“Now” she began, “I will tell you how Jesus died and why my husband was killed and by whose hand the Way was silenced. It was just after that first meal of commemoration. Jesus bid us all to come with him to Gethsemane for prayer and meditation. Upon arriving at the garden, Jesus left all but three of the apostles there at Mt. Olive, and the three he took with him and went on a little further. The hour was late and the wine had taken its toll on all the men. Everyone slept as we waited for Jesus, everyone but his mother and myself, and, of course, John who by that time was wakened from his alcoholic stupor.
“It seemed like a very long time before Jesus returned to us. Then as he stepped into our midst he said, ‘The hour has come’ and we heard the Roman guards approaching and saw Judas there in front of them. We all knew what Jesus had foretold to John that the traitor would kiss him as a sign. Judas walked to the Master and kissed him calling him Rabbi. And then he left hurriedly. He was afraid that some of the disciples and the other students of Jesus would confront him for his act of betrayal, or that perhaps the Master himself would rashly strike out at him. At least that’s what I thought, because Peter had already armed himself. This was not like Peter. No one among us carried much more than a small knife blade for utility purposes, certainly not an offensive weapon. But everyone was afraid now, for the Jews had been conspiring for some time among themselves about Jesus and his band of disciples. I couldn’t really blame Peter for holding his sword.
“As the head of the soldiers approached Jesus, the Master asked, ‘Are you looking for me?’ And the soldier replied, ‘Are you Jesus of Nazareth? If so, then it is for you that we have come.’
“Now the group of eleven or twelve soldiers carried heavy arms, and it was dark so three of them held torches to light their way. Peter, sure that Jesus would be taken and that they would perhaps all be called before the governor and suffer the consequences of Roman law, drew his sword and struck out at the first centurion. The man’s ear fell to the ground a ways off, and he barely was aware of what happened it was so fast, until the blood was felt as it came to his shoulder. In the darkness, the others could not see the injury that Peter had subjected the man to and for a minute or two, no one seemed to move. Then, Jesus, almost angrily spoke to Peter, ‘Go, get that man’s ear and bring it here to me with your own hands.’ Peter was shocked, I think. He did as he was told. But now the others had brought the light closer to the place where the piece of the man’s ear had been thrown. And Peter could see the blood both on the man and on the ear as he picked it up. He was ghost white and in a minute he had handed the thing to Jesus and then turned to run for the hedge of the garden. Peter vomited for a long time. The wine had not helped, and the humiliation must have been very great, for now the soldiers laughed and jeered and the disciples themselves, while they could not understand the actions of Jesus, were cruel in their response to Peter’s weak stomach.
“Jesus, holding the man’s ear to his head, said, ‘I am indeed, Jesus of Nazareth.’ Right then the ear mended itself and the man tugged at it and felt no pain. He answered Jesus. ‘You are indeed. And you are one beyond understanding. It is no wonder that the Jews fear you so that they have called upon Pilate to question you. This is an act that no other man has done. The governor awaits your presence, and I will lead you.’ Jesus answered, ‘I am accused of being a king, let me then walk as I am called. I will lead you and we will arrive at the governor’s palace without further incident.’
“They walked away, Jesus at the lead. And the centurions could not understand what had happened or the reasons for this man’s behavior. The apostles scattered, but remained in pairs. They always did. Peter went in pursuit of Jesus, but he kept himself crouched even as he walked. He could not bear to have another confrontation with the soldiers. They would have been angry despite the Master’s healing actions. Jesus’ mother calmly said that she would return to the room where we had had supper and wait. I could not be so calm. I followed also, but a mere woman would not be noticed as easily as the disciple who was violent, so I could follow more closely. But, being a woman, I could only go so far. I did not need to be recognized by one of the men I knew from the temple at Magdala. I shook inside because I too was frightened by all the events of the evening and, of course, of what would happen should I be discovered. There was a sort of storage house near the palace, and I found cover within its porch and there fell asleep on the wooden steps. I prayed that morning would bring news of Jesus’ release, but I knew that my prayers would not be heard, for he had told me himself that his death was imminent.
