OH WHERE, OH WHERE, CAN MY RABBI BE?

THE ANGELUS TRUMPET

The Unexpurgated Source for Alternative Bible Facts

OH WHERE, OH WHERE, CAN MY RABBI BE?

by Jack D. Sypal

Dateline: Jerusalem, April 27, 20:01:18

Over the years there has been much speculation about the relationship between Jesus and Mary Magdalene. So, I thought that it would only be right as a reporter to seek out another of the first shapers of the Christian movement, Mary herself, to conclude my series on how The Way began. Earlier conversations have been with Peter, James and John, and Thomas.

With the permission and support of The AngelUS Trumpet editorial staff, I caught a ship to Rome and then another to Marseille. From there I caught a pack-train going to Provence where I finally sat down with Mary Magdalene over a light lunch of some very good bread, a so-so wine, and an excellent salad with some home-grown olives.

Following lunch, Mary had the table cleared and then, with another glass of wine in her hand, she looked at me very directly and started to tell me about her life and her part in the Way.

“It seems like it was a different world back then. In many ways, it was. The heel of Rome was lifted against us in Palestine. Between Rome and the temple, taxes were high and life was difficult. My family had some money, but, even so, the powers of Rome, Herod’s taxes, Pilate’s brutality, they all created some tough times.

“The complicity of Annas and Caiaphas, and the rest of the priesthood, was understandable, I suppose; I mean, the priestly robes and head pieces that were used on high holy days were held and closeted by the governor. The priests were only allowed to wear them during the celebrations, and then they had to be returned to the governor’s care.

“It is hard to be independent when you have to go to your oppressor in order to perform your duties for the people and before the Lord. Eventually that kind of control erodes your faith in God and tempts you to think that the emperor and the power of Rome is equal to, or maybe even greater than the power of God. After that, it’s all about money and power, greed and self-aggrandizement.

“We were living in this world of tremendous wealth and of incredible poverty; and that was not by chance, it was by Roman design. The Emperor and his lackeys wanted to be sure that we felt the full power of Rome and knew that we were a conquered nation. They wanted us to know that our very existence as a nation depended on Rome’s pleasure.

“For instance, to demonstrate their power, soldiers would intentionally carry all their belongings with them wherever they went, but they carried their ruck-sack for only a short distance. Then they would impress one of the people in the street to carry it for them.

“We were required by law to carry the burden for a mile. At the end of a mile, the soldier would point to another person who would then have to carry the ruck-sack the next mile. Usually it was just back to the barracks. The whole time the soldiers would be jeering and taunting the person hoping to get him or her to rebel or respond in anger so that the soldier could slap the person down.

“I remember, there were all kinds of messiahs in those days who spoke out against the power of Rome and encouraged the people to rise against the Roman boot. Mostly, they and their followers were quickly seized and executed.

“Among the messiahs was John; he made a big splash for a while. He was baptizing anybody who would repent of their Roman ways and return to the old ways of the law. an ascetic of sorts I guess. He was making a lot of noise, telling us that we needed to stand up and be counted as the children of God, not slaves to Rome.  

“Eventually John got arrested by Herod for denouncing Herod’s marriage to Herodias. Yeah, his mouth eventually got him killed, but that’s another story. What was different about John was that he kept saying, ‘I am not the one. The one you are seeking is coming after me.’ We thought it was a clever way of deflecting attention from himself, but it turned out to be true.

“You see, this rather quiet rabbi showed up. He too was telling us that we needed to stand up for ourselves, but we were to stand up in love for one another. He advocated praying for our enemies and learning ways to lift up the poor. His teachings were not about defying Rome  with force, but resisting Rome with love. If we were impressed by the soldiers for a mile, we should volunteer to carry the burden another mile. We were to forgive the people who were our oppressors and find ways to be an active part of our world.

“I was just a young woman in those days, and I fell in love with what the rabbi was saying. I hadn’t fallen in love with the rabbi, but I really fell hard for what he was saying; and I thought that I could change the world with my good works. Oh yes, there was some hero worship in there, and it was exciting to be seen with him, but I really wasn’t in love with the rabbi. It was more about the movement than the person.

