Chapter 5 Junia – Finding hope

...I blinked back tears and looked down at the ground, not wanting to look anyone in the eye. ‘It’s a private grief that I’ve never spoken of until this morning...

About six to eight hundred of us followed Mary, Joanna and the others across the Kidron Valley and up the hill to the top of the Mount of Olives.  Prisca and I were walking with over a dozen women who were clustered around Mary.  All were eager to hear more about her time with Jesus, and Mary was retelling some of the stories she'd shared with us earlier.  They hung on her every word… however, I was very distracted.   

When Mary had baptised me in the pool of Bethesda, I'd experienced for the first time the enormity of God’s love.  It was like an awakening... a... a new awareness.  It was like I'd been asleep and dreaming my whole life, and suddenly I was truly alive to a reality that I'd never even known existed.  The world seemed new and beautiful, as though I was seeing it for the first time.  The colours in the trees and the flowers had a new intensity. Even the colours of the rocks and dirt seemed to have a vibrancy about them that I’d never noticed before.

But it wasn't just the colours that distracted me... all my senses seemed heightened.  The sweet and earthy aroma of the olive trees smelled more exquisite than any perfume I'd ever known.  The skylarks sounded more joyful... more melodious.  It was like they were singing out their praises to God as they weaved their dance through the air.  Their song mingled with Mary's voice and the general hum of conversation from the hundreds of women making their way to the Mount of Olives. To my ears it all seemed coordinated; the shouts of joy or laughter from the crowd echoed the praise of the skylarks, and together they created a sound more awe-inspiring than any Levitical orchestra in the temple.

Mary's stories about Jesus wove in and out of my awareness as I drank all this in.  It was as though the Spirit was helping me to see beauty in the world in the same way that God saw it.  It was infinitely more exquisite than the ornate man-made beauty of the temple and my eyes filled with tears of joy at the sheer majesty of it all.

We reached the far side of the Kidron Valley and started to make our way up to the Mount of Olives.  Joanna was a few paces ahead with a group of women clustered around her, and as we began our upward trek, Joanna sang out in a loud clear voice, ‘I lift up my eyes to the mountains – where does my help come from?’

It was the opening line of one of the psalms that we often sang as we made our way to worship at the Temple. Joanna's voice rang out across the valley and with one voice the crowd behind us responded, ‘My help comes from the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth.’

Joanna led us in singing the psalms of ascent as the long line of women snaked its way up the hill.  We'd often sing those psalms as we went up Mount Zion to the temple... but this time we had our backs to the temple, leaving it behind and heading to a gathering that would be far simpler, but more full of spirit and truth than any worship I’d ever known.

We neared the top, left the track, and made our way over the rough ground to the summit. As we cleared a small rise, we saw about fifteen groups of men scattered around the summit, all seated on the ground. There were around thirty men in each group, and they gathered around one of the men from the upper room who was teaching.  It was a replica of a scene from the temple courts; disciples gathered around their Rabbi, focussed on his every word as he expounded his interpretation of the Torah.  The groups were already so large, that I wondered if we’d be able to get close enough to hear what the men were saying.

The apostle Peter was teaching in one of the groups near to us.  When he saw us come over the ridge he stood, said something to the group and walked towards us, the men around him laughing and scooting out of the way as he moved through them.

Mary and Joanna went to meet him and we followed. They were all smiling and laughing as they hugged, ‘What have you been teaching them?’ Mary asked

‘Honestly... it's all over the place.’ Peter sighed. ‘I’m beginning to understand how frustrated Jesus must have been when he was trying to teach me!’ He laughed and shook his head, ‘I started out sharing things about the Kingdom of God, but people have so many questions that we keep jumping from one thing to another.  By comparison, standing at that window and speaking to the crowd was simple.’

‘Is it more like that time when Jesus sent you apostles ahead of him to proclaim that the Kingdom of God was at hand?’ Joanna asked

‘Not really,’ Peter replied, ‘That was a simple message that all people (including us) assumed was about the long-awaited Messiah and the restoration of the Kingdom of Israel.’ He looked around at the groups of men gathered on the hill and shook his head, ‘The events of today have challenged their understanding, as it has ours... but we’ve got three years of teaching from Jesus to help us make sense of it. They’re eager to learn, but they're starting from a long way back.’ 