“Andrew shook and woke me. I had not slept long. It was not yet midnight. He pleaded with me to enter the courtyard of the governor’s mansion. He knew that my former position within Roman society would enable me to pass the guards with little effort. I knew the grounds, and I knew the men. I could do what Andrew asked but only at the risk of having someone realize that I was no longer Magdala High Priestess of the temple but the bride of the captive Jesus.
“There was a resentment building in me as I agreed to the apostle’s request. How could these men ask me the person they had so rebuked for so long to use the very things that they reputed to despise in order to do their bidding? How could they love Jesus and support and follow him one minute and then put my life in danger to protect their own skins? They were sending me into peril and, by their absence, denying the man that they called Master. I could not understand. Yet, I knew Andrew was concerned or he would not have asked me, and I myself was anxious beyond belief. I needed to know what was happening.
“I arranged my clothes and my hair; the night had taken its toll. But now it was important that if I were recognized, it would be as Magdala, the Priestess to the Great Mother and Sacred Lover to the Roman guard, and not as Mary, the bride of Jesus.
“Coming into the courtyard was easier than I had thought. The guards only laughed at my presence, wondering who in the court had summoned me. I passed them shaking inside but smiling for their benefit and my own protection. It was easy to find a place where I could lean against the wall with my face turned downward and simply listen. I had learned long before that listening at court proved most informative. Secrets are not the forte of the Romans. They like very much to brag about their conquests, no matter how large or small, and they talked a great deal among themselves about strategy and plans for political advancement and monetary gain.
“There were three soldiers not ten feet away, three that I recognized from the incident in the garden, when they had taken Jesus away. They were talking about their commander and how he had lost his ear only to have this man Jesus heal it. I wanted to laugh out loud when one told the other that the commander was still shaking when he came before Pilate to present Jesus. And how he had pleaded with the governor to let Jesus go before he pulled the walls down or dropped them both to their own demise of demonic possession or perhaps leprosy. But I could not afford to laugh and have them realize that I was listening. I wanted to hear more. I prayed that they would speak more of where Jesus was at that moment and of what the governor had said.
“One told the other that the governor had called for witnesses, and that none had been there. The Pharisees had promised Pilate that they would produce such witnesses before the morning, and Jesus was being held until such time that those witnesses could be brought before Pilate. That meant that for the moment Jesus was safe and a feeling of relief took over within me.
“I knew Pilate; he had come to me and summoned me to him many times. He was a small man, in more ways than one.” Magdalen laughed and the women giggled at her attempt to interject humor into such a dramatic tale.
“There was not a decision making bone in that man’s body. He was ever at the mercy of the consort.” Magdalen continued once more very somber.
“They made all the decisions for him really. He simply signed his edicts and collected his Roman coin. If Caesar knew of Pilate’s inability, then Caesar had no use for Jerusalem. And if Caesar did not know, then soon the consort would see to it and Pilate would find his end, for he was no governor. Realizing all this, I realized something else. At this very minute, Pilate was more than likely seeking counsel as to what he should do with Jesus, and who should be pleased in this matter - the law of Rome or the Jewish Sanhedrin.
“That thought prompted me to move into the court itself. If I was careful, I could seat myself with some of the other women and not be noticed for more than one of the deaf and dumb of the women’s quarter. Those poor women had their tongues cut out and their eardrums pierced to keep them from telling government secrets or hearing of Roman plans of war. That custom is one that the Romans had brought from Egypt and this was the first time that I felt it had any value to anyone, but I thought it could serve me well for the moment. And it did. I slipped in and sat with four other women whom I knew could not speak in order to ask me why I was there, and who further would not give my presence away by any gesture.
“I was right about the governor’s need for counsel. Pilate had the commander and his chief counsel, Tobias, in front of him. Also there were two Pharisees, Annas and Caiphas, who were still making promises of being able to produce witnesses shortly. According to them, some of their scribes had already been sent to obtain the presence of those witnesses. Pilate was playing dumb, like a fox. He asked over and over again what Jesus was to be accused of within the Roman court. There is a decree from Caesar that prevents Roman law and government from interfering with or adhering to the law of the Jewish people. The Jews are granted the right to practice the law of their religion without interference in return for their tax money and support of Caesar by the Sanhedrin.
