The deepest hurt for Miriam is that Peter would think that she is lying. For a Semite, to lie is far worse than to be deluded. It is an act of ill will and an attack upon the Real. As Meister Eckhart said at his trial in Avignon, “I may be wrong, but I cannot lie.”
But even worse for her is the implication that the Resurrection itself could be seen as a lie. By indulging in his suspicions, Peter risks losing his own faith and trust in a love that transcends the grave. Instead of strengthening his brothers, he risks weakening them with factionalism and dragging them back down into the world of death from which the Teacher came to liberate them.
Thus it is also the very Christ in her that is wounded and moved by this reaction, crucified once more by his own disciples and friends—in this case, rebuked by his especially beloved hardheaded friend, his kepha (rock), Peter. Instead of becoming the rock on which the community is built, Peter is throwing stones.
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7 At this, Levi spoke up:
8 “Peter, you have always been hot-tempered,
9 and now we see you repudiating a woman,
10 just as our adversaries do.
11 Yet if the Teacher held her worthy,
12 who are you to reject her?
13 Surely the Teacher knew her very well,
14 for he loved her more than us.
Levi is already known to us from the synoptic Gospels:
He went out again beside the sea; and all the crowd gathered about him, and he taught them.
And as he passed on, he saw Levi the son of Alphaeus sitting at the tax office, and he said to him, “Follow me.” And Levi rose and followed him. 165
It is this man of spontaneity, ready to leave everything to walk (acolouthaï) with Yeshua, who reproaches Peter for attacking (gumnazesthai) Miriam.
Peter is behaving more like an adversary than a brother or friend. He has forgotten the Teacher’s counsel to “love one another, as I have loved you.” Their adversaries, whether called Pharisees, Essenes, Romans, or others, are those who do not respect the right of women to study religion, much less to teach it. Yet “if the Teacher held her worthy,” granting her the capacity to love and understand him, then who is Peter to oppose this? Levi is clearly aware of Peter’s reputation as a proud, hot-tempered man
(tó orgilou):
From that time Jesus began to show his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and suffer many things from the elders and chief priests and scribes, and be killed, and on the third day be resurrected.
And Peter took him and began to reprimand him, saying, “God forbid, Lord! This shall never happen to you.”
But he turned and said to Peter, “Get behind me, Satan! You are a hindrance to me; for you are not on the side of God, but of men.” 166
This is the same disposition that impelled Peter to draw his sword and cut off the ear of the high priest’s servant ( Jn 18:10); and later to swear vehemently, and even curse, in his denial of any association with Jesus (Mt 26:74). But in spite of his reputation of pride and misogyny, widely attested in early Christian literature, Peter’s character had another, very different side: He was a very generous man, capable of great sincerity and spontaneity, and he was said to have been the first to recognize the Son of God in the Son of Man (Mt 16:16). Yet here also Yeshua implies that Peter’s insight does not come from the psyche, but from the nous—that is, through the revelation of the Holy Spirit. If Peter had not been open to this, his habitual psychology would have prevailed, and if indulged indefinitely, he might have even become a shatan, an obstruction to vision and to the divine plan: Walk forth, Simon Bar-Jona! For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father who is in heaven.167
There is a curious parallel between Peter’s attitude toward Miriam and his attitude toward Yeshua himself. At first Peter, inspired by his own openness, treats her with great respect, asking her to reveal unknown teachings; and then he shuts down, rejecting her account of Yeshua as women’s nonsense. This is a good illustration of the duality that is ubiquitous in ordinary humanity—the continual opening and closing of the psyche toward the Pneuma.
But Levi reminds him that he has no right to reject that which he does not understand. Who does he think he is, a lawmaker? The validity of Miriam’s vision is strictly an affair between her and God.
This recalls an incident in the life of Pope John XXIII when he was overcome by worry and sadness regarding the future of the Church. In a vision, the Christ appeared to him, and said, “Is it you or I who is responsible for the Church of Churches? Who do you think you are?” Indeed, who do we think we are, to reject and excommunicate each other? We can trust in Being to know the heart of its beings, just as the Teacher knew the heart of Miriam.