‘Hmmm...’ Mary looked thoughtful, ‘Maybe it's not so much about us teaching, but about them learning.’

I stifled a gasp and held my breath.  She’d said ‘us teaching’... she included herself in that role!  Women had always shared learning with each other, and some Rabbi's permitted women to listen to their teaching, but a woman teaching publically... that was unheard of.  I waited for some sort of remark from Peter to put Mary in her place, but none came.

‘What do you mean?’ He asked

‘What you're saying reminded me of something from the prophet Jeremiah.’ Mary closed her eyes, thinking, ‘When he prophesied about the new covenant, didn't he say something about writing the law on our hearts and no longer teaching about the Lord, because we'd all know him'

‘I will put my law in their minds and write it on their hearts. I will be their God, and they will be my people.’ Another of man, who I later learned was Thomas, had come over to join us.  He continued, ‘No longer will they teach their neighbour, or say to one another, “Know the Lord”, because they will all know me from the least of them to the greatest.’

‘Yes, that's it! Thank you Thomas.’ Mary smiled. ‘When Jesus was teaching us about the Kingdom of God we didn’t have the Spirit to help us understand, but these people do. I think that the Spirit will teach them... will form them into being disciples of Jesus. Maybe, our role is like that of a midwife... we help the process to happen, but it’s the Spirit that brings new birth and new understanding.’

Prisca nudged me, ‘Close your mouth.’ She whispered.  I was standing there, mouth wide open, completely awe-struck as I listened to this conversation.  Peter and Thomas were treating Mary as an equal! 

Motti and I had always had a very equal marriage, but that was not the case for many women.  In public spaces, women were rarely acknowledged, and our testimony wasn’t valid... but here was Mary openly discussing how to pass on the teaching of her Rabbi with men from the leaders of the disciples... and they were listening... treating her as an equal!  Even as I recall it now, my eyes fill with tears.  On top of my new awareness of the love of God and the beauty of his creation, I had a new insight into the depth of that beauty in the relationships the Spirit created; men and women were recognising that they were fully equal in the eyes of God.  It awoke in me a deep joy that I still find hard to express in words.  In some ways, it was like I'd been in chains my whole life, and in that moment I was set free.  Free to be who I was, recognised as a person who has dignity and value in the community, and recognised as an equal.

My head was still trying to come to terms with all this when Peter spoke, ‘I think you're right Mary.  We share what we’ve learned and are learning... and we encourage them to seek the Spirit’s guidance in understanding what that means.’

Mary nodded, ‘So it doesn't matter that it may seem unstructured, we encourage people to listen and then share what the Spirit reveals to them.’

‘As Jesus often said, “Whoever has ears to hear, let them hear.”’ Thomas added, ‘And these people certainly have ears to hear.’

‘They certainly do.’ Peter laughed, then asked, ‘Are there many more women to come from the pool of Bethesda?’

Mary looked round at the hundreds of women that had followed her and Joanna up the hill, ‘This isn't even half of them!’ she explained, ‘Stephen estimated that the number of men and women together had grown to about three thousand.’

Peter paused taken aback, ‘If you'd told me this at Passover, I'd never have believed it.’ Then he laughed, ‘I'm not sure I'd have believed it yesterday!  Let's get moving then, there's a lot of “midwifing” to do.’

Mary, Joanna, and the other women from the upper room quickly organised us into groups of about thirty. Each group sat spaced out on the hill so that we wouldn't be shouting to be heard over the noise from other groups.   

Once we were all settled, Mary looked around at the group of us gathered near her and said, ‘Let's start with a prayer... Father, you know us better than we know ourselves.  Open our hearts to hear what you wish us to learn today.’  She ended with an “Amen”, that we all echoed’    

Mary recounted how she and Cleopas joined the crowds following Jesus, and how they had been among seventy-two that had been sent ahead of Jesus to proclaim the kingdom of God.