“It was obvious to both of the men that there was nothing of which Jesus could be accused under Roman law. The crimes that they claimed against him were crimes only under Jewish law, and even these could not be proved, I knew that. There was talk of Jesus having been born a bastard, a child of Satan himself. But what that had to do with Roman law, I could not understand. Pilate seemed to disregard it too, at first, until the commander spoke up. He was still certainly frightened. And he believed that if Jesus were a bastard, then that would explain his power. He was under the influence of some demon or some God who could be of service or of detriment to the Roman emperor and to Pilate himself. Now the commander knew as well as I how to get to Pilate. Simply tell him that someone else’s power could be of service to him either financially or politically. For a moment Pilate was certainly considering that perhaps Jesus was of more use to him than the Sanhedrin. All of the accusations of blasphemy Pilate had to release as mere religious upheaval, and since it had not caused riot or uprising against the empire it was of no consequence in a Roman court.
“It was about that time that the witnesses came in. There were at least ten or fifteen men, but only three spoke. I recognized them from the temple and the synagogue at Nazareth. They were there in Jerusalem, like us, for the feast day. They testified before Pilate that Jesus had healed on the Sabbath and that he had brought leavened bread and eaten it in the temple, in the very presence of God and their ancestors. Pilate scoffed at that. What difference did all this make to the empire? And further, if a man heals, can this be called blasphemy to any God? Is it not God’s way and place to heal? Certainly, the Roman Gods would find this a good work, and he questioned the validity of their thoughts in regard to their divine and ancestral beliefs. For the first time, Pilate was right about something, without any coaxing.
“This went on for an hour or more. Conversation, accusation, and more conversation. Then Pilate asked if anyone would testify for Jesus, and I had all that I could do to keep silent. If I spoke, they would recognize me, and my testimony would mean nothing. If I kept silent, I might learn something more of what was to be done with Jesus. I wondered where Peter and Andrew were by then. My feelings of resentment were renewed. And my thoughts must have been heard, because someone said that even now his disciples were hiding, and that one had been found who had been in the garden. But that one, Peter, had denied that he even knew Jesus. He had denied, the commander said, three times over, three times to three different soldiers. And I remembered that Jesus had predicted that Peter would deny him three times before the cock crowed; poor Peter was probably hiding from shame. He loved the Master more than most, but he was human and certainly as frightened as I, especially after he had done such damage to one of the members of the emperor’s army.
“There were a few disciples who did come forth and two that spoke in Jesus’ behalf. They spoke of the fact that Jesus had been present during the work of God on the Sabbath, but that always he had said that it was by the act of God and not by his own power that these things were done. And that none had he touched on the Sabbath. Pilate scoffed again. This was as of little consequence as was the accusation. It still had nothing to do with Roman law. Then they testified that Jesus was not a bastard, but that his father was Joseph and that they could, if the governor desired, summon this man from afar, for he was working away from home as he always did. The Jews could not deny Jesus’ parent’s marriage, for it had been arranged and recorded in the temple at Magdala. This ended any conversation regarding Jesus’ danger to the public interest as one possessed or one that, being a bastard, would be of poor influence to the Roman community. Pilate was yet stymied. He called Jesus before him. I held my breath.
“Shortly, two centurions brought Jesus in. He looked tired now, but he was still regal in his gait. His hands were tied with leather thongs and held in front of him and he was dirty from the jail, but he stood like a king there in silence.
“It was harder than ever to remember that silence was my cover and the only way that I could stay this close to him and to the situation. Pilate spoke to Jesus. ‘Your own people bring you before me. What do you have to say?’ And Jesus questioned the governor, ‘Of what am I accused?’
“Pilate stated that he was accused of blasphemy and that he was said to be possessed by the devil and that his mother had no husband and his very life was the result of fornication. He said that these things were not the problem of the state, but that the Sanhedrin had one last accusation that had insulted the empire. Pilate asked, ‘Have you said that you are the King of the Jews? Do you question the authority of Caesar? Have you any idea that treason could be involved here and that treason would result in death?’
“Jesus stated simply, ‘Caesar is the emperor of Rome.’ Pilate asked him then, ‘Are you the King of the Jews?’ And Jesus responded, ‘I am who you say I am.’ Pilate was not satisfied. He asked again, ‘Do you say that you are the King of the Jews?’ And Jesus answered again, ‘Who do you say that I am?’
