Mary Magdalene: A Novel (16 page)

Jesus’s mother looked at Mary sadly. “I feel such a heaviness in my spirit. We will wait to see . . . tomorrow.” She embraced Mary. “Be careful, Mary of Magdala. Pray with all your might. He needs your prayers.”

“I do pray, my lady, every day. He is weary and some great sorrow weighs on his countenance.”

As she watched the mother of Jesus walk away with her family, Mary was puzzled, but before she had time to think more on it, Joanna was calling her and it was time to prepare the evening meal.

W
hen the Passover meal was ready, the women sat down to wait for the men to arrive. It was nearly sundown when they heard footsteps and voices on the steps and Jesus entered the room. He embraced his mother and smiled at the other women.

“You have done well. All is ready for this night.”

To Mary’s surprise, Judas was with them. He looked around at the food and quickly attended to the ceremonial washing of his hands in the basin the women had provided. His face was sullen as he glanced at Mary. He knew she’d purchased the supplies. She gave him a hard look as he almost slunk into his place at the low table and pursed her lips. If he’d been around when he should have been, he could have purchased the supplies himself. He should be glad she had a little money left.

Just as the four women were ready to begin serving, Jesus rose from his place and removed his robe. He took a towel, and picking up the bowl of sacred water used for the ceremonial washing of their hands, he began washing the disciples’ feet. They were too astonished to comment, struck silent until Jesus came to Peter.

Peter pulled his feet back and exclaimed, “Lord, are you washing my feet?”

“Peter, what I am doing now you do not understand, but you shall know after this.”

“You shall never wash my feet!”

“If I do not wash you, you have no part with me.”

Peter’s eyes grew wide. “Lord, not my feet only, but also my hands and my head!”

Jesus eyed Peter intently. “He who is bathed needs only to wash his feet, but is completely clean; and you are clean but not all of you.”

Mary watched this strange act of their Lord, and when Jesus came to Judas, he paused a moment looking up into the disciple’s face. Judas opened his mouth as if to say something and quickly closed it again. He merely watched Jesus wash his feet and dry them. When Jesus moved on to the next disciple, Mary was surprised to see the disciple’s face contorted, almost as if he were in pain.

When Jesus had put on his robe again, he looked around at his twelve disciples.

“Do you know what I have done to you? You call me Teacher and Lord, and you say well, for so I am. If then, your Lord and Teacher has washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have given you an example that you should do as I have done to you.”

The women sat in the back of the room, still astonished at this act of servitude. It was a task done by the lowest slave in a household for their master’s guests. Jesus never failed to surprise them.

Then, as the women got up to serve, Jesus spoke to all of them. It seemed to Mary that there was an urgency about his words. As if it was vital that they understand what he was telling them.

The women listened to the traditional prayers as they refilled platters and wine goblets as needed.

Jesus said the
Kaddesh
, and the men went through the steps of the meal. The story of the exodus from Egypt was told by Matthew, the oldest of the disciples. There were no children to ask the traditional questions, and that part was omitted.

As they were eating, Jesus put down his food. “Assuredly, I say to you, one of you will betray me.”

The women, who had retired to the far corner of the room to partake of their meal, looked at each other, as did the Twelve, who began murmuring among themselves and asking, “Lord, is it I?”

Jesus glanced at the bowl of lamb shank stew in front of him. “He who dipped his hand with me in the dish will betray me.” Then he looked at each of them. “The Son of Man indeed goes just as it is written of him, but woe to that man by whom the Son of Man is betrayed! It would have been good for that man if he had not been born.”

Peter motioned to John, who was next to Jesus, to ask of whom the Lord spoke. John then asked, “Lord, who is it?”

Jesus answered, “It is the one to whom I shall give a piece of the matzah when I have dipped it.”

Then Jesus gave the bread to Judas. The other disciples were looking at each other, still not understanding. When Judas leaned forward and asked, seemingly innocently, “Lord, is it I?” Jesus answered quietly, “You have said it.”

