The Gospel, the Good News according to Matthias – part 2

St Matthias

Rabbi Jesus never got a chance to answer, for several faces turned to me, and a man with laughing eyes told me a story of an altercation that Rabbi Jesus had had with a Pharisee over this very problem. The Rabbi, the Pharisee and a farmer were standing over a well from which could be heard the frantic braying of an ass. How it had got in the well no one could quite work out, the problem was getting it out. The Pharisee was insistent that it should be left until after the Sabbath, but Rabbi Jesus just said that the Sabbath was there to help people have the space to find Yahweh, not to punish a poor animal that was in distress and pain. So the Rabbi stripped off his robe, hitched up his undergarments, and climbed down the well. A rope was dropped down to him, and some of his followers cloaks. Speaking gently to the frightened animal he used the cloaks to pad the animal so that the rope would not cut in to him so much. At the top of the well his followers rallied around, and on the count of the farmer they began to haul the ass up out of the well. Willing hands reached out to help haul the poor animal over the wall of the well, and to untie it. More hands helped pull a now soaked, muddy and shit covered Rabbi back out of the well. It took several buckets of water to clean the ass, and even more to clean Rabbi Jesus. The villagers who had come to see what all the commotion was about rallied around to clean off his undergarments and set them out to dry. All of the cloaks had to be similarly washed as well. There was a general orgy of washing. The Pharisee who was home from Jerusalem for a few days just stood by opening and shutting his mouth like a newly landed fish, at the sight of all of these people knowingly breaking the Sabbath. That evening, at the Sabbath Meal, the entire village came together to celebrate the rescue of the Ass and the putting down of the Pharisee, who was not the most liked man in the village.

By the end of this story I had fallen in love with the vision of Yahweh that Rabbi Jesus was teaching, and I was determined to follow him and keep hearing more. I think I assumed that I would return home at some point, and would bring back to my life a way of living and loving Yahweh that was different to the one I had always been taught. I made arrangements for my animals and land to be looked after by my brother, and when Rabbi Jesus left the village the next day I went with him. Days turned into months and months into years. We moved from place to place. If we were made welcome and the people were willing to feed the increasing numbers of us travelling with the Master, then we would stay for as long as it felt comfortable. If our reception was hostile, then we would move on quickly.

I was there on the day The Master was arrested, and I was in Jerusalem on the day he was tried and crucified and buried. I was there when the news came that The Master had risen from the dead and had been seen by the women of our group. I was at the bottom of the mountain when the Apostles closest to him came down to say that Rabbi Jesus had ascended in to heaven to be with his Heavenly Father. I was there as one of the Apostles when the fires of the Holy Spirit came upon us all and lit us up from within giving us strength and courage to go out and preach the Good News of Jesus Christ.

Since that day I have been wandering the face of the earth preaching to the willing and unwilling. I have been seen in Cappadocia on the coasts of the Caspian Sea near to the port of Issus. I have been seen in Judea and in Aethiopia, in the region of Colchis (Now in modern day Georgia). Now I am here in this jail cell awaiting death.

Footnote
There is little factual information about Matthias. Even his name is not certain, as the chosen Apostle is also sometimes referred to as Tolmai. Like many of the Apostles there are a number of traditions regarding his death. There are claims that he died in Gonio (Apsaros) in the modern Georgian region of Adjara and that there is a marker in the old Roman Fort there telling of his death. The Synopsis of Dorotheus says “Matthias preached the Gospel to barbarians and meat-eaters in the interior of Ethiopia, where the sea harbor of Hyssus is, at the mouth of the river Phasis. He died at Sebastopolis, and was buried there, near the Temple of the Sun.” Alternatively he might have been stoned and beheaded in Jerusalem, or he might have lived to a great age in Jerusalem and died peacefully in his sleep. You can take your pick. It is claimed that Matthias remains are interred in the Abbey of St. Matthias, Trier, Germany, brought there by Empress Helena of Constantinople, mother of Emperor Constantine, but according to Greek sources, the remains of the apostle are buried in the castle of Gonnio-Apsaros in Georgia.

There are surviving fragments of a ‘Gospel of Matthias’, and quotes from it in some of the Early Church Fathers. It was not chosen as one of the four canonical gospels, and was later dismissed as heretical, and as such has been lost.

The feast of Saint Matthias was included in the Roman Calendar in the 11th century and celebrated on 24th or 25th February. Later it was moved to May 14th to take it outside Lent and nearer to the day when he would have been chosen as an Apostle.

The Transfiguration – part 1

Elijah and Elisha

I don’t know why I was there, I don’t know how I got there, all I know is that on that morning I woke up under a bush on top of the mountain, and I felt like I was going to die. I wish I had. My wife had died only a few days earlier, after a long and painful illness. I had watched her die, wiped the tears of pain from her eyes, rocked her in my arms when she wept in pain, and when the pain became everything, and her breath shortened and her eyes closed, then I wept and pleaded with Yahweh to take her fast, so that she would not suffer any longer. But he did not, and she faded before my eyes, grew visibly smaller as neither food nor drink passed her lips, and still her indomitable spirit remained in her poor, poor body. At last, as I slept the sleep of the exhausted, lying beside her, she slipped away without my even saying goodbye, and I was left crushed with guilt.