“Then Pilate’s wife entered the room and went to her husband, whispering in his ear. I could not hear, but immediately after that Pilate ended the interview. He said, ‘Take him out and have him scourged. Then hold him, tomorrow is a new day, and in the light of the sun the Jews will prefer this gentle, and perhaps simple man, to the terror of Barabas. It is their feast. It is their favor. And it will then be their choice. Even the Sanhedrin cannot be so stubborn as to prefer murderers to prophets, holy men, or the insane.’
“And then Jesus was led away into the courtyard. It was easy within a few minutes to move back to where I had been. By this time it was coming dawn, and I was grateful for the increased movement of servants and slaves, which gave me more obscurity in the daylight.
“Jesus was bound to the whipping post, stripped naked and flogged until he was near unconscious. He was bleeding badly and weakened by the pain and the weariness of the whole night. He fell to the ground, unable to get up. The soldiers jeered, Rome is known for training its men to enjoy the shedding of blood and the pain of others.
“I cried silently. There was nothing that I, or anyone, could do here in the court of the governor. I could only watch and keep praying that Pilate would be right and that when morning came they would release Jesus. Then he could heal himself and have time for rest and surely find a way to put an end to all of this and to the people who were at fault. But I was remembering also, Jesus’ own prediction that he would die.
“A soldier, one who had been in the garden, threw his own cloak over Jesus, and led him back to the jail to be held until Pilate called him before the people.”
“It must have been awful for you Magdalen,” Carmel’s heart went out to the storyteller. “To watch such pain in the one you loved so much and to be so helpless.” There were tears running down Carmel’s young face.
“Do not weep for me, Carmel, but for the guilt that Jesus’ murderers carry with them now and for the way the world has lost its finest teacher.”
Magdalen didn’t want to lose her own composer and Carmel’s tears made her feel quite close to crying. She went on with her story in a softer voice.
“It is the custom that a Jewish prisoner is set free by the Romans at Passover. Ordinarily the governor, from a list given and recommended to him by the Sanhedrin, selects that prisoner. This edict came down from the emperor as a sign of respect for the Jews, and of course to create good relations politically with Jewish leaders.
“Pilate had a plan to rid himself of this whole thing. For some reason, some reason much deeper than what I knew, Pilate wanted to take no responsibility for the sentencing of Jesus. The Pharisees had pleaded for crucifixion, but Pilate had ignored their request. He had offered to hold Jesus until after the holiday and the Sabbath, when the Jews could lawfully deal with this matter themselves. It is as unlawful to punish crime on the Sabbath, as it is to commit it - another law I never grew to understand.”
Magdalen shook her head is disbelief.
“But the Pharisees refused Pilate’s offer. They did not want the responsibility for this thing either. It seemed as if everyone was afraid of someone. Pilate was afraid of the emperor, perhaps, but more of the Jews. The Jews were probably afraid of Jesus’ power should he continue, but afraid of their God, too.
“Pilate’s plan meant that the Jews would have to take responsibility for their own actions. He planned to present to them, as the choice of prisoners, Jesus and one named Barabas. Barabas was a killer, a madman, whose crimes had gone long unpunished and who was now awaiting crucifixion at the hands of Rome. The Jews had disowned the man, not wanting to put him to death themselves, but realizing that he certainly deserved the sentence. They had turned him over to Rome for sentencing under Roman law. Barabas would serve more as an example, not only to the Jewish people but also to all of Jerusalem, of the consequences of violent behavior against either and both societies. The pact had served to put them further in favor with the emperor and it was a decision that had been respected by almost everyone. Now they would have to take not only their own feelings of insecurity into consideration, but they would have to insult the emperor by changing their minds as well. If Barabas were their choice for release, certainly Rome would have something to say. If Barabas were crucified, and Jesus set forth, then Pilate would end the matter with no repercussions from either Rome or the Sanhedrin. The politics of the empire are always the foremost concern.”
Magdalen paused with her personal observation.
“You are right, Magdalen.” Polaris agreed. “Men make laws, break laws and bargain for the law. Rome is a place where men live in fear of what they have created and the injustice of their own actions.”
Now Polaris caught herself in her need to comment on the politics she so abhorred and covered her mouth for a moment.
“Please, dear, do finish your story. I did not mean to interrupt with my judgments.”
Magdalen went on with her tale.
