The Crown and the Cross: The Life of Christ (16 page)

When He had finished this simplest and most concise of all His sermons, Jesus left the mountaintop followed by His disciples and went down to Capernaum again. At the edge of the city He was met by the Roman centurion named Paulos who had charge of the soldiers policing this area. The officer had earned the respect and affection of the leading Jews in Capernaum, not only by his upright conduct but because he had been instrumental in building their synagogue. The leaders of the congregation were with him now to second the request he had come to make of Jesus.

“Lord,” the centurion said humbly, “my servant lies at home sick and grievously tormented.”

“I will come and heal him,” Jesus said at once, for the soldier and his reputation were well known to Him.

“Lord, I am not worthy that you should come under my roof,” the Roman protested. “Only say the word and my servant will be healed. For I also am a man under authority having under myself soldiers. I say to this one ‘Go’ and he goes, and to another ‘Come’ and he comes. And to my servant ‘Do this’ and he does it.”

Jesus’ eyes warmed at the understanding the officer showed of his position of authority under God. “Truly with no man in Israel have I found so great faith,” He said. “Go your way; as you have believed, so be it to you.”

Without hesitation the centurion turned back to his house, knowing he would find his servant healed as Jesus had promised. Jesus watched him go, a somber look on his face. This man who possessed such faith was not a Jew but a citizen of Rome.

Before Herod Antipas built Tiberias, his lavish capital overlooking the Sea of Galilee from the west, Magdala had been the most important city on the western shore. A center for the dried-fish industry, it was said to pay each year a wagonload of taxes to the tax collectors, and its fleet of fishing boats, as well as its piers and drying sheds, were the largest on the lake. The dried fish of Magdala were sold as far north as Antioch and as far south as the cities of the Nile delta. Even its Greek name, Tarichaea, was derived from the salting and drying of fish in which its inhabitants excelled.

Near Magdala, the Way of the Sea left the lake region and ascended the heights to the east; with several other important routes joining the shore road at this point, Magdala was a prosperous and cosmopolitan city. Its population was about equally Jewish and heathen, the latter making up such a great number that they had built a hippodrome for the better enjoyment of such Greek pastimes as sports and gladiatorial games. In ancient times the priestly order of Ezekiel had been centered in Magdala, but lately any priestly qualities the city might once have possessed had been lost and it was shunned by devout Jews as a city of harlots.

Surely the most beautiful woman in Magdala was the woman called Mary, usually with the surname Magdalene, since there was a Mary in nearly every Jewish household. For many years, she had been a dancer, well known in Alexandria, until she was brought back to Israel with a man named Gaius Flaccus, a Roman soldier and nephew of Pontius Pilate. Few understood the story of this relationship. Fewer still understood the strange illness characterized by seizures which would often rack her body and throw her to the ground unconscious. Because of her malady, Mary rarely traveled any great distance from her home. If the illness came upon her while she had guests, she excused herself and withdrew. Her malady could be controlled—provided she did not become emotionally disturbed—with a special medicine prepared for her by one of the most famous physicians of Alexandria. For that reason, the sickness did not keep her from entertaining widely, and her household was a favorite meeting place for many prominent people of the region, including Romans and Greeks as well as the wealthier Jews and officers of Herod’s court at nearby Tiberias. Though her relationship with Gaius Flaccus was whispered about among the Jews, it was not an issue among these who enjoyed currying favors. Although a Jewess by birth, Mary of Magdala lived in the Roman manner as befitted a consort of a Roman soldier, employed many servants, and entertained widely.

A group of friends had gathered at the home of Gaius Flaccus home one evening. From the cool atrium where a fountain played continuously, the guests had been conducted by a servant to the triclinium. Here each reclined according to the Roman custom upon a low couch, with platters of viands, fruit, and sweet cakes before them upon a low table, and silver cups of wine which a servant was always ready to refill.

Mary herself drank little. Her eyes glittered, but with the restlessness that always drove her. And her hand, when she lifted a bunch of the rich grapes that came from the fertile vineyards of Gennesaret was steady.

One of the guests was a Roman officer, Phaedas, a centurion on the staff of Pontius Pilate who was occupying a villa belonging to Herod Antipas at nearby Tiberias.

