Twenty-four

Though it was still morning, it did not look as if Jesus was going to reappear that day; and so, without waiting for Lazarus, the two women walked back home to Bethany, Martha elated, Mary saddened and troubled.

"They will come back," said Martha. "The people will think upon what he has said, and they will turn back to him."

"I think not," said Mary.

"You will see. 'Believe the deeds,' he said. Words speak, but actions shout. They will turn back."

Mary wished she could. And there was something urging her to do so. If one believed the deeds--and how could one not?--then what Jesus said must be true. How could God allow him to be deceiving the people and confirm the deception with 'things that can only be done by my Father'? But still, who could believe the words? Finally, she said, "If they do turn back, it will probably be too late." Certainly, the Pharisees and priests would pay attention to nothing but the words; and they were cause for stoning--or, because of the political danger, for what Jesus seemed to be predicting, his being handed over to the Romans for execution on some trumped-up charge of trying to start an insurrection.

It only added to the gloom of everything that halfway home, the gray day fulfilled its promise, and a chilling drizzle began to soak them to the bone. They cut off their conversation for the sake of sparing their breath as they broke into a brisk trot for the last two stadia or so; and when they arrived, panting and dripping, though not chilled because of the run, they were grateful for the warmth of the house and its fire and a change of clothes, and some hot gruel which Judith prepared.

Their spirits then revived considerably, and they began discussing the day's events. Mary, in self-defense, resolved to put the best possible construction on everything, though she still could not really convince herself; but it made relations with Martha a good deal easier.

When Lazarus arrived, through the insistent cold light rain, he went directly to his room, as the sisters expected. What they did not expect was that when he emerged in dry robes, instead of greeting them, he went directly to the fire, and, holding his hands before him to warm them, glared into it in fury. Mary and Martha stood speechless in the lengthening silence.

Judith finally ran up behind him and said, "What is the matter, Lazarus?"

"Ask her," he snarled, not indicating to whom he was referring, and kept looking into the fire, as if to find there some means of taking an unknown vengeance on an unknown foe. After another eternity, he spat out in a voice choking with rage, "That! . . . Man! . . . I want it clearly understood that that man is not to set foot in this house again! Ever!" His voice rose almost to a scream. He realized that he was about to lose control and lapsed once again into silence.

Martha said, "What man do you mean? Do you mean that Jesus is not to come here again?"

"You know perfectly well what I mean," he said in a voice that he was desperately trying to restrain, as if he were a charioteer with horses that had taken fright.

"I know that you are the man of the house," returned Martha, "but I think that we also have a little to say--"

"You do, do you? Well, let me tell you this: I will die! . . . before I see him enter through that doorway again! That is how serious I am, in case you think I am playing games! It makes no difference to me what! you think! Of all the contemptible! tricks, to abuse our hospitality thus!"

"What contemptible trick?"

"Ask her!"

Mary's heart sank; the time had finally come. She took a step forward. "Who was it spoke to you, Lazarus?"

"Chuza's Joanna."

"I might have guessed."

"What is this about?" cried Martha.

Lazarus wheeled wildly to face the three women, whose faces were as white as his now. "That woman," he said almost in a whisper, "that woman, who gives herself airs because her husband once was a steward or something of Herod's, that woman had the gall to ask me--" He choked on the very thought of it, and stood there, staring at them. "She asked me whether I 'had grown accustomed to having for a sister the notorious Mary of Magdala!' And all I could do was stand there and stare at her! At her!"

"One moment," said Martha. "Who is Mary of Magdala?"

"She is standing right beside you, apparently," he said, looking at Mary with more loathing than Mary had ever seen in her life.

"I do not mean that. I mean, what is she notorious for?"

"You do not remember? Why, her name is on the lips of all the priests of Jerusalem--of the whole country! She is the--person--who has made it her special business to--to--to corrupt and lead astray the very best, the holiest, the cream of the whole nation, and especially its priests! They have been racking their brains for years to find a way to put a stop to her! And here she is, right here! Here in my house! My own sister! God, I cannot bear it!"

"It is false! It is not true!" wailed Judith, falling at Lazarus' feet and clasping his ankles.

"What do you know of such things, child?" he said, patronizingly.

"It is false! I was her servant! I know what they said of her, but she never did those horrible things! She is good! I know it! It is all lies!"

He looked down at her, and then up at Mary. Without any real hope in his voice, he said, "Can you confirm this?"

"He forgave me, Lazarus."

He looked away, staring off into the distance. "Well, at least you did not stoop to corrupting her while you were busy corrupting the Hebrew priesthood." Judith looked up at Mary in shock and horror.

"They came to me, Lazarus. I did not go to them."

Judith stood up beside Lazarus, staring at Mary in disbelief. "Then you admit it," she said, incredulous.

"He forgave me."

"He forgave you! He forgave you! What difference does that make?"

"It made a great deal of difference to me at the time. You yourself remarked at the change. It made it possible for me to start over again, to come back here--"

"To start over!" cried Lazarus. "Just as if nothing had happened! And to come back here! To come back to this house--"

"Is this the contemptible trick you accuse Jesus of?" shouted Martha. "That he forgave my sister, and rescued her from a life of sin? That he brought her--"

"Rescued her!"

