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We stood on a hill with Jesus one day overlooking Jerusalem. The landscape surrounding the city seemed very dry, as though it had not rained there for a long, long time. I looked over at Jesus and I was surprised to see Him weeping. As the tears rolled down His cheeks He spread out His arms as if to embrace the city and He cried, “Oh, Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you who kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to you; how often I would have gathered your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, but you would not!”
And He continued to weep for His church.
I felt so bad for Him. He was so in love with her, that is, His people, His wayward bride. Now she followed Him willingly into the wilderness to sit on a hillside and listen to Him teach; and His touch brought her healing and fed her miraculously. She followed Him because her needs were being met. And while He desired to adorn her with precious jewels from heaven true riches that were contained in His words, she would look away from Him and gaze back toward the city, to the comforts she left behind; and the world she loved dulled her hearing and filled her eyes with clay that she did not want Him to wash away.
I met her, this lady. She used to be a customer of mine. She was a wealthy woman who was married to a man of great influence. She’d come to my booth in the marketplace and buy the most expensive perfumes and the finest fabrics. She was accustomed to the best and her husband could afford to indulge her with whatever her heart desired.
She was considered to be a holy woman, a virtuous woman. Her husband held a highly respected position in the synagogue and she basked in his esteem. She worshipped with him and apparently shared his interest in spiritual things. She was active in many local charities. She organized fundraising banquets. She traveled on behalf of several organizations and spoke to many women’s groups encouraging them in the word of God. She was always smiling.
So you can imagine my surprise when I saw her in Jerusalem, many miles from her home, having dinner at an inn with a man who was not her husband. He wasn’t even a Jew, I could tell. He was a captain of a foreign army, a man who worshipped foreign gods. She appeared to be rejoicing in his company and I was appalled to see him lean across the table and whisper to her intimately. She allowed him to hold her hand and when they arose from the table, he slid his arm around her waist and led her back through the darkened hall where they disappeared into one of the rooms and remained there for hours.
I knew enough of Jewish law to realize that this woman was treading on very dangerous ground. The punishment for adultery was death, by stoning, usually. She was taking an awful chance and I felt it was my responsibility to try and talk some sense into her.
Jesus and His disciples had been teaching and ministering in the city and I had offered to buy their dinners that evening. I was one of the women who ministered to Him from their substance. That’s how I ended up at the inn. I ordered their meals to go and I paid one of the waiters a little extra to deliver the food so I could stay behind. I ordered a bowl of soup for myself, some fried quail and a pastry dish filled with steamed vegetables.
The food was so-so, and I was beginning to wonder if it was worth my while to hang around like that just so I could stick my neck out. I finally decided that if it was God’s will for me to speak to this woman, I would run into her again somewhere.
I was getting ready to leave, when wouldn’t you know, here she comes down the hall. She breezed into the dining room where I was sitting and I heard her ask one of the waiters to bring some more wine to her room. I intercepted her in the hallway.
“Well hello Mrs. Magdalene! What a coincidence running into you like this. How have you been?”
I didn’t know what else to say to start a conversation. She didn’t seem to know me at first, and I could tell it made her extremely nervous to have someone recognize her.
“Remember me?” I said. It’s Huldah, your favorite vendor.”
“Oh, yes. Of course!” She was relieved. I guess she was afraid I was someone from her church.
“Have you got a minute or two?” I asked. “There’s something I need to talk to you about.”
“I can’t now, I’m very busy,” she said as she tried to push by me.
I said, “Listen, I’m trying to help you. Just take a minute.”
She stopped and looked at me like she didn’t know what I was talking
about.
“You’ve got a problem here,” I continued, and I jerked my thumb back
toward the room and what was waiting for her in it. “Just give me a moment of your time, okay?”
She looked at me with daggers in her eyes and her mouth became a tight narrow line.
“If you insist,” she answered curtly and she followed me back to the dining room. We sat down together. The waiter bustled over to take an order; I raised my hand and motioned him away.
Mrs. Magdalene continued to stare at me coldly. “How much do you want?” she demanded.
She thought I was trying to blackmail her. “I don’t want anything,” I said. “I just want to talk to you, woman to woman.”
“I don’t need this,” she retorted angrily.
“Yes, you do, honey,” I said gently. “Look, you’ve always been very sweet to me, you know? I don’t want you to get hurt here. If anybody ever finds out you could die.”
“No one’s going to find out. Don’t worry about me.”
“I think you’re wrong. I think somebody already knows everything.”
“Who?” she demanded anxiously.
“God.”
“Oh.” She relaxed as if that wasn’t a problem.
“Hey, do you think He’s somebody far away who can’t see what you’re doing? You’re the one who was in church all the time. What were you there for? Was it all a show?”
She got up from the table. I’d made her angry, at least angrier than she already was.
“I don’t need this!” she snapped.
“Hear me out a minute,” I pleaded. “I’ve got something important to tell you that I think is gonna help.”
She was curious, I guess, and she sat down again. I wished there was some way I could lock her feet to the table.
“Something really important is going on out there,” I said. “I know, I’ve seen it first hand.”
“Seen what?” she replied irritably.
I hesitated figuring she was going to think I was off my rocker if I just blurted everything out, so I proceeded cautiously.
