Mary Magdalene: Liberated Woman
Monologues
God's Great Trumpet Call
15 Monologues of New Testament People
Medieval legends confused three women: the sinful "woman of the city" in Luke 7, Mary of Bethany, and Mary Magdalene. In time, "Magdalene" became a synonym for a prostitute. The plain text of the Bible treats each of these three women separately. Mary Magdalene is mentioned by name 12 times in the Gospels, but not once is there a whisper to connect her with the harlot of Luke 7. In recent decades there has been fanciful speculation that Mary was Jesus' wife or mistress. Again, there is not a single word in the whole Bible to support such wild imagination.
After we liberate her from false identification, who was she? What might be her story?
You ask who I am
and why I constantly speak of Jesus,
why I call him my savior and my deliverer?
I am Mary from Magdala,
and I am also a new person,
liberated and redeemed.
Jesus the Messiah has given me a new freedom,
and through him I am alive,
a child of the living God.
You ask what this means?
I was not always free.
True, I was nobody's slave,
I was never in prison,
the moneylenders had not tangled me
in their snares.
My husband loved me,
provided for me,
cared for me,
and trusted me;
he gave me full liberty
to come and go as I pleased.
You see me now, a widow,
free to go where I wish,
spend my money as I desire,
do what I want to do.
Yet once I was not free.
My bondage was within me,
a living part of me.
Forces out of control surged over me,
as if seven demons lived inside me,
tearing me to shreds;
sometimes I thought that I myself was a demon,
determined to destroy myself
and everyone I loved.
One minute I would lash out at my family,
say words that stung those whom I loved most
and who loved me;
the next second I would dissolve into tears,
hate myself for what I had done.
I was in bondage to my possessions,
envious of those who had more,
greedy for things I did not need.
It's good that my husband was well-to-do;
my insistent demands
would have ruined a less prosperous man.
I was ridden by fear,
fear that people hated me,
fear my family would scorn me,
fear of what would become of me.
In time, I feared I was losing my mind,
and I feared I was so evil
that God must hate me.
I was torn by hatred,
nursed thoughts of vengeance
for every little grievance -
and - worst of all -
I knew that was wrong,
and I hated myself for it.
What transformed me?
The change began when my husband wanted
to be in Jerusalem for the Feast of Tabernacles.
I went grudgingly,
complaining of every inconvenience on the way.
At the Temple a crowd was gathered around Jesus.
We had heard of him as a north-country teacher
with strange healing powers.
In curiosity, I listened:
"If you continue in my word ...
you will know the truth,
and the truth will make you free ...
everyone who commits sin is a slave to sin ...
if the Son makes you free,
you will be free indeed."
The words sank in.
I knew how horrid had been my words,
my thoughts,
my constant bitterness and complaining.
I knew they were sin,
and I loathed myself for them.
I knew I was a slave to the feelings I despised,
and I wanted to be free ... free!
I looked again at Jesus.
"If the Son makes you free,
you will be free indeed."
My soul felt a trickle of warmth,
melting the icy crust of self-centeredness;
then a stream,
washing away fear and greed and bitterness;
then a flood,
overwhelming the demons
and sweeping them out in a rushing torrent
of God's grace.
I listened again to Jesus.
I felt the love of God,
and I knew that I was free.
What happened then?
I went home, a new person to my family.
The rage, the fears,
the pettiness that had marred our marriage
were gone.
I thank God that in those last few months,
I was able to express my love to my husband;
at long last I could try to be the wife
such a good man deserved.
When my husband died,
what did I have to live for?
The truth,
the truth embodied in Jesus,
had set me free.
I was liberated from the demons of my past;
surely God had some purpose
for my new freedom.
In Israel it has long been considered an honor
to support a Rabbi;
I had the means to help Jesus and his band.
I could learn from Jesus,
tell others of Jesus,
and at times travel with Jesus.
I was not alone, of course.
There were several of us,
women of means,
who owed so much to our teacher.
Joanna was the wife of Herod's steward;
her husband sent generous gifts
when she travelled with us.
Susanna brought money of her own.
Usually four or five women
travelled with Jesus and his twelve;
we bought the food, cooked, washed, learned ...
and we were able to comfort the women
of the villages,
enter their homes
and tell them the good news of Jesus.
Those months were a time of growth.
It was hard work but good work,
walking from town to town,
rejoicing with new disciples,
praising God when people were healed,
always learning when Jesus taught.
Then came that strange foreboding
on the road from Galilee to Jerusalem,
when Jesus said those odd words
we could not understand,
words about betrayal
and death
and rising again.
All that was forgotten
in the glorious march into Jerusalem,
shouts acclaiming him as Son of David,
Messiah.
