Woman in Red: Magdalene Speaks

by Krishna Rose

  It would be impossible for me to deceive her. ‘This is too grave a situation,’ I thought to myself, the color draining from my face at even the thought of such a sin. I would wait and let my Uncle Joseph handle it. There, in the delicate embrace of my husband’s mother, her love poured into my tired, aching bones. “Oh Mother, it’s been intolerable,” I sobbed, relief flooding me as she held me in her sympathetic arms. “I know, child. We must have faith in the Lord’s plan,” she said, gently pulling back my hair from my face to dab my tears with her scarf. With eyes down, ashamedly, I evaded her gaze. “The Lord never gives us more than we are capable of enduring,” she said sweetly, squeezing my hand, leading me to the door.

  Maximus soon after returned, bringing with him Mary-Jacobi and Jesu’s younger brother, John, from the city. He and Solomon swiftly readied our group and led us North, to Galilee. The Mary, Mary-Jacobi, and I, traveled in a caravan pulled by two horses, while Jesu’s brothers, Jude, and John, sat up front with the men. James had made up his mind to hold the fort with The Mary’s husband, Cleophas. Deep in our thoughts, fearfully attentive to any voices or noises which might give us away, we traveled in silence, with nothing but exhaustion and our memories for comfort.

  Maximus informed us of Judas’s death. Evidently, he had taken his own life. It was more than I could bear. Judas had apparently hung himself on a tree outside of the city walls, whilst Jesu hung on the cross. No doubt he felt a measure of responsibility, for he had been the one to lead the patrolling guards to us in Gethsemane on the night when Jesu was arrested. Judas’s body was found hanging from a rope, where he had chosen to die alone and shamed.

  Apparently no one claimed his body after he was found, so the Roman soldiers unceremoniously threw his corpse headfirst into a hole in the ground. I imagined Judas’s rugged face as I had last seen it and solemnly said prayers for his soul under my breath, for he had been as true a friend to us as any could ever wish for. He was our most trusted loyal manager and confidante. Methodically he arranged for the provisions of our group, holding the purse of our monies and accounts. When anything was needed, he supplied. He was reliable. One of the few we had entirely trusted and confided in.

  ‘If I do as you bid, I shall be known to all, as the darkest soul of all time,’ he had told Jesu. But Jesu knew he would be arrested regardless. It was a certainty. A fate which he could not avoid. Hence, Jesu and Judas devised a plan to escort the guards to him at night, while the city slept—to avoid anyone being hurt. Jesu knew the mind of his people. He had anticipated riots in the streets and wanted to avoid a scuffle should he be arrested in the city.

  ‘It is a most cruel thing that you ask of me, Master,’ Judas had said to him, lowering his head shamefully. ‘Yet, if it be your will, I shall see to it. Even though I shall forever be known as the one who betrayed you. But that will be my cross to bear,’ he acknowledged obediently.

  ‘Fear not what the fickle minds of this world say of your name Brother, for you shall be named a villain in this world, yet a hero in the next. You are the only one I can trust with this appointment,’ Jesu pointed out, and both brothers nodded in agreement.

  There were those, in time, who would come to use Judas’s good name, to divert attention from the real villains of our tragic tale. Society would speak ill of him, claiming he had sold his Master to the Romans for a small purse of coin. Yet the truth was a far cry from the gossip vines, which spread nothing but rumors. I prayed that the Lord was reminded of his goodness as I remembered him, for God knew without doubt, that no gold or silver could tempt Judas from his devotion to Jesu.

  We were to travel through the night over seemingly endless rugged roads. Worn out and broken-hearted, I drowsed in a makeshift bed, withdrawn, sheltered under the warm blankets, allowing my thoughts to wander. ‘Until the end of time, through the veils of shadow and interminable darkness, I will hold on. It won’t be long until it is light again,’ I heard Jesu whisper.

  Memories flooded my mind as we voyaged the narrow roads lined on both sides with thick, newly flowering bushes. The air was fresh and the blooms fragrant—springtime, usually my favorite time of year. It would be a long time before this most precious season would hold any fondness for me again.

