Mary

Mary

Almost from the beginning there was something special about their bond. It was easy to understand – the gratitude of the captive set free. The problem with liberty – with real freedom – is that the captive released has no bearings, no familiar constraints – and can quickly fall into the safety of deeper bondage. He said something about that – and so, with nothing better to do and nowhere better to be, she joined the band of women accompanying, beginning a friendship that deepened into the purest love she had ever known – He coming to trust her as much as she trusted Him.

She knew her way around men. She’d been forced to learn very young as a way to survive when she was first reduced to a commodity, commercialized. But there was, even then, for all that ways that she had been violated – something about her that was… unavailable – fully her, right at the center. That part was never touched. Nobody got in. She was good at being what was needed in the moment – more as a way of defense, of control, than anything else – but always a part of her standing at distance, watching, guarding, holding the hand of the little girl she could scarcely remember being.

They all knew her – knew who she was, where she had come from. In the early days, they all made it quite clear that she didn’t belong… But it was not long before they had to take their lead from Him – He would not tolerate anything but her being treated as a full and equal member of the community formed by following. And it wasn’t just her. His anger was fierce in defense of those who had no voice. It wasn’t something you wanted to feel more than once! So… they made an uneasy peace with her and the rest – which finally yielded into a tacit acceptance – and finally, toward the end, grudging gratitude that she was there.

As time went on, His relentless and unfailing kindness wore her down – just like it did everybody else. Or at least those who stayed close through the challenging and confusing things he said and did. Nobody was coerced – nobody forced – everyone free to go as they wished. Many did. But it was truer the longer she was with him – she had nothing better to do, and nowhere better to be. She was included, as were all the women, in the conversations – the men soon stopped with the sideways glances and they became learners and followers – disciples – together. She had something about her – a core inner strength, a fierce and free commitment – that made her a leader among them. He recognized it and celebrated it.

In the long days walking she would often find herself in His company – safe, known, loved for who she was without demand. They would share in the laughter of the loved, risking an intimacy shared with few others, teasing each other in the way good friends do. She was never quite sure when it happened – but that it happened she never doubted. One day she noticed that the protected, hidden little girl had come out to play – to laugh and dance with the delight of freedom from fear – not hiding – completely and utterly and fully herself. To risk being known by love.

Perhaps it was love that tuned her ear to the shift in the tone of His words. She recognized the dark shadows, having lived there for so long. She was not afraid of the shadows of death. But aware. Courage was required in this fearsome place. Perhaps that is why most of the men missed it – even though he said it over and over again. Perhaps that is why, when courage was most needed, they had none… Their faith in him shattered by the failure of the outcome they had imagined. She had faith, too – but that had bled out in the horror that was Friday. It was as though it was her life that had drainedd into the dust of Golgotha. Would that it were so. But still, she was drawn by love to the task of women for ever – to them was left the serving of their dead. The last act of love. And so, she was ready. Ready to finish what the crashing in of Sabbath had interrupted.

With the first rosey hint in the eastern sky, she led the way through familiar streets finally finding her way to the remembered place, forever seared into her heart. But nothing in all of her days in the darkness could have prepared her for what met her there. Gone! Empty! Racing back and forth – seeing but not seeing – uncertain as to what it all meant – gripped by an unspeakable horror. Finally, left alone there… She had nothing better to do, and nowhere better to be.

Finally, she stooped to look in… and her horror made more so by the gleaming light of emptiness… She would not be put off, not be intimidated, even by these men, glistening in light flooding out from them. Her voice demanded response, “Where have you put Him?” Their bemused response made no sense – but stirred something. Something deep in her little girl’s heart – something not quite real enough to grasp – something not solid enough to be called anything yet – much less… hope. Stumbling out of the tomb in the still dark dawning she almost bumped into Him. Eyes instinctively averted, she demanded response to his question – only recognizing in memory a familiar lilt in his voice – “Where have you put Him?”

And then, the earth stopped. And jolted to life again. The dawn broke the back of the night. Life sprung up in one word, spoken heart to heart, “Mary.” The laughter unmistakable. Nobody said her name like He did. She catapulted across the clearing launched by joy, flinging herself at feet still marked with the torture of the cross, clinging to them as if her life depended on it. Only to hear him trust her once again… “Go and tell!”

And so, she did. That’s what love, great love, the love of a friend, does. Not concerned with whether they believed her or not. She had heard His voice speak her name! Nothing more was needed. “Go and tell!”