She is so cute! She is so good! I do not mean
this with any disrespect to any of you, Ginger or
Jim, but our dog is the best dog in the whole
world. I wish you could see her. She sits, lies
down, comes, stays, and goes to her crate….at
least when you are inside. Take her outside and,
well, let’s just say, it is a whole different story.
The minute you hit the street, all the other commands
go straight out the window. Get outside
and there is only one thing you have a chance to
say—“This way, Zanzibar! Come on, girl, this
way!” It’s nuts! If she sees a squirrel, she’s off
like a rocket wrapping her leash around a tree.
“This way, girl.” Then she is lunging into the
neighbor’s flower garden or leveraging her weight
and mine around Marilyn Hummer’s mailbox. It is
like some physical law of the universe; you pass
on one side of a telephone pole and she darts
around the other side. I never realized our
neighborhood could be such a maze. Zanzi runs
past a parked car, to the right of this bush and to
the left of that tree. “This way, girlie, come on,
baby, no, no, no, THIS WAY.”
It has never been any different for our faith. From
the moment we took it out onto the streets, it has
been a never ending struggle to keep things on
course, “No, no, no, this way. Come on, girly, this
way. Not there, over here, this way.” For every
human being who has followed a religion of any
kind, there is the faith as it is given, and then there
is the faith as we wish it had been given. As a
result, there is always someone trying to add
something. It comes with the territory. Moses
goes up the mountain for a few days, and the next
thing you know, they have a Golden Calf. The
Jews go off into exile and it is just a matter of time
before they are weaving Baal worship and Temple
Prostitution into the equation. We added Jesus;
the Muslims added Mohammad. And it did not
stop with the advent of Christianity. Just in those
first few hundred years, there were the Montanists,
the Docetists, the Gnostics (about whom we
will be hearing much more). More recently we
see Joseph Smith adding the Book of Mormon
and the Angel Maroni, The Celestine Prophecy
adding crystals and auras, and Tom Cruise adding
Dyanetics and silent birth. It is as predictable
as death and taxes; people like to add things to
the faith that they have been given. It is a never
ending process. “This way, girlie! Come on, this
way!”
Nowhere in recent years have we seen this phenomenon
more fully than in Dan Brown’s runaway
smash hit, The Da Vinci Code. It certainly has
caused quite a stir. It has been read by over 50
million people world wide in almost 50 languages.
Do you know that there are more than half a million
websites devoted to discussing the merits,
mistakes, and claims of this book? I do not know
if you have seen the uproar that the release of this
movie has caused, but all over the planet there
are boycotts, demonstrations, hunger strikes, and
governments making decisions in the highest
courts of their land whether to postpone or cancel
the movie’s opening. In the process, Dan Brown
has done the impossible: he has actually brought
together Christians and Muslims in the Middle
East where they have jointly condemned the book
and demonstrated together against the movie.
Perhaps the real miracle is that Dan Brown has
managed to make the Council of Nicea a hot topic
around ordinary dinner tables all over the world.
As Brown writes in the beginning of his book,
“Everyone loves a conspiracy.” And honestly, I
am no exception. I hate to admit this, but when I
first read the book I wanted it to be true. Not that I
wanted the actual theories themselves to be true,
mind you. I just loved the idea that such scandalous
beliefs could actually exist out there; that
there could really be secret societies lurking
around from millennia ago that honestly believe
this stuff. There was a part of me, a very human
part, and I think this may go a long way in explaining
our fascination with this book, that didn’t
want the conspiracy to be true, but did want it to
be real. Do you understand that distinction? I
was not about to believe the book’s ludicrous
claims, but I loved the idea that there might be
people out there who did.
If nothing else, The Da Vinci Code certainly does
make some wildly controversial claims—that Jesus
was not God at all but just a normal human
being who was deified nearly three hundred
years later by the emperor Constantine for his
own political purposes, that Jesus was married
to Mary Magdalene and had a child with her, that
the Holy Grail is not the chalice from the Last
Supper that held the blood of Jesus as most
have always thought, but Mary Magdalene’s
womb that held the bloodline of Jesus in the
form of their daughter Sarah. The book claims
Jesus’ descendants are still alive today in
France, that it was Mary, not Peter, who Jesus
intended to lead the church after His departure,
that Leonardo Da Vinci’s painting of “The Last
Supper” proves Mary’s rightful place by placing
her, not John, next to Jesus in the painting, that
the Christian faith was supposed to be much
more an amalgamation of masculine and feminine,
god and goddess worship, and a celebration
of the “sacred feminine” than it is today. The
book claims that it was the power-hungry, patriarchic
church in Rome that squashed Jesus’ intended
direction for Christianity, demonized
Mary, arbitrarily chose the books of the Bible to
make Jesus appear divine, set up Peter as the
successor of the church, and has been covering
it all up ever since through an intentional agenda
of murder and mass deception. Talk about provocative!