“Why has the procurator come to Galilee?” Mary asked him jokingly. “Doesn’t he trust Herod?”

“Pontius Pilate doesn’t trust his own wife.” The officer was already drunk or he would not have spoken so freely. “They say the Lady Procula’s been listening to the teachings of a Nazarene.’’

Mary leaned forward. “Who is He?”

“I can’t remember His name,” the Roman admitted. “But word came to Jerusalem of some miracles He has performed, healing lepers and such. The Lady Claudia Procula was curious and went to listen to the fellow. Her servants say she has not been the same since.”

“It is true about the miracles,” a Jew named Hosea said. “So many people are following the Nazarene that even Herod is beginning to be disturbed.”

“Did you hear about the servant of the centurion Paulos?’’ one of the women asked.

The Roman officer nodded. “Paulos was once a friend of mine, but lately he has become too sanctimonious for my liking.”

“Is that the same Paulos who built the synagogue in Capernaum?” Mary asked.

“The same,” Phaedas said.

“What about the servant?”

“To hear Paulos tell it, the man was dying and the Nazarene restored him to life without even touching him. But Paulos is no physician and I understand that nobody saw the servant.”

“They say in Capernaum that the Nazarene casts out dev—” Hosea stopped suddenly and an awkward silence filled the room. No one present had ever seen Mary in a seizure but her condition was well known in Magdala and Tiberias. Her servants had reported her to be possessed by “seven devils,” no doubt because they had now and then been lashed by her temper.

Mary’s hand tightened suddenly on the edge of the table. “Go on, Hosea,” she said, her voice suddenly hard. “Why do you hesitate?”

“It is probably only idle gossip,” Hosea mumbled, “not worth repeating.”

“You were saying this man casts out devils,” Mary insisted. “Is that right?”

“The people who follow Him say He has healed many who were possessed,” Hosea said. “They claim that all evil spirits are subject to Him.”

One of the women giggled. “The priests claim He casts out devils in the name of Beelzebub, Mary. Go to see Him and you might acquire more. Then no one could best you in business.”

Mary smiled without amusement. “My wits are enough to keep me ahead, my dear Herra,” she said smoothly. “Why should I need help from Beelzebub?”

There was a round of laughter at that and the party soon broke up. When the guests had departed, Mary paced the atrium for a while, then sent a slave for her steward, Hadja. Although she gave only lip service now to her upbringing as a Jewess, having adopted the Greek point of view toward religion while at Alexandria, Hadja was pious and attended the synagogue regularly. He had been with Mary’s family since childhood and between the two there was a deep bond of affection. She could be sure the old steward would tell her the truth about the Nazarene.

“I am sorry to disturb your rest, old one,” she said, using the name by which she had called him since she was a child. “Can you tell me anything about a Nazarene healer?”

“Do you mean Jesus?”

“I suppose so. I didn’t hear His name.”

He is a good man,” Hadja said, “a teacher or perhaps a prophet.”

“Does He really heal the sick?”

“The son of Herod’s steward, Chuza, was saved from death.”

“Do you know this is true?”

“I had it from Chuza’s own lips.”

“Chuza is a man of truth,” Mary said thoughtfully. “He would have no reason to lie.”

“Jesus also healed a leper and a man suffering from a palsy.”

“What of the rumor that evil spirits are subject to Him?” she asked.

It is no rumor,” Hadja assured her. “Jesus cast devils out of a man in the synagogue at Capernaum on the Sabbath day. I know men who were there and saw it done. They heard the evil ones name Him a Holy One of God.”

“Some say He uses the power of Beelzebub.”

“The Nazarene’s followers believe He is the Son of God,” Hadja said.

“Then He could heal me?”

“If He would.”

Mary’s quick temper flared. “Why not me, if He heals others?”

“They were Jews who believe in God. Once you were one of us, but now—”

Mary tossed her head angrily. “Must I grovel in the dirt and beg this Nazarene to heal me?”

Hadja looked at her for a long moment before he spoke. “You might save yourself if you did,” he said. “It is written, ‘Pride goeth before destruction and a haughty spirit before a fall.’’’

