The Magdalene

By James R. Shott

This is the story of Mary of Magdala, and her unique relationship with Jesus. She learns Jesus secret: he believes he must die to fulfill his calling as the Messiah. Can she accept this, and give him her strength? This is Marys story, but it is also the story of the man of Galilee, who loved people, healed them, died for them, and changed the face of the world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jul 5, 2001
• ISBN: 9781462831517

James R. Shott

James R. Shott is a Presbyterian minister who took early retirement in 1980 to become a writer. Sixteen of his novels have been published, translated into other languages, won awards, and published in large print. Other publications: short stories, magazine articles, poems, and newspaper columns. Most people call him “Jim.” Three women call him “Dad.” Seven young adults call him “Granddad.” One two-year-old calls him “Great-granddad.” His wife, to whom he has been married for well over a century, calls him—well, never mind.

Book preview

PROLOGUE: 5 B.C.

Mary jerked awake, startled by a scream. Her mother’s scream. Then her father’s strong voice protesting. A shout, and other screams. Mary sat up in her bed and whimpered.

The commons room was smothered in darkness. A soldier stood by the door, holding high his torch. The pine tar sputtered; it would soon go out. But enough light remained for Mary to see what the soldiers did.

There were three of them. They shouted at Mary’s father, who answered them boldly. Then one soldier struck her father with his fist, and he fell to the ground. Another pointed his sword at Father’s throat.

The soldier with the sputtering torch strode forward in the commons room toward the raised platform where Mary and her baby brother slept.

Over here! he said gruffly. The other two soldiers hurried to him.

No! No…please! screamed Mother, but one of the soldiers shoved her against the wall. She gasped, but jumped back toward the soldier, still pleading. This time the soldier turned on her and struck her with his fist. She fell to the floor.

Father climbed unsteadily to his feet. Mary saw blood on his face. He stumbled toward the soldiers, but one of them turned and hit him with the flat of his sword. Hard. He fell to the floor and didn’t move.

The soldier with the torch stood over Mary’s bed. Sobbing, she crouched down into the pallet and pulled the blanket over her head. The soldier jerked the blanket away, and then grasped her leg, lifting it. The night dress fell away from her, exposing half her body.

Girl, muttered the soldier, and dropped the leg.

Here’s another one, said the soldier with the torch. The other two soldiers hurried to the spot where baby Jonathan slept soundly.

Mother screamed and staggered toward them. Please…no…kill me instead! Please.

This time the soldier struck her face with the hilt of his sword. Mother fell to the floor where she lay unmoving.

Mary saw what happened then. She was three years old, but what she saw etched itself forever in her memory.

A soldier grasped Jonathan’s leg and jerked it up, then ripped the damp swaddling cloths away.

A boy! he said. Do it!

The soldier with the sword plunged his weapon into the boy’s throat. The child made no sound, other than the gurgle of blood that spurted out, drenching the two soldiers. He threw the tiny body, still twitching, down on the bloody bed.

Any more?

The man with the torch blew on the dying embers, but there was nothing left to kindle.

Can’t see any more, he muttered. Let’s go.

They left hurriedly, and suddenly it was dark in the house. Only one sound intruded on Mary’s traumatized mind: the sound of her own screams.

 -1-

Greetings, Cousin Mary! May God bless you on your wedding day!

For the tenth time that day, Mary embraced a cousin and responded with a broad smile. She knew her smile evoked a warm and friendly response.

Eleven years had passed since that tragic day when the soldiers had killed her brother Jonathan. Mary’s father Jeconiah had moved his family back to Capernium and now worked for a man named Zebedee, a prosperous business man whose boats fished six nights a week in the Sea of Galilee.

The courtyard of their house was crowded, even though most of the men had wandered down to the docks to talk to the fishermen. Many Judean families—relatives—had gathered there for the wedding festivities. Among them was the cousin from Bethsaida who now greeted her warmly.

What a lovely dress! You look worthy of that handsome young bridegroom, my dear. A rich man, too. Is it true that his father owns his own boat?