‘To be honest, we didn’t understand what we were saying at the time.’ she confessed, ‘We got the kingdom of God and the kingdom of Israel mixed up.’

‘But aren't they the same thing?’ I asked.

‘We thought so, but it's only today that I'm beginning to understand the difference.’ Mary paused, ‘God's kingdom is everywhere, all the time.  As it says in Isaiah, “Heaven is my throne, and the earth is my footstool.” All of the earth and the heavens are God’s kingdom, not just Israel, and today we’ve all had a taste of his Kingdom... we've had our hearts and minds opened to experience the enormity of God’s love and peace.’

I nodded hesitantly when Mary looked at me, but she could tell that I didn’t understand.  

Mary paused for a moment before continuing, ‘Jesus was always calling people to open their minds, to see things differently.  He said that the kingdom of God was right here among us, and he taught us many things in parables.’ She continued laughing, ‘To be honest, I used to find his parables infuriating and frequently confusing, I wished he would just explain what he meant.’

‘But why didn't he?’ asked a plump woman in our group, who I later came to know as Anna. ‘Why not say it plainly? Wouldn't he have wanted people to understand what he was teaching?’

‘Great questions.’ Mary looked around the group, ‘So why do you think he taught in parables?’

There was a general shuffling as everyone avoided looking at Mary so we wouldn't have to answer.  She smiled, ‘Then, let’s start with one of the first parables I think he ever taught.  As his disciples, we've discussed this parable many times over the years, so even though he first taught it before Cleopas and I joined him, it's one I know well.’

Mary continued, ‘A farmer went out to sow his seed.  As he was scattering the seed, some fell along the path, and the birds came and ate it up.  Some fell on rocky places, where it did not have much soil. It sprang up quickly because the soil was shallow.  But when the sun came up, the plants were scorched, and they withered because they had no root.  Other seed fell among thorns, which grew up and choked the plants, so that they did not bear grain.  Still other seed fell on good soil. It came up, grew and produced a crop, some multiplying thirty, some sixty, some a hundred times.’

She paused, ‘So what do you think the parable means?’

‘I think it means the farmer will be out of business if he keeps wasting good seed by scattering it on useless soil.’ Anna quipped, and we all laughed.

Mary laughed too, ‘That's exactly what I thought when I first heard it.’ She paused, looking around at us again, ‘And the farmer in this story is very wasteful in how he scatters the seed. So who do you think the farmer in the story represents?’

There was a long silence.  I wrestled with the meaning of the parable, but I couldn't think clearly.  I was still in awe about being taught by a woman… and dazzled by the way my heightened senses picked up on the colours, smells and sounds around me.

I wasn't alone in all I was feeling, and the silence seemed to go on forever. After a while Mary spoke up, ‘The psalmist says “Be still and know that I am God.” So still your racing minds and listen to your heart... who does the Holy Spirit say the farmer represents?’

I tried to focus on the words of the parable, but my mind would not settle.  Prisca spoke up, ‘Could the farmer be God?’ she asked.

As she spoke the words the confusion in my mind seemed to fall away to be replaced by a deep conviction that she was right. ‘Yes, that's it!’ I spoke louder than I'd intended and many women around me nodded in agreement.

‘Good,’ Mary smiled, ‘So what is the seed?’

Silence followed as we thought about her question.  This was like one of the discussions that would be held in the synagogue after a reading from scripture.  I never felt that I could contribute to those discussions.  Others in the synagogue would jump in with thoughts and ideas, but I would never say anything. I wasn't knowledgeable enough on the scriptures to comment.  I’ve always been confident around people, but that confidence did not extend to talking about the faith I’d adopted when I married Cleopas. I was always afraid of saying the wrong thing, so I stayed silent.

The silence grew, and then Anna spoke, ‘It must be something that God gives generously everywhere... and if the farmer is God, then with his infinite resources I guess he won't be going out of business.’

There was a smaller laugh around the group before another woman mused aloud, ‘So, it's something that God gives generously everywhere, and in some places it takes root and multiplies.’