“This way, Zanzi! Come on, girl, this
way!”
Of course, there is so much to correct in The Da
Vinci Code that we could spend the rest of the
summer unpacking it all. This morning I would
like to zero in on some of the most deliciously
scandalous allegations of them all— the questions
surrounding Mary Magdalene. Exactly who
was Mary? Why is she such a mysterious and
fascinating figure in Christianity? What exactly
do we know about her?
To answer the last question first, “We don’t know
a whole lot,” which very well may be the reason
for all the speculation that has cropped up
around her. Mary Magdalene, or Mary of Magdala,
a small town along the shore of the Sea of
Galilee, is mentioned only a few times in the entire
New Testament. But in those few times, she
plays a remarkably significant and revolutionary
role in the events that formed our faith. In all
four Gospels, she stands at the foot of the cross
and waits with Jesus even after all the other disciples
have fearfully run away. We know she
helps prepare Christ’s body for the burial. She is
the first, or at least among the first depending on
which Gospel you read, to go visit Jesus’ body
and discover the empty tomb. And according to
John’s account, she is not only the first to see
the resurrected Christ, but she is the one whom
Jesus entrusts to carry the news of his resurrection
back to the rest of the disciples. She serves
an overwhelmingly important role that earned
her the name with which she has been honored
through the centuries, “The Apostle to the apostles.”
Do you understand just how revolutionary that
was? Back in those days it was crystal clear:
women were not considered worthy enough to
be entrusted with anything of that magnitude. I
apologize before I even say this, but back in
those days the typical Rabbi viewed women as
totally inferior. Please, don’t throw anything at
me, but there was actually an ancient rabbinic
adage stating that it was better for the Torah to
be burned then to teach it to a woman. Well,
isn’t that special? There was a very common
rabbinic prayer in Jesus’ day that actually
started, “Blessed art Thou, Oh God, for not making
me a woman.” Honestly! In fact, there was a
whole sect of Jewish Rabbis in Jesus’ day that
not only refused to teach women, but actually
took a vow to refuse to even look at them. If
they saw a woman approaching out of the corner
of their eye, they would shut their eyes as tightly
as they could and wait until they felt quite certain
that the coast was clear. They were famous for
constantly falling off things and running into
buildings and trees. Really! They were called
the “bruised and bleeding rabbis.” I promise
you, it is all true! I am not making this up! Of
course, this makes Jesus’ approach to dealing
with women almost inconceivable by comparison.
The only other time that we see Mary Magdalene
mentioned, apart from the death and resurrection,
is much more incredible.
Soon afterwards he went on through cities and
villages, proclaiming and bringing the good news
of the kingdom of God. The twelve were with
him, as well as some women who had been
cured of evil spirits and infirmities: Mary, called
Magdalene, from whom seven demons had gone
out, and Joanna, the wife of Herod’s steward
Chuza, and Susanna, and many others, who
provided for them out of their resources.
—Luke 8:1-3
Do you have any idea how radical it would have
been for women to have been traveling with Jesus
and the disciples and to have actually been
taught by Jesus? Do you have any idea how
unheard of it would have been for women to be
engaged in public discourse, to be taken seriously,
to be given ministry responsibilities, and
for Jesus to accept their money? I am telling
you that women like Jane Fonda, Gloria
Steinem, and Naomi Wolf are amateur feminists
compared to the way Jesus treated, understood
and respected the women of his time. There
had never been such an egalitarian community
like that before. When Paul said, “There is now
neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor
female, but you are all one in Christ Jesus,” it
was Da Vinci Code caliber scandalous.
If that is the case, then why not? Is it not possible
that Mary Magdalene could have been married
to Jesus or that Jesus could have intended
her to take over the church after he left? It might
have been possible, but it is not the reality. The
scholars are all of one voice on this; there is no
credible evidence for any of it, anywhere. The
only place that could even be misconstrued as
hinting at such claims is in the Gospel of Mary
Magdalene (written almost 200 years after Jesus’
death and long after Mary Magdalene died)
and to an even lesser degree in some of the
other Gnostic Gospels.
None of these books has ever been taken seriously
for a number of very good reasons. First,
they were all written long after Jesus died and
long after Matthew, Mark, Luke and John were
written. They were actually based on the original
four Gospels and said a lot of really far out, bizarre
things that nobody took seriously. In one it
says that the cross was actually resurrected
along with Jesus. The cross supposedly came
out of the tomb on Easter morning and started
talking to people! It is obvious to scholars, academics
and just about everyone, that these
books were clearly crafted as an attempt by this
quasi-religious Gnostic sect to meld their
pseudo-pagan philosophy with mainstream
Christianity.