“I don’t know if you ever knew this about me, Mrs. Magdalene, but at one time I was a very cynical unbeliever. While you were in Sabbath school every week I was ignoring the whole thing, okay? But that’s all different now. You want to know what made me change my mind? I’ll tell ya.” (I started talking fast so she wouldn’t have the chance to interrupt me). “There’s a man out there whose name is Jesus. There are people, myself included, who have come to the conclusion that that He is the Messiah of God. I have been following Him now for several years. I have seen Him heal the sick, raise the dead and do a bunch of other things that are so phenomenal I cannot find the right words to describe them. God is visiting His people, Mary. He’s real. He’s worth following with all of your heart. He’s worth giving up a few things for, namely Captain Terrific in there.”
“This is nonsense,” she blurted.
“It’s the truth, Mary. I’ve seen it first hand. I’m an eyewitness. Look, come with me. I’ll introduce Him to you myself. We’re on a fist name basis.”
“I’m not interested,” she replied curtly. Then she stood up again. “I appreciate your concern for me, Huldah, but you needn’t worry. God knows I must be true to myself.”
“He’d rather have you be true to him,” I answered sadly.
She turned and headed back toward that long, broad corridor.
“Jesus is out there, Mary,” I called after her. “And you’re going to face Him one of these days.”
She cast an angry glance at me over her shoulder before she disappeared into the darkness.
After my encounter with Mrs. Magdalene, I quickly became preoccupied with everything that had taken place in the city that concerned Jesus. He had entered Jerusalem on a donkey’s colt, the seat usually reserved for women and children. I had offered to rent him a chariot. I thought He deserved better, but at the time I didn’t realize He was fulfilling another prophecy: “Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Jerusalem: behold your King comes to you: He is just, and having salvation; lowly, and riding upon a donkey, and upon a colt the foal of a donkey” (Zechariah 9:9).
I had forgotten that the King was a servant.
The Pharisees were trying any way they could to catch Him in His words in order to discredit Him in front of the people. The more they tired, however, the more they discredited themselves.
“Should we pay taxes to Caesar or not?” one of them asked. I suppose they had hoped to get Him in trouble with the Romans.
Jesus said, “Show Me a Roman coin.”
They gave Him one and He asked them, “Whose picture is on it?”
“Caesar’s,” they answered.
“Then render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s and give to God what belongs to God.”
They left without a word – but not before they yanked back the coin.
They were a persistent bunch, and they kept racking their brains trying to come up with the ultimate trick theological question. The whole thing was extremely amusing to watch, but one day it turned deadly.
Jesus was in the market place teaching, as usual, surrounded by a large crowd of people. Suddenly, there was a commotion in the street and the Pharisees pushed their way through the onlookers pulling a terrified woman behind them. They shoved their way into Jesus’ presence and threw the poor lady down at His feet.
“This woman has been caught in the act of adultery, in the very act!”
The woman was sobbing. Her head was bowed and I couldn’t see her face. She tried to lift herself from the ground and she turned toward me briefly. Her well set hair was now hanging in tangled strands across her cheeks. Her fine embroidered gown was torn and deeply soiled. Her hands dug into the earth as she tried to raise herself, obliterating the jewels on her fingers with dirt.
I recognized her then. I had a feeling Mrs. Magdalene was going to end up this way.
“The law demands that she be put to death!” one of the Pharisees proclaimed. “As a teacher who claims to be the Son of God, what is your decision?”
I think these guys really thought they had Him on this one. If Jesus ordered the woman to be put to death, well, so much for our “Prophet of Love.” And on the other hand, if He violated the law by declaring that she should be set free, then the public would see that no genuine prophet from God would contradict the law.
Everybody was waiting to hear Jesus’ decision. He had knelt down and was writing something in the dirt with His finger. He was almost eye-level with Mary, but He didn’t look at her. Then slowly He stood and said, “Let the one among you who has never sinned cast the first stone.”
It was a fantastic answer. I watched as one by one the Pharisees shrank back into the crowd and disappeared. Mrs. Magdalene was still trembling at Jesus’ feet long after they had gone.
Finally Jesus asked her, “Woman, where are your accusers?” He was smiling as she gradually lifted her head to look around. Then He reached down and helped her to her feet. She stood before Him with her head bowed, unable to look Him in the eyes.
There were some wildflowers growing in a cluster near her feet. Jesus picked one and handed it to her. She was startled by the gesture and she hesitated a moment before she took it from Him. She dared to look at Him.
Then He said gently, but with firm authority, “Neither do I accuse you. Go and sin no more.”
I was standing a few feet behind them and I had the opportunity to read what Jesus had written on the ground before the crowds trampled it out of existence. It was just one simple word – “Forgive.”
I looked back up at Mary. There were tears in her eyes.
Jesus walks among the people on a crowded market street courting them with His words, “Who among you will become My bride?” Then He finds her lying in the dust, moaning and broken. He bends down to kiss her leprous brow. The lesions disappear as He gently lifts her to her feet. Centuries pass, it seems, before she can fully stand, but now she gazes back at Him with clear eyes shining, in love at last.
Copyright 1991 by H.D. Shively
For other possible readings on the theme of Christ's love for His bride check out Calling the Bride
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