Author: Elizabeth Bennent

Discalimer: This story half belongs to the authors of the Gospels: Matthew, Mark, Luke and John. I am not making any money off of this (for details see John 2:12, Jesus in the Temple.) But original characters and situations are mine, so please ask if you would like to use. Thanks.

Dedication: As always, to the Princess Circle. Also, to the cast of Guilford's "Jesus Christ Superstar."

After a year, Mary had bought the small house a top the hill from Lazarus. She became good friends with him, Mary and Martha of Bethany. Because of her "encounter with demons" and her association with an unpopular family, she was outcast by the rest of the town. It did not matter. To her, she would be going home soon. She would always be going home soon. But word never came. Even after she sent word to her family in Magdala and to her Aunt in Jerusalem.

Mary worked the small farm that was on her hill. She had a small patch of wheat that she grew and raised two cattle. She kept the donkey given to her when she left Magdala. It had turned out to be a helpful animal.

After a year of living in Bethany, without word from her family, Mary resigned to the fact that the fighting may last a while and she would have to wait patiently, while settling into her new life in Bethany.

Life was certainly more simplistic. Her delicate hands soon became rough with work, and her skin dark from the sun. Her work, however, gave her strength and she learned more than she had when she learned in the temple. It was satisfying, and she felt more at peace with everything living in her small home.

Around this time, Jesus arrived once more with his twelve followers; Peter, James, John, Judas, Andrew, Philip, Bartholomew, Matthew, Thomas, James, Thaddaeus, and Simon. Along with him were his mother, Mary and his aunt Salome.

Mary had been walking back to her house on a spring afternoon when she first heard him teaching to a group of people, clinging to his very word, reaching for him to bless them. Mary wandered over to listen.

"Pray to know God," he said, "People pray but they do not know God. Do not act as they do. When you pray, my brothers and sisters, pray so you know God. God already knows you. He knows everything about you. He knows your secrets and your worries. Yet, you do not know him. Get to know him. Get to love him. Pray so you will know him and be stronger for it. Pray like this."

He motioned for the listeners to get on their knees. He followed once everyone had done as he wished. He folded his hands and closed his eyes. He looked like a great statue. Composed and content. Mary, although wanting to focus on his lesson and the prayer, looked at him through the corner of her eye.

"Our Father in heaven,
May your name always be kept holy.
May your kingdom come
And what you want be done,
Here on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us the food we need for each day.
Forgive us for our sins,
Just as we have forgiven those who sinned against us.
And do not cause us to be tempted

But save us from the Evil One."

He finished, and the listeners all muttered an 'amen' and rose back onto their feet.

"Forgive others and you will also be forgiven. If you do not, you will not be forgiven," he said.

Mary, so taken aback by the truth and clarity of the lesson, went to more of his teachings.

They seemed to draw her in. They were so full of truth that Mary was almost frightened by them; afraid that she would not live in the place called Heaven if she didn't believe. All fear left her instantly when Jesus reassured the listeners that all they had to do was believe, and ask for forgiveness. He had seemed to be talking to her; everything he said related to her. Perhaps, it did for everyone. Perhaps he was the coming Messiah and knew them as well as he preached that God knew every one of his followers.

One day, Jesus was preaching once again. Mary sat listening intently as usual.

Jesus' followers sat there also. After the lesson, they brought him a basket of apples. They all took one and ate. The people around her were getting up to leave, and she reluctantly did the same.

Then Jesus said to her, "Mary, have an apple, and join in on our meal."

"You remember me," she said smiling and walking closer in to be with the group. Jesus' mother, slid over a place so Mary could sit down

"Now just why would I forget you?" he said.

"Did you not hear, woman?" a follower addressed Mary.

"What do you mean...man," Mary said a little defiantly.

"I mean that he is going to be our leader!" the man said, "He has performed miracles beyond your belief, including healing you. He is a wise man and forgets no one."

"You're not surprised at his glorious powers, Mary?" asked a follower.

"I have heard of his doings, indeed," Mary replied, "It is because he is as great as you claim that I believed him to not remember me."

"Mary of Magdalene has faith in me. She knows all that I can do. She believes my powers, as you call them, are from God. She believes I am the Messiah, do you not Mary?" said Jesus.

"I do believe now, Teacher," she said.

"My brothers...I will help carry the rest of these apples to Mary's house. They are for her weekly meals. We have enough back where we stay," said Jesus.

Some followers gave disappointed looks, and some smiled and waved her goodbye, the elder Mary and a boyish looking man with kind eyes included.

"Thank you...Jesus," she said. The two turned in the direction of the hill where Mary's house was.

"Have you always lived in Bethany?" Jesus asked as he set the basket of apples down. He now put on a more casual air; not quite the powerful and regal demeanor he had held only moments ago.

They rested midway up the hillside, for the basket was heavy and made their already blistered hands raw.

