weeds, wheat, and time

https://www.mindat.org/photo-163625.html

There was a mine down in Bisbee called the Irish Mag, which a miner named for his favorite entertainer. She got her nickname from the false association of Mary Magdalene, a woman healed by Jesus, with a woman caught in adultery or a woman anointing Jesus' feet with precious oil. Mary had been as desperate as the woman about to be stoned; she was as grateful as the woman preparing Jesus for his Burial. 

What we do know about her is her dilemma and distress, her deliverance and dignity restored, her response of love and faithful follower-ship, and her witness to the one who delivered her from demons and who was himself to lead us all from death to life. 

She was a witness: one of the last to see him living and the first to see him raised. She was a witness; the messenger to the apostles of the risen Lord, the first to proclaim the good news. 

What we know of her helps us sort out the meaning of the strange parable of the wheat and the weeds (Matthew 13:24-30). Workers report to their employer that weeds are growing up amidst the wheat they planted. The farmer takes a puzzling course. He could have had the workers pull or hoe or poison the weeds once they'd sprouted and been spotted. But instead he tells them to leave weeds and wheat to grow up together, and wait to sort them out until the harvest time. 

The farmer’s patience and wisdom led to something surprising that makes more sense if we realize Jesus was talking about a harvest of souls - and that the time was ripe.

Remember, he said that "the harvest is plentiful but the laborers are few." (Matthew 9:37, Luke 10:2) The harvest time is now - for Mary of Magdala. A woman worn down by afflictions, she becomes one of the greatest of disciples.

Magdala is a small ancient town site along the lakeshore of Gennesaret better known in the Bible stories as the Sea of Galilee. On the west side of the lake south of the incoming stream of the Jordan are a series of places well known to pilgrims: Capernaum (where Jesus healed Peter's mother-in-law) then Tabgha (the multiplication of the fishes), Ginosaur, and Magdala. Inland from the ancient site is a modern Arab/Israeli village, Migdal. Recent excavations reveal anew the importance of these small ancient villages.

Along the lakeshore where Jesus first began his ministry, proclaiming and healing, he encountered this woman. (Luke 8:2, Mark 16:9) And something extraordinary happened. In the midst of her affliction he blessed her with unconditional love. He never confused her quandary with the person that God loved. And as a result of this personal encounter with Jesus her dignity was restored. She became an icon of hope for all who are broken in heart or spirit or body or mind.

And this freedom, and her devoted discipleship, prepared her for something even more extraordinary. For she was a witness - one of the last to see Jesus living, and then - the first to see him risen. A personal encounter with Jesus that transformed the world. For she, the first witness of the resurrection, was sent by Jesus to bear the good news to his apostles, the ones commissioned to take this message to all peoples.

The Irish Mag is long since played out, but this woman’s witness lives on.

Matthew 13:24-30, 36-43. The Parable of the Weeds of the Field (the Wheat and the Tares). 

Feast of Saint Mary Magdalene (July 22)

https://www.bisbeeminingandminerals.com/irish-mag

https://thediggings.com/mines/22579

https://www.mindat.org/sitegallery.php?loc=33190

https://www.britannica.com/biography/Saint-Mary-Magdalene 

Easter Day 2013

 

Imagine her at the tomb, expecting – nothing but death. A dead man. Mary Magdalene, along with Joanna and the other women, had come, in that early dawning, to prepare their master’s body for its final rest.

Nothing there – not even a corpse!

And then the angels.

Terrifying presence, terrifying absence.

—He is not here?

—Why would he be? He is alive, has risen.

This is incredible, it’s indelible, and it is Mary’s first inkling, of revelation of the truth.

Death has been defeated, swallowed up in victory.

We all have experiences of vivid moments— where you when.

When you met Gabby Giffords. Where you were when you heard she was shot.

Diane Feinstein remembers the shooting of George Moscone and Harvey Milk. She was in her office in city hall in San Francisco and a former colleague, Dan White, walked by. “Hey, Dan! Wait a minute…” But he kept walking.

She heard a door close. Shots. And then, she says, she opened the wrong door. Harvey Milk dead. George Moscone dead.

That night an angry crowd gathered on the pavement outside City Hall. Angry, at the crime of hate. And a riot brewed.

Diane came out on the balcony of City Hall, above the front door, outside the room where the killing had taken place. She was carrying a single candle and she was alone.

She spoke to the crowd, calmly. They became quiet. But she never forgot that day or that night.

One person’s vivid experience of terror, loss, and sorrow.

Mary of Magdala would never forget the man she met, walking by the lakeshore or telling a story in a village. She remembered how he helped her come to herself, healed her, set her free of oppression, and helped her to find the way to her true self.

And she followed him, ever since. Then the Hosannas, the cup and the bread, and the Cross.  Silence on Saturday—

And now all her loss, all her grief, magnified, in his absence—

Only to find, joyous beyond believing, he had risen!

Her experience of the risen Christ began. She had known him as well as anyone – and he knew her better than everyone. In him she had found forgiveness, grace, and a calling. A call to be a disciple. The burden of forgiveness. The weight of grace.

He did not leave her to bear the weight of grace alone. And she heard the call to carry his message.

The burden of forgiveness, the weight of grace, the call to life.

How do you experience his presence, the presence of the risen Christ?

I was inquisitive, seeking wisdom, asking questions, until one day, I found all my seeking satisfied in the presence of the Lord.

I woke up early, six o’clock on a Holy Saturday morning, and I thought­— and I caught myself thinking— “Now if Jesus…”

And I smiled, a little half smile. Because I knew. I realized, and admitted, that I knew Jesus was real. And I accepted him.

I prayed and accepted— the burden of forgiveness, the weight of grace, and the call, the call to be a disciple.

And I accepted the yoke of the calling: to be his disciple, to bear his good news into the world, to live it and to proclaim it. I had come to myself, my true self, in his presence.

And knew what it was to be free. And I began to follow him.

He did not leave me alone in this: he gave me companions on the way, and he is with me, through the Spirit, to share the burden, shoulder the yoke, and bear the weight.

We are not any of us alone, because it is a gift to be shared, a story to be told. It is a gift so precious, so priceless, that it has to be given away.

The gift of the knowledge

of the reality

of the experience

of the presence

of the risen Lord.

All of us are seeking the same thing, and the same thing, your grace, is seeking all of us.

Be known to us in the breaking of bread.

Come Lord Jesus, be known to us, be present among us; that we may make you known to the world.