There are two advent poems remaining which will
deal with Mary Magdalene.
And what we know from the Bible that
is relevant is that she had seven demons
cast out of her.
That's what the Bible says.
And she ministered following Jesus in a team
of women, another of whom was Joanna, whose
husband was Chusa, who was a steward of
Herod the Tetrarch.
So much the Bible, the rest is imagination.
Mary Magdalene, part one.
The town of Magdala beside the sea could
boast the pride of second place in Herod's
heart after Tiberias.
Apart from all its fishing fame, a story
fastened to its name that every little child
knew by heart, but very, very few could
tell the meaning of the tale.
The story goes that once a trail from
Egypt led to Galilee, and men from Migdal
by the sea beyond brought sacred stones and
built a tower with the mud and silt
of chinnereth to hold the bones in place.
And all the human bones of priests and
holy men were stored inside.
And far above this hoard of holy relics,
at the peak, there lived a hawk with
piercing beak and seven eyes.
And from his place above the sea, he
turned his face from south to west and
north to east, and there all seeing never
ceased to guard the ancient shrine and spire
called Magdala.
No foreign fire could pierce the shield of
seven eyes or strike the tower in disguise
from any point on earth till one dark
night.
It was as if the sun flashed for
a moment in the sky and lightning made
the tower lie in ruins with ten thousand
stones thrown down with all their holy bones.
These things the children knew by heart, and
sculptors turned them into art, and bards would
make them into rhymes, and dancers into baffling
mimes.
But none could say what these things meant,
except a few who claimed descent from those
whose bones were buried there, a tiny cult
around the heir of Magdala.
Four miles along the coast stood glorious and
strong the capital Tiberias, the home of Herod
Antipas.
And here, unknown to all his land and
even to his wife, he planned his every
move with counsel from the cult of Magdala.
And some advisors thought it strange that he
would spend his time with three unlikely counselors
at night behind closed doors.
Herodias, his brother's wife in spite of court
and market rife with rumors, Cusa, steward to
the king who took his every cue from
Herod's whim, and finally a slave girl bought
from ancestry in Magdala, who all agreed had
lost her mind and couldn't read or write
or even speak.
It was believed.
And thus the people were deceived and simply
thought the king sleeps with Herodias, though she
is Kith.
And Cusa has his own cuisine, the slave
called Mary Magdalene.
But there was deeper evil here, as oft
there is when sex and fear consort to
turn the crushing wheel of providence and boldly
deal in demon oracles.
The cult of Magdala was this.
Consult the ancient Horus, fathered by Osiris and
his sister, high above the clouds of Egypt
long ago and soaring as a strong all
-seeing hawk with seven eyes to favor man
or maid who lies down with another's spouse.
And so the favor comes and seven demons
go from Horus into her whose name is
like the Tower of Ancient Fame in Magdala.
And in the night, filled sevenfold with demon
sight, the mindless Magdalene can speak and tells
the king of those who seek his throne
and how he might proceed to keep his
life and save his seed.
Thus, year by year, the king unlocks the
secrets of his foes.
A fox, they call him, and his power
grows.
He marries Philip's wife and goes more public
with his cultic mind and claims that sometimes
one can find that prophets come back from
the dead.
Then one day, Herod's secret dread starts to
unfold.
A prophet has appeared in Galilee.
And as Elijah frightened Ahab once, this man
named John the Baptist hunts for sin in
kings the way a hound tracks foxes on
the open ground.
So one night, Herod called the cult of
Magdala and said, Consult now, Mary, with your
hawk and gods and tell me truly if
the odds are high that John the Baptist
will destroy my throne.
And should I kill him in the field
or put the hound in chains?
Her sunken eyes were round with fright.
And she began to shake.
The seven eyes of Horus make me fear,
she said.
What do you see, the king inquired.
Now speak to me, you hollow-headed witch.
What do you see?
It's dark, she said.
All through the land, it's dark.
And then, as though the brilliant sun flashed
down below the clouds for just a moment
there, the midnight sky was everywhere ablaze with
light.
