The Galilean Secret: A Novel (28 page)

Mary Magdalene took Judith’s face in her hands. “Jesus can show you the way to healing. He pointed me to the source of harmony, which is God. I was attracted to Jesus’ body, but he cared too much for my soul to become intimate with me. He freed me from the illusions of desire and taught me that all that is physical passes.”

Judith looked puzzled. “Does this mean that Jesus doesn’t believe in sex or marriage?”

Mary Magdalene laughed and set about straightening the table. “Not at all. He believes that until we find harmony within, we cannot love unselfishly. We get attached to people and try to possess them. That is not real love; it’s a dreamlike state from which he wants to awaken us. By returning to our source in God, we see through the world’s deceptions and our own sinfulness. His teachings give me the hope of becoming fully human, as he is. This means that, as a woman, I must develop the male in me, as Jesus has developed the female in him.”

Mary Magdalene’s wisdom spoke to Judith like the voice of a trusted friend. Judith knew the wisdom had to be real because she saw its effect in Mary’s extraordinary power and poise. The voice in Judith’s heart seemed to be urging her to trust Mary with her darkest secret. “I haven’t told you my whole story,” she said, her heart pounding. “I believe that I may be pregnant with Dismas’ baby.” She swallowed hard, choking back tears. “I can’t raise a child with an outlaw like Dismas, but I also can’t expect Gabriel to take me back—and certainly not in this condition. Oh, Mary, what am I to do?”

Mary Magdalene held her until she quieted. “Think about what’s best for the baby. Maybe you’re underestimating the depth of Gabriel’s character.” Mary let her go and gave her a warm smile. “You must pray and struggle to trust. This is life’s greatest lesson, and no one learns it perfectly or all at once. We trust when we turn our problems and our future over to God—really turn them over. When we do this, we no longer worry about tomorrow, but focus on loving and being loved in the present. Then we let life happen as it will, and we can accept whatever it brings.”

“But I’m a pregnant woman with no man to support me.”

“You must learn from your past but keep looking to the future. To do this, you must trust the Lord and draw on your untapped strength. This is your greatest challenge; if you accept it, you will become a new woman. You can begin by going home and facing your parents. Once they know you are expecting, they will want to help their grandchild.”

Judith shook her head. “My father can be very hardhearted. He may even disown me.”

“If that happens, you can stay with me and my friends. We won’t let you or your child become destitute.”

Thankful for Mary Magdalene’s advice and merciful offer, Judith smiled warmly. She wanted to ask Mary to introduce her to Jesus, but before she could speak, she heard heavy footsteps and loud voices. “Is Judith of Jerusalem here?” a husky male voice asked. “Tell us where she is, or you will all be arrested.”

What’s going on?
Judith got up and ran to the window.

“Don’t jump!” Mary said. “It’s too high.”

“I must flee,” Judith said.

It was too late. Two Roman soldiers appeared at the top of the stairs, their bronze helmets and breastplates flashing in the morning light, their long swords drawn. “Which of you is Judith of Jerusalem?” their leader asked.

“I am,” she said, knowing she was trapped.

“Come with us,” the soldier said. “You’re under arrest for stealing from the Pharisee Nicodemus ben Gorion. A neighbor recognized you as the woman who broke into Nicodemus’ house with a man.”

Judith cried out in terror as the soldiers wrestled her down the stairs.

“You’re going to enjoy Pilate’s prison,” one of them said mockingly. “It’s full of Jews these days.”

She used her last measure of strength to wrench herself around. “Please help me, Mary. Tell my father what has happened. He’s my only hope!”

The soldiers pushed Judith toward the door. She could do nothing but obey.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

MARY MAGDALENE ENTERED THE COURTYARD OF THE ONE-STORY, FLAT-ROOFED HOUSE WITHOUT KNOCKING, HER LEGS WEAK, HER BODY DRENCHED IN SWEAT. Exhausted from running the two miles from Jerusalem to Bethany, she closed the door and paused to catch her breath. Her sweat dripped onto the dusty stone floor as the events of the morning came rushing back.

