The House Where They Were Hiding
I went forth to find the apostles. I went forth by day and returned to myself by night. The song of life rang in my ears. Everywhere I went I saw the face of Christ in the sun, the grass, and the stones. His laughter echoed through children playing in the streets, and his peace flowed with the breeze.
Through my search, I heard of a place where I might find Peter. I approached and knocked softly at the door. There came a faint murmur from the other side, which I took as an invitation to enter.
Peter sat in a chair lit by a single oil lamp. He appeared so much older than he had the last time I’d seen him on that dreadful night.
“Mary?” Peter said. His voice was thin and dry. His eyes were red and sunken, with dark, sleepless rings. He stared at me with such a hollow gaze.
It was like he didn’t know me, or didn’t want to know me. He never had much time for me or the other women as we traveled around. I didn’t expect him to greet me with open arms, but it was like we were strangers now to one another.
“Peter!” I said and thought for a moment my exuberance might knock him over. “He is risen.”
He raised his hands to his mouth and they shook.
“He sent me to bring you and the others back to him.”
He shook his head slowly and tears welled up in his eyes. “He lives,” he whispered.
The Weight in That Rock
Peter sat there for a long time as the light faded outside. He repeated, “He lives,” to himself as he stared into lamp flame.
There was something in his face that reminded me of the long walk to the tomb. I loved the Christ, and the thought of anointing his dead body so soon after anointing him living twisted my heart and I thought it might kill me.
“It was so hard for me to take the myrrh and herbs down the road to the tomb,” I told Peter. “If I hadn’t had my sisters to come with me I don’t know if I could have kept my feet moving. We didn’t even ask ourselves how we would move the stone. The weight of the whole world must have been in that rock standing between us and our savior. When we arrived, the angels already rolled the stone away, and our Lord had walked from the dark depths of the earth. I saw him. I spoke with him. The light in his eyes filled me with so much grace. He told me to gather his brothers so he could share his new life with them.”
Peter shivered and tears welled up in his eyes. “Brother? How can I believe he would ever call me a brother? I denied him. Three times before the cock crowed I denied him. I struck a soldier and he rebuked me, then I ran and denied him. I am not worthy of him. I could never look into his eyes and receive such grace.”
“Why would you say that?” I asked bewildered. “He taught us the way of love. Love forgives. I am sure he has already forgiven you.”
“How can he forgive me when I have not asked?” Peter wept.
“Because he loves you. If you doubt that, come with me and receive his forgiveness yourself.” I offered him my hand, but he could not take it.
“I am afraid he would not accept me,” Peter’s voice broke.
“Remember, brother, true love casts out fear.”
The Wheel That Struggled to Turn
Peter fell silent. The more I watched him, the more he appeared to be a wheel struggling to turn. Eyes covered the rim, but most of them were closed. At the center of the wheel, something hard encrusted it with layers of fear under its many names and guises: unworthiness, rejection, despondency, and resignation.
Slowly, the wheel turned. With each revolution, another eye opened on the wheel.
When they all opened, Peter said, “Love casts out fear.”
It was then I realized he had returned to himself; then he removed the layers of fear one at a time repairing his relationship with the spiritual quality they encrusted. It remained dry, but a faint light shone from it through the spokes of the wheel.
What I Was Holding
Peter ran when I didn’t, and for a moment my heart puffed itself up. It wasn’t because I was of any virtue, but because I closed myself off. I marked what I did as faithfulness and what he had done as sin, but it is not right for me to judge him or anyone else’s reaction to such a night of horror. I didn’t stay. I ran too, but I returned first. This was not a race. At any rate, Christ said, “The first shall be last, and the last shall be first (Matthew 19:30).” Who am I to place myself before anyone else?
Then, like a dam breaking, my pride released and my heart beat again as it should.
Peter looked up at me and said, “Why did he appear to you? Not to me or my brother, or to any of the men? Why did he appear to you?”
I didn’t know how to answer him. No words felt true. “I could make up many reasons for him to have appeared to me and the women. Maybe it was because we were there. Maybe because we were chosen. I don’t believe either of those answers ring true. He appeared to us because he did. The greater marvel is that he lives. Listen. Even now, you can hear him in the night breeze, and feel him in the warmth of the fire. He lives, Peter.”
Three Denials, One Clearing
The faint light within Peter grew brighter.
“I denied him,” Peter said. “Three times, I denied him. I did not mean to the first time. I just said it. I was afraid and the words came out. The second time, I did it on purpose. I did not want to be arrested. The third time, I spoke the words on purpose in hopes to end the questions. I denied him three times, and yet he sent you to find me.”
He closed his eyes and he hummed a tune I knew so well. It was a song we often sang on the road as we walked from place to place.
A smile broke over his face like a sunrise and three tears ran from his eyes. His inner light grew brighter.
“My Lord,” he whispered, “My heart and my soul.”
Then he reached for my hand, and I took his.
“Mary, blessed Magdalene, from the watchtower of your soul you saw our Lord, our Friend. Thank you for coming to find me. Forgive me for my frightful words.”
I squeezed his hand and said, “No need to ask, Brother Peter, it is already forgiven.”
The Angels Between Us
A wellspring poured through my heart as the Light and Life of God flowed unobstructed through me.
The same in Peter as his heart opened.
The waters of God ran from us into the world, and the dry earth drank deeply. Sin is not a stain on the soul or a cloud of evil that surrounds us. It is a blockage in the flow of the Life of God through us into the world, drying the both of us out. It can be hard to see while it blocks our own eyes, but once cleared we live life more abundantly and joy, peace, and love abound.
Angels ran from my heart to heaven then back again. They ran from his heart to heaven then back again. Then, I noticed angels running between him and me then back again.
Light filled the room as if the sun rose between us. We laughed and said in unison, “He lives.” Even though we could not see him, in our gathering, Christ was there among us.
Blessed Wayfarers
We floated like feathers on the breath of God, light as spirit, strong as the whole world. The land under my feet greened as did the land under his. This greening grew together as we joined in praise and prayer.
I told Peter where to go and set off to find the others. A trail of living left in our wakes.
As I wandered through the dry land, patches of green dotted the earth, growing in joy and justice.
Blessed wayfarers, tend your gardens well, and tend not the gardens of others. Clear the streams and see that the Tree of Life grows strong, sheltering under its boughs.
See that the angels dance from you to heaven and from you to your companions on the way. This is not a sign of purity, but of good living and right relationship.
Return to yourself and to God. If you do not know where they are, seek awe, silence, joy, and justice and you will find them. When you return, repair your heart then the world so the waters of life will ever flow through the land.
Laugh, grieve, love, and rejoice! Life is for living.
Viriditas. The greening power. Hildegard knew it. The forest knows it. Creation’s Paths: A Creation Spirituality Primer is for everyone who has ever felt the divine moving through roots and rain and refused to call that feeling anything less than holy.
