Mary of Magdala: Out of Whom Came Seven Devils

By Elaine Rose Penn

Mary Magdalene. We know from the way she is introduced to us from the Bible record that she had once been possessed by seven devils. This fact, more than any other, seems to be all that we know about her connection to Jesus, the Christ.

We know that she appears quite unexpectedly at the cross of Jesus, and then at his tomb. We know that she alone was given the distinction of being the first to see the Christ alive from the dead. We know that Jesus gave her the remarkable charge to announce his resurrection to the world – in absolute accuracy of what He said he would do. We know that she was one of the twenty-five female disciples of Jesus, who sat at his feet and learned from his teachings. Yet, her identity and ministry are as baffling to us as her sudden appearance in the Holy scriptures.

Mary of Magdala: Out of Whom Came Seven Devils, finally settles the current debate over Mary Magdalene’s true relationship to the Savior. The chapter, “From the Top to the Bottom,” describes what the Sanhedrin and the priests of the temple would have seen when, at the point of Jesus’ death, the Veil was ripped in two right before their eyes…. And clears up the misconception that the Ark of the Covenant was still existent at the time of Jesus. “Who Is My Mother?” provides much needed clarity as to why the natural brothers of Jesus refused to take possession of His Body after the crucifixion. When Jesus appeared to Mary at the tomb, the Bible says that she mistook Him for the gardener. Lovers of Biblical mystery will gain great insight from the chapter, “Who Rolled Away the Stone?” in answer to the question of why Jesus was not recognizable when He arose from the dead. “Traditions of the Fathers,” will once and for all, settle the question of Mary’s painful past, and how she came to be known as one of the most enviable of all of Jesus’ disciples.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Oct 30, 2019
• ISBN: 9781796059540

Elaine Rose Penn

Elaine Rose Penn has ministered the gospel for more than two decades nationally and is a licensed member of clergy. In addition, she has ministered internationally including West Africa, East Africa, Germany, Japan, and the Caribbean. She has several years of doctoral work in Biblical Studies from Trinity University, and is currently pursuing a doctorate in Education with a focus in Instructional Design from Northcentral University. She is a prolific author with several other self-published works, and makes her home in Phoenix, Arizona.

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Copyright © 2019 by Elaine Rose Penn.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Other Works by Author:

•Soul Ties

•My Soul Looks Back and Wonders: the Call of God on a Woman’s Life

•Graveclothes: A Novel About the Death of Lazarus

•When Kingdoms Fall: A Novel About the Fall of Lucifer

•A Chance At Life: Stories of Inspiration and Hope for Foster and Adoptive Parents of Abused Children

Rev. date: 09/13/2019

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Contents

Preface and Acknowledgements

Chapter 1 Five Bloody Nails

Chapter 2 Behold The Man

Chapter 3 From The Top To The Bottom

Chapter 4 Who Is My Mother?

Chapter 5 Prefect Pontius Pilate

Chapter 6 Who Rolled Away The Stone?

Chapter 7 Magdala

Chapter 8 Traditions Of The Fathers

Chapter 9 A Stoning In Magdala

Chapter 10 Bloody Hands

Chapter 11 Mary Of Magdala

Chapter 12 Father To The Fatherless

Chapter 13 Faithful Wounds

Chapter 14 The House That Love Built

Chapter 15 The Women Who Followed Jesus

This book is lovingly dedicated to my father,

Daddy Willis Penn.

Daddy, this one is for you… I miss you more than words can say.

Preface and Acknowledgements

Of all of the women in the Bible, Mary Magdalene is by far the most disrespected, and the least deserving. How wonderful that in heaven she cannot be touched by the mean-spirited insinuations and outright errors about her relationship to the Christ. Interestingly enough, for many years, the very existence of the Christ was denied. Hollywood, however, found it more lucrative to admit that He lived, died, and was resurrected the third day; but also decided to give Him a lover in the person of Mary Magdalene.