Our children helped me to bury her, but then they returned to their own homes, and I was left in our silent house with only a donkey and chickens for company. I had wine to drink, and neighbours brought bread, and fruit, but nothing could dull the pain. So I picked up a wine skin and walked. I don’t know why I came to the top of the mountain. Was it to be closer to Yahweh or as far as possible away from all that reminded me of her? Maybe I hoped that if I just lay down and drank to forget, the world would forget about me, and that would be that. Maybe, well there are lots of maybes, but none of them came to pass, because as I lay there under the bush with the hammers of the metalsmith hammering away at my skull, a group of men came up the path onto the summit, and rudely brought me back to reality.

After peeping around the foliage at them, I lay back down under the bush and hoped they wouldn’t notice me. Who comes up onto the top of a mountain just as the sun is rising? Who comes when the sun has not yet burnt the mist off, so that you still can’t see the world laid out at your feet? Only people who want to do something they don’t want anyone else to see. But this group of men were talking rationally and calmly. They didn’t sound like conspirators. From my place under the bush I saw the feet of one of the men move away from the others. Then I heard a gasp from the other men. I didn’t want to get involved, so I didn’t look, or rather I didn’t look until one of the men broke the silence.
‘Rabbi, what is happening to you? Who are those men talking to you? They weren’t there just now, so where have they come from?’
There was the murmur of a response then I heard;
‘Rabbi, it is good that we are here. Shall I build three shelters, one for you, one for Moses and one for Elijah?’
Whatever else I had expected to hear, and I have to say something about the Romans was high on my list, why did Moses and Elijah suddenly come into the conversation? I was intrigued, so I lifted myself up, and crawled round the bush, and found myself behind three men who had fallen to their knees, looking up at a fourth man facing me, who was a bright dazzling white. It wasn’t that his clothes were white, although they were. It wasn’t that his skin was white, although it was. It was that everything about him was an unearthly white. In fact I would go as far as saying it was a heavenly white. I looked closely at him, but maybe my eyes were more affected by the wine than I thought, as I could only see the one man they called the Rabbi. I couldn’t see Moses and Elijah. Well, they were long dead, so our Rabbi’s teach us, so how could he be talking to them here and now.

Nicodemus the Politician – part 1

The knock on my door came a couple of hours after dawn, and after I had only been asleep for a little while. I had not slept properly since participating in Jesus’ trial. Witnessing his crucifixion had been giving me nightmares every time I closed my eyes. The weather was also really warm, even at night, so I had divested myself of as much clothing as I could before finally falling into a fitful sleep. My wife opened the door to find six Roman soldiers standing outside. They demanded to know whether I was within, and on being told I was, they came in, and seeing me, hauled me out of bed. They would have dragged me out of doors with them as I was, but my wife protested so much that they at least allowed me to throw a robe over my head and hold it in place with a belt. She threw me a pair of sandles as I was hustled out of the door.

With a burly soldier on either side, I was walked rapidly up the hill towards the Temple complex. I tried to ask what was going on, but they just told me to shut up and walk. We passed by the entrance to the Temple, and I was marched through the gateway to the Antonia Fortress. As I was hustled across the courtyard, I heard some screams of pain, and turned to see two soldiers being given a lashing by their centurion. I was hustled on and quickly led into the presence of Pontius Pilate, the Roman Governor, who was there with Ciaiphas the High Priest and Ananus ben Seth the former High Priest, father-in-law to Ciaiphas, and the prime political mover behind the Sanhedrin. I could understand Ananus and Ciaiphas being together, but why were they here with Pontius Pilate? Before I had time to gather my thoughts together, Pilate stepped forward until he was almost nose to nose with me and aggressively demanded

“Where is he?”

“Where is who?” I asked, bewildered

“You know perfectly well who. Jesus of Nazareth.”

“But Jesus of Nazareth is dead, your soldiers crucified him. I was there, I saw it. They crucified him, and when he was dead they plunged a spear into his side to really make sure he was dead.”

“You took his body.”

“You gave Joseph of Arimathea and I permission to take his body and give it a decent burial. We had your soldiers with us from the moment his body was taken down from the cross, to the moment they sealed his body in Joseph’s tomb. The last I saw of the tomb was just as the sun was beginning to set at the beginning of the Sabbath. Joseph and I walked away back to Jerusalem to get home in time for the evening meal, leaving soldiers standing guarding the tomb, as you had ordered. What has happened, why am I here?”

Pilate stepped back from me and went to sit down, while he obviously calculated what to say to me next.

“You are here because the body of Jesus has been removed from the tomb. The guards say they were knocked unconscious, and two men wearing white robes took the body of Jesus away. Were these men your servants? If they were, you had better get them to bring the body back, or else.”

I did not know what to think at this announcement, I just looked at Pilate bewildered.

“I didn’t send my servants anywhere. We have been keeping Passover, so we did not leave the house until you came and fetched me from my bed. I expect the servants went out to the market at first light, but they have been with us all the time, until then.”

Ananus looked at me.

“I would like to believe you Nicodemus. You and I have known each other for many years, With the body gone, the followers of Jesus will begin to talk about him having come back to life, like that man Lazarus. They will rise up, and lead a rebellion against the Romans. I do not want any more of our people killed for following a misguided preacher from the countryside who has no knowledge about how this country is ruled and managed. I have worked hard with the Sanhedrin to keep us treading a difficult path with Rome. We have been allowed to keep our laws and our God with as little interference as possible. I want to keep it that way.”

Pilate spoke up again

“If the people rebel again I will give the order to kill them. I will arrest those who do not die fighting, and there will be crosses on every road leading out of this city, do I make myself clear Nicodemus?”

