I Am Mary. I Am Barabbas. He Loves Me Still.
It was early–the sun wasn’t up. But I was ready. Styled like a first century woman, I wore a long pull over dress tied with a fabric sash, sandals and a long head covering. The retreat location, off the coast of California, resembled the Mediterranean hills surrounding Jerusalem. My character was mourning the loss of the most influential person she had ever known. He saw right through her, knew her story, healed her with redemption and love. This Mary I portrayed heard him teach with wisdom, heal with words, and feed multitudes from a boy’s lunch. She served and supported his travel and teaching. Listening and learning, all while serving and seeing. He spoke of repentance and a kingdom to come–The kingdom of Messiah spoken of by the prophets. This is who she knew him to be.
Like all Jews, Mary celebrated Passover. Individually and collectively, remembering how the blood of the lamb, brushed on the doorposts of their homes, had spared them from the angel of death before their ancestors fled Egypt. This teacher/Jesus she followed was honored with shouts of Hosanna as He entered Jerusalem on a donkey. The crowds shouted: “Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord. Blessed is the coming kingdom of our Father David. Hosanna in the highest.” Longing to be freed from Roman oppression, they didn’t realize he was their sacrificial lamb. That it would be His blood that would save them once for all. They wanted a physical King in their here and now.
From shouting Hosanna; to give us Barabbas, just days later. Jesus didn’t meet their expectations.
At our island retreat, the students had learned all these details. Hearing of Jesus’ betrayal, beating and cross bearing. The trek to Golgotha. The gruesome crucifixion. Hideous Roman crosses. Thieves. Forgiveness. Pain and anguish. Nail-pierced hands. It is finished. Then Silence.
The students had gone off to bed solemnly. The next morning, the outdoor arena filled with tired high school campers wrapped in sleeping bags and jackets–awakened early and asked to make their way to the small amphitheater. No breakfast and no insight about what would happen next.
In our outdoor theatre, the other woman and I waited just out of sight. The youth leader started reading the account of Jesus’ Resurrection, sharing from the different Gospels what happened after the horror of the crucifixion. Gambling for garments. His body removed. A burial place offered. His body prepared. Sabbath requirements quickening. More weeping and sorrow. His body entombed. Expectations unfulfilled. A long night and silent Saturday.
As he read “Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of James went to the tomb to check on the body”, my fellow scene-mate and I ran into the arena calling out, “He is not there. He has risen.” The dust rising as we moved our feet and carried our skirts. Emotion overwhelmed me as I ran. Imagining all she had seen and experienced.
From within the crowd of huddled students, several male counselors-also cast members-stood up, responding to us with disbelief–a harsh contrast to the women’s exhilaration. However, one, portraying Peter, jumped from his place, climbed over students, running past me and out of sight, saying he had to see this revelation for himself.
At the week’s beginning, Jesus was the celebrated Messiah. Friday, they crucified him as a liar. Saturday’s despair and disbelief contrast with Sunday’s victorious discovery–A Risen Lord and Savior. Truth met even those who doubted His appearances to them.
Truth also meets us where we are and sets us free.
As I pondered the experience of the Mary I was portraying, I realized she didn’t know who was standing before her-at first. The filter of grief lifted as He called her name. “Mary.” I am Alive. Whole. Not yet ascended. His teaching and truth affirmed in an instant. She knew his voice. Hope restored. Faith bolstered. Prophecy fulfilled. What a gift His appearance and His resurrection. From death to life. Forever.
I may have portrayed Mary Magdalene, but I can identify with each of the ones who encountered Jesus: Healed. Fed. Amazed. Mother. Sibling. Pharisee. Doubter. Betrayer. Thief. Soldier. Sleepy students. Peter said let me see for myself. Like Mary, I don’t always realize who is standing before me. In my weak ways, I forget what it means to encounter the living Christ.
Lord, may every day’s resurrection celebration remind me anew all that I am because of you:
Unblemished–because of your blood sacrifice. 1 Peter 1:18-21
Sealed–I cannot be ripped from your love. Ephesians 1: 13-14
Worthy–because Your Holy Father sees me through the filter of You, Jesus Christ. Revelation 5:12-14
I wonder, have you encountered him? Have you seen Him? Do you know the truth of his resurrection, and do you believe? He came that we might experience the depth of his Grace, the powerful salvation of our souls by the protective blood of the lamb. Prophecy fulfilled. Life, breath and days in his hands forever more.
May we like Mary, run and tell others what we know to be true–He is Risen.
Hallelujah, what a Savior.