humiliated me in public. Nor would he have let me leave Simon’s house. Forgive me, but I am too hurt to read this letter. I may never want to read it.”
Nicodemus unfurled the scroll slightly. “But you will miss a message of great importance. Jesus told me that he addressed the letter to you, but that he intends its message for all people.”
Mary gave another wave of a hand. “Then you read it. I don’t care if I ever do.” As Mary watched Nicodemus return the scroll to his bag, a gust of wind whipped through the grove and a hawk flew out of a nearby tree. The hawk’s rustling wings and plaintive cawing startled Mary, as if mocking her hurt.
Nicodemus gently placed a hand on her shoulder. “You fled Simon’s house because you thought you had lost the love of your life, but maybe that loss can be used to help you grow.” Nicodemus eyed Gabriel with understanding. “Your loss also goes deep, and what I have told Mary is just as true for you.” He took Gabriel’s hand and then reached for Mary’s. “You both have been hurt, but now when you find true love, you will appreciate it more. Spiritual wisdom helps us to understand the deeper meaning of our wounds and losses. God is working, even through the worst tragedies, in the service of love and goodness. If we believe this, then our losses won’t devastate us and we’ll eventually recover. To desire only one outcome is to set ourselves up for heartbreak. It’s better to seek God’s love in the present moment and to let the future unfold as it will.”
Mary appreciated these wise words, yet the fissure in her heart continued to lengthen, intensifying her pain. She feared that she might never heal from losing the special closeness she had shared with Jesus. Also, Nicodemus’ claims troubled her. If Jesus was the Son of God, should people worship him? Wouldn’t that break the laws against idolatry? She remembered that once, when Jesus was leaving on a journey, a man had knelt before him and asked, “Good teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?”
Jesus had acted irritated, as if offended by the question, and answered, “Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone.” On another occasion, after he had restored the speech of a mute man, a woman exclaimed to Jesus, “Blessed is the womb that bore you and the breasts that nursed you.”
But he flatly rejected her praise and said, “Blessed rather are those who hear the word of God and obey it.”
Mary pondered Nicodemus’ shocking statements as she laid out her blanket in the deepening twilight. Worshipping Jesus seemed dangerous to her. He continually emphasized doing the word of God: living righteously, caring for the poor, upholding justice, loving your enemies. If people shunned these hard commands and instead idolized the giver of them, wouldn’t they be sabotaging their own quest for the light? Jesus always pointed people to God, earnestly desiring their spiritual growth while remaining humble.
Further, she knew how human Jesus was—his desires weren’t different from those of every man. After the incident with the prostitute, didn’t his disciples see that? Mary expected them to be as scandalized as she was. Before she could confront Nicodemus with these concerns, she spied a traveler entering the olive grove and alerted Gabriel and Nicodemus. They stood, alarm written on their faces. The traveler moved slowly to the fire and said in Aramaic, “Hello, Mary. I have come to take you back.”
She got up and peered into the man’s welcoming eyes, dark as a starless night. The eyes studied her cautiously, their outer corners turned slightly upward, their gaze directed out from a pleasant face, striking for its contrast between delicate, almost feminine features and a heavy, black beard. The face belonged to a disciple of Jesus’ named John. She spoke crossly, “I won’t go back.”
Reaching out for her hand, he said, “You must.
Nicodemus unfurled the scroll slightly. “But you will miss a message of great importance. Jesus told me that he addressed the letter to you, but that he intends its message for all people.”
Mary gave another wave of a hand. “Then you read it. I don’t care if I ever do.” As Mary watched Nicodemus return the scroll to his bag, a gust of wind whipped through the grove and a hawk flew out of a nearby tree. The hawk’s rustling wings and plaintive cawing startled Mary, as if mocking her hurt.
Nicodemus gently placed a hand on her shoulder. “You fled Simon’s house because you thought you had lost the love of your life, but maybe that loss can be used to help you grow.” Nicodemus eyed Gabriel with understanding. “Your loss also goes deep, and what I have told Mary is just as true for you.” He took Gabriel’s hand and then reached for Mary’s. “You both have been hurt, but now when you find true love, you will appreciate it more. Spiritual wisdom helps us to understand the deeper meaning of our wounds and losses. God is working, even through the worst tragedies, in the service of love and goodness. If we believe this, then our losses won’t devastate us and we’ll eventually recover. To desire only one outcome is to set ourselves up for heartbreak. It’s better to seek God’s love in the present moment and to let the future unfold as it will.”
Mary appreciated these wise words, yet the fissure in her heart continued to lengthen, intensifying her pain. She feared that she might never heal from losing the special closeness she had shared with Jesus. Also, Nicodemus’ claims troubled her. If Jesus was the Son of God, should people worship him? Wouldn’t that break the laws against idolatry? She remembered that once, when Jesus was leaving on a journey, a man had knelt before him and asked, “Good teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?”
Jesus had acted irritated, as if offended by the question, and answered, “Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone.” On another occasion, after he had restored the speech of a mute man, a woman exclaimed to Jesus, “Blessed is the womb that bore you and the breasts that nursed you.”
But he flatly rejected her praise and said, “Blessed rather are those who hear the word of God and obey it.”
Mary pondered Nicodemus’ shocking statements as she laid out her blanket in the deepening twilight. Worshipping Jesus seemed dangerous to her. He continually emphasized doing the word of God: living righteously, caring for the poor, upholding justice, loving your enemies. If people shunned these hard commands and instead idolized the giver of them, wouldn’t they be sabotaging their own quest for the light? Jesus always pointed people to God, earnestly desiring their spiritual growth while remaining humble.
Further, she knew how human Jesus was—his desires weren’t different from those of every man. After the incident with the prostitute, didn’t his disciples see that? Mary expected them to be as scandalized as she was. Before she could confront Nicodemus with these concerns, she spied a traveler entering the olive grove and alerted Gabriel and Nicodemus. They stood, alarm written on their faces. The traveler moved slowly to the fire and said in Aramaic, “Hello, Mary. I have come to take you back.”
She got up and peered into the man’s welcoming eyes, dark as a starless night. The eyes studied her cautiously, their outer corners turned slightly upward, their gaze directed out from a pleasant face, striking for its contrast between delicate, almost feminine features and a heavy, black beard. The face belonged to a disciple of Jesus’ named John. She spoke crossly, “I won’t go back.”
Reaching out for her hand, he said, “You must.
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