Mary frowned. What did the Lord mean, one would betray him? Then she glanced at the Lord’s mother. From the look on the older woman’s face, she knew his mother had also heard the words.

Judas rose suddenly, and without looking at anyone, gathered his cloak and strode out of the room.

Mary wondered what errand Jesus had sent him on.

Jesus took some of the matzah bread and blessed it. When he had broken it, he passed it around to his disciples. “Take, eat; this is my body that will be broken for you.”

Then he took the final cup of wine for the meal and held it up. He gave thanks for it and then said, “Drink from it, all of you. For this is my blood of the new covenant, which is shed for many for the remission of sins. Do these things in remembrance of me. But I say to you, I will not drink of this fruit of the vine from now on until that day when I drink it new with you in my Father’s kingdom.”

Slowly the disciples passed the cup, one to another. The women watched. Since it was not an intimate gathering with their own families, they would not participate.

Jesus leaned on the table and spoke to them again. “All of you will be made to stumble because of me this night, for it is written: ‘I will strike the Shepherd, and the sheep of the flock will be scattered.’

“But after I have been raised, I will go before you into Galilee.”

Peter, who had been surprisingly silent through this, suddenly blurted out, “Even if all are made to stumble because of you, I will never be made to stumble.”

Jesus turned to him, sadness evident on his face, and said gently, “Assuredly I say to you, that this night, before the rooster crows with the dawn, you will deny me three times.”

Peter balled one fist. “Even if I have to die with you, I will not deny you!”

Jesus spoke of many strange things to them, that where he was going they could not come, and he gave them a new commandment, that they love one another as he had loved them. Then he told them that from now on, his disciples would be known by their love for each other.

The women listened, with Mary almost holding her breath as he spoke of his Father’s kingdom, and of the Helper, the Holy Spirit, which the Father would send in his name, who would teach them all things. He spoke of leaving his peace with them—not the peace the world gave, but a different kind of peace.

“Let not your heart be troubled, you believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father’s house are many mansions; if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to myself; that where I am, there you may be also. And where I go you know, and the way you know.”

Thomas, the one the others had nicknamed the Doubter, spoke up. “Lord, we do not know where you are going and how can we know the way?”

As Jesus spoke the next words, Mary sensed power emanating from him.

“I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.”

He spoke of many things and the hours seemed as moments, so rapt was their attention to their Lord.

Finally, he lifted his eyes toward heaven and began to pray for all of them, words of eternal life and hope. Words to comfort them, beseeching the Father for those the Father had given him as Jesus walked the earth. It was a prayer to sanctify them—Peter, James, John, Matthew, Thomas, Andrew, Philip, Bartholomew, James the son of Alpheus, Thaddaeus, and Simon the Canaanite. Eleven only, with Judas still absent.

As Mary listened to his prayer, she felt joy rise up within her as she realized it was for her also. She pondered the meaning of his words when he said he had kept them all, except for the son of perdition, that the Scripture might be fulfilled.

Jesus then prayed, not only for his disciples, but for those who would believe in him by the word of his disciples. “And the glory which you gave me I have given them that they may be one just as we are one.”

When he finished his prayer, there was a profound silence and Mary knew something had changed in her. She felt emboldened to go and tell the world who her Lord was. She almost laughed out loud at the joy that bubbled up inside. Jesus turned and looked straight at her, and in his smile she felt the love he had for her and for the others who had been with him so long.

She returned his look with devotion and in her heart whispered, “My Lord, and my God.”

Jesus led them in a familiar hymn of Passover, Eliyahu HaNavi (the song of Elijah the prophet). The words seemed to burn within her:

Speedily and in our days, come to us,

with the Messiah, son of David,

with the Messiah, son of David.

At last, Jesus rose from the table and, beckoning Mary, said quietly, “When you have completed your tasks here, take my mother and sister to the place where they are lodging. Someone will come to accompany you.”