After the soldiers arrested Judith, Mary feared that Jesus or his friends would be next. She had instructed Joanna, Susanna and Salome to stay behind and continue to prepare for Passover; then she left for the home of Mary, Martha and Lazarus to warn of the danger.

But before she exited the gates of Jerusalem, she stopped at the marketplace in Jerusalem to search for Judith’s father. The second merchant she asked said that Nathan’s spice business was well-known and gave her directions. Mary had found the shop on a busy street behind the marketplace. Nathan’s craggy features revealed his anguish when she told him about Judith. “My daughter in a filthy Roman prison? I must tell Gabriel,” he said. “We must go to her!”

Nathan had rushed off, placing two assistants in charge of the bustling shop. As Mary turned to leave, she noticed an alabaster flask of sweetly scented nard on a stand by the counter. Though the lavish ointment cost nearly three hundred denarii, it seemed just the right gift for Jesus. She yearned to show him the extravagance of her love, but nothing purchased with money could fully capture the depth of her feelings. Only an impractical and wildly excessive gift could begin to express them. As harried as she was, she purchased the ointment and took it to Bethany, east of the Mount of Olives.

She stood in the doorway of the home that belonged to Mary and Martha and their brother Lazarus, and opened the small homespun bag that contained the alabaster flask. The advice she had given Judith about Gabriel and Dismas echoed in her mind. The words were unrehearsed, flowing from a place deep within her, and reflected a greater wisdom than her own. In Judith, she saw herself two years earlier—a woman on the run, facing a life either as a prostitute or as a beggar if her relatives had not saved her.

But no longer was she attached to outcomes or trying to control them. She was learning to accept whatever life gave her—the joys as well as the sorrows—and to find extraordinary richness in them. She closed the bag, wiped the sweat from her forehead and let her swirling emotions settle. Maybe Jesus really is the Messiah, she thought.

She couldn’t stop him from putting himself in harm’s way. Strangely, his total surrender— his utterly reckless dedication to God—made him all the more attractive.
Will I ever get over him?
It seemed impossible, and, truthfully, she didn’t want to, because after loving him she could never love another man. She needed at least to tell him about the soldiers that had come to the house in Jerusalem, and she also wanted to thank him for giving her new life.

She steadied her trembling hands and started toward the faint murmur of voices. The sound was coming from the rear of the house. As she moved in that direction, through a large sitting room filled with wooden furniture and past two modest bedrooms, the voices got louder. She found Jesus in the dining room in back, reclining at a long table. The twelve disciples were there, along with the hosts, Mary, Martha and Lazarus of Bethany. Knowing that Lazarus had been sick, she was glad to see him looking refreshed and healthy.

Jesus was gesturing as he spoke. She marveled at his hands, the fingers slender yet confident; the palms, a shade lighter than his dark skin, flexible yet sturdy. These carpenter’s hands, extensions of his heart, passionate and overflowing with love, had made the lame walk, the dumb speak, the blind see. Perfectly formed, the hands appeared ill-matched to the rest of his body. He was telling stories with the casual air of a father at bedtime, and as always, his voice captivated her. The words flowed musically, a river of refreshment for her thirsty soul.

Her eyes scanned the group and fell on Judas, his curly black hair nonchalantly askew, his thick beard neatly trimmed. Her stomach turned; she had to look away. Jesus had taught her how to protect herself from such unhealthy men. Now more than ever, she loved him for it. She drew a breath, her heart thrumming against her chest.

Jesus turned when he heard her enter. “Mary, please come and join us.”

The others made room at the table, but she could not move, her legs frozen. Martha, a plump woman with large, compassionate eyes, approached her. “There’s more than enough food, Mary. We have a place for you.” Martha slipped an arm around her and led her toward the table.

Mary took a few steps and stopped. “Something terrible has happened. Soldiers raided the house in Jerusalem. They arrested a young woman whom Nicodemus brought to us to follow Jesus, but now she is in prison, and I fear the same could happen to all of us.”

Jesus spoke evenly. “I will not let the Romans prevent us from celebrating Passover in the holy city. They think they have power, but the true power belongs to God.”