"Yes, rescued me," said Mary in a measured voice, but full of tension. "You have no idea what it is to be trapped in a life where death is the only possible blessing."

"Perhaps I do not," said Lazarus, in despair, "but I am learning."

"What are you saying?" said Martha. "Stop being melodramatic."

"Melodramatic! Do you not realize that everyone knows who she is? That everyone knows that Mary of Magdala is living right here in this house? Practically making it a brothel? My father's house?"

"Do not concern yourself, Lazarus," said Mary quietly. "She will not be living here any longer."

"You cannot undo the damage simply by leaving," he said.

"You most certainly will not leave here!" exclaimed Martha.

"Thank you, Martha, but he is right," said Mary. "I had no idea what the effect of my coming here would be. I did not really plan it; the Master merely suggested that some day, it might be good that I return, and when he finally brought me to Lazarus, it was without telling me, and it took me completely by surprise, and . . . and I suppose I was too much of a coward to run away at the beginning. But--"

"Now will you stop being foolish!" Martha cried. "It is bad enough to contend with one fool, but--"

"Fool? Who are you calling a fool?" shrieked Lazarus.

"This is your house," she went on as if he did not exist, "and you are my sister, and nothing anyone says--and nothing you have done in the past--can change that. And if he has forgiven you, then your sins are forgiven--"

"Listen to me! Listen to me!" Lazarus screamed. "I would not put her out of the house, because, God have mercy on me, she is my sister, but if she wishes to go, you will not! try to prevent it! It is the very least! she can do to rectify the harm she did in the evil hour when she darkened this door!"

"Will you listen to yourself?" said Martha. "You have no idea how silly you sound! 'Darkened this door!' What would you do to me, Lazarus? Beat me? Men may beat their women, but in the first place, I am not your woman, and in the second place, you are not man enou--"

"I will not tolerate this disobedience! This insolence!"

She looked at him as foam actually appeared at the corners of his mouth and said calmly, "I fear you will have to tolerate it, Lazarus."

Lazarus stared at her, speechless.

Judith suddenly took a step toward Mary and said, "You lied to me." All eyes went to her.

Mary sadly replied, "No, Judith, I never did."

"You told me that those stories were not true."

"No, no. First of all, you will recall that I never would let you say what they were. I always cut you off when you began to ask me about them, and told you to go about your business. I never told you that anything said about me was false; I simply never said that it was true."

"You led me to believe that they were false!"

"No, Judith, it was not thus, and you know it. No, you led yourself to believe that they were false. You knew perfectly well that they were probably true; how could you not know, seeing the condition of the house so often? No, Judith, you deceived yourself, because you needed the money for your mother, and you wanted to believe that I was good, because I went to see her at the beginning, and because I paid you six times what you could have earned anywhere else. But I told you often and often that I was not good."

"You lied to me."

Mary sighed. "Have it as you will, then; I lied to you. Perhaps I did. There are many ways of lying, I suppose." Lazarus had taken Judith about the waist, without either of them realizing what he was doing.

They all stood there, silent.

Finally, Martha spoke, her voice trembling from the tension. "Whatever Mary may have done in the past, she will stay here with us. If she wishes to begin life over, where else should she do so but here? Where else could she do so but here? The Master was right--I know what you are about to say, Lazarus, and I will not permit it because you yourself will regret it in the future. The fact is that I will not have it upon my conscience that we threw her out friendless, and were responsible for her going back to her--to whatever it was that she . . ." she trailed off.

There was another silence.

"Tell me," Lazarus said, trying desperately to regain control, but unable to keep the hate out of his voice, "how many people know that you had . . . sins . . . forgiven?"

Mary knew what he wanted. If who she was and what happened to her were not well known, it might be able to be lived down. She sighed. Well, he might as well know the whole as the half. "I am sorry, Lazarus," she said without a great deal of sorrow in her tone, "but all Magdala knows of it, as well as everyone who was with Jesus. You see, you are not the only one who has a flair for the melodramatic. I went so far as to grovel in the dust of the path at his feet while he drove seven devils out of me--and they left saying quite picturesque things. And the following night, I washed his feet with my tears in--"

"You mean that you were the one . . . Oh my God!"

"It was I. And he publicly forgave my sins then and there, and made me an example to the man. I see you have heard the story. It is probably not exaggerated."

Lazarus put both his hands on his face and wiped it down with them. Then, clasping his hands, with closed eyes, he said, "How can I ever hold my head up again in any civilized company?"

Mary looked at him with ironic amusement. "It will not be easy. I have found it extremely difficult."

He looked wildly at her, and then over at Martha. "You care not, do you? Either of you! All I have worked for my whole life! Everything! Gone! And through no fault of my own! And you look at me and tell me it will not be easy! And that you! have found it difficult. I disown you! You are no sister--"

"Lazarus, will you stop this acting like an idiot!"

"You!" he fairly shrieked. "You are worse even than she! You know me, you have lived with me, and you would keep her here to spite me! She at least had the decency to say that she would leave, but you! You would parade her before me every day to keep my disgrace and ruin alive! I will not tolerate it! I refuse to stay in this house, where everyone is conspiring against me!" And he rushed out into the night.

Screaming, "Lazarus! Lazarus!" Judith ran after him into the rain and the darkness.

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