“I thought that, if I threw some of my family’s money at the poor, that the world would be changed, but it wasn’t money that changed the world. I thought that I could really do something for the lesser people; and then I learned that there aren’t any lesser people, only people we think less of. I learned that people had to do the things that brought recognition and dignity for themselves, that I couldn’t just wish it for them. I thought it was about me, but oh how I was wrong.

“In the course of things, I got to know all of the guys [Peter, James, John, Thomas, etc.] pretty well. I even got into their silly name calling. They called me Maggie Mae. It was so serious and so light-hearted at the same time. And, being a woman often alone with men, I got a reputation, but it was all talk.

“As the rabbi’s teaching gathered popularity, the number of followers increased. In time his following got pretty large, more than a hundred of us that got together regularly. There were enough of us that the rabbi was able to send us out to some of the neighboring towns.

“It was wonderful. To do the work of the rabbi was like life itself. We were young. We were enthused. We were the future. It was amazing! It was an education.

“Oh, I almost forgot to mention the wedding and the wine, Lazy Larry, Isaac Seituwel, and Lazarus; those were the flashy moments, but the best part was learning from the rabbi. Do you know how amazing it was for me, a woman, to be allowed to learn from a rabbi? It was heady stuff and I loved every minute of it.                                                                    

 “I learned to think like him and even observed as he taught the other guys what it meant to be a disciple. The look on Philip’s face the day that the rabbi told him to feed the people who had gathered on the hill to hear what the rabbi had to say, it was precious. Then they found little Sol with the fish and the bread, and the rest is history. I don’t care whether you call it a sign or a miracle. It was amazing to watch those people eat their fill and then have leftovers.  It made you think that world hunger could be conquered with a little generosity and some good will. Anyway, it really felt possible that day.

“At the end, things felt like they were falling apart. You know about the last supper. You know about his arrest and the trial. You know that he was crucified and that they laid him in the new tomb in the garden. You know about the total collapse of the movement.

“You can’t believe how we felt when Rome won again. We were used to being sold out by the priesthood and the temple officials—they were just trying to hold on to what they had. I suppose the charitable thing to say is that they were biding their time for the moment when Rome would go away and leave us alone. Or maybe, that the priests and the scribes and Sadducees were waiting for the day when Rome could be overthrown. I don’t know anymore, but to involve one of our own? It still seems impossible.

“What I know is that we were decimated. We were gutted like the fish in the market. The guys went to the safe house and holed up. I had some rooms nearby that my family held for business in Jerusalem so I stayed there.

“We all spent Sabbath together, and then, early in the morning I went to sit and think about what was next. That’s when it happened. I saw that the stone was rolled away and the tomb was opened. You could smell the myrrh and aloe from the burial clothes, but the tomb looked empty.

“I ran to tell Beloved and Peter that the rabbi’s body was stolen, and they ran to the tomb. If anything, they were even more upset than I was. They went all the way into the tomb, thinking that someone might have come and defiled the body in some way, but there was no body.

“They left in silence. Tears were pouring down their faces as they left, but I just couldn’t bring myself to leave right away. So, I went into the tomb to see for myself. That’s when I saw the pile of grave clothes soaked in myrrh, the face cloth rolled up on the side, and the two angels. I thought that it was just a vision, a product of my tortured imagination, but one of the angels spoke to me, ‘Why are you crying?’

“I couldn’t believe it: ‘Why was I crying?’ Because my world was falling apart, that’s why, because one of my best friends ever had died, because everything I thought was worth anything had turned to dust and less than that. They each had this stupid smirk on their faces, and so I turned away. I turned away because I was angry—angry enough to want to die on the spot—and then, when I was trying to leave, I ran right into somebody else.

“Through the tears and my rage, in the midst of my despair and devastation, I searched for anything that might make sense. Supposing him to be the gardener, I lashed out. ‘Where, oh where, can my rabbi be? Where have you laid him?,’ I cried. ‘I know that you have taken him away from me. If you tell me where you have laid him, I will take him away from you, so I can have some peace in this world.’

“I might have even tried to bribe him with some of my family’s money, and then he called me by name. I couldn’t believe it. I knew that voice. I’d heard it thousands of times before. ‘Teacher?’ I asked.

“And then I knew. He had told us in so many ways that this was going to happen, but we just didn’t get it. I mean, how could we have known? I know there was Lazarus; but that was the rabbi’s work, and Lazarus was sick. We never thought that anyone could come back from a crucifixion. And yet, he was standing right in front of me, speaking words of wisdom. Could it be?