Finally, Levi reminds Peter of what he himself had recognized earlier: the special love of Yeshua for Miriam of Magdala.
“The last shall be first . . . the tax-collectors and prostitutes will enter the Kingdom before you.” This is one of the most famous gospel texts, beautifully illustrated by Dostoyevsky’s scene in which Christ invites thieves and other disreputable men and women to a great feast in celebration of the Kingdom. Why is it that such people are said to precede us into the Kingdom? Simply because they do not consider themselves worthy.
We are not to judge ourselves. Only the love that moves the Earth, the stars, and the human heart can judge us. The Teacher is like a spring that offers water to all who are thirsty. It is not the light that fails us, it is our eyes that fail the light. It is not water that is wanting, it is thirst. It is desire.
Miriam is the woman of desire, which includes all desires, from those of the flesh to those of the highest reaches of soul, mind, and Spirit. She is the holy bride who unites with her Beloved to say to all: “Come!”
The Spirit and the Bride say: “Come!” Let all who hear say: “Come!” May all who thirst drink freely of the Water of Life. 168
Our blankness shall give way to Being, and our absurdity to grace—gratuitously.
Like the other Mary, she is indeed full of grace.
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15 Therefore let us atone,
16 and become fully human [Anthropos],
17. so that the Teacher can take root in us.
18 Let us grow as he demanded of us,
19 and walk forth to spread the gospel,
20 without trying to lay down any rules and laws
21 other than those he witnessed.”
There was once a nun who came to visit Abba Anthony, one of the most celebrated of the desert fathers. When a young monk noticed her among the assembled brothers, he was deeply shocked, and demanded to know why a woman was allowed in their remote desert monastery. Abba Anthony anwered: “Look well among all us monks assembled here, and you will see only one human being—her.”
Like Levi, and unlike Andrew and Peter, Anthony was speaking of the Anthropos, which he recognized in this woman. The male-female alliance here also echoes the couple of Yeshua and Miriam, symbolizing the dual teaching of Sophia (wisdom, creative imaginal vision, silence) and Logos (wisdom, creative teaching and words, silence).
“Therefore let us atone” was also what Yeshua taught when he selected his first disciples. They were enjoined to convert or repent in the original sense of teshuva, “to return”—to return to ourselves, our true center. Repentance in this sense is the return from what is contrary to one’s nature to what is true to it. This is the meaning of the Greek word metanoia, beyond the nous—in its sense of mind limited by ordinary thought—and toward Pneuma—the Holy Spirit, Breath, and Living Light.
Having turned away from the “old man”169 and his conscious and unconscious memories and programming, we can now enter the way of the new man, also known as the perfect man, or the “man in relation with his finality” (endusáménoì tón téleion anthropón). These expressions were also used by Paul of Tarsus.170
Thus the Anthropos that the Gospel of Mary is preparing us to assume is also our te
lòs, the goal of our existence. Henri Bergson once said that the universe is “a machine for making gods.” But it would be truer to say that the universe is a creative imagination and process that demands both human and god. The two become One in the full realization of the Anthropos, the Christos Yeshua, Son of Man and Son of God.
“. . . so that the Teacher can take root in us.”
If we allow him to arise in the heart of our life, growing and taking root in us, we will be guided by his Spirit toward our wholeness and fulfillment. This is how we have always been dreamed, imagined, and created by Being. Yet we are free to obstruct this process of becoming, for it is only in freedom that it can take place. There is no predestination in this growth of the Teacher within us—our tree of life must be free in order to grow toward its light.
This dream is very real, and this creative imagination is very powerful. What is required of us is that we give to all of our actions and encounters their full savor, meaning, and intensity of love. To allow the Anthropos to take root and flourish within us is to continue unceasingly to introduce into all our actions, even the most banal and everyday, just a little more consciousness and love. We must imagine and believe that it is this that will at least make the world liveable, if not save it.