Mary nodded. “Yes, Lord. But where will you and the others go?”

“We will cross the Kidron Valley to the Garden of Gethsemane, and spend the night there.”

Mary was puzzled. “Can we not attend you there, Lord? Why must we be sent away?”

“You will understand soon enough, Mary of Magdala. Your devotion touches my heart, but your moment is not yet. Do as I ask, for my sake.”

She bowed her head. “Yes, Lord, we will go with your mother.”

“Thank you, Mary.”

She watched the men go down the steps and suddenly felt a great loss.

R
ebecca began to gather the platters while her mother and Susanna cleaned the olive wood wine goblets. The dishes would be left for the householder who had given them the upper room to use. Mary began to pack up the food that was not perishable to place in the cart. The rest would have to be thrown away, for it would not keep in the heat.

Susanna paused, holding a clay jar of the charoset. “Where are we to meet the Lord and the other disciples tomorrow? Will he be at the Temple?”

Mary shrugged. “He knows where we are staying. I’m sure he will send word with one of the men.”

When the three women had completed what they had to do, they carried the small clay stove and the other things down to the cart. Mary’s son Joses was waiting, having hitched the donkey to the cart. Joses held up his lamp and the women followed him through the darkened city. They huddled together, glancing from side to side as they walked. Clouds passed across the moon and gave Mary an eerie feeling. A dog growled in the shadows and she jumped in fright.

When they came to the house of Joanna where the women were staying, Mary learned that Chuza, Joanna’s husband, was away at the palace.

The women embraced each other and were welcomed into the house.

Joanna took the elder Mary’s arm. “My lady, and Rebecca, it is good you have returned safely.” She turned to Joses. “Put the donkey in the stall in the corner of the courtyard.”

The women each carried in the food left over from Passover to share with the household. When all was put away, Joanna led Mary and Susanna to a small room with two narrow beds where they would spend the night.

“How did the Passover supper go? Who was there?” Joanna looked eagerly at Mary.

“Just the Twelve—and Jesus of course. Judas was with them, but the Lord sent him out to do something.”

“I’m sure you are both tired from the long evening. I hope you will be comfortable here. It was the room of my sons before they were grown. Our lady and Rebecca are sharing a room nearby. I will see you in the morning.”

The hour was late and Mary was weary, but she looked forward to the morning when she and Susanna could once again join the Lord.

She slept fitfully. Not since before her healing had she had such a bad night. She was awake just as dawn was breaking over the city. Vowing to be as quiet as possible, she rose so as not to wake Susanna, who was still sleeping soundly. She dressed quickly and was about to leave the room when there was a pounding on the gate of the house.

She hurried down the corridor to the main room just as Joanna went with Joses to open the gate. It was Bartholomew. Tears ran down his cheeks as he almost fell into the courtyard, breathing heavily.

“They have arrested him!”

Joanna frowned. “Who have they arrested, and who are they?”

The disciple took a deep breath. “The Sanhedrin. The leaders have arrested Jesus. They came to the garden where we were sleeping. A crowd with swords, clubs, you’d think they were after a terrible criminal. They bound Jesus and took him away to the house of Caiaphas.”

Mary stood in shock. Her gentle Lord, arrested and dragged away like a criminal?

Susanna appeared, as did the Lord’s mother and Rebecca, wondering what all the excitement was about.

Mary went to his mother. “Dear lady, they have taken him.”

The Lord’s mother put a hand to her heart. “What happened?”

Bartholomew spat angrily, “They came with clubs and swords to arrest him, led by Judas!”

Mary gasped. “Judas? He was the betrayer?”

Bartholomew nodded. “He came up to the Lord and kissed him. Evidently that was the signal, for they rushed forward and grabbed him. Peter had a sword and cut off the ear of one of the men.” He shook his head in unbelief. “The Lord, even at that moment of arrest, reached out and healed the man’s ear.” He flung his hands up. “Could they not see who he was?”