"No, I was born in Magdala in Galilee," said Mary sitting next to him, "My family was very wealthy, but disliked by a group of pirates. They threatened to take unmarried women if merchants, such as my father, didn't give up their profits. I was sent to Judea to get away from the danger. I don't know when I can go back. I wait for word from my family."

"I was raised near Magdala, in Nazareth," he said, "Well, you have the body and mind of a wealthy merchant's daughter."

"What does my Teacher mean?" she asked, smiling.

"You act independently and strong. It is something I respect. You are a woman who knows much. God has given you a gift to see into His plan" he said, "Believe what I say."

"I do believe," she replied. She loved his straight forwardness as much as he loved her independence and knowledge.

They picked up the basket again, and began to walk again. Jesus began to hum an upbeat song that Mary recognized. It was a dance tune from Galilee. She joined in with the humming which soon turned into words. When they finished singing the song she said, "You sing very well."

"A carpenter has to do something while working all afternoon," he laughed, "You're very gifted in singing as well, Mary."

"Am I?"

"Yes," he said gently.

Mary just let a smile play across her lips as they neared her house that was set against a dying sun.

Mary was working in her orchard, filling baskets with figs, when she heard Martha's screams from the bottom of the hill.

"MARY!" she screamed, "It's Lazarus! He's dead!"

Mary dropped the handful of figs she had in the basket at her feet and ran down the hill, not caring that her veil flew off her head.

Upon reaching the family's house, Mary and Martha entered to see Lazarus lying on the floor, a chalky gray, with his youngest sister clinging to him, sobbing.

"What happened?" Mary asked.

"He just fell," said Martha. She wasn't crying, but Mary could tell she had to will herself not to do so, "He fell, and then he wasn't breathing. He had been feeling weak for a few days, but Mary and I thought it was simple exhaustion."

"Exhaustion is a powerful thing; never simple," Mary said as she knelt to comfort the other Mary who sobbed over her brother.

If only Jesus were here, Mary thought. Jesus and his followers had gone into Jerusalem for a week and wouldn't be back for three days.

Later that evening, they placed Lazarus in a tomb. All three women wept. He had been kind to Mary from the moment she came running into town, stricken with madness. He had cared for and defended his two sisters. And he was gone with no reason.

Now, the three women would have to anoint his lifeless body with spices and seen as unclean beings for several days. It was the end of something. To Mary and her dear friends, ends were equal to a curse.

"Jesus!" Mary cried, rushing to her friend when she saw his face next.

"What has happened?" he said. He saw the worry in her face as he laid eyes on her.

"Lazarus died while you were away. Three days ago he just…he just died," Mary quietly explained. She noticed John and Bartholomew, who stood behind Jesus, exchange grieved glances. Jesus and his disciples were also good friends with Lazarus and his sisters.

"Show me to the tomb," Jesus said. Mary and Martha stepped out of the house when they heard Jesus speaking with Mary.

"Where are you going?" Martha asked.

"Show me to your brother's tomb," he said.

The group assembled around the cave where they had recently placed Lazarus to rest. Jesus, with the help of Judas and Peter, opened the tomb and Jesus went inside alone.

For hours, the disciples and women waited for Jesus to come out. What was he doing? The sun was hot, and Mary of Bethany went into a fit of tears every so often. She rested in Mary's lap for the remainder of the time. Mary could only stroke her hair and her face. Jesus' mother and aunt comforted Martha.

When the sun had begun to set, Jesus stepped out of the tomb, pulling something with him. It was Lazarus!

His sisters and Mary ran up to him and enveloped him into an embrace.

"My darling sisters," he said. And he had included Mary of Magdalene.

"Mary," Jesus began, "Do you believe that Lazarus' resurrection was God's way of proving that I am His Son?"

"Yes!" she said, grinning.

The two sat in the back courtyard of Lazarus' house. The sky was now dark, and cicadas sounded in the fig trees.

"I believe anything you say now," Mary said.

Jesus laughed.

"What?" Mary asked.

"Nothing. It makes me feel privileged to hear you say so however," he said, "Mary, my followers and I are going up to Galilee. We leave tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? You…you just got back. I looked forward to listening to your teachings again," she said.

Jesus smiled. "Would you like to come with me? We can stop in Magdala on our way to Cana."

"Come with you? As a…a disciple?" she asked.

"Exactly," he said.

"But I'm a woman," she said.

"How does that matter? My mother, my aunt, Mary and Martha are all disciples. Anyone who follows me is my disciple. Their gender is no matter to me," Jesus said, absently taking her hand. It was a warm, rough hand, worn from sculpting and fitting wood. She looked down at it and smiled.

"I'll follow you wherever you want me to," she said, "And I have money too! Plenty. My mother placed half of my inheritance in the money bag when I left Magdala. I'd gladly fund your mission!"

"I can't ask that of you," Jesus said gently.

"You didn't," Mary said, "I give it."