Prisca spoke again, ‘It is the Law or the commandments?’

‘I thought that,’ another one of the women spoke, ‘But the seed in the parable produces more seed... and there aren't any more laws or commandments.’

‘I'm sure the Pharisees could think up hundreds more laws if they were given the chance!’ Anna mimicked the pious look of a Pharisee as she said this, and we all laughed again.

It was a deep laugh... the wonderful, comfortable, communal laugh of people knew and trusted each other.  In this random group of thirty women there were only a few of us that had any previous friendship, but we already felt a deep shared bond through the experiences of that day, through the Holy Spirit... through the love of God we’d come to know.

I smiled as I felt a wave of that love, of God's pleasure, wash over me again. ‘Is it love?’ I wondered.  The thought had popped into my head, and I surprised myself by speaking out loud before my usual reticence in these situations could assert itself. 

I held my breath, nervously waited to be corrected, but there were nods and murmurs of agreement from the group and we all looked to Mary.

She paused, looking thoughtful, ‘I think you're right, Junia.’ She said, ‘But that's not how Jesus initially explained it to his disciples.  They didn’t understand the parable and he had to spell it out to them.  But with the Holy Spirit, you are already bringing new insight into this teaching.’ She smiled, looking round the group before continuing, ‘Jesus said that the seed represented the word of God... but God's word brings light, and life, and love.  So I think it's right to say that the seed represents God's love. Thank you for sharing your thoughts Junia, that's a great insight.’

I felt thrilled and a little embarrassed at being recognised like this.  Getting insight like that was a new thing for me... and, to be honest, it is still rare today... my gifts have always been more in hospitality, befriending people, and fostering community. I know and accept the love of God and that is enough for me, I don't feel the need to understand more.  That’s why I still don't wrestle with meanings today... and also why the details of that first teaching on the Mount of Olives stick in my mind.

There were smiles and echoes of Mary’s thanks from the group and then Mary continued, ‘So what then is the soil?’

‘I've been thinking about that,’ Someone else spoke up, ‘Could the path be the Romans and Gentiles, the rocky and thorny ground the Pharisees and Herodians, and the good soil ordinary Jews?’

‘Interesting idea,’ Mary said, ‘but Jesus' followers included Pharisees, Joanna's husband is the chief steward of Herod's household, and Jesus fed and healed many Gentiles and Romans. So I don't think the soils Jesus was describing fit neatly into those categories.

‘The rocky ground is definitely my ex-husband.’ It was Anna again,  ‘That man was extremely shallow and  there’s no love that ever took root in his life!’ She laughed, taking the edge off her comment.  Those of you who've met Anna know that she has a contagious laugh, and we all joined in. ‘Joking aside,’ she continued as the laughter subsided, ‘I think it might be something like that.  Some people are superficial and shallow and might receive the love of God, but never give it the space to grow.’

‘Excellent!’ Mary beamed, ‘That's exactly how Jesus explained it.  What then would you say the other soils are?’ She asked Anna directly

‘Well...’ Anna paused, ‘The path would be the people who are so hardened by life, that they don't even let God's love in... and the good soil is clearly those of us who gratefully receive and nurture the love he gives us... but I'm not sure about the weeds.’

‘Err...’ Prisca spoke quietly and hesitantly, ‘Could it be that the weeds are the worries and anxieties of life that choke out the wheat... that choke God's love... and prevent it from growing to what it could be?’  

‘Exactly! You're both right.’ Mary looked like she was about to explode with excitement. ‘Prisca, could you please say that again so the rest of the group can hear?’

Prisca repeated what she'd said, and Mary then asked, ‘So then, what would you say growth in the good soil and the crop it produces is about?’ She looked back and forth between Anna and Prisca, her star pupils.

Anna spoke first, ‘I think it means that as we allow God's love into our lives... as we allow it to be rooted and grow in our soil, then it produces the fruit of more love in our lives...’

‘And... maybe... are we called to help share that love by generously scattering it everywhere? Prisca asked, ‘Sharing God's love with all people no matter what type of soil they are?’

