Service on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/100064617886792/videos/2854551948048501 and YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s0q6hzJC2Tw
We don’t really know much about the disciples, not really. We know some names, some occupations, some cities or villages from where they came, but not much else. This is especially true for the women who followed Jesus, because there were women who followed Jesus. In John’s telling of the life of Jesus, at least as we have it before us, Mary the Magdalene is first named here, in the dark, though there is some new Biblical research that suggests there was a tradition that Mary of Bethany, Mary sister of Lazarus, Mary who anointed Jesus’ feet with oil and wiped with her hair, and Mary of the resurrection were all the same.
Mary appears in other gospels. Here’s her story:
When she first met Jesus, she was so out of herself, she didn’t even remember it. Later they would tell her she had seven demons in her, all she really remembered was the darkness. We want to be careful conflating possession and mental illness, but in the first century they didn’t see a chemical problem; they saw a spiritual one. When you experienced deep depression, psychosis, and severe mania, no one knew what to make of you. You didn’t know what to make of yourself. You felt like something truly dark and evil had taken over your life. You weren’t in control of your thoughts, your words, or your actions. So who was? Most would answer: an evil spirit. If you heard voices telling you to harm yourself and others, showing you terrible things you didn’t want to see, you didn’t go to a doctor; you went to an exorcist.
Jesus came to her, sat with her, didn’t run away like everyone else when she hurled names and objects at him. He waited, he listened, he was present in the darkness and slowly one word started reaching her through all that had a strangle hold on her, calling her back, grounding her.
“Mary.”
Until she was finally ready to come out. So when she became a disciple, she was welcomed with open arms. They knew how hard her journey had been. There was just one problem. Peter was the first to say what the others were thinking.
“Jesus, we have too many Marys as it is. I don’t think we can handle one more. We have Mary from Bethany. Your Mom. James’ Mom. Clopas’ wife. It won’t do. Before this Mary can join, she needs a new name.”
Jesus loved giving his disciples nicknames. He was good at it too. He always managed to pick one that summed up both the person’s outward appearance and their personality. So, steady dependable Simon (who was built like a brick) was named ‘Peter’, ‘the Rock’ or Rocky. He named Thomas, ‘Didymus,’ which meant ‘twin.’ Yes, Thomas was an identical twin but he also had twin natures that pushed and pulled at him. Sometimes he was brash and impetuous, other times, cautious and calculating. He named James and John, blessed with their dad’s booming voices (and quick temper) the ‘sons of thunder.’ And there is one he named Beloved, and while we don’t know which disciple it was, today I think it was Lazarus–who the disciples spoke of as “the one whom you love” and Jesus brought back to live.
Jesus was great at nicknames.
He studied her for a moment. The most striking thing about her, the thing that everyone seemed to notice, was that she was tall. Not just for a woman. She was taller than most of the guys.
Jesus smiled, “You are now called Magdalene.” It was the feminine form of the Aramaic word for ‘tower.’ So, toweress or “Lady Tower” if you want to be weird about it.
Mary wasn’t a fan. She had always been self conscious about her height. But that didn’t matter. From then on the disciples only called her Magdalene. After a while, Magdalene got so used to it that she didn’t lift her head with the other women whenever someone said, “Mary.”
If she was honest, Magdalene didn’t get the nickname. Yes, she was tall. But her similarity with towers ended there. What was the deeper meaning? She wasn’t some spiritual fortress who protected everyone. She wasn’t some beacon that everyone looked up to. She felt like the most vulnerable and the least exemplary of all the disciples. Magdalene was a liability.
People in ancient times knew what people today know: demons have a habit of coming back.21 The spiritual struggle was a lifelong struggle. There were times when Magdalene could feel the darkness creeping back in. She would hear faint whispers of those old voices. She would have a flash of a dark vision. Feelings of hatred and self loathing would try to get a foothold. And in those moments, she would go to Jesus.
She would say “Rabbouni,” term of endearment than the standard ‘Rabbi,’ More like ‘My Teacher.’ Or if you remember the poem, but most the Robin Williams movie, “O Captain, my Captain.”
In those moments, he always called her ‘Mary.’ Something about hearing him say her name always grounded her. Then he would listen patiently and pray with her. Then she would be ready to face the world again–the world that called her ‘Magdalene.’ The Tower.
What Magdalene wouldn’t give to hear his voice this morning.
These last two days, she could feel the darkness creeping back in and no one could help her.
Two days earlier, she had watched him breathe his last from the cross beam after several hours of struggle. She had seen them take the body down just before the Sabbath. She had seen it taken to a nearby garden and placed in a tomb. She’d seen the soldiers seal the tomb with a large stone.
