Passionate Voices – Thursday: afternoon

Mary Magdalene

I love Passover, the foods, the traditions, the remembrance of Adonai’s great rescue of His People.  The Master has delivered me from slavery, each Passover I remember this and give thanks. I have seen it so many times now, he speaks with authority and the demons grow still like tamed dogs and go, flee, like servants before an angry centurian.  Then the men and women wake as from sleep, free from the voices, the torment, the inner pains and accusations. I was no different. These Passover bitter herbs and this Charoset will sting then sweeten our mouths as we eat – just as the Master’s words sting and sweeten lives.  This Passover celebration will lift our spirits, remind us of Adonai’s sweetness in our bitterness and help us to see the hope of our Messiah, our Master, is close at hand.

 

Mary of Bethany, sister of Lazarus

He looks at me with hatred: Judas once so full of joy is now so full of bitterness.  He does not even bare my presence. The Master speaks tenderly and with compassion – he addresses me directly, he speaks to me of hope, of new life and a new way to live.  I see the way in which the Pharisees look, the Scribes shake their heads, the Sadducees laugh cruelly.  This week their looks are harsher and their words more hateful.  The Master seems not to notice, or does not show he does, and he presses on. Today we gather for the Passover meal, light the candles, drink the cups, eat the foods and remember the answers to the questions.  The Master will again draw us close and speak of hope and freedom, new beginnings and the goodness of Adonai in the land of the living.

 

Mary, Jesus’ mother

My son what troubles your mind?  Once again we find ourselves at a celebration, family and friends, traditions of our fathers and the greatness of the LORD of the Covenant.  Here my son, among your friends and family, find rest in the comfort of the story of His rescue of our people.  You speak of death and destruction, of the end of all things and your mother’s heart is broken, my eyes are full of tears.  You my son are not like other men, your call is as special as your birth – you are The Messiah, your time is coming.  I do not understand your words, I draw back at how you live, I fear for your future; but tonight, let us celebrate the better times of the past and put all thoughts of tomorrow from our minds.

 

Claudia Procula Pilatia

The gods be praised it is a new day. Morpheus troubled me last night with visions of a tormentor. He stood silent and his eyes burned into my soul. He looked like one of these Jews who so often comes before my husband: he was bloodied and beaten, surrounded by gaurds.  He was a condemned criminal and yet he was my judge. I pleased with him for clemency but his silent stare accused me and condemned me. My husband came and stood in the way, blood poured like water from his hands, the eyes of the Jew condemned us both. The crowd began to roar and grew up like the waves of the ocean on the shore.  The wave crashed onto me and my husband and the Jew was lifted up above us and opened his mouth but no sound came forth. His eyes look into mine and I was undone.  I woke screaming and screaming until the guards rushed into my room with my maids.  I am glad it was just a vision of the night but even in the brightness of this spring day, his eyes still haunt me and I am troubled still.