“Yes, Judas. She has lost her only son, sole male member of the house”.
“How did you hear my thoughts?” I asked.
“I was thinking the same. Do you remember the last night in Matthew’s house?”
“The works of evil. The untimely death of a child” I ventured.
“Yes. This woman still has need of her son”.
By now we had almost drawn level with the cortege- that is Jesus, Simon-Peter and I, Jesus having motioned all the others to stay at a distance. As Jesus approached the bier he signalled the bearers to pause, and stepping up to the mother, he stayed her anxiety by taking her hands and saying-
“God has seen your grief, mother. Do not weep. Trust in the Father of all men”.
Then he led her gently by the hand to the bier, and laying his hand on the breast of the corpse, he said-
“Young man? Wake and rise up; your mother has need of you”.
For a moment no one moved, as the mother looked incredulously first at the corpse, then at Jesus, her face a mask of fear and grief. Then a great sigh came from the corpse, not an exhalation but an inhalation. The mother clutched at Jesus hand, which still held hers, and he drew her towards her son, saying-
“Your son has no need of these linens, now. Free him from them, as your Father has freed his spirit”.
She timorously leaned over and turned back the loose wrappings, which swathed the head. One she turned back over the brow, and one away from each cheek. The face was that of a man in the second decade of life, the skin clear, clean-shaven and hair neatly clipped. The mother stifled a sob as she reached out a hand to brush the cheeks with the backs of her fingers.
The eyes opened.
“Rise up sir, and tend to your mother”, said Jesus, “then go and give thanks to your Father in heaven, who has wrought this work”.
The young man raised himself up on one elbow, uncertainly, like one who has
awakened from a deep sleep. When he swung his legs over the side of the litter, his mother could contain herself no longer, and fell about his neck, weeping for joy. News quickly passed back through the column of followers, and they all pressed forward in a throng of jubilation and rejoicing. We fought our way out of the crowd and continued down the road with the rest of the disciples into the town of Nain.
It being almost noon, we went directly to the market place, where I purchased bread and goat cheese from the common purse. This food we shared out among out number as we sat on the steps around the well to the south side of the market place, where we were shaded, by the buildings close by, and where most of the town drew its water. We sat here to eat that we might also drink and ablute. As we sat, people began to point us out, and murmur to each other about the raising of Jude, for such we learned was the name of the widow’s son.
Eventually a Pharisee approached and spoke to Jesus.
“This seems modest fare indeed for such a man as I am told you are, Rabbi”.
“We are told so many great things of so many great men that by comparison we must be happy to eat at all” replied Jesus. “If we ate by our deserts instead of by God’s bounty, I fear the world would be very sparsely populated”.
“A man of modesty and wit to match his rare ability” said the Pharisee, warmly. “My name is Simon, and you would honour me greatly if you would sup with me this evening” and with a gesture he had included the twelve. Then with a warm smile-
“My provision is so far beyond my deserts that it would salve my conscience a little if you and your friends would dispose of some good red meat and wine, that I may sleep more soundly on a belly merely replete. Besides, I would hear more of your teaching, Rabbi, and the wisdom of a modest man can only improve my mind and instruct my soul”.
“On behalf of my friends I accept your invitation. If you can digest my message one half so well as these lean creatures will digest your red meat, then it will be a good exchange with profit to all parties”.
So after giving directions as to the whereabouts of his house, Simon departed.
Shortly after sunset, Jesus led the twelve to this Simon’s house where we were warmly welcomed. Our host led us into a spacious and well-appointed dining chamber where several other Pharisees were already assembled.
Until supper was over, and a very elegant and substantial supper it was, to which we did more than justice, the conversation was inconsequential- mere pleasantry. Then as we settled back in our cushions with one or two guests still idly toying with fruit, or a last cup of wine, Simon spoke to Jesus.
“Now my friend, talk to me”.
“What would you have me talk about?”
“Teach me, enlighten me, speak words of comfort to me”.
Simon’s manner, not entirely open, held a measure of mild malice, but warm withal, as one friend teasing another. Jesus considered a moment, looking first at Simon, then at his colleagues, before he spoke.
“Teach? Enlighten? Comfort? I can do all three with one word, but if I say that word, will you hear it, Simon?”
Now the boot was on the other foot, for Jesus gave Simon a wicked smile. Simon made to speak but Jesus stopped him with-
“No, do not tell me ‘of course you will’- Moses said this word to the whole of Israel, and no one heard- not one!”