We were crushed and broken on that terrible day
when he was arrested,
condemned,
crucified.
Even then we could not leave him,
As his body hung on the cross,
we huddled together:
his mother,
Salome,
Mary the mother of James,
and I.
We heard his last words;
we wept when he died.
How we longed to take him down,
at least to give him a decent burial;
the soldiers barred the way;
we did not dare touch him.
We watched at a distance as two strangers
and their servants carried him away.
Who were those men,
so richly dressed and with such authority?
We did not yet know that
Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus
were secret believers;
we did not know the roles they would take
in the church
and the prices they would pay.
We kept our distance,
followed them secretly,
saw where they placed him in a tomb.
There had been no time to anoint Jesus' body
in the proper way.
After the Sabbath,
as soon as the shops were open,
we bought spices.
Early in the morning we went to the tomb,
brokenhearted.
Then the sunlight of God flooded our souls,
and life changed forever.
The tomb was open,
empty,
and an angel said Jesus had risen!
We ran to the disciples.
Then I returned.
I was standing in the garden,
near the tomb,
when Jesus came to me
and called me by name.
It was he!
He had risen, as he said!
He was alive!
Why should I be the one to see him first?
Why not his mother, or John, or Peter,
or all of the twelve?
Was it pure chance,
or was it a special honor
that I should be the first to shout with joy?
For I did shout!
"I have seen the Lord!"
I shouted it to the disciples.
I shouted it to his mother.
I shouted it to all the believers.
I shouted it from the housetops,
and I shout it to this day.
That was my second liberation.
When I first met Jesus,
he rescued me from the demonic forces
that nearly destroyed me.
When the risen Jesus appeared,
he freed us all from the despair
that had overwhelmed us at the cross.
Now I am living my third liberation, for day by day
Jesus the Christ increases my freedom:
freedom to believe, to hope, to trust;
freedom to rejoice in God;
freedom to praise God for salvation;
freedom to live, to live again and really live!
He is liberating me from all the old barriers
between people.
It began with his little band in Galilee:
Jesus himself, a carpenter's son,
Joanna from the royal court,
fishermen,
a former tax collector.
Jesus set me free to welcome people
for their own inner worth.
He opened me to welcome rich and poor,
slave and free,
men and women,
all equally set free to praise our Savior.
Gentile and Jew now share the bread
of the Lord's supper,
old hatreds set aside by our one salvation.
I am free,
and each new day Jesus sets me free again,
I and everyone else who believes in Jesus:
released from old burdens,
delivered from old cares,
liberated into the joyous service
of Jesus our Lord,
sent out into the world to live our liberation.
After we liberate her from false identification, who was she? What might be her story?
You ask who I am
and why I constantly speak of Jesus,
why I call him my savior and my deliverer?
I am Mary from Magdala,
and I am also a new person,
liberated and redeemed.
Jesus the Messiah has given me a new freedom,
and through him I am alive,
a child of the living God.
You ask what this means?
I was not always free.
True, I was nobody's slave,
I was never in prison,
the moneylenders had not tangled me
in their snares.
My husband loved me,
provided for me,
cared for me,
and trusted me;
he gave me full liberty
to come and go as I pleased.
You see me now, a widow,
free to go where I wish,
spend my money as I desire,
do what I want to do.
Yet once I was not free.
My bondage was within me,
a living part of me.
Forces out of control surged over me,
as if seven demons lived inside me,
tearing me to shreds;
sometimes I thought that I myself was a demon,
determined to destroy myself
and everyone I loved.
One minute I would lash out at my family,
say words that stung those whom I loved most
and who loved me;
the next second I would dissolve into tears,
hate myself for what I had done.
I was in bondage to my possessions,
envious of those who had more,
greedy for things I did not need.
It's good that my husband was well-to-do;
my insistent demands
would have ruined a less prosperous man.
I was ridden by fear,
fear that people hated me,
fear my family would scorn me,
fear of what would become of me.
In time, I feared I was losing my mind,
and I feared I was so evil
that God must hate me.
I was torn by hatred,
nursed thoughts of vengeance
for every little grievance -
and - worst of all -
I knew that was wrong,
and I hated myself for it.
What transformed me?
The change began when my husband wanted
to be in Jerusalem for the Feast of Tabernacles.
I went grudgingly,
complaining of every inconvenience on the way.
At the Temple a crowd was gathered around Jesus.
We had heard of him as a north-country teacher
with strange healing powers.
In curiosity, I listened:
"If you continue in my word ...
you will know the truth,
and the truth will make you free ...
everyone who commits sin is a slave to sin ...
if the Son makes you free,
you will be free indeed."
