good news of miriam - the lost gnostic gospel of mary magdelene - chapters two and three

- 2 -

Life awakens.

There are stirrings in the camp. Darkness is still dominant. A man or two or animal or two or three are waking and are making the guttural sounds of being awake.

I hear the distant sounds. Have always been an early riser. Have used the silence still in the household to make mental notes of tasks to be done first and in descending order.

Here in a caravan, nothing to do but lie and make notes of aches and pains of my aging body. That the creator gave great resilience to the female body. That he gave that resilience to a younger child bearing age female. Myself passed the childbearing years, and in the declines of internal ethers, it makes me reflect on the sum of days possibly left me.

There is a stirring outside my tent. “Little mother”, the caravan’s boss’s first wife, has brought both a lamp and a vessel of steaming tea. J.D., without question, lets her pass into my tent after announcing aloud. “Mistress. The boss man’s lady wishes entrance.”

I am eager to rise and greet a visiting face. My maid reluctantly awakes and leaves the tent after preparing “little mother” a place to sit near myself still seated upon my bedding materials.

“Forgive my boldness dear lady but Ahmed says that you will soon leave us upon the trail.”

Without further prompting I reach for a scroll and begin a quick astrological prediction for her unborn grandson –

“You say it is a grandson lady?”

“Yes. The chart speaks of one strong and dominant. If not a boy, then a very powerful woman.

The old woman began to laugh and then replied.

“Better a weak son than a strong daughter goes the old saying.”

While I did a lot of work on the chart, the sex of the child or any child unborn is in the hands of the fates or the gods and not totally within the realm of mere mortals to decipher or to command.

I take my first sip of the tea. We begin to gossip. First we talk of those on the caravan with us.

Little mother begins.

“Those boys with the last three camels are a bad lot. They gamble and argue amongst themselves. Ahmed is always telling me to keep an eye out for anything missing from our meager campsite when they are about.

There are four other women on the caravan. If they are wives, mistresses, or slaves, she cannot state. Their men never let them out of their sight.

“It is not for me to question these things. At least none of them are big in the belly. I will not be asked to be midwife in the middle of some night on the run of the caravan.”

Her eyes were dark and reflected the light of a single lamp light, so beautifully. That wrinkled skin and missing teeth took nothing away from her present beauty. No doubt she was a beauty in her day to attract so strong and cunning a man as her husband.

I am reminded of my faded looks and gone forever youth. Little in the sacred writings reflects upon or gives comfort to the act of aging.

That the blessing to live to see your children’s children is the most powerful blessing the creator can bestow.

There was a shouting outside our tent. Little mother’s husband was awake and unattended.

“I must run lady or he will beat me.”

“If he beats you, he will eat a cold supper full of sand tonight.”

She gave a great toothless smile in response before departing.

Dawn had arrived.

Any day now they would arrive at a predetermined place. I waited for the arrival of four horsemen with another six horses. Our departure from the caravan was quick. Our three camels stopped to unload passengers, goods and supplies. I first determined through J.D. and Ahmed that these horsemen were of the “way” and my journey’s end would likely be a safe one.

Four armed horsemen and J.D. and young fresh horses seemed adequate protection from random thieves along the trail. Anything larger than a dozen organized thieves in the hills and on horseback could be negotiated with or traded with. My status as a Magi would carry weight in many quarters. With a horse or two and a pouch or two of silver and the honor of a trade, a trail bargain, and a trail oath would likely settle any dispute.

Besides, these days on the frontiers of the Roman empire, large organized gangs were not too likely. Roman patrols were always looking for a fight with anything that represented backbone or balls and in any way shape or form challenged Roman authority.

If anything, an organized trail gang would be giving kickbacks to a local Roman centurion stationed in this god forsaken land.

I had enough power with languages and customs that my negotiations would recognize and respect trail signs and we could survive any few close encounters so close to my destination.

The horsemen took us for a trip of three days to the south before arriving deep into Roman territory. The horsemen seemed glad to be leaving no doubt out of fear of the Romans. I gave them a special blessing for the journey home.

It is strange sometimes when I play the part that I did at the side of my long dead husband, that the blessing of the master still meant so much to the horsemen or the camel drivers. The world was changing. The world was becoming ugly and alien. So much of the world was now Roman.

The long, long journey took its toll. I stayed at what could be called an inn for a week before traveling further. Of course I demanded the best that the innkeeper could provide. I put him and his family out into their stable while I had a whole room to myself along with my possessions.

I had to change from the role of grand lady to that of middle class pilgrim.

I brought my lesser clothes with me and began to wear them about the inn as I took my daily walk. There was a need to acclimate myself to the culture here abouts.

Time to adjust and time to reflect. This was all so sudden. The departure from my son’s side and his struggle for power I saw in my stars. Still, it was a closing chapter.

All my life I was someone’s daughter or wife or mother. My roles were written for me. I never had too much to say or to do. Mostly I was a useful ornament and a walking repository of memorized sacred scripts.

- 3 -

The man sitting across from me was the chief rabbi of this small very upscale town in the middle of nowhere.