True, the mystery of her life juxtaposed against the fact that the seven devils cast out of her is provocative in and of itself. She has been called a prostitute, a whore, and a demoniac, in spite of the fact that the Biblical record is silent about how she became possessed of so many devils. What we do know for sure, is that she was a disciple of Jesus, set free by Him, and given the first gospel message to go tell.

This book was birthed by my personal conviction to allow Mary to tell us her story. At least, that is how this novel started. But then one day, the Holy Spirit said something odd to me, insignificant significance. Once I released my own personal offense about the way she has been portrayed in the modern media, the Holy Spirit was able to tell her story for Himself…and write it He did!

There are just a few people I would like to acknowledge and thank from the very bottom of my heart: To my brother, Roy Magett, whose comments and insights helped me see things with clarity and from a reader’s point of view, brother thank you for your time, your wisdom, and your respect for this project. To Donna Coburn, the president of my fan club, thank you Sis for just always believing in me no matter what. And to my sister-girls at Emmanuel Church of God in Christ…. you all bring such a smile to my heart. Thank you for accepting me just as I am.

Elaine Rose Penn, Author

Chapter One

FIVE BLOODY NAILS

The gasp from the small group of women was singular but also electric in its intensity. Even as it leapt forth involuntarily from weary souls, some hid their eyes, while a few others sobbed and began a low, mournful wail from seeing too much and feeling too much.

It was the slow, methodical movements of Joseph, a wealthy member of the Sanhedrin, from the old Judean city of Arimathea that they were watching. They watched him struggle, as he took long labored breaths to wrench four long, rusty Roman spikes out of the disfigured wrists of Jesus of Nazareth, one…by one….

He didn’t work alone. There, working alongside of him at the foot of the blood-stained cross, was a ruler of the Jews named Nicodemus. The women sighed in pity for him when they noticed that he was barely a nose length from the bloody legs and feet of the Christ. He struggled to keep the body from shifting while Joseph worked from above. But the fatigue caused a pounding in his temple that was becoming unbearable the longer the process was taking.

Against the backdrop of a dreary cloud-filled sky, both men had initially looked up at the hung-down head of the Christ and fought back fresh, agonized tears. The mean crown of thorns had been so forcibly pressed down on the skull, that it had mangled the fragile tissue around sunken eye cavities. Joseph gulped hard and in pain as he stared momentarily at the blood that had seeped from the eye sockets in fine, glistening red ribbons. He knew that he had to divert his attention away from it quickly before it pulled him down into quick sand.

The original plan had been to free the feet first. But then, they realized this would mean that the imbalance in the weight would then cause the hands and wrists to rip right through the nails. It occurred to both of them that crucifixion, in all of its gory mess, was still quite an effective means of causing the greatest amount of torture and for the longest amount of time.

Four of the women who watched from afar were Marys. One, Mary of Salome was the mother of John the evangelist. The second Mary was the mother of James the Lesser. The third Mary was the mother of the one whose broken form was now being extracted from the cross beam. When the two men glanced back, they could see that there was one last Mary who was also part of the group and easily recognizable from her celebrity.

She was Mary, from the City of Magdala, a woman from whom Jesus had driven seven devils. Her story was an interesting one, and even to that day, still intrigued both Joseph and Nicodemus in the retelling. Of the thousands that Jesus had healed and set free from devils, sickness, and even death, she was the only one – to their knowledge – who had devoted her life to following her Savior. As Joseph pondered the misery of what her life had been before her deliverance, he couldn’t help but sigh deeply at the futility of life. He was not in a good mood this morning and wouldn’t be for quite some mornings to come.

As the female disciples watched from the imposed distance, they observed that there was a slow, calculated deliberateness to the movements of Joseph. The women were not surprised to see that it was Nicodemus, one of the rulers of the Jews who worked there by his side. He was equal in prominence to that of Joseph and had been one of the most loyal of Jesus’ supporters.

Inspite of the grisly circumstances before them, they couldn’t help but marvel at how Nicodemus had dispensed with his finery and pomp, to seek out Jesus for a meeting in the night. He had become a changed man after that meeting – so much so, that many had come to fear for his safety. He would boast about the great truths he had learned because of that meeting and was fearless to share them with anyone who would listen.