Simon’s face was serious now, as he asked quietly-
“What is this word?”
Jesus paused, then said with a warm smile-
“Love. The word is love. You ask me to teach you. If I can teach you to love, to love your God instead of just fearing him and obeying his laws, to love your fellow man- every man- as your brother instead of just your peers and your kinsmen, if you can learn this one word fully, and live by it in every breath you breathe, then I will have made you wiser than Solomon and fit to sit by God’s throne in heaven.
To enlighten you? To show you the one true light that outshines all others and never fails? This also is love for love makes all things possible. It is capable of over-riding all ills and discontents. If you can love God truly then you can accept his will without question. If you can love your fellow man, whether Jew or gentile, then you can take him into your heart. If you always act out of love then no burden is too heavy, no labour too hard, no man unworthy.
To comfort? What greater comfort can there be than love? Love brings us to our Father. He made us out of love. Simon, did you ever love woman?”
This abrupt question checked us all. After a pause, Simon answered-
“In my youth…there was a girl…but it was not to be..”
“But you remember how it was” continued Jesus. “You would give her the tastiest morsel from your plate- you would rise at dawn to walk the meadows, seeking flowers for her hair- you would turn cartwheels, swing from a tree or walk into a pond, just to bring a smile to her face”
Simon covered his face with his hands, and after a silence-
“I remember- but you are cruel, Rabbi, in your perception”.
“Simon, I did not mean to be cruel. I meant only to make you aware of the love of which I speak, of the true depth of love. Consider a child- your own child. You would love him just as much. Is your neighbour’s child less deserving of your care? Your love? When that child is grown to manhood, can you not love him still? And his neighbour? Love should not be reserved for those closest to us- it should encompass all our fellow creatures, like the love of the Father, and when we can love in that full measure, as he would have us love, then we can truly say we love God”.
Simon who had now regained his composure somewhat, on this welcome shift back from the personal to the general, and I am sure others had been affected by that diversion- Simon held up his hands and said-
“Truly Rabbi, you are a teacher, a counsellor and a man of God, but can we not love God as well as fearing him and obeying his laws?”
Jesus looked pained, and said “Again the obsession with the law”.
“Be wary, my friend” said Simon. “I would suggest that you are perhaps in the wrong company to disparage the law. Besides, the Mosaic law has held us together since we came out of the desert”.
“I grant you that the Jews have clung to the letter of the law and will do so through time, until the wasted years are trodden underfoot in their thousands, like dead leaves, but in clinging to the law, they have lost love. They will forsake the true light and stumble forever in darkness, seeking before them what is behind them. As for fear, love knows not fear. Love is beyond fear”.
Simon was about to speak again, but was interrupted by a sudden clamour in the outer room. There was a murmur of servants’ voices punctuated by short, sharp outbursts of a woman’s voice, much agitated, tearful, and close to hysteria. Suddenly the curtain was torn aside, and in burst the turbulent visitor, closely followed by several servants, making half-hearted attempts to restrain her. Once inside the room, she paused and looked round the assembled company. When her gaze fastened on Jesus, I realised it was the woman, Mary, from Magdala.
Simon held up a hand of dismissal to the servants, who withdrew, but he spoke not. The Magdalene picked her way slowly round the room towards Jesus, looking like one in a fearful trance, never taking her eyes from his face, as she stumbled over outstretched limbs, cushions, discarded platters and wine cups.
She looked quite unkempt, her long dark hair tangled, her dress torn and travel stained, her bare feet scratched and bruised, her ankles streaked with dried mud and blood. Gone was her fine jewellery and the face paint of her trade, but her face, wet with tears, bore indelible evidence of her profession- around her mouth were the suppurating scabs of the fornicators’ disease.
She was clutching some small object to her bosom, and as she drew closer to Jesus, I could see that it was an elegant alabaster pot, the like of which is very fashionable among a lady’s toilet preparations. As she knelt at Jesus’ feet no one spoke, and the atmosphere was as the moment before a dry storm when the dark sky is about to crack, and hurl down its spears of blue fire, and still no one spoke, though the faces of Simon and his colleagues were masks of horror and revulsion.
The Magdalene crouched over Jesus’ feet, and when she had set down the alabaster pot, she gently removed his sandals and let her tears drip onto his feet, as she rocked slightly, back and forth and making a very soft, high, keening noise, like a lonely child rocks itself in tears, vainly trying to provide for itself the comfort denied by all others.