This is what the Teacher has asked of us: to “walk forth,” and share this Good News (gospel, euangelion). A human being is not a beast, or a computer, or a mere passing phenomenon, doomed to die. A human being is designed for anastasis—resurrection—in the sense that Yeshua manifests and teaches it, and as Miriam contemplates it in this gospel.
“. . . without trying to lay down any rules and laws other than those he witnessed.”
There is nothing to be added, but much to be lived. We must allow Life to live within us, so as to join him in witnessing the divine vitality that drives a human being to bloom and exude the perfume of God.
Like her Beloved, Miriam of Magdala holds nothing back of this perfume, nor of the radiance of her flowering. Even today, her image is still surrounded by its richly colored aura. For those who have eyes to see, as well as ears to hear, the world is still being illumined by the brilliance of Yeshua and Miriam.
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1 When Levi had said these words,
2 they all went forth to spread the gospel.
3 THE GOSPEL
ACCORDING TO
MARY
After this brief and cogent reminder by Levi, there is nothing more to discuss. Further understanding must now come through action, and the disciples are well aware of the echoes of the Teacher’s “Walk forth!” in Levi’s words.
These words have a special resonance twenty centuries later. The original sense of action (missing in the narrow rendering of the Beatitudes as “Blessed are . . .” ) is restored. It invites us to stop indulging in complacent satisfaction, even in areas where we think nothing more is to be done. There is no finality in this process of humility, for we can always do more, and go further—as the pilgrims of Compostela said, inspired by those of Emmaus before them: Ultreia!171 There is another step still further beyond the limitations of the known and the habitual, which we are always taking to be the Real.
“. . . they all went forth to spread the gospel.”
They will witness and live the Good News. This is a permanent challenge, and not one to be met by mere proselytizing.
At this turn of the millennium there are many who balk at the endlessness of the imperative to keep going beyond. Pessimism is a powerful temptation, as is the pseudo-wisdom of “nothing new under the sun,” or “business as usual.” But there will be no more business at all if we destroy ourselves, and perhaps even the planetary ecosystem.
This new threat under which we live has led many to espouse a life of enjoyment of the moment. But without any support of the vertical dimension, this enjoyment turns out to be hollow. How much longer can people continue to use the word happiness for the vacuous trances of consumer bliss and petty power that they try to take from a world that is a psychic, intellectual, and spiritual wasteland?
Among Christian writings, the Gospel of Mary is especially cogent as a reminder of the vastness of human potential and of the meaning, beauty, and demands of the human enterprise. It affirms that a human being can only be fulfilled by overcoming herself or himself, going beyond the conditioning of masculine or feminine, so as to become Anthropos—both anthropocosmos and theanthropos.
But might this not be too grandiose? Is this not a form of utopianism or even megalomania? Some would say so, and this may have something to do with the fact that this gospel, like that of Thomas, had to wait, buried in the sands for almost two thousand years—and then had to wait for decades more, reserved and known only to specialists, before finally beginning to be properly appreciated by a wide public toward the closing years of the twentieth century.
What might be the significance in this timing? Some would say that the Gospel of Mary is the missing piece that has been needed to complete the Good News in a more ecumenical sense, one that would also include and fulfill the Torah and the Qur’an. Yet the important thing is that it invites us to go even further than this, beyond the dualisms and dogmas of all organized religions. It is in this sense that we might well ask ourselves if this is not the appropriate gospel to inaugurate the third millennium.
Yet the present translator and exegete of this gospel would be the first to admit that it is easy to overlook the demands it makes of us. This Anthropos of which the Teacher speaks is not some dream or ideal, it is an intensity of life that wants to be born in us and radiate to the world its intelligence and love. This cannot happen if we do not allow the creative imagination to work in ourselves. Yet is there any other way for us?
The Gospel of Mary Magdalene need not be set up in opposition to other gospels or sacred scriptures, or against recent anthropological or scientific research. If the climate of fragmentation and competition of the vast multitude of contemporary worldviews may be likened to a grim and tense expression upon a human face, then the word of the Teacher in this gospel is like the hint of a smile appearing there—a subtly feminine smile. No doubt this smile comes from the psyche, but its eyes are open windows to the spirit (nous) and to a lucid vision of our possible futures.
