Mary Magdalene: Unlikely Witness, Unlikely Messenger, But Chosen of God

by Janet Peifer

John 20:1-18

SETTING:  A quiet spot under an olive tree on a hill across the Kidron valley overlooking Jerusalem. Mary Magdalene is writing a long overdue letter to her family far to the north of Jerusalem in the little town of Magdala which bordered the west side of the Sea of Galilee. It is three days after the resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth, the man who had so profoundly changed her life. 

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My dearest Mother, Father, and Sister Sarah,

Finally, I am at a place alone where I can think and write. This last year and a half has been incredible, dear family. And this last week! Honestly, my head is spinning and I will burst if I can't tell someone what happened just three days ago. How I wish I could tell you in person all the things I have seen and experienced during the time since I began traveling with Jesus of Nazareth. Oh, I can see it now. If I could come home, I know we would walk that half-mile path down to our favorite spot right along the sea. But that will come at a later time. It's too exciting here in Jerusalem to leave just yet. 

Speaking of the Sea of Galilee--how can I ever thank you enough for taking me to see Jesus when he came to our town. I lived with terrible fears and constant feelings of being tormented by everyone who looked at me. I have seen Jesus deliver so many men, women, and children from the demons which possessed them. I know now what an embarrassment I must have been to you during those years before Jesus delivered me. Every time I see a weary, distraught mother bringing her demon-possessed child toward Jesus, I can't help myself. I walk right up to her and tell her how sorry I am for all the suffering she has been through, and then I assure her that Jesus will bring such a marvelous change to her child. 
And once, I reached out and touched a twelve-year old screaming boy while I told his mother that Jesus would soon be there to touch her son. And when I mentioned Jesus' name, the boy suddenly got quiet. It makes shivers go up and down my spine just to remember it. Do I have some of the healing power of Jesus in me?  Don't ever tell anyone that I've written those words!  I don't mean to take any recognition away from Jesus. But Mother and Father and Sarah, there is something contagious about this Jesus. Once after days of healing people, he looked at us and said, "Greater things than these you will do."  I don't know exactly what he meant, but I do know there are some new sensations stirred up in me these days. And they are different than any sensations I had before I met Jesus. Back then they bound me with fear. Now they free me to do and say things I never dreamed I could say and do. 

Thanks too, for allowing me to travel with Jesus after he healed me. I have become such close friends with Joanna and Susanna and the other women in our traveling group. Most of these women, like me, were delivered from demon-possessed lives. It has been such an honor to travel with Jesus, to assist with his needs, hear his teachings and rejoice with the scores of people for whom he brings life and healing. So many wanted to drop everything they were doing to travel with him after they were healed. But Jesus often told them to go back to their towns and their own people and tell them what Jesus had done for them. 
Well, before I tell you about this past unbelievable week, I want to try and explain how different Jesus was from any other man I've ever known--both religious and otherwise. I have never met a man who cared so deeply for the sick, the children, the poor, the sinful, and those we thought of as the scum of the earth. Instead of yelling "unclean" when he saw a diseased person coming toward us, he deliberately went toward that person and touched him or her. You should have heard the disciples fussing one afternoon when Jesus wanted to take time to be with a group of children--especially Peter!  Peter (he's one of the special twelve that Jesus was training), well, he does a lot of talking--usually lives to regret what he's said, too. Peter and some of the others wanted to get rid of the children. But Jesus told them that unless they became like the children, they would have no part in the kingdom he came to start. 

And there were all the times when Jesus spoke to us women as though we could think, understand things about God, and converse intelligently with him. That caused no small amount of grumbling among the religious and political leaders when word got around. Even Jesus' twelve disciples raised their eyebrows at each other, more than once, after Jesus treated women with the same respect he showed men. When I get home, I'll tell you the whole story about the woman at Samaria. But Jesus actually went into Sychar instead of going out around it like everyone else does so they can avoid the hated Samaritans. And while there, he spent the best part of the day talking to a despised woman about worship, who he was and why he came to Sychar. And another time, he complemented Mary of Bethany for wanting to sit at his feet to learn as any male disciple would. 

