Chapter 4 Priscilla – Becoming family
...I wanted this too… but my anxiety was back in force, my fears were growing, and my thoughts were running wild...
The moment we left Aquila and Motti, my anxiety started to rise.
I’d been so caught up in the incredible things we'd seen and heard, so excited about the prospect of knowing the same joy we'd just witnessed in the group in the upper room, that I'd not noticed Aquila's hesitation and unease. But as I walked with the other women to Bethesda, I reflected on his mood and what he'd been saying and realised that he had huge misgivings about this.
It dawned on me that his hesitations, his attempts to delay going with the others, had been attempts to get us out of this baptism. And if Aquila had concerns then maybe I should be wary.
Mary was excitedly recounting stories from their time with Jesus. Junia hung on her every word, but I was lost in thought and didn’t hear what she was saying.
I was in a strange city with people I barely knew, caught up in something I didn't understand... Caught up in something that my husband was concerned about. ‘Maybe Aquila had seen or heard something that we'd missed. Maybe there we shouldn't be doing this.’ I thought
Even though I was surrounded by hundreds of women I felt very alone, and the fear in me grew as I remembered how far I was from home.
‘Don't look so serious Prisca. Aquila will be alright without us for a little while.’ Junia laughed, misreading my mood.
‘What is troubling you, Prisca?’ Mary suspected there was something more behind my frown. She stopped walking and turned to face me, giving me an encouraging smile.
I had only just met this woman, but I heard the deep sincerity behind her question and felt the genuine warmth in her smile. It opened me up in a way I wasn't expecting, and as we stood there in the street with hundreds of women moving past us, I poured out my heart to her and Junia.
My mother died when I was young, and I grew up working with my father in his tent-making business. I’d grown up in a male-dominated world and I‘d learned to suppress my feelings and say little. I'd never known another woman well enough to fully share the things on my heart.
But there, in the middle of a street in a strange city far from home, I spoke about things with those two women that I had never shared with another soul. I shared how afraid I was, how I felt inadequate, how I felt alone... very, very alone... I shared how I'd felt that way my whole life.
Tears flowed down my face as I told my story. And when sobs stopped me from talking, Mary and Junia embraced me, held me, and cried with me. The three of us stood there for what seemed like ages, oblivious to the people moving around us; a small island of stillness and comfort in a sea of noise and movement.
Junia straightened up, ‘You are not alone now, sister.’ She kept one hand on my shoulder and she wiped her eyes, ‘And you will never be alone again.’
Mary hugged me before letting go, ‘Thank you, Prisca.’ She smiled drying her eyes on her head shawl.
‘For what... for being a… a mess?’ I laughed
‘For your honesty.’ She smiled again, ‘It's a key lesson I've been reminded of in this last week; when we’re honest and vulnerable enough to share our fears and failures, then it can open up other people to share their fears, and give us the potential for deeper relationships with each other and with God.’
She looked round at the thinning number of women moving past us, ‘We'd better get moving, or they'll have finished and gone home.’ She laughed.
‘I have felt similar things to you but for very different reasons.’ Junia said as we started walking again.
As we walked she told of the stigma and loneliness she felt from not having had a child even after 10 years of trying. She cried as she related the many times she had conceived and miscarried... the many times hopes had been raised only to be lost again... the many times she felt like a failure. ‘Motti is a good husband, and I long to give him a child.’ Junia sobbed.
The three of us had stopped walking and were embracing again. Mary and I holding Junia, as they had been holding me a short while earlier.
‘I see what you mean about vulnerability opening up conversations.’ Junia laughed, straightening up. ‘Come on, we'll never get there at this rate.’
A few days earlier I'd not known these women, yet I'd shared things with them that I had never spoken about before. I felt a closeness, a belonging, a warmth and security that I'd never felt before. My soul was drinking so deeply from these precious moments together that my anxiety faded and, even though I was so far from Rome, I felt that I was truly at home in a way that I'd never known.
We'd spent so long standing still and hugging that we were towards the back of the crowd, and the street ahead of us was full of women. We'd reached the city gate and it caused a bottleneck, slowing the movement of people out of the city. We weren't far from the imposing walls of the fortress Antonia, the main base for the Roman garrison in Jerusalem. I am a Roman citizen and had no reason to fear Roman soldiers, but in its shadow, a shiver ran down my back. When we'd stayed with Junia and Motti on the Sabbath, they’d shared some of the horror stories of the Roman occupation. Being this close to the fortress felt oppressive. From our position, it hid the white and gold of the Temple and seemed to shout of Rome's dominance over everything.
Seemingly oblivious to the proximity of the fortress, Mary started sharing more stories about Jesus. Then we heard the sound of running feet and a shout behind us, ‘Mary!’
Together with many of the women around us, we turned towards the shout and saw a man slowing to a walk and coming towards us panting heavily.
‘Stephen!’ Mary's smile faded and a note of concern crept into her voice as she asked ‘Is everything alright?’
‘Hah!... Yes!... Yes, fine.’ Stephen waved his hand as he spoke between breaths. He laughed, ‘More than fine...It’s incredible... More men joined us on the way to Siloam... and there must be well over a thousand men there now.’