The nails wouldn’t come out easily, but Joseph hadn’t anticipated that they would. He’d brought along something akin to a crowbar, in hopes that it would help him dislodge each spike. Problem was, some of the nails had bent into macabre shapes as the merciless soldiers drove the nails into thin flesh as far as they would go.

Each time Joseph managed to get a hold of a spike, he sighed deeply and miserably, knowing that his fight had only just begun. In the struggle to get it out, he would grow increasingly flustered as he labored to break the pact between the flesh and the nail. Warily, he also noticed that the strain of the body against the nails in the hands had enlarged the holes around the sallow flesh making it even more difficult to pry them out.

Although his work was mainly concentrated around prying the spikes from the two bones which formed the wrist – the ulna and radius – the sight of the Savior’s hands sickened him further. Each of the fingers was torn all the way down to the nail bed. He wondered for a moment what could have caused the clawing. But the visual made him queasy, and he quickly pushed it away.

In addition to the sights that kept fighting for his attention, he could hear sounds of anguish from the small band of women as they watched huddled some distance behind them. He ignored them to keep his mind focused on the loathsome task. There was no question of why he had requested to do this, but at this moment, he sorely regretted his decision to be the one. As he looked over at his close confederate, Nicodemus, he could see that he wasn’t the only one having trouble keeping his food down.

How do you fare, my friend? asked Joseph.

Every muscle in his body felt like it was on fire and there was a tremor in his hands which would remain for many days afterward. He paused in his toil to check on Nicodemus, but then buried his face in his outer mantle in a futile attempt to soak up the large trickles of sweat which streamed in constant furrows from his brow.

Better than you, was the short and muffled reply from Nicodemus.

That’s when both of them were startled by the sudden loud clamor of a large grey bird which had swooped down upon them from out of nowhere.

Cawwwwwwwwwuh, cawwwwwwwwwwwwwuh, cawwwwwwwwwwwuh!!!! it screeched in anger over their heads.

Sometimes it would drop into a diving spin right before their faces, but then dip back up toward the sky in a close, tight circling pattern.

Around and around it flew, screeching as it made each round, as if it were offended that they were taking so long. For a moment both men feared that it would attack them, and so they stood in a defensive posture wondering what they could do to fend it off. Finally, when it seemed that it had successfully trumpeted its complaint, it managed to land on the hung-down head of the thief who was crucified to the right of the Christ. It simply sat there – with its body perfectly balanced on the head of the dead man and its wings tightly folded against its body. It appeared to scrutinize the work of Joseph and Nicodemus with the small, calculating eyes of a debt collector.

If you think we are taking too long, you oughta help, stated Joseph sourly and in the direction of the feathered task-master.

Don’t provoke the little beast, offered Nicodemus under his breath. He was fighting off a fatigue that was causing his heart to race.

As the bird eyed them – and listened to them as well - it turned its small head askance, first this way and then that way. On their part, the two men just stood there studying it to see what its next move would be. Then, without warning, the heavenly messenger opened up its wings very quickly and flew straight towards them - and up and away.

Instinctively, both men ducked.

Some days later, the two compatriots would carve out the time to marvel about the meaning of the incident in terms of its connection to the retrieval of Jesus’ body. Neither would agree on whether it held significance. With humor, each agreed that they had never witnessed a bird land so comfortably on the head of a dead man as it had the crucified thief.

The entire wooden cross was raised no more than two feet up off the ground, which made it easier for the two men to complete the task with just the aid of a sturdy ladder. The ground beneath them was uneven, however, and that made Nicodemus’ task that much more wearisome. The men tried to stay focused on the tasks mutually assigned to each. More often than not, however, they were forced to pause frequently to wipe away the fine trickles of blood on their own hands and upper arms which were being slashed by the elongated, jagged splinters of the cross beams.

Nicodemus, although no taller than Joseph’s youngest son, was muscular in his upper body, and this compensated for his otherwise boyish frame. His task was mainly to cradle the