The Lord’s mother bowed her head and clasped her hands. “So the time has come.”

Joses looked at her strangely. “Mother, I know you seek to protect him, you always have, but he has been flinging his teaching in their faces too long. Now he will have to suffer retribution. They will probably flog him and let him go.”

Bartholomew nodded. “That is true. They cannot put him to death, it is against the Roman law they themselves imposed on us.”

The distraught disciple sat down on a low stool and a small cup of wine was handed to him.

Joanna clasped her hands. “What else can you tell us?”

“John is related to the high priest. He was allowed into the hall, but Peter could only follow and remain outside for news. One of them will let us know what has happened as soon as they can.”

The Lord’s mother sat down on a bench. “We can only wait and pray. He is in the hands of his Father.”

Joses started to answer her, but pursed his lips and remained silent.

She has had grief enough
, Mary thought,
she needs comfort now, not opinions.

It was midmorning before there was another quick knock at the door. It was John. The agony of the night’s events had aged him overnight. There were lines of grief on his face and dark circles under his eyes.

“The high priest has sentenced him to death. They are taking him to Pilate to carry out their terrible plan.”

The elder Mary gasped. “They have sentenced my son to death? For what crime? He healed people, raised the dead, taught them from the Scriptures. What crime could they possibly sentence him for?”

John turned to her and went and knelt at her feet. “My lady, it is for the crime of blasphemy, for saying he was equal with God and claiming to be the Son of God.”

She stood then, regal and tall, looking around at all of them. “For so he is!” Then she turned to her son. “Your father, Joseph, knew this.”

Facing the group again, there was a look of wonder on her face. “Our people have looked for the Messiah, the promised Savior, for centuries. I have known who he was from his birth and carried that secret in my heart all these years.”

Joses came closer. “What are you talking about? Why did you not share this with us?”

“Who would believe me? He was a normal child, growing up in a small village. How would anyone understand what your father and I experienced?”

“What did you experience? Are you sure you are not protecting him? You have always favored him above the rest of us.”

She put up a hand. “You were not there in the stable in Bethlehem where he was born, when the shepherds came, and later when kings from the Far East came to the small house we were living in, following a star. Those great men presented him with gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. You were not there when we fled to Egypt to escape the wrath of Herod who sought your brother to kill him. The men from the East told him a king had been born according to the Scriptures.”

Joses put a hand to his beard and frowned. “Then Jesus was not born in Nazareth?”

She looked down at her hands. “No. I didn’t know what the Father’s plan was. For thirty years he was only my eldest son, yet in my heart I knew that his time would come one day. I just didn’t know it would come to this.” She put her face in her hands and began to weep.

Mary moved to put a comforting arm around her shoulders. The Lord’s mother wiped her eyes on her shawl and again faced her son.

“He is not the son of your father but the son of the Father of us all.”

Joses shook his head. “I don’t know what to believe.”

Rebecca interrupted them, crying out, “What can we do? We must save him!”

Her mother shook her head. “It is in the hands of the Most High, blessed be his name. I have felt great sorrow these past few weeks. He was moving toward something and determined to go to Jerusalem.”

Mary looked around at their faces. “Then this is what he has been telling us all these months, that he would be taken? We did not really listen to what we were hearing. We did not want to believe.”

John beckoned with his arm. “We’d better hurry. Let us go to the court of Pilate to see what he will do.”

Mary thought a moment and then blurted, “Where is Peter? I thought he was with you.”

John shook his head. “I have not seen him since we entered the house of Caiaphas. He was warming his hands at a fire in the courtyard. When we came out, he was gone.”

Bartholomew rose from the stool. “I’ll try to find him and the other disciples. They need to know what has happened. We scattered and I don’t know where any of them are.” He put a hand on John’s shoulder briefly and left.