“He told me everything I needed to know and a whole lot more, and then I went to tell the rest of the disciples. They thought I was hysterical and didn’t pay me any mind until that night when they saw him too. You know about Ditto [Thomas] and how that played out. What you don’t know is that even after they had seen the rabbi, they insisted on staying in that stupid room.

“I think that they would be there today if I hadn’t shamed them into leaving. I reminded them all about the times they had promised to have his back, all the times they promised to follow him, all of their pronouncements about the rabbi being the messiah. They called him the Jam Man after all. Didn’t that mean anything to them?

“Did they think that our time together had just been a little political game? I told them that lives matter and the news of the rabbi’s resurrection had to mean something for all people or else the rabbi’s life meant nothing at all. What were we going to do about it? That’s when Peter decided to go fishing. And that fishing trip eventually made the difference.

“After that, the guys went their separate ways, each telling the story as they remembered it. My place in the story, with the other women, got smaller and smaller until you’d have thought that the guys did everything and we were just the auxiliary—sex toys and eye candy. But that was not the way it was.

“One day I decided to find my own place. I decided Ditto had had the right idea: to get away from the chaos in the middle of the empire and go to places where people were less concerned about Rome and more concerned about living, a place where I could remember those days and tell the story as I had learned and lived them. So, here I am.

“No, I am not in one of the lesser places of the world. I am in a place that people think of less. Personally, that’s fine with me. I don’t need high-profile coverage. As a matter of fact, I thought long and hard about talking with you today. But someone has to tell that he lives. The tomb couldn’t hold him. He has ascended to his father and our Father, to God, whom he always professed. He has sent us the Advocate as he promised and with the Advocate I continue to grow in faith, trusting that his message of love will ultimately overcome the powers of evil, greed, self-aggrandizement, self-interest, and hatred.

“Ditto may have been the first one to say it out loud, but he was not the only one to know that our rabbi, our Jam-Man, Jesus, the messiah, is our Lord and our God. He lived among us. He lives with us and through us. He will come again to gather us to himself in the last day.

“In the meantime, I have this simple life with simple fare, and simple ways that do not include Roman imperialism. I would thank you for not sharing precise directions on how to get here.

“And now, I think it is time for you to go. I can do nothing more for you.”

As I walked down the road to my evening’s lodging, I heard Mary say, “Thanks for caring enough to come. Luv ya, man.” 

Remembering the Future John 11:1-53

I am sure that many of you have heard the story of Lazarus coming out of the tomb, or parts of it, numerous times. You have probably heard it at funerals, in general sermons, through your personal Bible reading, and possibly in study groups. If this is the first time that you have heard it, I welcome you into some of the most encouraging and heartening passages of the New Testament. At the same time these are some of the most troubling and confusing passages.

This past week, I was again amazed by the number of shifts in time that take place and the bizarre behavior on Jesus’ part. To begin, we hear John tell the story of Mary to identify her: you know, she is the one who anointed Jesus with oil and wiped his feet with her hair, even though in the narrative of John’s Gospel, we will not be told of Mary anointing Jesus until the next chapter.

As I was reading, I noticed how the verbs do not always agree with the rest of the context of the sentences and that there are other allusions to events that have not occurred. Yet we, as the readers and hearers of this story, both when it was written and today, are to remember the future has already happened.

We hear that Lazarus is sick and a message is sent to Jesus to inform him of the fact with the desire that he come immediately. Does Jesus go to this person he loves? No. He decides to stay where he is for two more days. In the background of our “already, but not yet” memories, we hear “And on the third day, he was raised up from the dead.” But wait, that is not Lazarus; that is Jesus.  

Lazarus is four-days-dead when Jesus and the disciples arrive outside the village, outside the house of Martha and Mary. When Jesus tells Martha that Lazarus will rise again, she looks ahead to the future, to the coming messiah. Jesus tells her that the resurrection is not something to come; it is before her in that moment. Jesus says, “I am I am, the resurrection.” This is not some future thing that will happen; it is loaded with the history of the “I Am” of Moses encountering the burning bush, and it is happening again as Jesus speaks with Martha and as we hear it.