“The sun finally began to show brightly and the day warmed to an arid dryness. It always did by noon, but it was hotter than usual. There was no wind to cool you, and the crowd began to gather beneath the balcony of the palace. There were over a hundred people there before Pilate appeared. This was a holiday celebration, and everyone was eager to cheer the prisoner who would be given a second chance. Many though, did not know of Jesus at all. They all knew of Barabas. No one was aware of Pilate’s plan and there was a great deal of shock when the centurions brought out both men. Pilate reminded them of the charges. First against Barabas, that took as much as ten minutes just to list. Then he turned his hand toward Jesus, and stated but one charge. ‘This man is being accused of calling himself your king. Whom do you choose to be set free?’ And he stated their names again. It was unbelievable; they called for Barabas.
“Pilate was as shocked as I was. There was no reason for this except that the crowd, unknowing of all the facts, had made the assumption that Jesus must be a worse criminal and threat to society than Barabas merely by the fact that Barabas, an infamous killer and thief, should even be compared with him. Pilate’s short statement was being taken, not as a charge of blasphemy, but as a charge of authority. They thought he was belittling Jesus’ crime with sarcasm and that Jesus surely was some unknown thief and murderous villain who had undermined Roman and Jewish authority. Calling himself king meant to them that he had put himself beyond authority or punishment, and surely they felt Jesus must be put to know the authority of the law. Barabas had been imprisoned a long time, and he was already aware of Roman law and Jewish tradition, besides they would catch Barabas again. Obviously, to them, Jesus had been escaping capture, that was why Pilate had referred to him as a king. They called for Barabas again, and Pilate fell to his chair.
“The thief was released to the crowd. Jesus stood there still tied and still wearing the cloak of the Roman centurion and nothing more. His body was torn from the whipping and still bleeding, although not as profusely. Somehow, he looked leaner than I had ever known him to be. He was drawn with fatigue and pain and there was little if any color left in his cheeks, usually so tanned by the sun.
“Pilate called out to the Jews, ‘What shall I do then with Jesus?’ And shouts rang out for crucifixion.
“Pilate’s wife appeared behind him on the balcony. She whispered again in his ear and then stood back, as if she were waiting for a response from her husband. Now this is not the way of things in the Roman court. Women have no public part in politics, and certainly not in the politics of Jewish holiday and law. Pilate called for water with which to wash. A basin was brought, and as a servant poured water over his hands, Pilate rang them together as if terribly distraught. He called out loudly and more firmly than I knew him to speak about anything before, ‘I have no part in this; let it be on your hands. I am the governor. Crucify him, but the soul of your God hangs with him. It is your doing.’
“And Pilate’s wife began screaming. She went mad. She pulled at her hair and pulled at Pilate’s hair, and at his throat, and screamed again. You really could not understand her. She was absolutely stark raving mad, and was hysterical in her cries. The soldiers subdued her and took her out, away from the balcony and the crowds beneath it.
“The centurions led Jesus down into the courtyard. Much of the crowd had dispersed except for a few soldiers, some Pharisees who stayed to be sure that the sentence was carried out, and some disciples who hid along the walls fearing that they too would suffer the fate of Golgotha.
“You know that crucifixion is not uncommon a punishment under Roman law and Golgotha holds six tall poles upon which these men are hung every day. They are raised on cross bars that hold their arms outright to the top of the permanent poles, and there left to rot and show any other proposed criminal the result of Roman authority. The cross bars and the carcasses of these men are removed only when the poles are required again for another execution. The centurions were now holding Jesus in the courtyard awaiting the arrival of two more criminals who were to be executed that day and for the carpenter who supplied them with the cross bars for each prisoner.
“While they waited they made a sign with wood in which was carved, the King of the Jews. Pilate had ordered this as a reminder to the community of Jerusalem that this was not by Roman law but by Jewish request. And he had it carved in three languages so no one would misunderstand or be confused in his meaning. While two men set to this task, two others held Jesus. One, jeering in the usual way of Roman cruelty, pulled from the hedge a branch of thorns and encircled Jesus’ head with it. The second soldier did the same and each repeated the process several times until Jesus’ hair, scalp, and forehead were filled with the nasty briars and the blood that resulted. They hailed him in mocking. ‘Behold the King,’ and struck him on the head and about the forehead until the thorns had embedded themselves quite securely into his flesh. I could see his right eye fill with blood and realized that the length of one of those thorns had pierced it.