The small group hurried through the streets and was almost unable to enter the court for the crowd of people shaking their fists and crying out, “Crucify him!”

John held the Lord’s mother up, for she was almost overcome with emotion.

The four women stood in the shadows with him. When the soldiers brought Jesus out to the crowd, the small loyal group collectively gasped. He was a horrible sight to see. They had flogged him and put his robe back on. Blood seeped through the fabric as he stood swaying before Pilate. A crown of spiked thorns had been pressed onto his head and small rivulets of blood ran down his face.

The Jewish leaders were moving among the crowd, stirring them into a frenzy.

Mary couldn’t believe her ears. The same people who had followed the Lord and had him heal their sick were now crying out for his death. Tears ran unchecked down her cheeks as she realized what was happening.

The elder Mary turned to her son Joses, but he had disappeared in the crowd.

To her horror and those with her, Pilate, following his custom of releasing a prisoner to mollify the people each year, sentenced Jesus to be crucified and released Barabbas, a known murderer and zealot. It could not be. Jesus was innocent of any crime!

People brushed past her as the soldiers brought out a large wooden cross and forced Jesus to bear it as they led him out into the street.

John took the arm of the Lord’s mother. “Come, I know a shortcut, we can get closer to him.”

The women hurried behind them as they went through back streets, coming out a short distance ahead of the procession.

People were crying out, some denouncing Jesus as a fraud, but others weeping and begging for his release.

Ahead of Jesus came two men, condemned criminals, carrying crosses. Their backs also showed the effects of the Roman whips as they were driven toward Golgotha. Then his mother gave a horrified sob as Jesus came into view.

Mary gasped, feeling almost physically ill. The Lord’s body and face were hardly recognizable as they watched him stagger under the weight of the cross. Blood dripped from his body onto the stones of the street.

Rebecca wrapped her arms around herself and rocked back and forth with grief. “What have they done to him? Oh what have they done?” she cried over and over.

Suddenly, the procession stopped for a moment for something up ahead they couldn’t see. Jesus, almost on his knees under the weight of the cross, looked up directly into the face of his mother.

“My son, my son,” she whispered through her tears, and slipped out of the crowd to kneel at his side. “My dear son.” She wiped his face with a corner of her shawl.

Just then a Roman soldier rudely pushed her away. “Leave the prisoner alone. Get back.” He raised his whip.

She looked him in the eye. He was young, younger than Jesus. “I am his mother,” she said quietly.

The soldier glanced at his fellow soldiers in front who were not looking his way. A brief look of compassion crossed his face, but he shook his head. “I’m sorry for you, woman, and for your son, but you must step away.”

“Please, help him,” she begged the soldier as she stepped back.

John took her arm and pulled her back into the crowd. To their immense relief, the soldier grabbed a large, heavyset man out of the crowd and ordered him to help carry the cross. The eyes of the young soldier sought his prisoner’s mother in the crowd, and for a brief second, they acknowledged one another, then he moved on, snapping his whip in the air, but not at Jesus.

Mary and the others followed the procession to the hill called Golgotha and the women wept openly. Mary felt each blow of the hammer as the nails were driven into the gentle hands that had touched and healed so many. Her stomach churned at the pounding of the large nail into his feet and hearing him cry out in agony. She struggled to keep her composure to strengthen his mother, whose body also jolted with each strike of the hammer.

At last the huge cross was lifted and a soldier tacked on a sign above him, supposedly telling his crime.

Mary, thanks to Nathan, could read both Hebrew and Greek. Her eyes widened. “It says, ‘Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews.’ ”

Salome cried out, “Pilate must have ordered that to be placed on his sign. Is there a crime listed?”

Mary stared and shook her head, feeling the anger rise up. “He committed no crime. Pilate only gave in to the people because he feared their displeasure. You heard them threaten to complain to Rome. He posted that sign deliberately to taunt the priests.”

John murmured. “They were jealous of him and the way he exposed them. Now they have their revenge.”