  Roadblocks at every cross street from Jerusalem to Capernaum delayed our journey somewhat. Maximus slowed the horses every hour or so, warning us to be alert as we were routinely inspected. The Roman guards had been ordered by Pilate to let us through, so though we were uneasy, we were somewhat undaunted by the blockades. My unease, was that I had still to face the ordeal of sharing a fabricated story with my loved ones—and that filled me with dread.

  Beneath my blanket, avoiding eye contact with The Mary and Mary-Jacobi, I prayed for a miracle. With a heavy heart and thoughts of escape, I sought refuge from them, at least for now, while they too remained silent, as if lost in their own sorrowful thoughts. The Mary had left behind her husband, Cleophas, and her son, James, to minister to any arrangements in Jerusalem. They were to rejoin us once things had settled. Fortunately no one had seen us leave. I was grateful to be gone from the city. Freedom was in the air. I could taste it.

  Jesu was a man who had carried the plight of man’s sorrow upon his head. He seemed to have been frequently melancholy on account of it, as he measured the great weight of humanity’s predicament—appraising and designing a rectifying cure for the problems which plagued society. The dilemma of guiding folk from a life which was destined to perish, to that of eternal life, was without exception, at the helm of his thought process at all times. It seemed to him, to be the only true solution to all human woe.

  Jesu knew that many men frequently crept around in dark alleys at night, seeking to relish time spent in the company of women. Choosing not to follow the rules instilled in and enforced upon their upright society, these men, would with one hand arouse and satisfy their lusty desires, while with the other, throw stones at a woman calling her “whore” for even the slightest indecency. It was undoubtedly hypocritical at the deepest layers of our society.

  We were living in a male-dominated world, where women, out of fear, kept their heads low to evade condemnation, upholding every imposing law forced upon them—not on account of love for their husbands, or even out of love for God, but out of fear for their reputations, and even their lives. Senselessly, I saw women monitoring one another, maintaining law and order by spurning any who didn’t strictly adhere to the rules of masculine command. They felt no shame in steering happy young girls into stoic religion-fearing crones before their time. Sadly, I saw such things as a pointless motive for such behavior, since the crowning glory of spiritual purpose had little to do with statutes.

  As a means of proving sobriety to others, men and women alike harkened for a reason to pick holes at someone and watch them pay for it. Therefore, Jesu taught them, ‘Let ye without sin cast the first stone’ for he knew what these men did after dark, and where.

  Dauntlessly, Jesu had welcomed all women as sisters, imparting the men with wise teachings, ‘Women are your mothers and your sisters. Do you not love them so as to give them the Kingdom? Surely eternity is as much for them, as it is for yourselves,’ he had stated gallantly. At first, the men were hesitant, but soon our differences became less obvious, until we were mostly relaxed in one another’s company. Though Peter and Andrew never let down their guards, to them, men were closer to God. And amongst the rabbis and priests, it was unheard of to have women attend political and spiritual meetings, for they were ‘simple-minded.’ Nonetheless, Jesu would gather us together, men, women, and children alike, for he wanted all to hear and be inspired.

  Peter had on many occasions threatened me when Jesu was not within hearing distance. ‘He envies you,’ Jesu told me. Peter and Andrew gave rise to so many arguments within our group. ‘Marjan, please permit me to keep Peter close so I can wate
r the seed in him,’ Jesu had asked me. ‘If he leaves, he will find fault in me and be lost forever.’ How could I disapprove of such benevolent understanding?

  I thought of Jesu now, and how, by virtue of his wise counsel, we had all verily hung onto his every word. It was as if it were the last and most crucial thing we would ever hear. ‘Ripe are those who perceive the hollow gnawing space inside, for they shall be filled,’ he would say. Now, without him, there was undeniably a deep emptiness inside and I wondered if it would ever be filled, as he promised.

  I recalled to mind how so many had come, sick with leprosy, to be healed by Jesu’s supernatural will. Accounts of his miracles had spread far and wide. He became a celebrity amongst Judeans, Egyptians, Romans, and Gentiles, alike. Robed men from the temples also came to observe—from a distance. Keeping watch. Some threw off the trappings of their shallow existence, to join us, while others jealously schemed to have him declared an imposter.