In this word there can be felt a Breath (Pneuma) that is surely familiar to us. Perhaps we encountered it in a great wind that came through our life, or perhaps, like Miriam in the Gospel of Philip, in a kiss. There is no conclusion, no finality to the realization of this Spirit, for there is always more to learn in living and breathing more fully the totality of our human potential.
It is this Breath that fills us with the vitality needed to walk forth—not toward our inevitable death, but toward that silent repose in the midst of action, where individual being is finally open to the Oneness of Lover and Beloved.
THE GOSPE L
ACCORDING T O
MAR Y
Cap-Rousset, May 16, 1996
Ascension Day
FOOTNOTES
PREFACE
1 Selected bibliography: Susan Haskins, Mary Magdalene: Myth and Metaphor (New York: Riverhead Books, 1993); and Antti Marjanen, The Woman Jesus Loved: Mary Magdalene in the Nag Hammadi Library & Related Documents (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1996), give the best overview of the material. Margaret Starbird has written a very accessible and briefer book, The Woman with the Alabaster Jar: Mary Magdalen and the Holy Grail (Santa Fe: Bear, 1993). Laurence Gardner, Bloodline of the Holy Grail (Rockport, Mass.: Element, 1996), picks up on earlier work in Michael Baigent, Richard Leigh, and Henry Lincoln, Holy Blood, Holy Grail (New York: Little, Brown & Co., 1983). Ean Begg, The Cult of the Black Virgin, rev. (New York: Penguin/Arkana, 1996), contains a wealth of new material on the feminine lineage. Lynn Picknett and Clive Prince, The Templar Revelation: Secret Guardians of the True Identity of Christ (New York: Touchstone, 1997), spins a fascinating tale at the outer reaches of current thought. All of these books are extremely well researched. If you don’t
agree with their conclusions, you cannot ignore the meticulous research which they have accomplished.
Another set of works reveal the details of Jesus Christ’s life in more complete detail. These include Robert Powell, Chronicle of the Living Christ: The Life and Ministry of Jesus Christ: Foundations for a Cosmic Christianity (Hudson, N.Y.: Anthroposophic Press, 1996), which extends the wonderful work of the clairvoyant German nun, Anne Catherine Emmerich, who died in 1826 at age 20, from the four-volume set, The Life of Jesus Christ and Biblical Revelations (Rockford, Ill.: Tan Books, 1914 and 1979). The recent book by Neil Douglas-Klotz, The Hidden Gospel of Jesus Christ (Wheaton, Ill.: Quest, 1999), brings the most modern of Biblical scholarship into a fresh understanding of the words of Jesus and their fuller meaning.
The Gnostic texts can be found in James Robinson, ed., The Nag Hammadi Library, rev. ed. (San Francisco: Harper, 1990); Bentley Layton, The Gnostic Scriptures (New York: Doubleday, 1987); G. R. S. Mead, trans., Pistis Sophia (Blauvelt, N.Y.: Spiritual Science Library, 1984); and any of the recent books on the Dead Sea Scrolls. Commentaries on these texts in terms of the feminine can be found in Karen King, Images of the Feminine in Gnosticism (Harrisburg, Va.: Trinity Press Intl., 1988).
Further, we have made a videotape about this research entitled Rediscovering Mary Magdalene, which is available from www.TheStarHouse.org.
2 James Carroll, Constantine’s Sword (New York: Houghton Mifflin, 2001).
3 Stephan Hoeller gives the best telling of the story of the discovery of these documents in Jung and the Lost Gospels (Wheaton, Ill.: Theosophical Publishing House, 1989).
4 The Gospel of Mary was not found in the jar unearthed at Nag Hammadi. It had been found earlier in Egypt, in 1896, and resides now in Berlin. This document was, however, included in Robinson’s The Nag Hammadi Library because it and the three other tracts that were found in 1896 are completed by—as they complement—the much larger find at Nag Hammadi.
The Gospel of Mary Magdalene Page 16