But back to this past week. I tell you, I haven't been this low emotionally since before Jesus healed me. Jesus had been trying to tell us weeks already that he needed to leave us--even used lots of death and dying language. He gave us a farewell message and there was a farewell meal. Things had been really tense. We heard talk that the religious leaders were irate enough at Jesus' teachings and his calling himself the Son of God that they wanted to kill him. We women would get together at the end of the day to talk and try to understand what was going on. Those talk sessions got pretty depressing by spells. Here was the only man on earth we had known who made us feel like fully credible human beings. And the way he helped the sick, suffering, and dying!  How could anyone want to get rid of him?  We also could not understand what was to happen to the kingdom we thought he had come to start, if he was no longer here to be the leader. 

The night after the farewell meal, things went from bad to worse. Not far from where I'm seated to write you this letter, Jesus and some of the twelve disciples met to pray. And one of his own twelve betrayed him to the soldiers who brusquely led him away from here to go through a trial and scourging that is too terrible for me to think about, even now a week later. Till Jesus was done being shoved around from Annas to Caiaphas and on to Pilate for an unfair trial and terrible beatings, the crowd was so riled up that they actually released that vile Barrabas and were screaming to have Jesus crucified instead. 

We women gathered together during the trial and them mustered up the courage to go out to the place of the crucifixion. It was terrible to see how Jesus' Mother cried when she saw the mutilated body of her beloved son who had just spent three years doing good for so many people. By then, most of the men had fled, but somehow we women felt the need to stay. For what?  I guess to be a comfort to each other and to let Jesus know we were paying our respects to him till the time of his death. 

There was no one in these parts that had any question that this man who was crucified was no ordinary man. Right before Jesus died, the heavy curtain that separated the holiest place in the temple tore from the top to the bottom and a terrible darkness came over the whole area, even though it was in the middle of the day. People were frightened half to death. But those of us who knew and loved Jesus added this event to our list of the unusual. 

After a day of inhumane actions, Joseph of Arimathea was like a breath of fresh air. He went to Pilate and asked for permission to take Jesus' body off the cross and place it in one of his own tombs. He had the body properly prepared for burial. We women were there to see the body taken down and walked along with those who carried the body to be laid to rest. The walk home that evening was unbelievably sad. We knew we needed to prepare spices and perfumes to place on the body. But the Sabbath was upon us, so we waited till early the next morning to take the spices over to the tomb. 

I had had a fitful day and night. I didn't know any human being could cry so hard. At least if we could take the spices and perfumes to the body, we would be doing a kind deed for the remains of the one we had loved so much. Joanna and I and some of the other women met for the early morning walk. We wondered on the way there who would help us move the stone that was placed in front of the tomb. To our amazement, when we arrived the stone was already moved so we walked right in. It was still quite dark, but it didn't take us long to realize that in this tomb, there was no body. Almost without thinking, we headed straight back to where Peter and John were to let them know what we had found. 

True to form, they didn't believe us. As you know, women still are not considered to be a reliable witness of anything. In a few minutes, their visit to the spot themselves verified our report. They all left to go back home. But I stayed. I was there alone. It was as if the weight of the last week's events, plus this newest discovery came crashing down. I thought I would lose my mind.. Now that Jesus who had healed me was gone, would my healed mind also be gone?  I wanted to die. Time passed as I sobbed uncontrollably. Darkness closed in on me. I wanted to give myself to the eerie fingers of insanity. I dragged myself over to look in the tomb when someone sitting there asked why I was crying. Surprised that there was anyone who didn't know the tragedy of this hour, I explained that the body of my Lord had been taken out of tomb and no one knew where it was placed. As I turned around to sit down again, someone else asked me why I was crying and who I was looking for. By then that question seemed like a cruel trick and with sheer exhaustion I managed, "If you have taken him away, just tell me where he is, and I'll go get him."  And then this same person said, "Mary." 

My dear family, it's hard for me to explain what took place in the next moments. The darkness inside me fled. There was only one person who could say "Mary" like that. I looked up and yes, it was Jesus. Not the battered and bruised body of just the day before yesterday, but a whole body with a new presence that poured healing and joy throughout my being. My first reaction was to grab hold of him, so that he would never again go away. But he told me that it wasn't the presence of his physical body that I needed to become a whole person. But that I would be fulfilled as I went to my brothers and sisters and told them that Jesus was alive and would be with us in a new way. Me, a woman of Galilee, not only a witness of the resurrection of Jesus, but commissioned to tell others the news that will set people free!  Jesus is alive!

Your loving daughter, Mary Magdalene

 

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