Sunday, March 18, 2012

Happy Birthday Erin!

Luke 8:2

Mary Magdalene

I wasn't sure I was ready to stop her, but then I got her first line. Also, apparently we assume "Magdalene" means that she was from Magdala, but it could also by like Peter's name change - "Magdalene" means "tower or fortress" or even "elevated, great, magnificnet." She was also particularly dear to St. Catherine of Siena. So here goes nothin'.

MARY MAGDALENE

I was possessed by seven demons. That's even for a civil war between your wrist and elbow. The one thing I remember from the world outside the wars running through me, across my body, was that everyone was so surprised that I was still alive. I was never quite sure what they thought would kill me.

It was they who recognized Him, bizarrely enough. And had there been only one demon, I wonder if it would have succeeded in running away from Him. But then, I saw other demons try, later. And I saw those with what others called demons. Like Joanna, who had merely lost her voice. It took what felt like an age to believe it had happened - that they were gone. They had tormented me so long I began to think of myself in terms of them - as if the several demons were my component parts. And I had forgotten myself long ago.

He sat with me, helped me to reconstruct what I had been, who I was now. He made me wait, wait until He had finished preaching in this place, before He let me choose to follow Him. He said He wanted me to know that I made the decision after I recovered all of my pieces. After I was comfortable again as the only occupier of my own skin.

They were surprised, many times, at the weight I could bear. They called me Magdalene. I thought, at first, they were confused about where I was from. I thought my hometown might have identified me as a stranger, ashamed to think that I came from their own stock. But they said I was a tower of strength, and I always seemed to find myself shouting from one. That was true enough. The doubters were one thing - but those who refused to see what was right in front of them because of the form it took - because a man from Galilee said the truth, they would not believe it. Because He healed on the Sabbath they could not accept it as a work of God. I had no patience for those people.

It was a slow lesson, but He taught me to speak not less but with more wisdom. Some lessons He spoke, and some He simply lived. He could always find a way into even the most closed heart. So, slowly, I began to speak less loudly and more wisely. Accept when shouting was the wise choice.

A tower of strength, that was what I needed to be to stand by the cross. But I could never reach Him, however high I tried to soar. However light I felt, I was always pulled back to Earth long before I reached Him.

There were four places where nails pierced his flesh. A staff stabbed into his side. His back was raw with whips, and his head bore a crown of thorns. Seven separate, terrible wounds, perhaps even each one fatal in itself. I could not help thinking - seven demons, seven wounds. They said once that I was the first to understand what He had done - with that thought, seven wounds for seven demons.

The woman he rescued from the tower. But He also taught me to fight the battles when He was gone.