“You make yourself very clear, both of you. You wanted Jesus of Nazareth dead because you were afraid he would lead a rebellion against you, and challenge your authority. Now his body has gone you are afraid that his followers will take up his mantle, and his death will not have stopped a rebellion after all.”

“You are right. It was better that one man die than many be led to death by him.”

“And you three loose your positions and authority.” I said angrily. “You Ciaiphas trumped up charges against him to keep your position as High Priest, and you Ananus conspired with him. And you Pilate, did you already know that you would be asked to confirm the death penalty?”

Pilate didn’t answer my question. He stood up and stepped forwards towards me again.

“All of that is irrelevant. What matters now is that you hand over Jesus’ body so that it can be taken and buried where it will never be found.”

I stood up straight in front of Pilate and looked him straight in the eye.

“I am sorry, but even if I knew where the body of Jesus was, I wouldn’t tell you, but on my honour, I have no idea.”

I turned to look at Ananus again.

“I don’t suppose that it has occurred to you that he has actually come back to life? I was there when he brought Lazarus back from the grave. He told us in the Hall of the Hewn Stones that he was the son of Yahweh, so why should Yahweh not have brought him back to life as well?”

Ciaiphas spoke for the first time,

“You are an old fool. Of course he has not come back from the dead. That can’t happen. You have been hoodwinked by a man with magical powers given to him by Satan.”

I looked at Ciaiphas, and opened my mouth to challenge what he had just said, but one look at his face told me that his mind was completely closed to anything I might say. So I closed my mouth again. Ciaiphas looked contemptuously at me.

“You know in your heart you have been hoodwinked, but you are not going to admit it, are you?”

Pilate spoke again.

“You had better tell me the truth now, as there are men questioning your wife, children and servants. If they hear one little thing that they think is false, they will arrest them, and bring them here for further questioning. I might not be as gentle with them as I am with you.”

I shuddered at what that might mean for my family, but reiterated again that I had not taken the body of Jesus of Nazareth, and had no idea who might have done so. The three of them kept at me for a couple of hours, but there was nothing I could tell them. Eventually the door opened and a soldier came in and whispered to Pilate, who looked at Ciaiphas and Ananus, and nodded. He looked at me.

“You can go now. But do not leave Jerusalem.”

I headed thankfully towards the door. I had not thought that they would let me go. I left the Antonia Fortress, and almost ran back down the hill towards my house. My wife fell in my arms as soon as I was through the door. She had not known whether she would ever see me again.

Herod’s Guard – part 1

I consider myself to be a decent man, although there are many who would say that no soldier could be considered decent. I have my principles and my code of ethics, and I stick to them, at least I try to. In the army one has to obey a superior officer, even at times when what you are asked to do may run counter to everything you believe in. There is only one incident in my life where I committed a truly terrible act on the orders of a superior, knowing that it was completely wrong, but fearing for my own life, and the lives of my men, if I did not obey.

I don’t think I ever wanted to be anything but a soldier. My father tutored me in the use of weapons almost from the moment I could stand. I became proficient in the use of the dagger and the sword, and I could hunt with a bow and arrow with the men of my village. When the Roman Army marched into our neighbourhood to put down a rebellion, I ran off to join the fight. I arrived too late to do anything but admire the way in which the Roman troops ruthlessly mopped up all resistance to their presence. I resolved to join their army if I could. I wanted to fight on the wining side. Luckily the Romans liked to enrol local men in their army. They would train them up, form regiments, give them Roman officers and then pack them of half way around the world to keep the pax romana in a place where they held no allegiances. So it was that I found myself in a Judea, serving the client King, Herod the Idumean.

In King Herod’s own personal guard there were men from Gaul, Germany and my regiment from Thrace (which we would now call Bulgaria) In addition there were the Doryphnoroi, which was a ceremonial unit made up of distinguished old soldiers and the scions of old Jewish families loyal to King Herod. We Thracians had had units fighting in the Roman Army for many years, and when Herod the Idumean overthrew Antigonus and became the client King of Judea for the Roman Senate, we became part of his army. The Gauls serving with us had been the bodyguards to Cleopatra, and were given as a gift to King Herod after the battle of Actium. The Germans were modelled on Augustus Caesar’s own bodyguard.

Over the years, as I fought well in battle, and it became obvious that the men liked me, and listened to me, I rose through the ranks to become a centurion, commanding a group of 80 men. I was a man under orders. Part of my duties as an officer in King Herod’s Army, was to keep my ear to the ground, to make sure that there was no rebellion brewing anywhere in this turbulent country of Judea. When new visitors came to the Palace, where I was stationed, if I was on duty I would talk to them, to find out where they had been and what they had seen. So it was that I was on duty when a group of travelers from Arabia came to the gate of King Herod’s Palace in Jerusalem asking to see the new baby king which had been born.

I didn’t know of any royal baby being born in the palace, but King Herod had had so many wives and children that I might have missed a child or grandchild being born. To my knowledge King Herod had had nine wives, starting with Doris, whom he divorced for the love of his life Mariamne, by whom he had quite a number of children and whom he executed, after accusing her of plotting rebellion against him. He must have missed being able to call out for Mariamne, because he then married another Mariamne, this one the daughter of Simon the High Priest. Then there was Malthace, then Cleopatra of Jerusalem, then Pallas, then Phaidra, then Elpis, all of whom gave him children. He must have got beyond children then, as his last two wives didn’t have any. So, I didn’t think a new royal child had been born, but after checking, I went to tell King Herod that these Arabians were here, and what they wanted. King Herod was interested, and had me bring them to him. While he feasted with them and plied them with drink, I went to see their camels being stabled and to talk to their camel men and servants. They were quite wary at first to talk about their masters business, but I eventually found one camel man who really did not want to be on the trip, which had already lasted many months, and was quite willing to share stories of the trials and tribulations of the journey, and the stupidity of men who would set off to find a king guided only by a new star they had spotted in the heavens.

