She hadn’t had much sleep – if any. No matter which way she turned, the images from Friday stayed with her. She wondered if she would ever forget – ever be able to function normally without those pictures. Vivid, living pictures of blood; the nails driven through flesh and bone; the pain on Jesus’ face; the horrible efforts to raise Himself on that nail through His feet so as to breathe; the people.
She couldn’t believe the people – mocking Him, insulting, laughing, enjoying His suffering. She couldn’t believe people could act that way – and yet, somehow, she could believe it. She had seen such hatred lately, such blind refusal to believe, or even listen.
Why had their leaders been so determined to kill Jesus? What had He done wrong? All He had done was help people – the sick, the lonely, the demon-possessed. How could they hate someone so loving?
The demon-possessed. She thought back to when it had all begun for her. Jesus had come to her town, Magdala. He had taught in their synagogue – not that she had heard Him. She was not welcome in the synagogue. Everyone else was there. No one cared about her. She stood at a distance, half hidden, but where she could see everyone gathering. Then there was silence as Jesus spoke… she assumed. She screamed – a blood-curdling, piercing scream. Her eyes filled with fiery resentment. She spat on the ground, then on her hands and wiped the spittle on her face. She screamed again. And again.
When she stopped and looked up, standing in front of her was a woman her own age… Dvora. Miriam spat again and growled. Dvora’s eyes and mouth were wide open, but she was too scared to say anything. She stood at a distance looking like she wanted to flee. But she didn’t. After a few stumbling attempts, she said, “Miriam, Jesus wants to see you.” Miriam growled again and spat at Dvora.
Dvora didn’t move. Instead, she held out a hand. Miriam would not take it. She looked again at the synagogue. Everybody had come outside and was looking towards her. Between her and them, stood Jesus, also looking at her. She moved forward until she stood before Him, looking at the ground, quiet growls still coming from deep within her.
“Come out of her and never touch her again. She is mine.”
Miriam’s body writhed and twisted as she screamed. Then, she collapsed in a heap, completely drained of energy. All was silent. She felt a deep, deep peace. She lay on the ground and simply enjoyed it. “I do not deserve this,” she said to herself, “not after what I have done.” Another wave of peace swept over her. As if she was forgiven. They told her later that seven demons had come out of her.
That evening, Jesus sat with her and explained what had happened. “You experienced the power of God, Miriam. I do the works of my Father. I have come to set captives free. That is my mission. Now you must decide how you respond to the grace of God.”
Miriam had no doubts about how she would respond. She had not experienced love for a long time – and never experienced a love like this. Feared and despised by everyone else, Jesus had cared. And what power was this. She had pleaded with the priests before. They had done their duty. They had prayed prayers of exorcism over her but with no conviction, and, certainly, with no power. But Jesus, with one command, had set her free.
She had once been married. Her husband had died ten years ago. She hadn’t been as ill then. In fact, maybe that is what had started it. But, at the time, she was well enough to sell his boat and nets – and make good decisions about his money. He had been a good businessman and she had been grateful. She hadn’t always made good decisions since then, but she was still quite well-off. Not many widows could say that.
Now, she did not want to be without Jesus. He meant more to her than her little bit of wealth. If setting captives free was Jesus’ mission, maybe...? “I want to follow You,” she said, “Maybe I can help. I have a little money.”
“Are you sure, Miriam? It will not be easy. It will cost you more than your money. It will cost you everything. You will know great pain – but you will also know great joy.”
Miriam dragged her thoughts back to the present. Part of what Jesus had said that day had come true. But now, those images from Friday played out on the screen of her mind again. There was no way she could sleep. It was still very early, but she rose from her bed, her head aching and her body weak. It was the first day of the week. She, and some other women, had gathered some spices and oils and arranged to go together to the tomb to anoint the body. It was all they could do now for Jesus.
This was not what they had expected. A dead body. Jesus who had seemed so powerful – who had given them hope – dead. He had talked about the Kingdom of God. They had expected God to come down out of heaven and reign – throw out the Romans and establish again the throne of King David. They had expected trumpets and angels and victory. What fools they had been. Was Jesus a charlatan? Had he been deluded? Had he tricked her into giving him her wealth? Was he evil?
No, she couldn’t believe that. She had seen His goodness. She had seen how He treated people. She had experienced it herself.
But was he simply wrong? Had he expected trumpets and angels and victory too? Had God given him a vision and then let him down?
That is what it looked like. She could not imagine a greater contrast: the hopes of trumpets and angels and victory on the one hand. And on the other, the reality she had seen on Friday. The horror and degradation and shame of a Roman crucifixion. And a limp, dead body. Every single hope destroyed in a few hours.