And from the moment the sun had set that day was the Sabbath, and the disciples tried to rest, as much as you can rest in grief and fear. Maybe someone had been able to put together what was needed for the Passover despite everything else happening around them. Perhaps not and this felt more like the Passover than ever, like the Hebrew slaves hiding in their homes with chaos swirling outside their doors.
Magdalene didn’t need to go to the tomb this morning–Joseph of Aramithia and Nicodemus had already cleaned and anointed Jesus’ body with spices and oils, wrapped him in cloth from head to toe. But Magdalene needed to go to the tomb this morning. Maybe being close to his body would, even sitting at his grave, might calm her some.
But when she got to the tomb, the stone had been moved, and through tears and confusion, she saw no body in the tomb.
Magdalene ran back to where everyone had gathered for the Sabbath, the sky was turning from dark to lighter.
She told them what she saw and didn’t see.
Was it doubt or confusion or hope that lead The Rock and the Beloved Disciple to run to the tomb we’ll never know. Was it a desire to be there first or prove they cared more or who was the better disciple that turned the morning job into a foot race, we may never know. The Beloved Disciple, let’s say Lazarus, got there first, saw what Magdalene saw–the stone rolled away, the tomb empty, and he went no further but looked inside and saw the linen wrappings. He had a flash, the moment of panic when he woke up wrapped up from head to toe, immobilized, in his own stone tomb. Simon called The Rock finally caught up and charged right in–as he is known to do–and saw that the clothes were rolled up neatly, like someone had taken their time. The Beloved, Lazarus, was knocked from his memory and followed Simon called the Rock inside.
And they believed something. Maybe they believed someone had taken Jesus. Maybe it was hope in resurrection, remembering Lazarus’ return to life.
They went back, slower, talking about the possibilities.
Little by little, resurrection was being revealed to them. Each one, Magdalene, the Rock, The Beloved was able to go as far as they could on their own: to the tomb to see the stone rolled away, to the entrance to see the cloths, inside to see them rolled up in a corner. And each was able to take one more step because of the each other. The Beloved and The Rock when to the tomb because Magdalene went first, The Rock went inside because the Beloved as at the door, and the Beloved when inside because The Rock had stepped in first. And Magdalene could look closer because The Rock and The Beloved had taken that step inside. She was able to stay because they had affirmed she wasn’t going mad! Each revealing a bit more of the resurrection to each other until Magdalene, not satisfied with possibilities, she wanted answers.
She looked back into the tomb. She wasn’t really sure what she was expecting to see. Maybe she wanted to confirm one more time that she hadn’t made the whole thing up. This time when she looked inside the tomb, she saw two young men dressed in white. Not wool. Pure white. Bright as a flash of lightning. Their eyes burned with intensity. Their skin almost seemed to glow. Great. Now she was seeing things.
They spoke in one voice. A voice that seemed to come from them, from beyond them, from all around. “Woman, why are you weeping?”
To no one in particular, to what she thought was a visual delusion to the whole garden, Magdalene said. “Someone has taken him and I don’t know where they put him…”
She heard someone behind her, she turned and saw a man. She was so distraught she couldn’t think or see straight. Who was it? Was it the gardener?
The man asked the same question. “Woman, why are you weeping? Who are you looking for?”
Were they mocking her? Were they all in on it? Who were these people? Magdalene couldn’t look the man in the face. Her eyes darted around as she said, “Sir, If you’ve put him somewhere, just tell me where and I’ll put him back myself. I won’t tell anyone, I promise, just tell me…”
“Mary.”
The voice cut through all the darkness in her heart as it had so many times. It grounded her.
“Mary.”
She looked up. “Rabouni!”
She was about to hug him but he stopped her. “Don’t touch me. I’ve not yet ascended to my father.”
Magdalene had no idea what that meant but she was just happy to be hearing Jesus talk cryptic nonsense again.
“Mary,” Jesus said, “I have an important message for you. You must go to the others and tell them, ‘I am ascending to my father and your father, to my God and your God!’”
“They’ll know what that means?”
Jesus just laughed. God, she’d missed that laugh. Magdalene did as she was told.
She realized she couldn’t cling to Jesus’ moment of resurrection, she couldn’t stay in the graveyard and weep, nor could she stay by the empty tomb. There was work yet to be done. There were stories yet to be told. There was life anew, not just life returned.
She ran out of the garden, down the dusty road to where the disciples were staying. As she ran that morning, she was the only person in the whole world who knew the good news. She was the whole church!
When she arrived, the disciples were sitting around discussing what might have happened to Jesus’ body. Magdalene burst into the room, looking for the words to say. There was joy written all over her face.
“What?” asked Peter.
They looked up at Magdalene. She straightened up.
In that moment, she towered above them like a beacon of light. She spoke with unshakable confidence.
“I have seen the Lord!”
(Significant Portions were pulled from: https://substack.com/inbox/post/188902484#footnote-anchor-15-188902484)