And on the land, by human mind and
art unplanned, as far as I could see
strewn stones in disarray and ashen bones, then
darkness once again.
What more, the king demanded.
What's in store for me?
Whose bones are these?
What light that shines out like the sun
at night?
And whence these stones strewn everywhere?
Speak now, enchantress, or I swear I'll throw
you to the bones you have seen.
And in the dark you'll rue the night
you defied the king.
But Mary's tongue had taken wing.
And seven demons spurned the rage of Herod
Antipas, his house, his wage, his bed, his
roof, his bread.
And that night, Mary Magdalene lay flat and
bleeding on a reddish stone where she was
whipped half dead and thrown to die outside
the city gate alone and there to demonstrate
what happens when a sorceress insults the king.
Her simple dress was shredded now and fever
shook her fragile frame and darkness took her
hope away that anyone might find her there,
as if the sun could shine at midnight
by the Sea of Genereth in Galilee.
The hours went by, then suddenly she heard
a sound and tried to see what stirred.
And just before the dawn she saw two
figures as if drawn like silhouettes in black
against the sky.
In fear, her muscles tensed as one of
them approached and said, Is that you, Mary?
Are you dead or do you live?
She answered, It is I, and who are
you?
Unfit to save your soul, nor even life.
What is your name?
Joanna, wife of Cusa.
Mary moaned, Unfit to save because you'd rather
spit on Cusa's concubine?
Why have you come?
First, Mary, here is salve to clean your
wounds and water for your fevered throat.
Joanna tore a cloth and cleaned the crusty
blood from Mary's back.
There's lots more crud inside than you can
clean with oil and medicine, if you should
toil a thousand years.
It took that long for me to get
this way.
How strong are you, Joanna?
Horus and his seven hawk-like demons stand
against the strongest alchemy.
I know, Joanna said, and we must not
engage beyond the length of our skill, but
there is one whose strength is greater than
your Horus and his hawk-like gods, and
none can stand against his word.
And where is he?
she asked Joanna.
If I see him, will he punish me?
I think he'd rather make you free to
drink at springs of life, all sound and
dressed in robes of joy and unpossessed.
His name is Jesus.
When I learned what happened with the king,
I yearned for you to meet the one
who made me whole, and so I went
and prayed that he would come, and he
agreed.
Oh, Mary, look and see what he can
do for you.
The Lord approached the bloody stone where sword
and scourge had taken life for ten dark
centuries gone by, and then he raised his
hand by Jesus' wife to make the stone
a place of life.
Before the Lord could speak a word, the
demons made her like a bird with fingers
like the talons on a hawk, and all
her muscles drawn like bowstrings ready for the
fight, and screeching voice combining fright and insolence.
We know your name, they screamed.
You are the Christ, the same old holy
one of God who cast us out of
heaven ages past and split the midnight sky
with light and shattered all the towering might
of Magdala.
Then Jesus said, Be silent, seven eyes.
The dead, they're in the tombs.
Behold, you get your last abode until the
net of wrath removes your last desire and
casts you in the lake of fire.
The seven demons overthrown, now Mary crumples to
the stone, and Jesus reaches out his hand
and touches her.
Come, Mary, stand.
Instead, she crawls and clasps his feet and
weeps with heaving sobs and sweet, as if
a thousand years of chains were cut away
and deepest stains were clean and all her
mind were given back to her, inclined another
way.
Now cease to hold my feet, he says,
for it is told of old that I
must drink my cup.
Then gently Jesus lifts her up and says,
For this I must be free like you.
Now come and follow me.
And so, sweet fire of candle three that
burns so bright and painfully, come, light the
midnight of our days and strike the towers
of our ways.
And when we think our chains are strong
and slavery has been too long and wicked
ropes are bound too tight and demons lurk
beneath your sight, think not that we are
too unclean.
Remember Mary Magdalene.
Come, sweetly, painful flame, and be the fire
that sets the captive free.