“Why should I humble myself?” Mary demanded, her eyes blazing. “Go find this Nazarene. Tell Him I have been treated by the finest physicians at the museum in Alexandria and have paid them well though they did not help me. Bring Him here and I will pay Him what He asks to cure me. But don’t expect me to grovel.”

Hadja had withstood the brunt of his mistress’s anger more than once. He knew her good qualities and loved her for them, but he also knew her weaknesses. “The Nazarene seeks out no one,” he said. “Those who wish help must come to Him and request it. He asks no recompense.”

Mary looked at him suspiciously. “Do you follow this—this devil-exorciser?”

“I believe the way to eternal life lies through Him,” Hadja said quietly. “One day I hope to be worthy of it.”

“Well, I will not seek Him out,” Mary said with a toss of her head. “You may go. And see that you don’t waste your time listening to false prophets.”

Hadja withdrew and Mary called for her maid to prepare her for bed. She knew that anger and emotional disturbance tended to bring on the seizures, so with an effort she controlled herself and put all thought of the conversation with Hadja from her mind. Almost as soon as she lay down, she was asleep.

A few days later Mary of Magdala was walking by the lake with Hadja when she noticed a small group of boats approaching the shore just north of Magdala. The main fishing fleet had already put ashore and the fishermen were unloading their catches, but these boats were not loaded and did not contain nets. Instead they seemed to be almost packed with men.

Mary shaded her eyes with her hand and watched the boats. “Those are not fishermen,” she said to Hadja.

“They seem to be coming from Bethsaida,” the old steward said.

“Can you tell who they are?”

“The tall man in the lead boat looks like Simon of Bethsaida,” Hadja said. “He is the leader of those who follow Jesus of Nazareth, so I imagine the Nazarene and His disciples are in the boats.”

Mary stiffened. “They will touch shore a little way from here. I will wait while you bring the Nazarene to me.”

“Jesus is at no one’s beck and call,” Hadja said. “If you want His help, you must go to Him yourself and ask it.”

“Who is He that I should beg Him for favors?” she said.

“Many believe He is the Son of God,” Hadja said simply.

With an effort Mary gained control of herself. She had no desire to bring on a seizure here in public; it would only confirm the rumor that she was possessed.

“We will go back to the house,” she said and set off at a rapid walk along the shore toward her home which was some distance up the steep slope overlooking the lake. Before she had gone far, Mary realized with rising panic that her senseless anger at a man she had never seen had already betrayed her. She could feel the familiar premonitory tenseness of her muscles, the flashes of light bursting like stars before her eyes even when she closed them in desperation. She held out her hand to Hadja, wordlessly begging him to guide her so she would not fall. She knew that if she fell the seizure would be upon her before she could rise and she would be unconscious almost immediately.

Hadja had been with his mistress through many of the attacks. He took her hand and guided her along the road as she stumbled blindly beside him, but while they were still following the shore, the boats in which Jesus and His disciples had crossed from Bethsaida grounded on the beach a little beyond them. A number of people had seen the boats approaching and as Simon Peter helped Jesus from the lead boat they crowded around Him and for the moment blocked any passage.

There was no pride in Mary now, only a desperate need to pass through and get home before the seizure reached its climax. Half-blinded by the light that blazed before her eyes even when they were closed, she clung to Hadja as he tried to lead her through the crowd. The people were thronging around Jesus, waiting to listen to His words.

“We cannot get through,” Hadja told Mary. “We must wait for the crowd to part.”

“I can’t wait!” she cried. “Get me home, Hadja!”

“Perhaps if you asked the Nazarene for help—”

“Do anything!” Mary, half-conscious, was beyond caring now, her face already drawn by the beginning of a seizure. “Only get me home.”

Half-carrying his mistress, Hadja cried out, “Make way for one possessed by seven demons!”

As the old steward had shrewdly surmised, his cry was the only one that would have opened the way. Frantically trying to get away from one who was possessed, the crowd opened a wide path for them as if they were lepers. No one wanted to be near any demons the Nazarene might exorcise from this beautiful woman in the rich silken robe who was being supported by the old man. Some recognized Mary and, having heard the rumors of her malady, scrambled away all the more desperately.