  Meanwhile, Jesu’s inspiration flowed unhindered, more than could be found in any place of worship. It wasn’t long before those in positions of power came to be discontented, envying Jesu’s popularity and startling inborn authority. I witnessed first-hand, how suspicious opposition drove our kinsmen to see fit to lay his name on the ground. They were convinced, that by it, they appeared to stand higher. Yet as we all know, the appearance of superiority lasts but a minute, while the harm done to one’s person is oftentimes irreversible—save by repentance.

  ‘From sunrise to sunset they may stray, but do not waste a moment of precious time considering their plight. For thoughts are like acorns which grow into trees with many fruits upon their branches,’ Jesu had told us.

  I remembered his words and grieved for his company. ‘You are my desert rose, my true vine. One day you too shall be anointed as a Mary and by virtue of your consecration, men shall hate you, reproach you, conspire against you and cast your honor into the flames. But you are like a ripened lily in the desert—blooming and filled with fragrant purpose. For when the houses of prayer turn the tables on you, expect miracles, which like guardians, shall pursue you and herald your true glory unto the world.’ These things Jesu conveyed to me. My heart sank in memory of such sentiments. Nothing and no one could ever compare.

  ‘When I see another’s woe, I too become mournful. For I shall not see a falling tear and not feel my sorrow’s share,’ he used to say. And now, as I considered those souls who single-mindedly wasted valuable time finding fault in him, I grasped how jealous minds are so easily stripped of the tender plant of goodness.

  ‘You and I, they cannot touch Marjan, for only the Lord has that power. And by Him, you have been anointed. You are free to stand where others fall. The sun may rise in the names of those who stumble and quarrel over flesh and bone, but I tell you this Marjan, it is better to be alive in the Kingdom, than to be adored by any on earth,’ he had said just days before his arrest—as if he knew what would come to pass.

  On such occasions as high holy days and Shabbat, Jesu would be found in the temple delivering sermons. The rabbis, lords, and priests, examined him concentratedly as he spoke, for it was rumored that he was the hope of Judea and Rome. There was a great curiosity about his unusual appearance and I sensed that they were divided in their opinion of him. Jesu was a radical shepherd who amassed visibly large crowds every place he went. He pushed the limits of outdated principles and questioned the oafish mentalities which had ceremoniously altered men of God—into a confined clique.

  A thriving believer is said to have humility at the helm of their soul’s boat, and Jesu’s mere presence before the leaders of our people, seemingly wrecked the façade of their false pretenses, which like shrouds, had hidden the true faith from the simple hearted for too long. Replacing love under the banner of religious observance, they had accumulated a plethora of rigid rules which seemingly stifled the natural inspiration of the spirit.

  ‘Man cannot know the Kingdom by laws alone,’ he addressed them. ‘We are not the titles and positions we hold, nor are we the learned ones we claim to be. In truth, before the Lord we know nothing. Death, like a menacing assault upon us, hangs like a cloud ready to burst—this substantial reality alone should purge us of all desire for the things of this world.

  ‘Therefore have I come. Know this my fellow Brothers and Sisters. Our Father is not found within the confined walls which we define as places of prayer and worship. He is to be found in the temple of one’s own heart, and I have come to unfasten, unseal, and make accessible, that which has been concealed from you,’ he declared. ‘So do not fear me. For He who sent me, has given me unto you as a bountiful inheritance so that His Kingdom might be realized.’

  Fists and hands shook as he taught them. Jesu transgressed all norms of society to convey his enthralling discourse for their benefit. Tears fell from The Mary’s eyes as she heard her son speak thus. But she feared the covetousness of the clergy, who considered the erudite way in which he spoke and were shocked to see how the normally disinterested crowds, had suddenly huddled close, so as to hear this Rabbi speak—for his words rang true.

