This is reworked from a post I wrote about the life of Mary Magdalene.
Mary Magdalene is a key figure in the New Testament, but we know very little about her. Was she a widow, a mother, a sister, or a woman said to be possessed by demons? Over time, her story was changed, and she became just another nameless woman. Some wondered if she had loved a charismatic preacher? Or if she was a wealthy woman who traveled through Galilee on her own? People ask why she was not connected to a man. Others say she was a prostitute and sinner, her name linked to the painful history of the Magdalene Laundries in Ireland, places that punished so-called “fallen women.”
She anointed his feet with her hair scented with nard, knelt at the Cross, and was the first to witness the Resurrection. She was a teacher, a leader, a follower, a sinner, a prostitute, and maybe the one who loved Jesus most.
Some scholars believe that there was a special love between them and that their conversations were intimate and private, marked by kisses on the mouth. Peter was jealous of her. The rock opera Jesus Christ Superstar turned her into the woman who sings: “I don’t know how to love him.”
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The role of women in the life and times of Jesus is complex and confusing. The Samaritan woman at the well has the longest conversation with him in the Bible. Martha is in the kitchen, forgetting to appreciate what is most important.
For years, I have listened to and understood the complaints that Christianity is a patriarchy. I have felt it too, but as an Episcopalian, I am reminded of the Philadelphia Eleven, those first courageous women ordained as priests on July 29, 1974. They stood up to the men because nowhere in the Gospels does Jesus say only men should be priests. I think of the women witnesses who promoted his ministry, whose lives are often overlooked in sermons. Jesus was a feminist, and it was men who followed him who failed to relinquish their power and authority to the women he loved.
The author in the Gospel of Mary was belittled because people believed that a woman could not have had conversations that the Twelve Apostles, all men, didn’t have with the man proclaiming to be the Son of God, let alone write her own gospel. Her leadership and authority are disputed by the men, an ancient discrimination that resonates with women today. I think of women whose stories, whether or not they inspire anger or jealousy, dare to write them.
She is often young and beautiful, but Mary Magdalene might have been an old woman when she encountered Christ. We hear nothing about her after the Risen Lord appears to her on Easter Sunday.
In so many ways, our stories are divinely inspired. They come on a whisper, a dream, a fleeting visit from the muse. They come from life-altering events we never foresaw.
She was smart. She was slandered. She was Virginia Woolf. She was Adrienne Rich. She was the woman who dared write while the famous male authors said she couldn’t, so why pretend?
When we eliminate guilt and shame, desire, and anger, we prepare to become “fully human,” according to the Gospel of Mary. This is the writer’s journey, the one that leads to redemption, the one that frees and heals.
To be “fully human” is to be divine. The “realm of God is among you,” she proclaims. This was heresy. This was revolutionary. These are the nameless, stereotyped women who gathered around the sacred Circle, lit the candle, and shut out the distractions of the outside world, putting their trust in each other and the power of their voice. This is Magdalene.
Happy Easter.
