"May I… say something?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
And Selam, once so eager to hide her Amharic Bible on a shelf, now kept it on her lap—open, shared, and utterly at home. bible study in amharic
Everyone turned. Sarah smiled. "Of course, Selam." "May I… say something
From that night on, the Wednesday Bible study became something unexpected. It was still in English. But every week, Selam would read one verse in Amharic first. Then they would listen. Then they would wonder. And together—Ethiopian and American, young and old, fluent and fumbling—they discovered that the Word of God was not bound by any single tongue. Sarah smiled
"In the beginning was the Word," the retired teacher read aloud. "And the Word was with God, and the Word was God."
Selam continued, her voice growing stronger. "My grandmother used to say, 'God did not write his name in marble. He wrote it in a tent of skin.' In Amharic, the Word becoming flesh is not a mystery to solve. It is a neighbor to welcome. God did not send a book. He sent a body. He sefera —he pitched his tent—right here, in our mess, our loneliness, our foreignness."