I was intrigued by this. I knew of course that one could travel using the stars, but mostly it was too dark for a regiment to travel at night, so we would use the time to rest. I gathered that this journey had been made mostly at night when it was cooler, and when the star, which had been seen in the East, was at its brightest. All of the travelers were followers of the prophet Zoroaster. Looking at the stars and reading the signs of their god, whom they called Ahura Mazda, which translated is ‘Wide Lord’, is part of their religion. They only have the one god, which I find very strange, but then so do the Judeans. The Magi who were leading the group were especially skilled in the reading of the stars, and when they saw the new star, back in their own country, they consulted their religious texts, and found reference to a new and powerful king who would be born, so they resolved to follow the star and find him. It seemed like a really odd thing to do, and I kept on probing, but no matter what I asked my new friend he always came up with the same answer. I began to wonder whether they were on some kind of reconnaissance mission.

King Herod must have thought so as well, as after listening to his guests, he sent for me, and told me to send one of the Jewish servants to the Temple, and demand that the Priests bring any sacred texts relating to a new king to be born here and now. I sent the servant with the instructions, but I was seriously worried about King Herod. In recent years he had become very paranoid about everyone, including his own family. He had tried and executed several of his sons, and even his favourite wife for allegedly plotting against him. I sincerely hoped that the Temple Priests would come and tell him that there was nothing in the sacred texts, and that the Arabians were mistaken, but much to my horror, the Temple Priests arrived followed by their servants carrying arm loads of scrolls. They were all chattering excitedly. I led them into the presence of the king and the Arabians, and remained while they told King Herod that their scriptures did indeed foretell of a King to be born, but it was not here in Jerusalem, but an easy day’s journey away in the small town of Bethlehem. The Arabians were delighted that what was written in their holy texts were confirmed by what was written in the Judean texts, and especially that a place was named. They thanked King Herod and resolved to travel immediately to find the baby born to be king.

The news about the visitors and what they had come for had spread around Jerusalem like wild fire. From the mutterings of the servants, the townspeople seemed to be pleased that a promised King was coming to rid them of King Herod as generally the populace did not like him, for although he claimed to be a Jew, his family were from Idumea, and they were only converts to Judaism. Less was said in my presence about the baby born to be king getting rid of the Romans as well. I wasn’t really worried about a group of rebels following a baby, but when he grew up he might become a problem for Rome. My biggest fear was the effect this was having on King Herod. He wandered around the palace muttering to himself and pulling at his beard, which was never a good sign. After a couple of weeks, it became obvious that the Arabians were not going to return. King Herod completely lost his temper, and stormed around the palace shouting threats to anyone who came near him. His anger was soon reported to the population of Jerusalem, and all talk of the new baby king ceased. The people became scared, wondering what the king might do in his anger.

The Bethlehem Caravansary – part 3

Caravansary

 

As we were leaving the tent, I noticed the husband of Mary standing nearby, so I went up to him to enquire about his wife and child. His face just lit up, and he told us that Mary was doing well, and that it was a little boy they had called Jesus. We congratulated him, and would have moved on, but he stopped us with one hand, and started to apologise for the noise made by the shepherds. I had forgotten them. What was the bit about the angels, I asked him, as I remembered? He looked embarrassed and said that they told them that they had been in their fields minding their sheep, when the heavens seemed to open and a choir of angels sang ‘Glory to God in the highest, and, Peace to his people on earth.’ Then the angels told them that a baby had been born in Bethlehem, who was God’s son. So they had left their sheep, to come and find him. They had been so overjoyed that they had wanted to tell everyone there and then. I remembered that bit. I also vaguely remembered the bright light. I didn’t want to be rude to this man, but I couldn’t really believe that the son of God had been born in Bethlehem in my stable.

I was so busy for the next two or three days, as the majority of our visitors set off back home, with supplies of bread and water to keep them going. I didn’t have time to go and check up on Mary, Joseph and Jesus. When I did, I was smitten with the lovely woman and her adorable baby. All babies are cute, but there was something about this one. I still wasn’t sure about the son of God bit, until a few weeks later, when a group of travellers from Arabia knocked on our door asking for a room and stabling for their camels. They then asked me whether I knew of a baby having been born in the town a few weeks ago. Something made me ask them why. They told me that they had been on the road for many months, following a star, to find a baby who would be king. I knew then that they were talking about Mary and Jesus, still in our stable, just waiting for them both to be strong enough to manage the week long walk back home to Nazareth. I sent the travellers on their way to the stable, their arms loaded with gifts of Gold, Frankincense and Myrrh. When they came back they told us that they had laid their gifts before the baby, Jesus, and had spent a long time talking with Mary and Joseph. Early the next morning Mary and Joseph stopped by the caravansary as they were on their way. They thanked us, and left us some of the gold, as payment for their stay.

