Skip to comments.Easter Interview: The Woman Who Was There
Posted on 04/08/2012 7:22:58 AM PDT by greyfoxx39
Call me Mary -- not the one who bore Him, but she who was borne up by him, little did I know it at the time. And you? You say you're some sort of scribe. Lord knows there is always something to write about in Judaea.
I do not mean to be inhospitable, young man. Blessed be he who comes, as they say. Recline. Rest yourself. Have you had something to eat, a glass of wine for your stomach's sake? You must wash your feet, change your sandals. For I know it is a long, dusty trip up here, and with us it is a commandment to take in the stranger and treat him as one of our own. Some grapes, perhaps? They're fresh from the vineyard. Eat, eat.
That day you ask about never leaves me, or rather I never leave it. Any more than someone would draw away from the light. There are some days that change one forever, beyond forever.
Seeing is believing, they say. They say a lot of things. My experience is quite the other way around: Believing is seeing. You say you want to know what really happened. That is the way it is with you scribes. Just as it happened, only the facts, ma'am. Ah, the veil of facts. You don't really want to peer behind them, do you? The sight would be too wondrous to credit.
Forgive me, I do not wish to be unkind. Only later did it make sense even to me, a kind of sense-beyond-sense, the way a joke does when it finally dawns on you, and you have to laugh out loud. With a joy that never leaves you. You have hit upon a story, young man, the greatest story ever told, little though you may recognize it.
I didn't. Not at first. What a solemn little fool I was, don't you know? I was expecting the worst, of course. As we all were, I suppose. Oh, we of little faith! Or else we wouldn't have believed the worst when actually the best was at hand. The worst, we are always prepared to believe. Like you in your business. But never the best.
That's the way it was with me that bleak early morning. The sadness, the awfulness of it, I understood what I would find, or rather not find. I'd been prepared for it by the kind of life I'd led. I knew what men are like, what life is like, and that neither ends well.
I was perfectly prepared for how bad Good Friday would be. But Easter Sunday? That was quite beyond me. How could I have understood? You might as well have tried to describe sight to the blind, music to the deaf, a joke to the hopelessly solemn. My reality was limited to the evidence of things seen, the substance of things feared.
I could have predicted even before I went to the tomb that I'd be disappointed. That's what I'd expected and that's what I found. The stone was rolled away and ... nothing. The disciples only confirmed it when they looked inside. He was gone and would never return. It had all been for naught, just as we feared, then expected, and all too quickly accepted. We see what we train ourselves to see.
So when I saw the gardener -- for who else could it be? -- I wept and wailed and asked for the kind of help I knew neither he nor anyone else could give me: that he return my Friend, my Lord, my Hope, to me.
Not that I really expected anything of the sort. I'd seen what had happened -- from a distance. I could not bear to stand close, like the men. And yet I could not tear myself away, either. I could not leave Him like that. You have friends, don't you, young man? Could you leave them like that? All I asked the gardener was to tell me where they had taken him.
Then I heard my name. How strange, I thought. How could the gardener have known me? That's when I turned. And I realized who had spoken to me, who The Gardener was, and the whole, fake world was turned upside down, the facade torn away, the night shattered as the sun rose. He had risen.
Funny how all you need is to be called by your right name -- and turn. You have to turn, young man. That's the key. Only then can you can really see Him, as if for the first time. Then everything falls into place. Surely you've felt that way when you've been in love, wanting only to serve the beloved, asking for nothing else, knowing it to be the purest happiness. This was like that, only forever.
Another sip of wine? I'd join you, but just to say the blessing. I don't need the wine. I've been drunk with life, and love, ever since that moment when it hit me: The gardener! Well, I'll be! Of course. I'd had no idea.
what the hell is this piece of garbage?
Jesus did not raise and call her name...
He was GONE and there was ‘an angel’ sitting in his tomb, who told them he went before them to Galiliee
I’m quite sure the woman is a fictional character also. It’s a STORY, not a first person report.
Is it suppossed to be Mary Magdeline?
I don’t know.
If I told you I saw him twice, both in surprising situations. Once was on an Easter with followers by his side and years later walking in a golden robe, sandal footed and wearing a warm coat on the Monday after Pentecost Sunday, you would label me as disturbed, as hallucinating and some would think I had a nerve to think myself that special to receive such a gift. Why her? She’s nothing special. I agree with that. Yet I know what I saw or who I thought I saw, yet as I did not approach and ask, I am left wondering what I would have been told. And I’ve vowed next time, I won’t turn and run which is what I did the first time. I was about 15 yrs and not expecting to see what I saw. And I would pull in the next driveway, get out of my car and call out to him for an answer, as I didn’t do, the second time, which was when I was about age 39yrs. If I had asked, I would have had my answer, once was fear, thought it might be a hippie group walking in the nearby woods, and the second time, everyone was driving so slow, I was praying, wondering if others truly believed or not, and then there he was walking along the side of the highway. I’ve vowed next time to ask “Who are you? Do I know you? Are you who I think you are?” I just don’t know if there will be a next time before there is a final time.
When I think of this I remember my excitement when a new young minister, asked the congregation, how do you think you would react, if Jesus opened the door and walked in right now. Would you believe it was he or not? I sat there knowing my answer and wondering how others would answer.
Jesus does encounter Mary shortly after she sees the angels in the tomb.
It would not be him as he's clearly stated when we will see Him again...and that we are to "watch out" for counterfeits...masquerading as "angles of light"...and those false and deceptive Antichrist's doing likewise.... So no, I would not believe a counterfeit Christ presenting himself as the Christ......no matter how manifested.
Further as the day approaches we've been told these various "appearings" would increase. Today's populace is ripe for deceptions and anything which appeals to the senses and emotions.
Thank you..he does indeed speak with her.
He has Risen...
I liked this. A little bit of historical as well as biblical fiction.
the same day?