“The cart arrived carrying both the criminals to be crucified and the trees on which they were to be hung. One of the centurions pulled a pole from the cart and raised it upon the shoulder of Jesus. ‘Let him carry the thing. Better he be tired going to hell, than the horse be tired going to market.’ And they forced him then to carry the cross bar the mile or more to Golgotha.
“It was a slow procession, getting through the holiday crowds and stopping to eliminate the jeers of children and lepers and criminal sorts of the street. Women cried that knew him, and disciples sobbed unable to do anything to save him in the face of the Roman soldiers. His mother walked along side of him, as close as she dared, and cried not one tear. I walked behind her, wanting desperately to offer comfort, but unable to control my own sorrow and fear.
“My tears flowed quite openly and Jesus fell. They raised him to his feet and pushed him along. He fell again and was offered water by one of the women that lined the road. The soldiers pushed away the cup and offered him a rag tied to the end of a sword, and the rag had been dipped in gall. They brought him to his feet and the procession continued. When he fell for the third time I thought that they had already killed him.
‘I cannot see,’ he said. ‘The thorn has blinded me.’ And they mocked him. ‘Heal your blindness and move on.’ One soldier shouted as he kicked him forward.
I thought that it would be more than I could bear. My fingernails had pierced my own hands and the anguish and fear caused me to shake on the inside.”
Magdalen was shaking now on the outside as she told the story.
“Perhaps this story is too much for you.” Polaris put her arm around the shaking woman. “We have all had too much violence this day.”
“No” Magdalen said. “It is a story that you should hear and one that may renew my grief only to relieve me of it. It is a catharsis that I am sharing with you as well as a lesson.”
Polaris tightened her arm around Magdalen’s shoulders. “If it will help you and we are of service, then please continue.”
Magdalen smiled briefly at the older woman whose comfort was welcomed.
“Thank you, my friend, for understanding.
“I walked near to my mother-in-law and John was near to Mother Mary too, and I could hear him cry out loud. Just a boy yet, I thought he would become hysterical if someone did not talk with him. I tried, but he rejected my effort at consolation. I could not try very hard, though, or I too would go as crazy as Pilate’s wife.
“We arrived at Golgotha and there was no longer a crowd. They had left for other celebrations. There was some interest in crucifixion at times, even among the Jews, but this day there were only the few who had gathered in the courtyard when the procession began. I had never seen a crucifixion myself. The first centurion, the one from the garden, was giving the orders. He had the two thieves hung first. Each was tied to the tree that was his by the wrists, and then raised by a pulley system to the top of the pole. Then his feet were tied together, but not secured to the pole. This put all the weight of each man upon himself. It is a tortuous death in which the air is forced from the lungs that cannot expand under the pressure of the body’s weight against them. In reality, crucifixion is a slow and painful method of suffocation like the hanging we saw today.”
Magdalen’s eyes were filling with tears as she went on.
“When both men had been lifted up, the centurion came to Jesus. The centurion said to him, ‘Have you no friends, sir? Where are those who would have fought with me when I arrested you? Where has the power gone that returned my ear? Why have you let this happen, and why must I be the one?’
“Jesus had fallen to the ground again and he looked up at the centurion and answered him softly, ‘Do what you must, my power is within.’ And the soldier knelt and tied securely Jesus’ hands to each side of the tree.
“One of the Pharisees cried out, ‘He claimed to have the power of God. Perhaps he will get free from your ties.’ And another soldier took from the cart wooden stakes, and he drove one of them through each of Jesus’ hands into the tree. ‘He will not free himself from this authority,’ and Jesus gave out with a cry that went to my heart.
“I cried out myself as the second stake entered his hand, and I begged the centurion for his mercy. I was ignored and Jesus was raised as the others into position. They then fastened his feet together with leather thongs and the soldier again drove his stakes into Jesus. This time he fastened his feet, each one of them, to the tree. And Jesus braced himself there, knees bent, holding his weight against the tree. I could not believe that he had the strength for this, and I began to pray that he would release himself, so that this thing might not go on much longer.