By the time they got to the council of Nicea, the
Gnostic Gospels would have been seen for exactly
what they were, very much what the Book
of Mormon or The Celestine Prophecy is to us
today; a very clear, unambiguously unorthodox
addition to the accepted, long standing tradition
and theology of the church. Dan Brown suggests
that the vote was close. The truth is, the
vote was 298….to 2. “This way, Zanzi. Come
on this way.”
What about the assertion that Mary moved to
France and had Jesus’ baby, that Jesus’ ancestors
are still living there today, and that there is
an ancient organization called the Priory of Sion
that has been protecting this secret since earliest
times? Well, those legends come from two
rather silly books, one written in 1982 entitled,
Holy Blood, Holy Grail and the other published in
1997 entitled The Templar Revelation. Perhaps
the only thing I have time to say about these
books is that the other two major books written
by the authors of The Templar Revelation include
one on the Shroud of Turin and another on
Unidentified Flying Objects. Even the Priory of
Sion, by its creator’s own admission in a French
court of law, was a big hoax developed in 1956.
“Come on, girl, this way.”
Okay. What about Leonardo Da Vinci’s Last
Supper? All you have to do is look at the painting
with your own two eyes to clearly see for
yourself that the individual standing next to Jesus
cannot be the disciple John. The individual
standing next to Jesus looks exactly like a
woman. Well, again—no. I am telling you, part
of me wants it to be true. How cool would that
be, not if it was true, but if Leonardo thought it
was true and was actually trying to communicate
hidden messages to us through his art? Unfortunately,
the art historians, the scholars, and the
academics all agree. During the Renaissance
period, young men were typically painted just like
this, particularly the disciple John. He is almost
always painted in a very feminine way during that
period and Leonardo, even more than all the others,
almost always depicted young men just like
this. And as if that is not enough, there exist
original sketches of Da Vinci’s first draft of The
Last Supper. And would you believe it? He actually
labeled each person around the table, and
yes, you guessed it, he actually labeled the man
standing next to Jesus as John. “Come on,
Zanzi, this way girl!”
But you know, to be fair, it is not just Dan Brown.
There has been so much built up around Mary
Magdalene through the years, so much speculation
and legend. Did you know that there is really
no reason for us to believe that she was a prostitute?
It was probably because she played such
an important role and yet we know so little about
her that people have always felt tempted to add
things to her resume. You see, there are a number
of Marys mentioned throughout the various
Gospels as well as a few other significant unnamed
women. Throughout the centuries, Christians
have often either confused the various
Marys or wondered if there might be a reason to
associate or lump together a Mary mentioned in
one place with a Mary or an unnamed woman
mentioned somewhere else. This is exactly how
the Mary of Mary and Martha, introduced in John
12, came to be associated with Mary Magdalene
as well as the “unnamed sinful woman” from
Luke, Chapter 7. But it was not until 591 AD that
Pope Gregory I pulled it all together by adding
the piece de resistance. In one of his most famous
sermons, he asserted that this unnamed
woman’s sin from Luke 7 must have been prostitution
and the unnamed woman was indeed,
Mary Magdalene. The label has stuck ever
since. “This way, girl. Come on, baby, this way!”
So is there anything we can learn from Dan
Brown’s book? Well, yes. We can learn just how
badly people consistently want to add things to
our faith. And it is not just overly zealous fiction
novelists and heretics either. We all do it—every
denomination, every church, every individual, all
the time. We all take our pictures of who we
want Jesus to be and place them over and on top
of who Jesus actually is. Every time we take our
faith out for a walk, we have this tendency to add
our own little twists and turns, our own preferences.
We like to lunge into flower gardens and
wrap ourselves around mailboxes. We focus in
on certain passages of scripture while virtually
ignoring others. We skip right by the stuff that
does not jive with our personally crafted theologies
and just add our own take on the things that
we wish Jesus had said or done. If there is anything
that the Protestant Reformation taught us, it
is that it is not just the Dan Browns of this world
who need to be held accountable and called
back for trying to add or take away things from
our faith. Without this novel we may never have
been reminded that Jesus was much more of a
feminist than the church has recognized or acknowledged
through the years. So be aware,
keep your heads up, because we are all part of
the problem. Sometimes it is a wildly fanciful,
intriguing, thrill a minute novelist, but other times
it is us or our church that needs a good, firm, attention
grabbing, “This way, Zanzi! Come on,
girl, this way!”
AMEN |