Stories From Martha's House

Mary of Magdala moved about her house in a daze. Her long black hair hung loosely over her shoulders and tiny jars of makeup, kohl and henna, sat untouched by the polished metal mirror. She sighed as she looked out into her shop where she made fine garments for the Roman women. The bolts of cloth were still strewn on the work bench where the merchant’s emissary had set them down. She couldn’t seem to do the usual sorting out of the fabrics and colors. Something mysterious was always in the back of her mind that took her thoughts to strange and dark places. These thoughts would send her into a gloomy state that sapped her energy and stopped her from doing any of her tasks. When she could work, she toiled late into the night to avoid the dreams that came to disturb her sleep. Today nothing seemed to distract her from thinking about them, from trying to fight back the darkness. She reached for words to describe it, but the words refused to come. This morning early she left the house and walked along the path that led into the hills and down to the water’s edge. The grasses were damp and cool as they brushed her legs. From the top of a hill the water looked like a glassy, smooth, mirror of blue. As she stood on the shore of the sea of Galilee enjoying the cool breezes on her face and in her hair, she saw a man walking in the hills toward the north shore not too far away. Had she seen him before? She squinted and shaded her eyes, trying to see him more clearly. No, she was sure he wasn’t anyone she knew, but oddly she had a feeling of instant kinship. Was kinship the right word? Perhaps it was attraction? No, that was not reasonable. Mary had been alone for many years, deliberately so, spurning offers of marriage. She was beautiful and she was rich. That drew many hopeful men to her, but her coldness toward their offers chilled the very air. How could she explain her gloomy moods and night terrors to anyone? No, living alone was better. Her family had given up trying to convince her of this suitor or that one. “Mary, the man is well off and fairly handsome! This may be your very last chance. It is not normal for a woman to remain unmarried and childless. What will you do when you are old and there is no one to take care of you?” Mary of Magdala would just turn away and say, “I cannot. I just cannot. Not yet. Perhaps not ever.”