There was a quiet knock at the door. She stepped out into the cold morning air, and they moved carefully through the city streets, keeping as much as they could to the shadows. It was some comfort being with friends: Miriam the mother of Yacov, Joanna, Salome. It was some comfort but not much. Each one had believed in Jesus and loved Him. Each one had been loved by Jesus, but now there was nothing. They had pinned everything on Jesus, now their hearts and lives were empty. Without Jesus… Without Jesus, what? Without Jesus, what was there to live for? Without Jesus, everything would go back to what it had been before, only worse because they had given up everything and their hopes had been so high.
Even simple practical things now seemed impossible. How would they anoint his body? Who would roll the stone away. It had seemed like a lovely idea. But could they even do that for Jesus? What were they thinking? How would they get past the Romans guards anyway?
When the tomb came into sight, they couldn’t be sure in the half-light, but it looked as if the stone had already been rolled away. What could that mean? They knew it was the right tomb. They had been there when Jesus had been buried. Multiple scenarios played out in their heads: thieves had stolen the body; even Jesus’ dead body had been desecrated; Roman soldiers had taken Him; and what indignities might they have subjected the body too? It seemed people’s hatred for Jesus – that inexplicable, blind hatred – knew no bounds. Was it not enough to kill Him – kill Him in the most barbaric and cruel way? Did they have to rub salt into the wound of those who had loved Him? Were they going to celebrate their victory by parading His body through the streets? Could what seemed so bad, get even worse?
Clutching each other’s sleeves with their free hands, they crept closer to the entrance.
Suddenly, the ground shook violently, throwing them against each other and against the trees. At the same time, there was a massive flash of light. The guards screamed and fell to the ground. If the stone hadn’t been rolled away before, it certainly was now. A magnificent, gleaming angel stood at the mouth of the tomb. The women tried to stifle their fear, unable to look at him.
“Do not be afraid, for I know you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. He is not here; He is risen, just as He said. Come and see the place where He lay. Then go quickly and tell His disciples: ‘He has risen from the dead and is going ahead of you into Galilee. There you will see Him’. Now I have told you.”
The women took several steps back, stopped, looked at each other in both fear and simple inability to make sense of what was happening. What was going on? They had seen the power of God before. This seemed like God. God was doing something. God had not finished. There was more to this story. Jesus was not finished. The angel had said He was alive. They would meet Him again? Wait! Hadn’t Jesus said He would rise? That had made no sense before. Somehow it hadn’t even registered, but now… Could this really be true?
As things slowly sank in, as the bits slowly fitted together, they stopped staring and understanding dawned on their faces. The others needed to know this! They ignored the angel’s invitation to come and see. They didn’t need to. With minds spinning and hearts ablaze they ran to tell Peter and the others.
But Miriam was too overcome with grief to make any sense of this. As the others ran off, she stayed by the tomb, weeping. She had heard the angel. He had invited them to come and see. Miriam bent over to look into the tomb. She was astonished. Two angels in white sat where Jesus’ body had been. Had been. It was not there now.
“Woman, why are you crying?”, they ask.
“They have taken my Lord away and I don’t know where they have put Him.”
She felt a presence behind her and spun around. It was the gardener. “Woman, why are you crying? Who is it you are looking for?”
“Sir, if you have carried Him away, tell me where you have put Him, and I will get Him.”
“Miriam.”
Miriam’s heart missed a beat. She looked up… into the eyes of Jesus! “Rabboni! Teacher!”
“Do not hold onto me, for I have not yet ascended to the Father. Go instead to my brothers and tell them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’”
She remembered that day in Magdala when she had first stood before Him. She had said that everyone else went to the synagogue, but she knew there were others who hadn’t. Why had he reached out to her and spent time with her? She had been a wretched soul. She had been the least of His followers. She never ceased to marvel that she had been included amongst His disciples.
And now, He had met her alone. He had spoken her name with such compassion. The other women had been to the tomb and, yes, they had been told that He was alive but they didn’t meet Him. Jesus had told them to tell Peter. Peter would now have heard but, as far as she knew, Jesus had not yet revealed Himself to Peter. Or any of the men. Why her? Why had Jesus met her privately like this?
And why was she the one to now take this message to the disciples? Why had Jesus chosen a woman as His first witness? Women couldn’t even testify in court.
There were lots of things about Jesus that Miriam did not understand but she knew without a shadow of a doubt that she was loved, and that the Jesus story had not finished and that she had been invited to keep on serving Him. She had been possessed; now all that she possessed would belong to Jesus.
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