Then we come to that classic line all translators of this text wrestle with. Jesus looks to heaven and says, “I knew that you always hear me.” This past tense certainty comes with a present tense understanding “for the sake of the people standing here”, both those hearing Jesus that day and throughout time. This construct that begins in the past has a life in the present of the speaking that assumes the future of all of you gathered here today.  It is nothing short of spectacular how this short passage prefigures our language of Eucharistic mystery, “Christ has died. Christ is risen. Christ will come again.” We feel, more than hear, that “Jesus’ time has not yet come”, in the language of John. We are reminded that this story is about Lazarus, meaning God’s mercy.

The next instance is after Martha goes out to meet Jesus when we hear Martha whisper to Mary that Jesus is calling for her and yet there is no evidence in the text that Jesus has called her.

Then we hear the people respond to Jesus’ question, “Where have you laid him?” with the words that reveal the messiah earlier in John ch. 1, “Come and see.” Yet this time the words “Come and see” are not an invitation to find new life, they are an invitation to witness death—real death—stinking, rotting death. Again, John reminds us that Jesus truly died, but this story is about Lazarus, God’s mercy, not Jesus’ Easter victory.

Or, is it? Amid the seemingly poorly told, mixed-up tenses, and out of sequence events of this story of Lazarus, we encounter resurrection and the resurrected one who has the power to destroy death, to raise the dead of the world from their places of death into new life. We encounter the one who has the authority to command the stone to be removed from the tomb and lay it as the foundation stone of what is to come. In this spectacular way, we are called to remember, not the past, but the future. For the world of the resurrection is all about seeing the possibilities of what is to come—the realization of hope in the future, a world of anticipating  the true state of nothing separating us from God’s “Lazarus mercy and love”, that is, God’s everlasting grace.

No wonder that there were some who believed because of what they saw. No wonder there were those who had to go and tell the authorities what was happening. No wonder there were those who thought that this Jesus had to be stopped because, if more people understood that Jesus had the power to put death to death, everybody might come to believe in him.

Several years ago, a pastor I know had a young man who was new to the faith come to her office to tell her that he had enlisted and was being shipped out to Afghanistan. He asked for the prayers of the community while he was gone.

The pastor asked if there was anything else she could do for him before he left. He asked if she could tell him how to get a copy of that book they read from on Sundays. The pastor asked if he meant the book of hymns. He said, “No, that book that you read from every week.”

She said, “You mean the Bible?”

He said he didn’t know, but he would like to get a copy of it to take with him. He thought that he could read it while he was gone. It would remind him of the people he had met at church. She took him into the sanctuary where she gave him their Bible, The Message translation, saying, “This is a gift to you from us. We will get another and read it with you.”

Well, time went by, and the young man came home. He came back to worship and then showed up at the pastor’s office one afternoon. He asked, “Pastor, do other people know about this book?”

“Yes,” the pastor said.

“Do other people read this book?” the young man asked.

“Yes. Why do you ask?” the pastor responded.

“’Cause, after reading it, I couldn’t help but think, if more people read it, it could change the world.”

The writer of John, in this story, challenges us to witness the authority of Jesus who puts death to death. We are called to remember the future—the events that are to come—the world that invites us to imagine life abundantly, hopefully, joyfully, and prayerfully. We are called then, to tell the story in all times and in all places confessing the resurrection of the body and the life of a world, as yet unknown, to come. And so, in those words that we have been taught, we pray, “Your kingdom come. Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven.” Martin Luther reminds us that God’s will will be done—God’s kingdom will come without us praying for it—but, in this prayer, we pray that we might know, that we might know God’s will and know God’s kingdom on earth as it is in heaven, not sometime in the future, but right here and right now.

This is a precious story that grows when we find ways to share it. Today we heard Brandon join us in telling the story. With his voice, we learn that the story is not only for the old but for the young. And we give thanks for his voice in our midst, that voice of youth and promise.  It is the voice of here and now and the voice of the future. It is another voice that invites us to hear the story of Lazarus’ rising. Telling the story is not about remembering the resurrection in the future but of Christ’s presence in our lives today, lifting us up into new ways of living. It is a story of love and hope that our world needs and longs to hear. It is a message that can change the world. In God’s Lazarus mercy, “Come out!”.

Former Dead Guy Suing Jesus Also!