After a while, when Jesus’ feet glistened with her copious tears, she reached over her shoulder, gathered her long black hair into her hand, and pulling it over her shoulder and down, she began to wipe Jesus’ feet with her hair. She became quite absorbed in this task, as though her mind was locked from within, as one possessed by childishness.
Then abruptly, her mood changed to distress as she took the lid from the alabaster pot, and scooped out a cream, obviously some elegant, restorative balm, the sweet perfume of which filled the room, as she began to gently anoint his feet. Though she was greatly distressed, her movements were very gentle, meticulous and thorough. She worked first over the tops of the feet, then over and between the toes, then back around the ankles and heels, and finally with the gentlest yet firmest of strokes, the soles. When she was finally satisfied that all were covered, she began to massage, all the while using only her fingertips, working over and over, until all the balm had been absorbed into the skin.
Then for the first time since she had knelt before him, she sat back on her heels and looked at Jesus. All this while, he had been watching her with such pity and grief that I marvelled he had remained so still instead of restraining her or speaking. Yet it was plain that Jesus knew that Mary had a vital need to act out this supplication.
As she sat looking at him, the grief and despair and tears visibly welled up in her until, unable to contain herself more, she threw herself forward onto his knees, grasping for his arms, and burying her face in the folds of his robe, and her body was convulsed in sobs. After a little time she quieted enough to attempt to speak, gulping, as she battled to gain control of her breathing and her voice-
“They told…told me…..you were in Capernaum……there… said you were…..
in Cana……went east…south….through all those…cruel hills…”
“You have found me now” said Jesus, softly. “Your long journey is over”.
Simon’s face was a mixture of distaste and embarrassment, mirrored by the faces of his colleagues. It was at these sitting opposite that Jesus looked, when he said-
“Simon, you gave me no water to wash my feet when I entered your home” and his voice was stern, but sad. “You gave me no kiss. Mary has washed and kissed my feet with her tears”.
Simon said, with shock and surprise- “You know this woman, this…”
“Whore!” yelled Mary, the Magdalene, with a last rallying of vehemence at respectable and soul-less authority.
“No, Mary!” said Jesus. “No more!” Then gently- “Your sins are behind you, Mary. You cast them aside for good when you first set out to seek me”.
Mary replied with fearful urgency, and low so that others might not hear, almost-
“But what of this?” and she indicated the scabrous, splitting, angry disfigurements around her mouth- “How can I leave this behind me?” then with a fearful sob- “and in my body!” and again she collapsed sobbing uncontrollably about Jesus’ knees.
“Mary, Mary,” said Jesus, as he took her by the shoulders and made her sit up and look at him, “I told you your sins are gone from you. Gone are your sins and all the works thereof,” and as he said this, he took up a fold of his robe, as he sat, and gently wiped the tear-glistened face. Then he let his robe fall again.
Mary’s face was clear.
Gone were the patches of ulcerous, suppurating tissue, and the skin was smooth and without blemish. Mary sat motionless, and was startled by the sudden gasp from those who had seen the miracle. Misunderstanding, her hands flew to her face to cover her shame, and then that sweet, unbearable moment when her fingers told her what had passed. She sat looking at Jesus, not fully able to accept that what she had long dreaded was now gone from her. She tried to speak, then pushed her fingers in her mouth, as though trying to keep all sound inside. Jesus, understanding far more than we, said briefly-
“You asked before. I said then, as now- I have asked in faith, and it has been given to me- in love”.
Again Mary fell into Jesus’ arms in tears, but these were tears she had never ever experienced before- tears of overwhelming joy. Jesus looked up at Simon’s face, as stern as the faces of his fellows, and then said, sadly-
“I have taught you nothing, Simon. You are still in darkness, by your own choice”.
“I have heard of your miraculous cures, how you make cripples walk, give sight to the blind…”
“Ah, yes”, said Jesus with a sad smile, “but you who already have sight, I cannot make you open your eyes”.
The next day, when we left the house of Simon the Pharisee, Mary Magdalene went with us, and was welcomed into the small circle of women who tended to the domestic needs of our group. Her past was never questioned, neither was her coming. One more lost sheep had, by a miracle, found its way into the fold, and the safe arrival was celebrated, not with wild rejoicing, but in the quiet and peace of loving hearts.