Women of the Bible 11: Who am I?

As a child, I was trafficked into slavery and purchased by a rich family. Away from parents, home, and country, I became a lady’s maid. At first, I cried and cried. I wanted my mommy and daddy.

After a few years, I could hardly remember what they looked like. I feel bad that I cannot even remember their faces. I am still a little girl and not yet a woman.

My mistress makes sure I do my work, but she also speaks kindly to me. I am thankful. I have heard stories.

When my master becomes ill, I am sad. Will I lose another father? Will my mistress always be depressed? Will I be sold?

I find it hard to sleep these nights.

This morning, I told my mistress, “Would God my lord were with the prophet that is in Samaria! For he would recover him of his leprosy.”

Word of my suggestion reaches the ears of the king, who writes a letter and sends ten talents of silver, six thousand pieces of gold, and ten changes of clothing to the king of Israel, along with my master and his servants.

When the king of Israel reads the letter, he is so disturbed that he tears his clothes and says, “Am I God?” He knows he cannot heal my master. The prophet of Israel hears about the king’s actions and sends a messenger to my master. He tells him what to do in order to be healed. But, my master is a proud and powerful man, and he is insulted. He thinks the prophet should have come in person and done some kind of a show while healing him.

My master scoffs.

His servants convince him to obey the prophet’s directions, and he finally does.

He looks down at his skin and notices it looks brand new. He is completely healed.

I am glad for him. My mistress is happy again. Both my master and mistress are beginning to believe in the power of my God.

I praise my God for answering my prayers.

Who am I?

Who is my master?

In which nation do I live?

For bragging rights, who was the king of that nation, the one who wrote the letter to the king of Israel?

Women of the Bible 10: Who am I?

I am a sceptic and always have been. If I can’t prove it, I don’t believe it.

So, I hear about a king, north of here. (I live in Yemen.) They say he is the greatest on earth. He has the most powerful army, the best-dressed courtiers, and is the richest, wisest…. They say he’s the greatest ever.

How can anyone be all that?

The reports keep coming. His throne room is like no other. His houses … they drink from gold vessels….

In order to disprove the rumors and satisfy my curiosity, I prepare to go and meet this great so-and-so. It’s an official visit, since I am queen.

I take spices, gold, and precious stones. After all, what do you give to someone who has everything?

As I’ve heard he is wise, I take with me a list of hard questions, to test him. What does this king know and believe?

After many long hot days, we arrive with our caravan of camels and find him welcoming and amicable. I feel that I can talk with him about anything. I’m almost embarrassed, as I realize I have told him all that is in my heart.

I ask my questions—my long list—and he answers every single one. To my satisfaction. With wisdom. I’m in awe.

His house, the gourmet food, the manner of the servants and their attendance to details, his ministers, the sparkling robes on everyone, his cupbearers, and the reverence with which he procedes to the house of his God leave me speechless—a rarity for me.

When I find my tongue, I say to him: It was a true report that I heard in mine own land of thy acts and of thy wisdom. Howbeit I believed not the words, until I came, and mine eyes had seen it: and, behold, the half was not told me: thy wisdom and prosperity exceedeth the fame which I heard. Happy are thy men, happy are these thy servants, which stand continually before thee, and that hear thy wisdom. Blessed be the LORD thy God, which delighted in thee, to set thee on the throne of Israel: because the LORD loved Israel for ever, therefore made he thee king, to do judgment and justice.

I give the king 120 talents of gold, many pounds of spices, including frankincense from my country, and precious stones. In fact, I heard he had never received so many spices ever before as he did from me.

What the king do, then? He asked me what I wanted. I could choose anything. Believe me, I took advantage of his generosity. I chose silk, gold-studded robes for me and my household, some golden chalices, and a large box of silver. He wasn’t satisfied. He gave me more as a present. I am overwhelmed.

When my servants and I turn towards home, I am a different person. I have put my faith in the God of Israel. I am a believer in two senses: I now believe what I was told—and they hadn’t described even the half of what I saw with my own eyes. And, more importantly, I found the most powerful, awesome God.

Who am I?

Who is the great king?

For extra credit, how far did I travel from Sana’a, Yemen to the king’s palace in Jerusalem?

Women of the Bible 5: Who Am I?

Who is this woman from the Bible? Please comment your answer.

I twirled, and as I twirled, they laughed. My garments shimmered in the torchlight. I placed my veil across my face and got close to some of them, flirting. Then, I moved back several steps and began to dance again. I made sure they followed my movements. Mesmerized, they didn’t even talk but watched—and lusted.

Even my mother’s husband couldn’t take his eyes off of me. Neither did I want him to. I would demand a payment–a bauble or garment perhaps. He would pay for the entertainment I gave his guests.

When the music slowed, so did I. My veil floated in a circle around me, and I made my way around the room, showing my shoulders and my silhouette to every man. They were drunk with wine and with the sight of me—a beautiful young woman, dancing.

I got my beauty from my mother. Even though she is somewhat over thirty, she is still stunning. That’s why every king wants her.

The last man I danced for was the king, who’s my stepfather and uncle. He was smiling as he beckoned me close to him. A cloud of liquor breath hung around him. He grabbed my arm and said with a loud voice so that everyone in the room could hear, “You please me. What do you desire? You may ask whatever you want, and I will give it to you.”

I answered, “Give me a few minutes, please.”

He nodded assent, and I minced out of the room, being careful to seduce as I moved. I hurried to my mother and asked her what I should ask for. I had no idea what she would say, or I never would have asked. She said, “Ask for John’s head on a platter.”

So, I did.

A few minutes later, I got what I asked for.

And, I will never be the same.