As I have said before I often find the Gospel of Mark leaving me wanting just that little bit more. It leaves me with questions. So, I ask that you allow me to be a bit of imaginative this evening as we ponder what these women must’ve have been thinking through the eyes of Mary Magdalene.
‘I woke numb. Not that I really slept. The events of the last few days playing over and over in my head. Following Jesus has never been uneventful - far from it. Hoard and hoards of people following us everywhere. It got a bit overwhelming sometimes. Not just for us. But for him too. Taking himself away for quiet moments. Though the crowds always seemed to find him. I do not know how he did it. He had so many stories. They captivated the crowds. They heard every last word. Whether or not they understood what he was telling them. Well, that is a different matter. I certainly did not. Some of them were bizarre, I am not sure I understand them even now. As yesterday drew closer it was as if he knew. Knew that those events were going to take place. But how could he.
A few days ago, we entered into Jerusalem to triumphal noise. People lined the streets shouting and cheering ‘Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Blessed is the coming kingdom of our ancestor David! Hosanna in the highest heaven!’
He rode in on a colt with people taking the cloaks of their back to line his route. Others ripped branches from trees to lay at his feet. It was like nothing I had ever experienced before. I think of those back home in Magdala, I do not think they would believe me if I told them what was happening. The chief priests were not too happy and implored us to silence the crowds, but they were not to be silenced. The crowds were too large, too excited. Here was Jesus riding into the city – to be their new king. At least that is what they believed – they treated him like royalty. He was going to transform their lives. Breakdown unjust structures, release them from the bounds they found themselves in. Free from the tyranny of the Romans. He had come to lead them to freedom, just like Moses had led God’s Chosen People to freedom. They were excited. You could sense that. We stayed for a while, but then we left returning to Bethany. That felt… odd… this big and impressive arrival only to return after a short while.
From the next day the mood changed. Jesus became more withdrawn. Speaking in even greater riddles. And the men, they started arguing more, becoming more and more agitated. Jesus started talking about someone betraying him, that Peter would deny he knew him. At the time I wondered how it was possible. How one of us who had travelled around with him all this time could do that. But then yesterday.
It was Judas. Judas was the one to betray him. The soldiers arrived and took Jesus away. And he just went. All the fight had left him. He seemed resigned to his fate. Is this what he meant when he said we wouldn’t always have him. That the Son of Man needed to be lifted up. That. That. Is what he meant. But how could he have known? How could he have known and let it happen?
I followed the soldiers, alongside Mary his Mother, Mary, Mother of James, and Salome. We stayed together and watched as he was trialed. We watched as the crowds, those same crowds that had cheered his arrival only a few days previous, turned against him. The crowds who were proclaiming him as their new King were now denying and pledging allegiance to Caesar – the same Caesar who taxes them extortionately. The same Caesar that the crowds were hoping Jesus would free them from. How quickly things change.
We traipsed up to the hill and there Jesus was crucified. We stayed with him until the end. We watched as he was taken away and laid in a tomb so that the sanctity of the Sabbath could be left.
It felt like the world had died. There was just nothing. A numbness. That was until this morning. Mary, Mother of James, Salome and I walked to the tomb with spices we had prepared for Jesus’ body. We were almost there when we realised that even between the three of us, we would not be able to roll the stone away. We wondered if there would be someone there to help us. If not, the journey would have been wasted.
As we got closer, we noticed the stone had already been rolled away. Thoughts entered my head. Was it grave robbers? Had someone stolen his body? How could this be possible?
Nervously we entered the tomb. And there dressed in white sat a young man. The rest is a bit of blur, but he started talking about how Jesus had been risen and had gone ahead of us to Galilee.
We fled, saying nothing as we walked back. And now I am sat here, wondering what that young man meant. He is Risen. He is Risen. Is this what he meant when he said he would be lifted up from the earth and would draw all people to himself. That the Son of Man had come to save all of humanity. But how, how is that possible? If he truly has been risen, then I must travel to Galilee. I did not hide away when Jesus was arrested. I did not hide away when Jesus was crucified. I must not hide away now. Surely, surely this story needs to be heard to be believed.
Could it be that his death was the beginning? The start of a new world. A new covenant.
What will the story be in 20 years? 200 years? Dare I believe 2000 years? Will the events of these days be remembered and told so that they cannot be forgotten. And what will they mean? What will they mean for the people who hear them? Will they be a source of hope? Filled with love? For surely that was Jesus’ ultimate message – at the heart of all his stories – simply to love. Love those who are closest to us. Love those who are unloved by others. Love those who are the most different to us. Love. Unconditional love. That’s the message. A message that can never age, never grow old. Love. Unconditionally. And through that peace will come and we will be together again in the kingdom.
But for his story to continue it needs to be told. I need to tell it. First to Peter, if he will listen. I mean who would listen to me. I am but a woman. But. But if one person listens. If one person receives that love from me that I received from him. Then it can grow. Like that mere mustard seed growing into a tree. Like those loaves and fishes, able to feed thousands. And eventually, with time all will know of that unconditional love. Yes. To love unconditionally. That has to be the message of the cross. That Jesus, that God, loves unconditionally. And so should we.’
Amen.
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