Again Mary smiled, not allowing the envy in her cousin’s voice to upset her. This was her day. The family wedding gown had been brought out, and she wore it proudly. The fabric was pure linen, embroidered with pink flowers on the full skirt. Copper bangles, which looked expensive but were not, adorned her forehead and neck. The veil of soft white linen was thrust back, since revealing the face was proper within her own family and relatives.

Won’t you try some of this pudding? Mary led her cousin to the table at the wall by the doorway. I made it myself. And the men won’t return until sundown.

What a fine table this is! The cousin surveyed the assortment of rich foods: pickled meats and fish, vegetable dishes, bowls of different kinds of fruit and nuts, jars and jars of good wine rather than the usual coarse beer. "You must have brought a large mohar, didn’t you, my dear?"

Again Mary smiled, saying nothing. The bride price was indeed high: thirty pieces of silver, the highest mohar for any bride except royalty. It’s a good thing our daughter is beautiful, Jeconiah had told his family smugly.

The envious cousin again sampled Mary’s pudding, made yesterday of milk and eggs. Very tasty, dear. Shealtiel will be proud. But don’t forget Mother Eve’s curse!

This time Mary’s smile was forced. Her husband-to-be, Shealtiel ben Abiud of Magdala, was almost twenty, six years older than she. Mary knew him only slightly, although the prosperous family from Magdala was recognized as a leading family. The two fathers, Jeconiah and Abiud, had bargained over the mohar, Jeconiah driving hard for the high price because Abiud owned a fishing boat and could afford it.

I’ll not forget Mother Eve, replied Mary, making sure her voice was cheerful. And I’ll give my husband many sons, as well as a tasty pudding now and then.

"I’m sure you will, dear. But I do hope it won’t be too difficult for you tonight. Man can be such beasts, you know."

And again Mary smiled, not trusting herself to make a reply. Fortunately at that moment she heard a shout from outside, announcing the arrival of more wedding guests.

Oh dear, said the cousin, rolling her eyes. It’s that carpenter from Nazareth and his family. She clucked and frowned. Seven brats.

Mary left her cousin to greet the Nazareth family. She joined her mother Miriam just inside the courtyard gate to receive them. This was the last of the wedding guests. They would be late, Miriam had told her, since Nazareth was twenty-five miles from Capernaum, and Joseph was old and in poor health. He was riding a donkey while his wife walked. Mary noted that he was indeed old and feeble, his gray beard flecked with white. His wife was still young and strikingly beautiful, although a little stocky. Mary frowned. Would she look like that after giving Shealtiel children?

The Nazareth family were distant relatives, so distant that Jeconiah once commented, Our nearest common ancestor is probably King David himself! Nevertheless they were of the House of David, and this far from Bethlehem any relatives were welcome. They had not seen the carpenter and his wife since that time of horror eleven years ago, when they had journeyed to Bethlehem for the census.

In spite of her cousin’s remark about the brats, Mary knew she would enjoy them as soon as she saw them. They were so cheerful! Laughing, shouting, boisterous, they swept into the small courtyard and went without hesitation to greet these strangers who were distant relatives. So young! The oldest was just a couple of years younger than Mary.

Before Joseph and his wife could make formal greetings, the children were scattered among the guests, laughing and introducing themselves. One smiling boy came directly to Mary.

Greetings, Cousin! The grin on his boyish face belied his young age, which Mary guessed was about eight. You must be the bride. I’m Joses ben Josheph. He embraced her and kissed her cheek. Mary returned the kiss fondly.

Stand aside, Brother! The good-natured voice behind him commanded attention. I want some of her kisses, too!

Joses stepped aside, still grinning. The other boy, who was just a little older than Joses, threw his arms around Mary and almost swept her off her feet. I’m James, he said, and kissed her loudly. Mary giggled as she responded to his kiss.