“My husband called to me then, ‘I cannot see you my sweet Magdala or my mother. Come closer,’ and we moved up to the foot of the pole. The pain within me was indescribable as it is now. His body, once so strong and filled with life and love, hung now, naked and bloody, in a weak and lifeless heap upon that pole. Yet he breathed, and even spoke occasionally. He did not cry out in pain, and I felt that he could no longer feel anything at all. Some said that he had worked some sort of magic that had relieved him. Some said he was only waiting for the right moment, and that he would come down and punish those that had raised him up. Mother Mary was quiet as she held John in her arms. She had fallen to the ground with him and sat there with what seemed no regard for the presence of anyone else. I cried until I thought my own breath would stop. Some of the people left. The Pharisees posted two of their own men to stay until the end. The disciples walked off, saying that they could not bear it any longer. Peter had tried to take us away, but we sent him ahead without us. It took a long time for the thieves to die, almost three hours. And in the end, one spoke to Jesus. Jesus spoke back to him, and then the thief died. Only Jesus was left, and still he breathed. The soldiers were shocked, but they continued their vigil.
“It is the custom that after a man is proclaimed dead by the guard, that he be driven through, so there can be no mistake that he is dead and so that other criminals can’t contrive an escape for him through a deception. So both thieves were established dead and then the first centurion, whose job it was, drove his sword through their hearts. Now as he did this, Jesus called out. ‘Where is my divinity? I can do no more!’ And he died. And I begged the centurion to pierce my husband’s heart also, so that if he suffered any longer it would end. But the centurion said that it had been Pilate’s order that he should not be killed, but by the order of the Jews, and that he was not to pierce Jesus. I cried out loudly and another soldier did as I asked. He said, ‘Pilate need not know that I took mercy on this woman, and the man is dead anyway. He’s not going anywhere. And I have killed no one.’ Then they broke the legs of both thieves, another precaution. But Jesus they did not touch again.
“As all this was happening the earth began to tremor and the sky went black. There was a total eclipse of the sun, and an earthquake that made all look upward begging the heavens for mercy. The first centurion began to cry out. ‘What has been done here? What evil have we called down upon ourselves?’
“And the soldiers all rushed from the place. John and Mother Mary were taken by Simon, a family friend who had watched at a distance, to his house to stay until things had quieted. I refused Simon’s hospitality. I needed to be alone and in my own place. And it was to my own home that I went, which I had left over two and a half years before. There were rumors in the street that the temple had fallen, the veil torn, and all manner of things that were miraculous and evil. But I ignored all these sayings, for if Jesus had meant to punish or rebuke, he certainly would have done it before his death, not after it. I only wanted to get home.
“When I arrived, the two servants I had left to manage my affairs greeted me with excuses. My home had been ravaged. A great number of my beautiful things were gone, and these unfaithful ones were filled with surprise at my arrival. They tried to persuade me to forgiveness with embraces and pleading, but I pushed them off. It mattered, but it didn’t matter. I poured and drank several glasses of wine, cried until I slept once again in my own bed. My mind filled with feelings of frustration and sorrow, as well as grief and loneliness.
“Tonight, I will take to my dreams those feelings once again. I have told you this story tonight for a reason. I want you to understand the grief of injustice and the pain of others. I want you to know how easily fear can create within us demons of our own. Today many were possessed by the demons of fear, of guilt and of blame. Many were possessed by the demons of arrogance, power and control over others. Tonight, many on this ship, even some of you, will sleep as I slept that fateful night – with a shattered heart and despair.”
Magdalen wept openly as she ended her story. The women’s eyes were filled with tears too. They felt the pain in Magdalen’s heart, and they knew that part of the Way would be learning and using some new form of justice within their community. They all hoped that Magdalen would teach them how to do that, but not tonight. Tonight they would comfort her and ask fewer questions than usual.
“Magdalen, you should rest now.” Said Polaris. “This story has drained you and you are living again the pain of the past.”
“No” Magdalen retorted, “I am living the pain of the moment, for this day has proved to me once again that the world must walk a New Way. We must lead the Way of the Master and bring Love to the hearts of those who are possessed by their demons. But, yes, Polaris, I will rest, for soon our work will begin in earnest.”
Everyone retired and Magdalen wept until sleep came.Copyright, Loveline Productions 2003, All Rights Reserved
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