All these things happened when Quirinius was governor of Syria, and had just been put in charge of the new Roman Province of Judea. He could not have known the many bitter things that would come out of, what was for the Romans, a regular event. The first bitter thing was for us in Bethlehem. Herod sent soldiers to find the baby born to be king, having learnt about him from the Arabians. Many of the townspeople who had heard the shepherds and seen the exotic travellers told the soldiers that the family had left to go home, and were no longer in Bethlehem, but the soldiers chose not to believe them, and took revenge by killing all the baby boys in the town aged under two years. It has scarred the people, and the town, and left us all with a hatred of Herod. The second thing was that one Judas of Gamala became zealous to draw the people to revolt because of the census, among other things. Some of our young men who has shouted against the census, and seen their siblings killed, did join his zealot movement which started a series of violent wars which brought much destruction on our people.

I don’t know what to think about Jesus of Nazareth. When he was born the angels sang for joy, and I believe what the shepherds told us about the angels, many times over the years, even though they are not usually the most reliable of witnesses. There was something about them that had changed, through what they had seen. Bethlehem’s Rabbi’s had told us over the years, that the Messiah would come to save his people, but the first thing that happened to us was that a lot of our sons were killed instead of him. That is not saving us. It was only a little over three years ago that we began to hear stories of the Rabbi, Jesus of Nazareth, how he was preaching about the kingdom of God, performing miracles and healing the sick. The more stories I heard, the more I began to believe that this was the same Jesus I had seen born here in Bethlehem, all those years ago. Jesus is not such a common name. Then I heard of his triumphal entry in to Jerusalem, the king being welcomed to his capital city, and there it was, the promise to save our people. I waited with bated breath to see what would happen next. But this was followed by the dreadful news that he had been arrested and crucified. How could this happen to a man sent by God? What had gone wrong with God’s plan? Were we ever going to be saved? Then there was the news that he had been seen again, alive, or resurrected, and I really didn’t know what to make of that. The final piece of news that came flying to Bethlehem, along with the merchants, was that this Jesus had ascended into heaven, and that something had happened to his followers, who were now preaching the good news of Jesus all over the country. I look forward to one of them coming here to Bethlehem, so that I can find out what all this means, and whether God’s chosen people are going to be saved as he has promised, and to tell them about his birth in my stable here in Bethlehem.

Joanna bat (daughter of) Judith – part 1

Luke 8:2-3 “and certain women who had been healed of evil spirits and infirmities—Mary called Magdalene, out of whom had come seven demons, and Joanna the wife of Chuza, Herod’s steward, and Susanna, and many others who provided for Him from their substance.”

Herod’s Palace, Jerusalem

I feel very privileged to be able to walk through these halls and gardens every day. Even though they are not mine, I have lived here most of my life, and in some way they feel like mine. My father was a groom to King Herod, and my mother, Judith was a personal servant to Queen Mariamne the favourite wife of the king. I was married to Chuza, the King’s steward when I was 14 years old.

Chuza is not a fellow countryman. He first came to my country in the retinue of three sages; wise religious men of his country, Persia. They travelled for years, following a star which they believed would lead them to a great and powerful king. They found a great and powerful king when they arrived at this palace and were granted audience with King Herod. Chuza frequently tells me that when they arrived at the palace they were completely overawed. Riding up the road towards it, on their camels, all they could see to begin with were walls of between 13 and 16 feet high, depending on the contours of the land, creating a flat platform on the top of the hill that is about 1,000 feet by 183 feet. Rising above the platform, they saw the palace built out of huge white marble blocks which have been so cleverly fitted together that they look as seamless as when they were still in the quarry. It is surrounded by a wall of the same white marble, some of which they could see forms part of the protective wall on this corner of the city. Rising above the palace on the North side there are three towers, to protect the king, or the city, depending on where the enemy is coming from. These could also be a place of refuge if there were to be a rebellion against the King. The Phasael Tower stands 145 feet high and is named after King Herod’s brother. The Hippicus Tower, named after his great friend stands 132 feet high, and the Mariamne Tower, the smallest at only 74 feet high is named after his wife. This is accounted to be the most beautiful of the towers.

Coming in through the gates Chuza, the Sages and the rest of the retinue entered a courtyard with a beautiful garden that was wonderfully green and lush after the dry dust of the city and landscape they had just ridden through. When they dismounted from their camels, they were led through a portico into the great banqueting hall of one of the two living quarters, which are in two wings named after Agrippa and Caesar, placed north and south of the beautiful garden. Chuza remembers being completely overawed by the number of doors he passed, for King Herod build his palace so that he could entertain on a great scale. Where most people in the country live in just one room, sharing it with whatever animals they own. In his palace King Herod could sleep a hundred guests in each wing. They would expect to be overawed by the beauty and variety of the stone and wood of the palace, its fine decorations and rich fabrics. They would drink out of vessels of silver and gold, and admire the size of the roof timbers, and decorations on the pillars of the porticoes. Chuza was certainly overwhelmed by what he saw. This all belonged to a great and powerful king.

While the sages were in audience with the King, Chuza was allowed to wander through the gardens, where he remembers the green everywhere, as he wandered along long paths through groves of trees, where the citrus were laden with fruit ready to be picked. There were canals with water running through them, for decoration and for watering the plants and there were cisterns with bronze fountains from which water flowed back into the canals. For a young boy on his first journey away from home it was a completely memorable experience. When he left, he vowed that he would return again one day.