The oldest boy was next. He took Mary into his arms, but before he kissed her, he looked deeply into her eyes. She caught her breath. Beyond the crinkled lines at the corners of his eyes, beyond the long fluttering eyelashes, beyond the smooth brown skin of his face, she glimpsed something deeper, something profound, something.something … but then, he pressed her to him and kissed her mouth.

Her mouth! This was far beyond the proper way to greet a cousin. Cheek kisses were polite and expected, but mouth kisses were for lovers. Yet somehow, she found no resentment, no revulsion, just a slow comforting warmth to the brief kiss, and she responded eagerly.

Dear Cousin, he said softly, looking into her eyes again. I’m Jesus. He smiled broadly. May God bless your marriage today.

He was jostled aside by two more brothers, both younger, who wanted to kiss their cousin. Then came the three little girls, laughing and filled with the joy of meeting a family member for the first time. Into all this excitement stepped the children’s mother, who scolded them laughingly for so much exuberance, and then turned to Mary with a soft smile.

Greetings, Mary. Her voice was warm, just like the children. I’m also Mary. Come and meet my husband.

Mary led Mary to Joseph, the carpenter of Nazareth, who was seated on a bench, wine glass in hand. Mary bent down respectfully and kissed the leathery cheek.

Welcome, Father Joseph, she said.

The old man smiled. Thank you, my child. I see you have been properly slobbered on by my children. I’m glad you survived!

Mary laughed. They’re delightful! she said, and meant it.

They prevent me from getting old, said Joseph, and Mary could almost believe him. If a person must age and slide toward death, what better way then to be surrounded by a family such as this?

Mary straightened up and looked around. The noise level within the courtyard had increased dramatically since the arrival of the Nazareth family, and everyone was laughing and smiling now. And these were children! Mary looked at their mother, who was now talking to Miriam with many smiles and occasional bubbles of laughter. She must be an unusually sunny person, Mary thought, so full of life, and passing it on to her children. All mothers should be like that.

Then she glimpsed that oldest boy. what was his name? Jesus. Of course, Jesus. Not surprising the oldest child was named that.

Yeshua, Hoshea, Joshua, Jehoshua … common names for the first son. They all meant God saves. The name for a Messiah.

That’s what I’ll name my first born son, she thought. And into Mary’s mind popped the ancient prayer of Israelite mothers: May my first born son be the One. Then she turned to her guests and continued to be the charming hostess on her wedding day.

 -2-

At sundown, the men returned from the docks where they had been talking to the fisherman Zebedee and his sons as they prepared for the night’s fishing. Now the men came to the house for their evening meal.

They went to the rooftop, where the warm evening breeze flowed across them. Toward the east, the Sea of Galilee looked almost royal blue, and the dying rays of the sun reflected the copper and reds of the distant hills.

The men seated themselves on the benches, and Mary herself picked up the bowl of water and towel to wash their feet. This was her privilege as the bride. She went first to Joseph of Nazareth because he was the oldest, and knelt before him. After removing his sandals, she wiped his feet with the damp cloth, and then dried them with the towel. When she had completed her not unpleasant task, the other women came forward with basins and towels to minister to the other men.

Mary knelt before the next man, but found it wasn’t a man at all, but one of Joseph’s children. The first-born: Jesus. Because of the informality of a wedding, customs were relaxed and male children were allowed to sit with their elders. As Mary knelt before him, she looked into his face and smiled. It would be a pleasure to serve this cheerful boy, even if he were younger than she.

As she dampened the cloth in the basin, the boy suddenly reached up with his foot and tweaked her nose between his toes. She giggled and slapped his foot. Behave yourself, young man! she whispered, looking up into his broad smile.

As she wiped his feet with the damp towel, he grasped the cloth between his toes and tried to pull it away from her. Again she giggled, but held on. Then she reached under his foot and with her fingernail began tickling him. He squirmed, then bent down and grasped her hand. Into her ear he whispered, Shealtiel is blessed indeed!

During this little exchange, the conversation around them flowed undisturbed, although Mary was fearful their playful