THE ANGELUS TRUMPET           

The Unexpurgated Source for Alternative Bible Facts

 

Former Dead Guy Suing Jesus Also!

Dateline: Bethany, April 2, 11:01:12:11

by Jack D. Sypal

Late Friday, Lazarus of Bethany, who we reported Jesus has brought back from the dead, joined I. Seituwell in suing Jesus for unwanted care. There seems to be considerable pushback against this miracle worker’s activities. Speculation has arisen that Lazarus and Seituwell may join forces with others in a class action suit. As political tensions rise and governmental pressures come to bear, could-be followers may choose to seek deep-pocket recompense.

Following is an interview account of the latest person to lay claim against Jesus.

“I mean, I thought [Jesus and I] were close. We had this real bromance going. So, when I was told that Jesus was going off without me, I was really hurt, like cut to the core hurt. I thought that we had something special going on there, and then he was gone with the rest of the guys.

“It wasn’t long after they left me, I was feeling pretty low, and then I got sick. I felt pretty lousy and had to go to bed for the day. My sisters, Mary and Martha, came in with some of that good Jewish penicillin around supper time, but it didn’t seem to be very appetizing. And if you know my sisters’ cooking, you would understand how unusual that was. In the middle of the night, I got this terrible stomachache and sweat started pouring out of me. That is about the last thing I remember for a while.

“My sisters would tell me they sent a message for Jesus to come, but no … I don’t know, maybe the message got crossed up or something, but he thought that he would hang for a couple of days.

Apparently, I got a lot worse. My temperature went sky high. I remember some time on the second day it felt like someone poured ice water in my belly. It hurt a lot; it was excruciating! When I asked my sisters about Jesus, they shook their heads. I couldn’t believe he hadn’t come.

“The next thing I remember, I was being called out. I was in this really peaceful place. I didn’t have any pain, and I was just totally chill, ya know? And then, this annoying voice started calling me out. I really just wanted to lay there. Then I noticed this stink. It was awful. It was sort of like being down at the slaughter yard on a hot day, standing near the fresh hides on one side and the blood pool and feces on the other. Yeah, it was pretty bad.

“And that voice kept nagging me, ‘Lazarus; come out, Lazarus; come out.’

“I finally recognized the voice as my man, but I thought, ‘What the hell? Why is he calling me now? He was the one who left me behind.’

“But finally, the smell got to me and I had to get out of there. That’s when I discovered that I was the smell. When I got out of the cave, I was struck by the sun, and the stench really took on a life of its own. And then I got a whiff of my own breath. Lord have mercy! It was enough to blow a fly off a gut-wagon. You know what I mean?

“Finally, people came and started stripping the wrappings off of me. I had to show my nakedness before all of those people. Public nudity is one thing, but I had pustules erupting on my body and skin sloughing going on. It was pretty disgusting.

“Most people looked at me with horror. They were petulantly pronouncing prognostications of pernicious, purulent, pustule pestilence. Penitents were prostrating themselves on the property, proposing persistent, pietistic popcorn-prayers of propitiation. Everyone was trying to hold their noses, and as soon as they could, they built a proper pyre for burning everything I had on. Even that smelled pretty preposterous.

“I spent hours in the bath trying to scrub the stink off, but after my skin started sliding off, I resorted to wiping my body off in nard. It didn’t get rid of the smell, but it masked it pretty well.

“Everybody thought that it was so cool; that I should be so thankful, but somehow, when I really needed [Jesus], he didn’t show. When I didn’t need him anymore, then he showed up, to do what? Leave me again?

“A couple of nights ago, my sisters invited him to supper; ‘To thank him,’ they said. Apparently I was still smelling pretty bad, so Mary went and got my nard and covered Jesus’ feet with it. The fragrance filled the whole house

“All I could think was, ‘Thanks, sis. Now what am I supposed to do tomorrow?’ I mean the stuff isn’t cheap. We may be wealthy, but we aren’t rich, if you know what I mean.

“Today I find out that there’s a contract out on me. Half the people are treating me like I’m a god, which I’m not; and the other half of the people treat me like I’m this zombie creature who will hex them for the rest of their lives, which I won’t. I can’t go back to work. I’m not even able to hang with my friends. It feels like the bromance is truly over, and I can’t get rid of this stink. If I can’t get my life back, I want pay back.”