The woman who bled – part 1

(Mark 5:21-34)

The Woman who bled

I saw him coming down the road. The sun was behind his head, so that his face was in shadow and it looked as if he had a halo. His brown sandal clad feet scuffed the dry, white road as he walked, raising a cloud of white dust so that it looked as if he was walking on a cloud. There must have been other people around him to have been raising such a cloud of dust, but I could not have told you whether there were 2 or 200. All I saw was him, the man I most sincerely hoped would be my saviour. I had planned this moment for weeks, after I had begun to hear stories about the miraculous healings he had performed. I knew that after all this time, I needed a miracle, and I hoped, with what little capacity for hope I had left, that this time the stories would be true, and I could be healed. I had walked for several hours to be here, to wait, to hope. As he came closer I put out my hand to stop him, but I was swept aside by the mass of bodies around him. When I regained my balance, I stood rooted to the spot, staring down the road at the crowd now hiding him from view.

Despair threatened to overcome me, but suddenly anger took its place. I had come here to be healed, and I was not going to be swept away again like a nobody, I am somebody. I began to run, and to push my way forward through the crowd. I used my elbows, my hands, anything to get people to move. I got sworn at several times, and pushed back again, but anger held me upright and pushed me forward. Then there he was again; just his back this time. I put my hand out again and touched the back of his robe, meaning to get him to turn around and look at me, but when my hand touched his robe, it was as if a bolt of lightening had hit me. I stumbled and would have fallen if the crowd, pressed close against me, had not held me upright. As it was shock rooted me to the spot, and the crowd passed around me like the sea around a rock. When I emerged from the back of the crowd, I finally sank to my knees in the middle of the road too overcome to do anything else.

As I knelt in the middle of the road, settling dust beginning to cover me from tip to toe, I closed my eyes and my mind emptied. Gradually I began to be filled again, with the sound of insects chirruping in the bushes just off the road, the singing of birds in the trees. I could hear a donkey neighing and camels grumbling to each other. There was the sound of people talking in the distance, and the bangs and clatters of village life, which seemed so near that I could have reached out and touched them. I felt the dust settle on my hands and face, and the sun beat down, hot on the back of my robes. A donkey must have wondered up, because it started to make some exploratory nibbles of my headdress. I opened my eyes and looked up into a pair of patient brown eyes, ringed with impossibly long lashes. We eyed each other for a long minute, then the donkey tossed his head and began to wonder off. I looked around me, at the bright, vivid colours of the trees against the sky, the exotic flowers nestled in the nearby bushes, the white of the road, and for the first time in many years I rejoiced that I was alive and that I was healthy.

That I was healthy? Why had that come into my mind? I hadn’t been healthy for years! Before I had time to examine those thoughts, I became aware that some of the crowd who had moved off down the road, were now returning, and with a sound like an angry swarm of bees. Before I had time to do more than get myself to my feet they were upon me. ‘The Master wants to speak to you.’ ‘Come.’ Rough hands grabbed me, and began to drag me down the road to where the rest of the crowd had turned and were watching what was happening to me. Just as I got to the front of the crowd, it parted to reveal The Master, Jesus of Nazareth, I had only a moment to register that he looked absolutely exhausted, when the men holding me threw me at his feet.

As I tilted my face to look up at him in some bewilderment, I saw a look of anger cross his face. He crouched down in front of me and held out his hand. As he stood up, he pulled me to my feet. Ignoring everyone else, he led me to a nearby tree, where he sat down in the shade with his back against the trunk, and gestured to me to come and sit next to him. The crowd looked at him like a flock of lost sheep. He smiled gently at them now, and asked whether someone could get us water. He then asked the crowd to make the most of the other trees nearby, while water was being fetched. Then he turned to me.
‘Well?’ he said.
I just looked at him. I had no idea what he wanted me to say.
‘You touched me, and power went from me. What is the problem with you?’
I looked at him horrified, it was such a delicate problem, I couldn’t talk to him about it, but he just kept looking seriously at me.
‘You wanted my help, so start at the beginning’ he suggested.
I quickly made up my mind, marshalled my thoughts and began.

‘When I became a woman soon after my 12th birthday, my parents were delighted. My father already had his eye on Matthew, a potter in our village. The arrangements were made, and a year later we were married. I think it was the happiest day of my life. For several years things went well, but I did not get pregnant. I got a bit worried, but Matthew didn’t seem to mind, he said we had plenty of time ahead of us. As time passed my monthly bleeding became longer and longer, and every time I performed the Hefsek Taharah, the bedikah cloth I used to check whether there was still blood, always showed some. I could no longer begin to count the seven clean days before I could go to the Mikvah to undertake the ceremony of ritual purification before my husband could come to me again. We went to the Rabbi to check that we were doing things right, but we were, so for several years now Matthew has been my husband in name only. We have tried everything. I went to the wise woman in the village who gave me some foul tasting liquid made from crushed leaves of some sort, to drink. The Physicians in the towns are fine if you have a cut or a broken limb, which they can bind up and sooth with healing herbs, but if anything goes wrong with the body or the mind, then they shrug their shoulders, and say it is God’s will whether you will be healed or not.’

Margery Kempe – Mystic or Mad? – part 3

Margery Kempe

I needed to know more about Our Lord, so I sought out Confessors who not only would shrive me, but would also teach me. Over the years they read to me, not only from the Bible, but also from the writings of various mystics. I remember hearing ‘The Scale of Perfection’, by Walter Hilton, ‘The Incendium Amoris’ by Richard Rolle of Hampole, the ‘Stimulus Amoris’, which I believe is by St Bonaventura and the ‘Revelations’ of St Bridget of Sweden. These books, which my Confessors helped me to memorise, were sources of great inspiration and solace. Many things which I felt and did, were similar to the experiences that these writers had been through, and they helped me to understand the path which Our Lord wished me to take. One of my Confessors also arranged with the Bishop for me to be able to receive the Sacrament daily, as I found that receiving just on Holy days was not enough for me.