Mary nodded and was about to speak when an older woman in the group spoke up, ‘I think there's something more.’  Her name was Abigail.  The years she carried had given her deep-set wrinkles around her mouth and eyes, but her eyes held a depth of wisdom and quiet strength.  I grew to know her over the weeks that followed and came to value her friendship and wise counsel. 

Mary held back the comment she was about to make, and nodded to Abigail, ‘Please share what you are thinking.’

‘Looking back on my life, I think I‘ve been all four types of soil at different times... and several of them, if not all of them, at the same time. To me, it doesn't seem as clear cut as one or the other.’ She looked at Mary, who nodded encouragingly for her to continue. ‘So I wonder if the work I need to do is not so much in focussing on scattering seed, but is instead to work on my own heart.  If I break up the hard ground, clear away the rocks, and uproot the weeds, then I create more space for the love of God to take root and flourish in my own life.’

Mary looked stunned, ‘I'd not considered that before... but it is a beautiful and insightful way of looking at it.’ She thought for a moment before continuing, ‘I think it would be good to spend a few moments reflecting on what we've discovered together, and especially on Abigail's thoughts... Ask the Spirit to show you which parts of your hearts are hard, or rocky, or full of weeds, or good soil.’

We sat in silence and I tried again to still my racing mind.  I couldn’t get my mind to settle, so I used an idea I'd heard at the synagogue in Emmaus; I closed my eyes and focussed on listening to the sounds around me.  To begin with, all I could hear was snippets of conversation and laughter from the other groups around us at the top of the hill... but then I became aware of the song of the skylarks again, the twittering of the other birds in the trees... the swish of fabric as a woman to my left moved slightly to get more comfortable... and then I focused in on the sound of my breathing.

I reflected on the events of that amazing morning... the curiosity that had drawn us to the investigate the roaring sound... the fear and then fascination when we saw the flames... the echoes of the joy of the disciples that I felt in my heart when they were singing their praises to God... the stirring in my soul when Peter explained that this was the promise of the Father... the total conviction that filled me when Peter asked if we wanted to be baptised in the name of Jesus... the awe I felt as Mary related the stories of her time with Jesus... the deep bond that began to be formed between us when Prisca had shared her fears, and I had shared my grief... the amazing joy I knew first hand when I was baptised and filled with the Holy Spirit... the walk up the hill where everything was so much more vibrantly alive than I had ever noticed... the unexpected hope that leapt in my heart when I realised that Mary was a respected teacher among the men... the flashes of insight I'd felt as Mary led us in exploring this parable...

I went back and forth over the events of the morning, noticing what was happening in me; the hopes and fears that had influenced the choices I’d made.  I saw the huge transformation in me that had taken place over the few hours since we'd arrived in Jerusalem that morning.  An unexpected surge of joy and hope rose in me and I shocked myself by breaking the silence of the group.

‘Oh Yes!’ I exclaimed and then blushed as Mary and all the women in our group turned to look at me.  ‘Err... sorry’ I mumbled, ‘It's just that this whole morning has been incredible.’

‘Don't apologise, Junia.’ Mary laughed, ‘It’s going to take a long time for us all to work through the events of today...  But I sense that there was something behind your exclamation, something that may help us all if you’re willing to share it?’

‘Oh... I don't know that it will.  I was just thinking about all that has happened today and the changes that I sense in me... it's like...’ I paused to work out what I was thinking and feeling, ‘... like weeds have been cleared, rocks removed, and hard ground broken up to create more space for God's love to take root.’

Mary nodded encouraging me to continue.

‘There’s a hardness in me over... over the grief that I carry in not being able to bear a child.’ I blinked back tears and looked down at the ground, not wanting to look anyone in the eye. ‘It’s a private grief that I’ve never spoken of until this morning.  That hardness is still there, but in sharing my grief with Mary and Prisca I felt the ground begin to be broken up.’