The words sank in.
I knew how horrid had been my words,
my thoughts,
my constant bitterness and complaining.
I knew they were sin,
and I loathed myself for them.
I knew I was a slave to the feelings I despised,
and I wanted to be free ... free!
I looked again at Jesus.
"If the Son makes you free,
you will be free indeed."
My soul felt a trickle of warmth,
melting the icy crust of self-centeredness;
then a stream,
washing away fear and greed and bitterness;
then a flood,
overwhelming the demons
and sweeping them out in a rushing torrent
of God's grace.
I listened again to Jesus.
I felt the love of God,
and I knew that I was free.
What happened then?
I went home, a new person to my family.
The rage, the fears,
the pettiness that had marred our marriage
were gone.
I thank God that in those last few months,
I was able to express my love to my husband;
at long last I could try to be the wife
such a good man deserved.
When my husband died,
what did I have to live for?
The truth,
the truth embodied in Jesus,
had set me free.
I was liberated from the demons of my past;
surely God had some purpose
for my new freedom.
In Israel it has long been considered an honor
to support a Rabbi;
I had the means to help Jesus and his band.
I could learn from Jesus,
tell others of Jesus,
and at times travel with Jesus.
I was not alone, of course.
There were several of us,
women of means,
who owed so much to our teacher.
Joanna was the wife of Herod's steward;
her husband sent generous gifts
when she travelled with us.
Susanna brought money of her own.
Usually four or five women
travelled with Jesus and his twelve;
we bought the food, cooked, washed, learned ...
and we were able to comfort the women
of the villages,
enter their homes
and tell them the good news of Jesus.
Those months were a time of growth.
It was hard work but good work,
walking from town to town,
rejoicing with new disciples,
praising God when people were healed,
always learning when Jesus taught.
Then came that strange foreboding
on the road from Galilee to Jerusalem,
when Jesus said those odd words
we could not understand,
words about betrayal
and death
and rising again.
All that was forgotten
in the glorious march into Jerusalem,
shouts acclaiming him as Son of David,
Messiah.
We were crushed and broken on that terrible day
when he was arrested,
condemned,
crucified.
Even then we could not leave him,
As his body hung on the cross,
we huddled together:
his mother,
Salome,
Mary the mother of James,
and I.
We heard his last words;
we wept when he died.
How we longed to take him down,
at least to give him a decent burial;
the soldiers barred the way;
we did not dare touch him.
We watched at a distance as two strangers
and their servants carried him away.
Who were those men,
so richly dressed and with such authority?
We did not yet know that
Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus
were secret believers;
we did not know the roles they would take
in the church
and the prices they would pay.
We kept our distance,
followed them secretly,
saw where they placed him in a tomb.
There had been no time to anoint Jesus' body
in the proper way.
After the Sabbath,
as soon as the shops were open,
we bought spices.
Early in the morning we went to the tomb,
brokenhearted.
Then the sunlight of God flooded our souls,
and life changed forever.
The tomb was open,
empty,
and an angel said Jesus had risen!
We ran to the disciples.
Then I returned.
I was standing in the garden,
near the tomb,
when Jesus came to me
and called me by name.
It was he!
He had risen, as he said!
He was alive!
Why should I be the one to see him first?
Why not his mother, or John, or Peter,
or all of the twelve?
Was it pure chance,
or was it a special honor
that I should be the first to shout with joy?
For I did shout!
"I have seen the Lord!"
I shouted it to the disciples.
I shouted it to his mother.
I shouted it to all the believers.
I shouted it from the housetops,
and I shout it to this day.
That was my second liberation.
When I first met Jesus,
he rescued me from the demonic forces
that nearly destroyed me.
When the risen Jesus appeared,
he freed us all from the despair
that had overwhelmed us at the cross.
Now I am living my third liberation, for day by day
Jesus the Christ increases my freedom:
freedom to believe, to hope, to trust;
freedom to rejoice in God;
freedom to praise God for salvation;
freedom to live, to live again and really live!
He is liberating me from all the old barriers
between people.
It began with his little band in Galilee:
Jesus himself, a carpenter's son,
Joanna from the royal court,
fishermen,
a former tax collector.
Jesus set me free to welcome people
for their own inner worth.
He opened me to welcome rich and poor,
slave and free,
men and women,
all equally set free to praise our Savior.
Gentile and Jew now share the bread
of the Lord's supper,
old hatreds set aside by our one salvation.
I am free,
and each new day Jesus sets me free again,
I and everyone else who believes in Jesus:
released from old burdens,
delivered from old cares,
liberated into the joyous service
of Jesus our Lord,
sent out into the world to live our liberation.