I spent as much time as I could in meditation on the life of Our Lord. I would enter into the stories in my mind, and see for myself what Our Lord went though for me a poor sinner. At times I would be so overcome by the emotion of it all that I would have great weepings and roarings. Sometimes even the reading of the Gospel in Church would cause me to weep and roar. Some people thought I was a very holy woman to be so overcome by the words of the gospel, but others just got really annoyed and asked the Priest to have me removed. They changed their minds on 23rd January 1431 when there was a great fire in Lynn, which burnt down the Guildhall of the Holy Trinity, right near to St Margaret’s Church. Then they asked me to pray that the church be saved. I asked to priest to take the Sacrament to the door of the church, and he held it there as long as he could. I had a great vision sent to me from Our Lord in which the church was saved by a fall of snow. The people scoffed at the vision, as the sky was clear and blue, but it came to pass as I had foreseen and the church was saved.

I so wanted to share what I came to know of Our Lord, through the books and through my meditations, that I was very zealous in talking about Our Lord. When I was on Pilgrimage to the Holy Land, all I wanted to do was talk about the life of Our Lord, and what it would mean for us to be able to see the places where he himself had lived and walked. I could not understand why others in my group did not want to talk similarly. Surely that is what we were on Pilgrimage for. Some asked me to cease my talking, but for the love of Our Lord I could not be silenced. On more than one occasion they got up early in the morning and left me behind. I often had great difficulty in finding them again. Sometimes, when I was in a new place, and had spoken of Our Lord to the local Priest, he would find the group and rebuke them for leaving behind such a holy woman as I. Back at home in England I also would talk about Our Lord to anyone who would listen, and I found myself arrested for this on numerous occasions. I was told that as a woman I should not speak of Our Lord, that was for the clergy to do. I was even accused of being a Lollard, an heretical preacher. I was distraught that anyone could think I was an heretic. In my lifetime I have spoken to many Priests, Abbots and Bishops. I have even spoken to the Archbishop of Canterbury, and after he had heard me speak about Our Lord, I even rebuked him for the lewdness and language of his household staff. All of them confirmed that my faith is genuine and orthodox, even if I am very un-orthodox in wanting to speak about it and share it with others.

I have never been able to understand why some in the church want to stop me talking. Many of the holy women I learnt about in books or by stories told me, or on my pilgrimages, were women who had not been afraid to speak about about Our Lord. I heard about St Mechthild of Hackeborn, and Elizabeth of Shonau; of Mary of Oignes and St Catherine of Sienna. There was Blessed Angela of Foligno and Blessed Dorothea of Montau and of course Dame Julian of Norwich whom I went to visit, and had much holy conversation with.

The book of my life, which I caused to be written some years ago, has now been translated into English from what I am told was neither good English nor good German – the scribe who wrote it for me deceived me terribly. The man I eventually found to translate it for me, has also added a second book, at my dictation, continuing my story after the death of my husband and son. In my books I also remember and give thanks for those men and women who have supported me, and given me money so that I could undertake the pilgrimages. I pray daily for them to this day, in gratitude for what they have done. I have also recorded where I was reviled and horribly treated; where people have not believed in my stories of Our Lord, or have not recognised that in my whoopings and roarings, I was engaged in the work of Our Lord, and not just, as they saw it, being a nuisance. Today is the 13th April 1438, and this morning I was admitted to the Guild of the Trinity in Lynn, as my father had been before me. This is in thanks for saving St Margaret’s church all those years ago. It seems to me that my life has come full circle back to the town where I was born, and walking in the footsteps of my father.

Footnote
In an age when the average life span was round about 30 years, the last record of Margery Kempe is in the records of the Guild for 22nd May 1439, when she would have been about 65 years old.

Margery Kempe – Mystic or Mad? – part 2

Margery Kempe

In that same year of 1417, I went on a visit to Leicester, and was there detained by the Mayor who handed me over to the Steward of the city, who treated me in a most lewd manner, and wanted me to forget my vows to my husband. When he did not succeed, he handed me back to the Mayor to hold me in prison. The Mayor then convened a council of Abbots and Priests from the city, and they questioned me as to my faith. I answered their questions as my Lord gave me strength and wit. At the end of my questioning the Mayor, who would much rather have had me burnt for heresy, was told by the Abbot that I spoke the truth about Our Lord, and I was not going to lead the citizens of the city into lewd behaviour. The Mayor then charged me to go to the Bishop of Lincoln, and get a letter from him to discharge the Mayor of all responsibility for me.

This I set off to do most willingly, but even with the letter, the Mayor detained me for a further three weeks before he allowed me to set off to York, to visit an Anchoress there, whom I had known before going to the Holy Land. In York I was arrested again and brought before the Archbishop who examined me on the Articles of our faith, which I answered with Our Lord’s help, but some of the Priests and Monks did not want me to go free, for fear that I would corrupt the people of the city. In the end the Archbishop paid one of his servants to escort me from the city. I had many occasions, like St Paul, when I was arrested and accused of heresy, but always my Lord gave me the words and the actions to prove my faith and belief. In the end I had to go to London and get a letter from the Archbishop of Canterbury, which I could show every time I am arrested.

