come and gone. She went to see Simon to hear from his own lips of this Jesus of Nazareth.

“Yes, my child, indeed he was here.” The old man was fairly bouncing with excitement. “Oh, Sarah, you never have heard such doctrine.”

Sarah listened to all that the villagers had to say of Jesus and his teachings, and still the turmoil was with her. Her sleep now became troubled with strange dreams. Often she dreamed that she was old and sick, and that Tabitha was gone, and all the rich people were riding wildly around her shouting taunts at her. In her unhappiness she thought of going out upon the road in search of Jesus, but the thought of Tabitha tugged at her heart. She could not leave her mother. She must wait until he came.

Nearly three years had passed since the first word had come to the village of the work of Jesus, and as the third springtime touched the hills about Bethany, travelers again brought word that this man who had so moved the people throughout the land, was on his way to Jerusalem. At evening Sarah went to the house of Simon. Had he seen Jesus? Was he coming to Bethany?

“I am afraid for him,” Simon said, shaking his shaggy head. “He is even now in Jerusalem, and the chief priests will do all they can to destroy him, my child.”

“Destroy Jesus?” Sarah was unbelieving. “He does only good to the people. Why should the priests want to destroy him?”

“Why, indeed,” answered Simon, “because too many people are beginning to want to live as he teaches, that’s why, Sarah. Did you not hear he has even driven the moneychangers from the Temple and declared that it is to be a house of prayer? The priests cannot fill their moneybags with prayers.”

“Did he? Did he, really?” Sarah cried. “When will he come again to Bethany?” She could scarcely hide the trembling that had come upon her.

“At any hour, Sarah girl, at any hour!” the old man replied.

At any hour! Perhaps even now he neared the village. With urgent haste Sarah left the house of Simon. Half running, she took the winding path toward the olive groves. The sun was lingering upon the edge of a distant slope, sending forth long shoots of light to push against the persistent shadows slipping among the trees, when Sarah sat down to watch the road from Jerusalem. The dusty green of the olive trees was softened contrast for the blossoms of the almond trees nearby; the ground was smooth with the softness of emerald shoots stretching upward. Intently Sarah watched; she must not miss Jesus this time. Even as she waited her fear was close beside her. What could he say to her? What could he do to change this hard ball of bitterness and discouragement?

“Sarah,” said a voice so close beside her that, startled, she sprang to her feet. Such a deep, rich voice she had never heard before. How had he come upon her so quietly? How had he known her name? The sun rays were full upon his face as she looked at him; he seemed as no other man she had ever seen. His eyes had such a steadiness within them, yet he looked very tired.

“Why fret you, Sarah?” His words were like music of running water. “All is known to your Father in heaven.”

Sarah did not answer; instead she dropped her eyes and her breath swelled within her. How could he know? Yet she was sure that he did know. All that was within her heart of doubt, of fear, of hurt, of defeat, he knew. Other words he spoke, and as she listened it was as if the strange radiance of the sunset were melting away her bitterness.

What his words were, Sarah could never recall afterwards, but she knew that they were peace, courage, and hope. when he left her Sarah stood very still watching as he went down the winding path. The last strong rays of the sun glowed around him, and to her it seemed that his robe was of shining gold. Into the house of Tabitha, in the town of Bethany, she carried a warm bright reflection.