A Tearful Weekend

Cover picture from Dreamstime

The voice was unmistakeable. I tried to focus through my tears, but my vision was blurred. Surely this must be one of those strange delusions, the sort I used to have? Only, those were filled with grotesque, bear-like creatures who demanded my body, causing me to emit blood-curdling shrieks with wild, pent-up energy. Now I felt a strange mixture of panic, calm yet excitement.

-o-O-o-

It had all changed three years ago, the moment I looked into those eyes. They didn’t so much gaze at me, but saw right through me. It felt as if I was being changed, warmed up and gently reprogrammed from the inside. I’d thought I knew all about desire, what it meant to crave a man’s body and soul. People used to say, unkindly, that I ate men. But not this man. He made me desire in a way that was wholesome, noble and life-giving.

I’d thought I knew what love meant. That sense of being overwhelmed by the urge to spend my whole body and empty my soul into another’s until I was satisfied. It never lasted more than a few days, after which I had to find someone new. But not this man. There was nothing I enjoyed better than to sit in his company, listening as he talked to the crowds, loving the care he showed to downtrodden folk.

-o-O-o-

My friend Salome had been delighted when I first came with her to meet him. She and I both came from respectable homes. But whereas I’d gone off the rails as a teenager, she’d married a kind, wealthy man. Not long into my new adventure, I’d been to Salome’s house and smelt that jar of gorgeous perfume. Salome guessed what I was thinking.

“Go on, take it,” she urged, “We’ve several of those.”

I knew where he’d be, at the home of a right-living gentleman called Simon. I crept through the courtyard and into the dining room. I sensed the tension in the air, as if he hadn’t been wholeheartedly welcomed. As ever, he was pouring his heart out, listening and speaking to the other guests. Instinctively, I knelt behind his feet and untied my hair, holding it to catch the tears that were rolling down my cheeks, then using it as a cloth to wipe his dusty feet. He didn’t react, in fact his muscles relaxed as he was obviously relishing the experience. Then I applied the perfume, so rich and fragrant. The wealthy folk looked at me with alarm and disgust. He stuck up for me, saying, “She has done a beautiful thing…”

-o-O-o-

I’d just spent the entire weekend crying my heart out. Those hands that had embraced tiny children, that had brought healing and blessing to so many, now stretched out and pierced with a sickening thud by a cruel spike…the heart-rending yelp of indescribable pain…those soft eyes that had truly loved me and so many others, now hollowed out and sunken into their sockets…the back that had borne many a burden for others, scarred and criss-crossed where his flesh had been ripped out by the lashing…

To watch the love of my life retch in agony, disfigured and abandoned, almost broke my spirit. The soldiers had given up shooing us out of the way, so I joined a small group who knelt below him, including his mother who was utterly distraught. I wanted to be with him in his last hour.

-o-O-o-

I joined our group of women back at Salome’s house, united in grief. We had to do something, so made our plan to take spices to anoint his body. Gingerly, we made our way down the path towards the tomb. But…when we got there, the gravestone had been rolled away. Even worse, there were the graveclothes, folded up, but no body! Two men in white, who looked other-worldly, told us he wasn’t here; why look for the living among the dead?

Utterly confused, Joanna, Salome and the other Mary walked back up the path, leaving me sitting outside in the chilly dawn, sobbing uncontrollably. Then I became aware of a man, obviously the gardener, standing close by. He asked why I was weeping, and who I was looking for. I replied, “Have you moved him? Please show me where he is.”

“Mary!”

The voice was unmistakeable. I tried to focus through my tears, but my vision was blurred. Now I felt a strange mixture of panic, calm yet excitement.

Could it be him?

I reached out to embrace him, but he stopped me. As my eyes cleared, I saw that he was the same loving master, but somehow different. With some disappointment, I sensed I’d never again know him as an close earthly friend. But in another way I felt exhilarated, that I was to become a part of something much greater. I ran back to where the men were hiding, and told them my news,

“I have seen the Lord!”

That caused a few wobbles. Why are men so hard to convince?

Six weeks later I experienced him again with a new intimacy. I was no longer at his side; rather, he came to live inside me.