In 1431 my husband and last remaining son died. My son had returned from his travels with a child, and a wife whom he had met and married in Germany. After a period of mourning, she told me that she wished to return to her own land to live. I agreed to escort her there. We sailed from Lynn, and made a stop in Norway when the winds carried us there. Soon afterwards we landed in Germany, and then travelled to my daughter-in-law’s home town of Danzig. I remained there with her for five or six weeks, then began my journey back to Lynn. I was offered the chance to make a pilgrimage to Wilsnack, and then Aachen. In Aachen I joined company with a widow of London, and travelled with her and a number of other pilgrims, back to England. At Calais I found a ship back to Dover, from there I travelled to Canterbury, then London, before returning to Lynn.

But these are only the facts of my life, the ephemeral things. It is the things eternal which matter to me most, the things of Our Lord by which my immortal soul will be saved. It is because of these things that I found a scribe to write down my story, so that Our Lord might be glorified through stories of his mercy to me, a sinner, in giving me such glorious visions of his work, that I might share with all mankind. So back to the beginning again. After the birth of my first child I fell into a deep depression, and for many weeks could do nothing, not even look after my child. Eventually I prayed to Our Lord to rescue me. I promised that would dedicate my life to him if he healed me, which he in his mercy did. But I forgot my promise, until a business venture which I had, failed, and nearly left my family destitute. I remembered then my promise to Our Lord, and I was resolved to do what I had vowed, live my life for him. This proved to be really difficult. I wanted to take a vow of chastity, as the church teaches that the only good woman is a virgin. I was no longer a virgin, and so could not offer that to Our Lord, but I would have ceased relations with my husband, but he would not agree. It was only after a further 13 children, over the next 20 years of married life, that I managed to wear him down with my arguments. I straight way took him before the Priest where we made our vows to live as brother and sister. At last I was able to wear the white robes of the chaste woman. I did not want to put temptation in his way, so we lived in separate houses, until he became ill unto death, when I returned to nurse him until he passed into Our Lord’s hands.

Margery Kempe – Mystic or Mad? – part 1

The ‘Book of Margery Kempe’ is the earliest English biography. In it Margery reveals herself through her dictated story to be a complex and difficult woman. She did however travel and meet a wide range of identifiable people, in an age when travel was difficult and dangerous. This and the next two blogs are a distillation of her book.

Margery Kempe

When my first son was born, I had thought that my life would be complete, but it was not to be so. I had made a good marriage to John Kempe, even though he was nothing like the man my father was. The record of the deeds of John Brunham can be found in the archives of our town of Bishop’s Lynn. If you read the record you will see that he was a Burgess of the town; was five times Mayor; was five times a Member of Parliament for the town, as well as being an Alderman of the Trinity Guild, Coroner for the town, a Justice of the Peace and Chamberlain. John Kempe came from a good Lynn family, but he never lived up to his family’s reputation, and was most unsuccessful as a business man. But enough about him for the moment.

I was born in Bishop’s Lynn around the year 1373. I have never learnt to read or write, so I could not read any record of my birth even if I thought that there was one. I was married to John Kempe when I was about 20 years of age. When I was about 40 years of age, in 1413, I became free of the duty of providing my husband with children, and following the death of my father, I was able to embark on a series of journeys I had long wanted to undertake. My first journey was a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. Many of my friends counselled me not to make such a dangerous journey, but I knew that I must make it or die in the attempt. As is the custom, I announced my intention in St Margaret’s Church. Those who claimed debts of me, had them settled. I made my will, and on the day I departed I went into church garbed as a pilgrim with a cloak, hat, staff and a scrip to carry my knife to eat with. I sailed first from Yarmouth to Holland, there I joined a band of pilgrims and travelled with them to Constance. From there we travelled to Venice where we stayed 13 weeks. From there we took a galley to the Holy Land, and at last after many trials and tribulations I came to Jerusalem where I visited many holy sites. I travelled much in the Holy land before taking a galley back to Venice. I then travelled with a group of pilgrims to Assisi, which I reached on 1st August 1414. There I worshipped at the shrine of St Francis. Then I went on to Rome, which I reached in October of the same year. I spent many months in Rome worshipping in many of the churches, and waiting for favourable weather and a suitable boat to carry me over the seas back to England. I arrived back in Norwich around 21st May 1415. I had been away from home nearly two years.

My family were glad to see me again, and the towns people were astonished by the tales I had to tell of my travels. After I had rested for a few weeks, I would have liked to have gone on my travels again, for life is too short to fit in all Our Lord wants me to do, but just four months after my return to England, news of a great battle between the English and the French fought at a place called Agincourt, in France, became the talk of the town. Sailors and merchants brought back so many tales of the difficulties they were having trading with France, that I agreed to wait for a while. In the end it was nearly 2 years before I set off to travel to Bristol and from there to take a ship to travel to the shrine of St James at Compostella. I had to wait in Bristol six weeks until a ship could be found that would take me and the group of pilgrims I had joined, as all the ships had been requisitioned by the king for his war in France.

While I was in Bristol, the Bishop of Worcester, the Bishop of the Diocese, heard about me, and commanded me to attend him and eat a meal with him. When I arrived, I was so shocked to see his attendants wearing such fashionably cut clothes, that after they had rebuked me for crossing myself at the sight of them, they listened to me meekly as I spoke to them seriously about sin and misconduct. At the end of the meal with the Bishop I was shriven by him. Soon after I was able to find a ship to take me to Compostella. After seven days at sea we finally reached the place and spent fourteen days there before returning to Bristol, and journeying back to Lynn after visiting Hailes Abbey on the way.