Acceptance – Mary Magdalene monologue — Gobledales, UK

Rodin, Walker Gallery, Liverpool

Meditation of Mary Magdalene
By Tod& Ana Gobledale

Those men, those disciples, they are not going to listen, I can tell you that now. They have always been suspicious of me. Right from the start, they wonder what Jesus thinks, getting mixed up with someone like me. I know what they will say, mark my words – ‘She’s made it all up. She wants to be the centre of attention as usual. She’s a lovesick fool.’

I cannot blame the disciples. When Jesus includes me, it doesn’t do his cause any good. Those Pharisees can stomach a few tax-collectors hanging around, but me—a woman of questionable morality? — I really set the cat among the pigeons. I know how the tongues wag, how easy it becomes to criticise. Maybe I should have stayed away, kept my distance, but I love him.

No, not love in the sense they mean with their sly, dark innuendo, but a deeper love, with everything I am, everything I have, in a way that I have never loved before.

Still, even with all my love and devotion for Jesus, the disciples really do not trust me. I know that. They find it hard to accept, hard to forgive what I had been. I understand that. However, I find it hard to forgive them for running away Thursday night… for denying him on Friday… for failing him when he needs them most.

But what I hold to is those words from the cross: ‘Forgive them, for they know not what they do’.
Jesus understands we all fall short. None are worthy, none perfect. Yet he forgives us and loves us. There is more forgiveness and love in Jesus than there is guilt and sin in us. I thought I had lost him, the only one who ever truly accepted me, and I was reconciled to struggling on alone, no one to understand, no one to offer support.

But I was wrong, for he comes to me. There in the garden, standing by the tomb with my overwhelming grief, he comes to me, and hope is born again.

At first, I cannot believe it. The voice is familiar, but I tell myself it cannot be, that it must be the gardener, anyone but Jesus.

And those disciples, they will do the same, I am sure of it. They will tell me I am wrong, that I am overwrought, ready to believe anything. They won’t listen, I can tell you that now, but then I’m used to that, aren’t I?

It does not matter anymore, for Jesus accepts me as he accepts them, as he accepts everyone ready to respond to his love and receive his forgiveness. The tomb is empty, I tell you. Christ is risen. Alleluia!


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