In fact, on the trip in a wagon to this venerated house, I had seen a forum, an amphitheater and also had passed a stadium of modest size.

No great temples to the Roman gods had been present in this curious enclave of very Hellenistic Jews.

“Normally I do not see women in my private study but your letter of introduction have made me make an exception.”

With me were my maid and eunuch. With the rabbi stood a man and an aged woman whose face got lost in her scarf pulled up over her head.

With a gesture of his hands the rabbi began. “What can I do for you great lady?”

“I was born near here over five decades ago. I was sold by my parents to the esteemed great priest Asar who raised me as one of his own.

“I wish to spend some time here reacquainting myself with the ways of the Hebrew…

“Once a Jew always a Jew.” He stated pointing his finger.

I continued.

“I have had some of my people research some matters last year in anticipation for a possible trip here.

“I would like your revered self to recommend some in the law to act as agents on my behalf.”

“In what way?” he asked.

“I have I believe an aged aunt, a sister of my mother, still living in the village where I was born. I do not want to barge into her life. I would like to visit her and perhaps arrange for some sort of stipend to be given her until her death.”

Again a gesture with the rabbi’s hands and with the fingers gesturing to ask a question but I continued.

“I do not want to appear to be the source of this stipend. I was hoping that a local rabbi in a local synagogue could administer such funds.

“You would trust strangers in a strange land great lady with your money?”

“I trust men who like yourself who will do what is right in the eyes of the creator to do right by my aunt after I have left this place.

“It’s better that several persons are involved, yourself, a lawyer and a local rabbi to look out for the welfare of my aunt. No doubt the cost is greater considering administration fees among other things. I know she will be taken care of.”

Perhaps out of nervousness or anxiety I made a gesture of my fingers in a great sacred sign of my religion.

The rabbi gasped.

He shooed his people out of the room and gestured at my people to whom I told to leave the room.

The rabbi stood at his desk.

“I had no idea I had been in the presence of a grand master of the ‘grand thing’.”

I should make a note that the “grand thing” is much different than the “way”. To an outsider’s eye, these two things might seem to be the same. There are many and subtle differences between the sacred and secular levels of these two competing but in many ways compatible secret societies.

I was at some advantage and disadvantage about this seeming common ground. I had to tread softly in my discussion with the rabbi.

The old rabbi and his knowledge of the “grand thing” might be different than from my own knowledge. The "grand thing”, in the minds of many of those initiated, differs from culture to culture.

I know for certain that the “grand thing” only goes back one thousand years to the time of the great master Zoraster.

The “grand thing” has to do with building. It is a male thing, an extension of their personal tool. That primitive cultures that began civilization used tools to pierce the earth and deposit seed and depend upon the bounty of the creator in the form of a rain god or a sun god or a fertility goddess to bring forth nourishment.

Oh! The bounty of that universe overflows my thoughts!

“You are a grand master of the grand thing?” asked the rabbi.

“Yes.”

“But you are a woman. I know of no woman with such knowledge.”

“It is a cultural thing dear rabbi. I am Persian. East flows east and west flows west and the center of the world is Persia…

“It is near to Babylon. We Jews were in Babylon some centuries ago,” added the rabbi.

I began to speak.

“The way of my brethren and the way of your people crossed paths in Babylon. The “way” speaks of light and dark and the forces of good over evil. It talks of the original sins of Adam and Eve. It talks about the rising of the dead at the end of time to be judged and for accountability of all actions. It speaks of a coming Messiah to lead all to the truth and the light and to the eternal reunion with the creator…”

“We were talking about the grand thing dear lady and not your way.”

“In a way I am a priestess and the equal at some levels to any man.”

“And your knowledge of the grand thing?”

“I received it through my husband. I was his equal in our religion. If he was a grand master of the grand thing, then I have his knowledge as well.”

“Interesting.” He said stroking his beard.

“The builders of the reconstruction of your temple in Jerusalem knew of the grand thing and brought it back from Babylon. The grand thing in Persia and in Babylon were forms of our way.

“If a person does not accept our way but is judged to be fit to be part of the brethren, they are invited and accepted into a non-religious form of our religion. It is better to have friends in many faiths than to shut doors onto good people everywhere.

“If I show you a sign of the grand thing and you recognize it, then you are a worthy companion, a person to be trusted. Trust can overflow the boundaries of mere kingdoms or nations.”

The rabbi replied.

“They have rebuilt the Temple again but under one who is not worthy to be part of the grand thing. Our king is a puppet of Rome. I should stop there. I can be killed for such an opinion.”

“Your opinion is safe with me rabbi. I take it that the grand thing was not used in the rebuilding of the Temple?”

“It is said that only a half dozen Romans in the engineering field have any knowledge of the grand thing. Something that supposedly goes back to the building of the pyramids in Egypt is lost on this new generation. The Romans are from hell. They respect nothing but their own power and grandeur.”

“Then they are no different than the Persians and the Babylonians that have gone before them. They too will be a forgotten empire.”

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