Mary laughed with him, ‘Amazing!’
‘There were many more women in the crowd than men, and I'm guessing their numbers have grown too, so there must be over 3000 of us all together!’ He laughed again.
Stephen explained about the area around Siloam filling up with freshly baptised men, and Peter's idea of taking them up to the Mount of Olives to start teaching them about the kingdom of God.
‘He expects that there’ll be similar challenges at Bethesda, and he sent me to suggest that you take the women to the Mount of Olives too.’ He finished.
‘That's a good idea,’ Mary turned to look at the street ahead, ‘We'll push ahead and let them know. You'd best get back to Siloam.’
The women around us heard their exchange and parted to let us through. It should have been hard to make our way through the mass of people, but Stephen’s news went ahead of us like ripples spreading on a pond. As we moved forward, women turned and nodded to us. Smiling and even cheering as they let us pass.
Not long before the three of us had been standing still and hugging as the crowd moved around us. Now, while hundreds of women stood excitedly waiting to be baptised, we forged through the packed streets like a boat racing through the sea.
Despite the willingness of the crowd to let us through, and the fact that the going got easier once we were through the gate and the road opened up, it still took us about 20 minutes to make our way to the pools of Bethesda. We went through one of the entrances to the North Pool, and the colonnades surrounding the pool were packed with women, all laughing and singing praises to God.
Mary looked around until she spotted the woman she was looking for in the pool, ‘Mags!’ she shouted, beckoning her to come to the edge.
Mags, who I later learned was also called Mary, handed over the baptising to the woman with her and waded over to us, her robes dripping wet.
Mary passed on Stephen's message, and Mags nodded her agreement, ‘I was just thinking the same thing,’ she said. ‘How many women are there on the road outside?'
‘It’s not just the road,’ Mary said, ‘There's still people making their way through the city gate.’ She paused and looked upward, thinking back over our walk through the crowded streets, ‘I think there must be over a thousand,’ she said.
Mags' eyes opened wide. ‘I didn't know there were still that many to go!’ She looked around the pool, ‘I think we've already baptised about eight hundred, so we're not even halfway!’
‘Well! This is a great problem to have!’ She laughed. She looked around, and spotting another woman beckoned her over, ‘I'll stay to coordinate things here. Joanna, will you please go with Mary, gather about twelve others and take those already baptised up to the Mount of Olives?’
Joanna and Mary nodded. ‘Happy to help,’ Mary said, ‘but first, we need to baptise my new sisters, Prisca and Junia.’ She looked at Junia and me in turn, ‘Do you wish to be baptised into the name of Jesus?’
‘Yes!’ Junia was quick to reply. I smiled and nodded, not trusting myself to speak. I felt secure with Junia and Mary but was daunted by the sheer number of women I'd seen in the crowd we'd passed through, and I'd felt my anxiety rising again.
Suddenly, I remembered what we'd agreed with Aquila and Motti, ‘What about the Beautiful gate?’ I asked, feeling panic rising in me, ‘We said we meet them... the men... we said we’d meet them in the temple. How will they find us?’
Sensing my unease, Junia took my hand reassuringly, ‘They will be headed to the Mount of Olives too. We'll find them when we get there. But for now, we have a step of faith to take.’ She stepped into the pool with Mags, still holding my hand and inviting me to join her.
I nodded and followed. I wanted this too… but my anxiety was back in force, my fears were growing, and my thoughts were running wild; What if Aquila doesn't get baptised?... What if he wouldn't want me to be baptised? ... I should say no... I should walk away and wait until I've spoken with him.
‘Trust me.’ The thought came unbidden as though it was from someone outside of me. With it came a peace which stilled my fears. Startled and not sure what to make of it, I followed Junia, Mags and Mary out into the pool.
Junia was baptised first. She was filled with the Holy Spirit and came up praising God and singing with joy. It was the same joy I'd experienced in the street below the Upper Room. I felt echoes of her joy in my heart, but they were competing with the fears that had resurfaced.
I was pulled in two directions... I was afraid and wanted to back out, but in the short time I'd known them I’d never known the sort of closeness… the fellowship I’d experienced with these women. I was anxious about Aquila and fearful of something I didn't understand, but I wanted to do what these women did, to be part of what they were part of.
‘Trust me.’ Again the voice came... and I let Mary and Mags push me below the water. I was tense and unsure, and I waited for some power to grip me with the same ecstasy I'd seen in the others... but it didn't.
I felt the faintest brush of something that I now know to be the Spirit. I had a gentle sense of a reassuring presence, but God did not overwhelm me. He respected where I was, and was willing to wait until I was ready to meet him more fully.
Some people will be able to tell you of the day and even the time that they first came to know the touch of God's love… but for me, it was a much more gradual process.
On that day in Bethesda, I came out of the water smiling, with a new lightness in my heart, ‘Let's get going to the Mount of Olive's.’ I said, ‘There’s so much I want to understand.’
Copyright © 2004 Barry Jackson