  The routine sermons generally given at the temple, were repetitive at best. But the crowds fell silent when Jesu spoke, for here was a man putting into words, concerns of the heart . . . so emotions ran high. Jesu understood scripture as well, if not better, than any man there. He was an inscrutable scholar. Yet it was perhaps due to the strength of his interpretations of our sacred texts, which were flawlessly simple, that all could understand. It was like nectar to their ears.

  Jesu was the anointed King of the united Jewish and Roman people, and because of this, those in power feared him. He asserted a commanding authority and was oftentimes seen as quarrelsome—Jesu challenged the balance of society. This made him more crucial, yet also more inconvenient.

  ‘The Lord is not wanting. Nor is He satisfied by sacrificial offerings of lambs and doves. He does not require blood so as to be appeased. Therefore, be vigilant in all that you do, and have care to preserve your soul’s cleanliness. Please the Lord not with blood, but with prayer and good deeds,’ he asserted. ‘Understand this. The Lord thirsts not for blood—nor even for verses recited day and night—but for love. Love, and love alone has the power to quench His desire.’

  Jesu’s words shook the foundations of the temple. Some agreed with him, for they could hear the truth of what he spoke, while others were disposed to slander him—calling him ‘heretic,’ expecting to confuse the rapidly increasing crowds. But Jesu gave no creed to titles. He drew attention to the lay person, that a scholar, or wealthy man of cloth, makes not an upholder of the Lord’s will. The entitled, dominant class hated him for it. For their learning and well-ordered hierarchy were the masks they wore to give them false power over others.

  Exposed, they would lose their positions of authority, but more importantly their income, for everyone in the city and villages donated their hard earned money to the temple—to feed its leaders luxurious lifestyles. Jesu had fearlessly declared that the poor and meek of heart would be first to enter the Kingdom, before even those of refined intelligence who could recite verses of scripture like a parrot—and they were outraged.

  ‘Those who shed the blood of an innocent beast, slay the Lord! Therefore uphold the laws of Moses if you wish to claim yourselves as men of God!” he cried. “Our law, which has been the foundation of our faith ‘Thou shalt not kill’ has been skillfully ignored inside the body of our own Father’s holy temple. Ministers covertly gather up alms from sheep sellers to count coin at the end of a day of prayer. Even temple priests accept and demand percentages! God’s men have become businessmen who shed blood for a living. Yet truly I declare unto you—our Father accepts no such slaughter!’

  People were roused by the authority with which he could speak, as Jesu was brave enough to stand among them and dare push
the vision broad. The Rabbis in the temple stood up, shaking their angry fists, shouting, ‘How can you claim to know what the Lord wants and does not want?’

  Jesu remained true, for he was uncompromised. He was a man of God and all could see it. ‘The blood which runs in our veins, runs within the veins of all. And while the so-called intelligent classes debate on whether women and beasts have souls, they do not see, that if we cut them they bleed and when we injure them they cry out! The fleshly conceptions our leaders dispute, are the dividing force which overturns peace,’ he told them. ‘For we are, none of us, independent nor separate from God or His creation.’

  There was a general assumption that only those of our faith had access to the City of God. This fancy ran deep. Therefore Jesu reported that the priests and rabbis were mistaken, for paradise’s doors were open to all—and this way of thinking was unprecedented.

  ‘Our Father’s mansion has many rooms. It is not exclusive to our clan. In truth, it is obtainable to any who exist by the Lord’s sustaining power,’ he affirmed. ‘Not only those of a so-called chosen race. For we are, each one of us, favored by the Lord. Our Father, barring none—loves His children. There is not by any means, even a grain of prejudice or partiality of one over any other. Only by the great treasure of unhindered devotion, does preference come to one soul, over another.

  ‘Pilgrims . . . we are duty-bound to be resolute and one-pointed. But there are those, who are like flawed captains of a ship. They lead the blind to walk upon thorny paths which are many branched and inconclusive. Such so-called governors of the spirit, dare to compel us to sin against our own brothers and sisters!’ he said, stretching out his own arms in the sign of a cross, predicting his own demise. The excitement was palpable, for he dared to speak thus to the people and they loved him for it.