Peter’s face drained of color. “The danger in the city is increasing. We should stay in Bethany and not take chances.”

John said, “I agree. The cleansing of the Temple inflamed tensions. I’m afraid the Romans will arrest us as Zealots.”

Judas Iscariot glared at Jesus. “Let them think what they want. With Barabbas in prison, you are our only hope. You must go to Jerusalem and rally our people. Prove that you are the Messiah. Lead us to victory!”

“Like the prophets before me, I will go to Jerusalem to do God’s will,” Jesus said. “But you do not understand my mission. More violence will not win our people’s freedom; it will only bring greater suffering. I have come not to kill and destroy but to heal and save.”

Mary Magdalene thought of Jesus’ prophetic teachings, of how he had mesmerized the multitudes, and she remembered her conversation with John when she had run away.
Is Jesus really the Messiah? Could this awkward-looking man possibly save our people?
Jesus’ authority seemed to come from beyond himself, as if from another world.
He is so extraordinary
.
Perhaps he is the one we have been waiting for.
She knew she must honor him as the anointed one of God, and she must do it boldly, here and now, in front of everyone, especially Judas Iscariot.

Stumbling toward Jesus as in a dream, she remembered the prostitute at the home of Simon the Pharisee.
How different things are now. How much more I know about him. I must show the others who he really is.

Mary held out the bag and said, “I have a special gift for you, rabbi.” She withdrew the alabaster flask, removed the cork and began to pour the expensive ointment on Jesus’ head. The honeyed fragrance filled the room. She massaged the ointment into his hair, rubbed it over his cheeks and eyelids, smoothed it over his nose and ears and beard.

Peter said, “Lord, why are you letting her do this to you?”

Jesus did not answer but closed his eyes and smiled as she lavished the ointment on his head, leaving neither a hair nor a spot of skin uncovered. Out of the corner of an eye she noticed Judas scowling, his face burning red, his eyes smoldering. She held his gaze, refusing to turn away, and then did something that surprised even her: She let down her long hair and draped it onto Jesus’ feet. She anointed his feet with the ointment, drying them with her hair, as the woman at the Pharisee’s home had done.

“When will you stop embarrassing us, Mary?” Peter sounded disgusted.

“Jesus deserves to be king.” She continued to rub his feet with her hair. “I anoint him to celebrate his reign in my heart. I anoint him because I see both male and female in him, the one God has sent to lead us in the ways of peace. He is not just a wise teacher but an enlightened man, the Messiah. May his light come to each of us and to all the world.” Changing her focus to Jesus, she said, “I am sorry that I was jealous of the prostitute at the home of Simon the Pharisee. If I had known who you were, and all that you have come to give to both women and men, I would have joined in anointing you then.”

Jesus embraced her and then kissed her on the cheek. Judas Iscariot leapt to his feet and pointed angrily. “This is an outrage! Mary has wasted this precious ointment. We could have sold it for three hundred denarii and given the money to the poor.”

Jesus said to Judas, “Why do you trouble Mary? She has done a beautiful thing to me. For you will always have the poor among you, and you can show kindness to them whenever you wish; but you will not always have me. She has done what she could; she has anointed my body, preparing it for its burial. Truly I tell you, wherever the gospel is preached in the world, what she has done will be told in memory of her.”

Jesus got up, took Mary Magdalene’s hand and led the group out of the house. As they started toward Jerusalem, she saw Judas walking by himself. Arms crossed on his chest, he was frowning angrily. He stormed over and confronted Jesus. “Are you going to rally our people against the Romans or not?”

Jesus paused and steadied his gaze. “My kingdom is not of this world. We must live as if God is our ruler, not Caesar, and that means loving all people, even our enemies.”

Judas shook his head in disgust. “Now I have my answer.” He turned away, took Mary Magdalene aside and lowered his voice. “Having you choose Jesus over me was hurtful enough, but when you wiped his feet with your hair, you scorned me.” He moved closer to her. “You are both traitors.”

Judas skulked to the back of the group. As Mary rejoined Jesus in front, her heart thundering, she thought,
If Judas thinks we are traitors, why does he stay with us?