Oh my, what an exhausting day! Crucificitions should be banned! There are cruel and a horrible way to die. I know that the great and mighty Roman government thinks it is a great way to reduce crime, but I think they are wrong. They just make innocent people, like my sister, suffer. I have just spent the day with my younger sister Mary as we watch her son die a slow, agonizing death on a cross. Why does he have to die? Because he made the wrong people angry! I thought Jesus was all-powerful, but even the romans can make the mighty powerless.
Let me back up a little bit. I’m Sal-o-may the wife of Zebedee, mother of James and John, sister to Mary and the aunt of Jesus. Zebedee and I have been married quite awhile. I have known him all my life. He is a few years older than me and he used to play with my brothers. He was always nice to me, but it was quite some time before I realized that our parents wanted us to marry. I married him at the age of 15 with the dream of becoming a mother many times over and a respected and powerful wife in the community.
In the early years of our marriage, I wasn’t concerned about the lack of children. Zebedee’s fishing business was doing very well. We moved into a large home and had many servants. I became pregnant several times, but I never carried a child long enough for it to live. I was beginning to give up hope and I had already lost my faith. I figured if God was not powerful enough to give me my heart’s desire, a child, than I did not need God.
Once again, I became pregnant. I was skeptical that I would give birth to a healthy child, but the days of pregnancy grew to weeks and weeks to months. I held my breath as the ninth month approached. And then it happened, my little sister caused a scandal. It turns out she was pregnant and was not married. She claimed it was a child of God. Yeah, right. What kind of God impregnates an unmarried girl who is barely ready to be a wife, little lone a mother? In the midst of this chaos, I gave birth to our son James. James was a beautiful, healthy child and Zebedee was so proud that he would have taken James everywhere with him, if I had let him. Unfortunately, no one seem to notice our miracle. They were too consumed with my misguided sister Mary and her new husband Joseph.
With the birth of James, I finally obtained a position of importance and authority in our town. I had the respect of the other women and the money we had could buy us anything we wanted. Two years later, James became a big brother to John. The boys were wonderful. They have grown to be handsome and intelligent young men that any mother would be proud of.
As the years passed, my life began to revolve around the boys. Zebedee and I barely talked, except about household matters or the boys. Don’t get me wrong, Zebedee is not mean to me. We just seemed to have fallen out of love and neither one of us wants to put the effort into re-energizing the marriage. So, it was no surprise to Zebedee when I announced that I would be following the boys.
You see, I made the mistake of letting the boys play with that child of Mary’s. Jesus was his name. He was a very strange child and the tales the boys would tell me were unbelievable. They said he made birds out of mud and they came alive and that he healed a boy who broke his leg falling off a ladder. Amazing. Hmpf. My boys would follow that boy anywhere and do anything he asked. It’s like they could not think for themselves.
Well, that boy grew into a man, a young man who knew the scriptures and had an uncanny ability to interpret them. One day, James and John were out helping their father when that boy came by and convinced them to give up fishing and be itinerant preachers. Those crazy sons of mine followed Jesus without any hesitation. I told Zebedee that those boys had no business following Jesus and they needed to stay home and tend to the family business. Zebedee merely replied “Boys will be boys. Besides, we cannot change their minds and I don’t want to.”
“Fine!” I fummed. “If you are just going to let them go off and be with that radical, than I’m going too.”
“That radical” Zebedee reminded me, “is your nephew. Mary and Joseph would not raise a child that would be unfaithful.”
“Faithful, shmaithful. Who needs God? I just want to keep my children safe!”
Zebedee rolled his eyes and waved his hand at me as if to say “I don’t care. Do what ever you want.” I packed a few items, including some food (men just won’t eat right if a woman doesn’t feed them) and set off to find my sons.
By the time I found them, there was quite a crowd following Jesus. My sons had been included in the inner circle of 12 disciples. Besides the 12 chosen, there were many others who followed Jesus, just to listen to him preach or see him perform miracles. There was also a group of women followers. Some were sisters, wives or mothers of the disciples. Others like Mary of Magdala, just wanted to be near Jesus. Mary had the women well organized to help meet the needs of Jesus and the disciples. Without us, the men would have never washed their tunics, slept in a safe place or eaten a decent meal.
To give you an idea of how unprepared those men were, there was a time when Jesus was preaching to a crowd of four to five thousand people. It was amazing to see that many people gathered just to listen to him. Well, those foolish men did not think about the comfort of the audience or themselves for that matter. The crowd had been out there all day and was hungry, but no one had thought to bring food. That boy of Mary’s insisted that the disciples feed the crowd. Just who did he think he was? God? Well, the boys were able to gather about 200 denarii, not nearly enough money to feed the crowd. They were also able to gather 5 loaves of bread and two fish. Jesus blessed the food, broke it up and placed it in baskets to be shared. When all of us had eaten until we were full, Jesus collected 12 baskets of leftovers (which we promptly gave to the local leper colony). I have to admit that my attitude toward Jesus changed that day. Any man who could work wonders like that with food, must be very powerful.
Power. Power is a good thing. One can never have too much power. I began to realize that Jesus willingly shared his power and I realized that this was a wonderful social opportunity. Not only was I the aunt of Jesus, my only sons were part of his inner circle. It didn’t take much to convince the boys to go to Jesus and let me speak on their behalf. I said to Jesus “Declare that these two sons of mine will sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your kingdom.” I know it was bold, but I am not exactly a shy person, especially when it comes to my sons. To be granted these positions would be very powerful indeed. Jesus basically said “no” and then talked about the first being last and the last first and some other nonsense. A lot of times, I just didn’t understand this child of Mary..
Even though Jesus exasperated me, I did not want today to happen. I know that I am not close to my sister to Mary, but no one should have to live from scandal to scandal like she has. An illegitimate child, the crazy teachings of Jesus and now this humiliating trial and murder of her son. The men have all fled. Only the women remain. So, I stand with my sister-in-law Mary and together we support the mother of Jesus. Together, we have held her as she sobbed in anguish at the suffering her oldest son is enduring. There are others with us, Mary Magdalene, Suzanne, Joanna and a couple others. We have been standing safely at a distance but close enough that Jesus can see us.
I hate being here. I feel so powerless. There is nothing I can do to stop Jesus from dying or Mary from grieving. I cannot fix things and make them right. Besides being worried about Mary, I am surprised to find that I am grieving Jesus. I will miss all of his annoying habits and the jabs he would take at me and the way I live my life. What good was it for Jesus to have the amazing powers he had-the power to heal, the power to communicate, the power to change lives-what good was that power if it is all gone now? Why doesn’t he get down from the cross and stop all this suffering? Why can’t he use his power to care for his mother?
There must be something more. That child of Mary’s really was remarkable. It cannot end like this. I guess power isn’t as important as I thought. maybe true power comes from within. Jesus has endured all this suffering without a complaint. In many ways, he seems more powerful than ever. Maybe the love of god is more powerful than anything.
Thank you so much for listening. As powerless as I may feel today, Mary has sent me to find Joseph of Arimathea. Joseph will help us with the burial tonight and then we will come back after the Sabbath to finish the ritual. It can’t be over.
If you see my sons, tell them…tell them…tell them to be safe and don’t worry. Tell them that we all may be powerless, but God is not. Tell them that it isn’t over. I’m sure that God can overcome even the death of Jesus. Tell them to be patient and have hope that God will come to us in the midst of our powerlessness.