There were murmurs of support and encouragement from the women around me.  I continued,  ‘There's a deep resentment I carry about the way that women are treated.  I have a good husband who treats me with respect... but I see so many men lording it over women, ignoring them, mistreating them, dismissing anything they say.  So I carry an anger that is always there in the background...’ I looked at Mary, ‘And I cannot find the words to properly express the joy I felt when I saw you being treated as an equal by the male apostles... and when I realised that you would be our teacher. ‘My eyes clouded with tears as I continued, ‘If I was being taught by a man, no matter how good they were, I think the weeds of my anger would have choked out my ability to properly listen to what was being said.’

‘It's not that I broke up the ground or removed the weeds... but it’s being in this group, being with you people, and allowing you… or;… or allowing God through you to do that.’ I closed my eyes, ‘... I think what I’m saying is that maybe it's not through our own efforts that we grow, but by immersing ourselves in this group, by being fully part of this fellowship, then we help each other on the journey of being a disciple.  We help break up each other's ground, clear each other's rocks, and pull out each other's weeds, so that we can all know more of God's love and be formed into more of who God calls us to be.’

In the silence that followed, I kept my eyes closed thoughts racing in my head.  What had I done?  I didn't know or understand enough to speak to things like this.  Why had I spoken out about my grief and anger?  I had always felt that these were things I should never share publically, and I had broken that taboo.

Tentatively I opened my eyes.  To my surprise, Mary was crying.  She leaned over and embraced me, ‘Thank you, Junia.’ Then she straightened up and looked around at the group, ‘Thank you all... I thought I’d understood this parable, but from what you've all shared this morning I realise I still have so much more to learn.’

She wiped her eyes and looked at Anna, ‘Coming back to your original question... why do you think Jesus taught in parables, rather than teach things plainly?’

Anna thought for a moment before replying, ‘I think maybe there are several reasons... Because they are far more memorable than just straight teaching... and they contain so much more wisdom... Also when we take the time to really think about them, and work out what Jesus meant, then the lessons will stick more.

‘Exactly.’ Mary smiled again, ‘I'd add to that a revelation for me this morning; that when we explore them together in the presence of the Holy Spirit, then whole new depths of understanding open up.’ She paused, looking around the group, ‘And I think no matter how many times we explore his teaching, there’ll always be something new to find if we have ears to hear.   Jesus intended his followers to learn and grow together as a group, and when we do that we discover new richness in his parables.’

‘That all makes sense.' Anna said, ‘Thank you, Rabbi.’

Mary's eyes opened in surprise, then softened as she thoughtfully considered the title Anna had given her. ‘Thank you for the compliment... but I am not your Rabbi.’

My heart sank as she said this, and I realised how much I'd been thinking of her in that way; how thrilled I was at the idea of a woman being a Rabbi... not just a Rabbi, but my Rabbi.   

I opened my mouth to protest, but she held up a finger to silence me. She looked around at the women in our group, ‘None of the apostles, women or men are your Rabbi... Jesus is our Rabbi and your Rabbi.  You are not my disciples, and none of the apostles here want disciples.’ She stood as she was talking to be able to see everyone in the group and look them in the eye, ‘We, together with all of you, are disciples of Jesus.  Guided by the Holy Spirit, we are all seeking to follow his teaching, his life, his way.  All of us, men and women, are equal as we look to follow the master.’

‘Mary!’ A shout rang out from the direction of the track that we'd walked earlier.  It was Cleopas.  Motti, Aquilla and a large crowd of women were with him, and Cleopas led them over to our group.

I'd been so engrossed in the conversation and learning within our group that I'd not noticed more and more people arriving from Jerusalem.  The hilltop was covered with thousands of people gathered in groups around the apostles.  All over the Mount of Olives women, as well as men, were teaching. And every group was filled with people who were eager to learn.  Everywhere I looked people were listening, laughing, crying and hugging together.  I was awe-struck at the wonderful chaotic beauty of it all, and my heart sang praises to God as I rose to greet Motti and the others.

Copyright © 2004 Barry Jackson

All scripture quotations taken from The Holy Bible, New International Version® NIV® Copyright © 1973 1978 1984 2011 by Biblica, Inc. TM Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.