“Tell me what you think about the possibility that Mary Magdalene was the actual author of the Gospel attributed to John (and thereby the other writings attributed to John)?”
I love this question because it is quite possible that the writings that made it into canonical scripture were in fact written by Mary Magdalene, or at the very least were penned by one of the members of her community. Of course there is no possible way of researching, let alone proving, this theory. And yet, there is circumstantial evidence to support its possibility:
The gospel attributed to John:
Is unique among the gospels in the way it presents the Jesus story, offering stories and teachings that are not present within any of the other canonical scriptures. Rather than a semi-historical narration of the life and teachings of Jesus, John represents a reflective history, one clearly based in a deeply intimate and mystical experience of Jesus and the Christ.
John is the sole gospel to include the stories of: The Wedding Feast at Cana, the Samaritan Woman at the Well, the Last Supper Discourses, Jesus’ teachings on Oneness, The Resurrection of Lazarus, Mary Anointing Jesus, all of which figure prominently in the archetypal images related to Mary Magdalene “the Bride.”
The Book of Revelation, also attributed to John, is a genre unto itself, presenting an allegorical story of humanity’s journey toward liberation and the key to that inner liberation. Again, Mary Magdalene, (as The Whore of Babylon, The Woman with the crown of 12 stars with the moon under her feet and clothed in the sun, The Bride) plays a symbolic and starring role.
The Letters attributed to John are perhaps the most beautiful exhortations on the profound love of God and the relationship we are invited into the Love of God with Christ as our guide.
Finally, it is John who places Mary Magdalene is the singular, starring role of not only facilitating but also being witness to Jesus’ resurrection, and then being commissioned and ordained by Jesus to carry the good news of the resurrection to the other disciples, and to continue his ministry of love in his stead.
If Mary Magdalene did not pen the writings attributed to John, it is highly likely that their author was very close to Mary and to the ministry she continued after Jesus’ death, for according to the non-canonical Gospel of Mary, she was the one who understood the fullness of Jesus’ teachings, especially his teachings on Oneness.
Don’t take my word for it, however. I invite you to read the writings attributed to John and decide for yourself.
Mary Magdalene speaks to all of humanity about the current state of our consciousness revolution. We are at a time of swift endings and great new beginnings. We are observing the crucifixion and death of all that has been built on fear, power and control, as we are ushering in the second coming of humanity – the birth of the age of love and a joining together in unity consciousness. She invites us all to step forth out of the tombs we have created for ourselves which have been made of our hesitation and fear and into the love we were meant to be.
Today we commemorate the trial, crucifixion, death and burial of Jesus, the Christ. Below is an excerpt from my novel, Song of the Beloved – the Gospel According to Mary Magdalene, which tells of the passion from Mary Magdalene’s perspective. May this day be one of deep prayer and contemplation on the mystery of suffering and death – but more than death, the promise of the resurrection that is yet to come! (If you find it helpful, listen to this musical piece before or while reading the following: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kWFXEsFNSZM)
I looked up as the soldiers tore Jesus’ tunic from his body, leaving him naked but for his loincloth. They pushed him down onto his back with the beam still tied to his wrists and shoulders. As Jesus lay prostrate, his shoulders and arms stretched out across the beam, the soldiers knelt beside him, one on each side, and held his arms against the cross as a third approached with a hammer and iron spikes six inches long and three quarters of an inch square in width. I held my breath as I watched the executioner kneel down at Jesus’ right hand, placing the spike over his wrist and in one stroke, he brought the hammer down. I will never forget the scream of pain that escaped my beloved’s lips. It seemed in that utterance, that the very rock upon which we knelt was split in two. The hammer came down two more times, each followed by Jesus’ screams of agony. The executioner turned to Jesus’ left wrist and did the same. I knelt transfixed and paralyzed by my beloved’s agony and it was only because of John’s gentle nudge that I remembered to breathe. I was torn between simply getting up and running as far away as I could from this violence and rushing forward to still the executioner’s blows. Instead, I clutched Jesus’ scarlet cloak even tighter to me. If I could not hold my beloved in his pain, I would clutch his cloak, mustering for both of us, the courage we needed to move through this pain.
After his arms were securely nailed to the cross, the soldiers forced Jesus to his feet, and dragged him, tripping and stumbling to the upright support. A rope and pulley system had been put in place, which was secured to the cross. A group of soldiers heaved and pulled, dragging Jesus off the ground while Jesus cried out in agony, gagging and choking as the air was slowly squeezed from his lungs. After Jesus was raised to a height, roughly ten feet off the ground, the executioner again came forward and nailed a wooden support at Jesus’ feet. In the same fashion as his wrists, the executioner nailed Jesus’ feet to the cross – first one, and then the other. After he was finished, another soldier approached with a ladder and a sack across his chest. He propped the ladder against the support beam, climbed to reach Jesus’ head and pulled a hammer, a single nail and a wooden plaque from his pouch. He nailed the plaque above Jesus’ head and on it was written the charges against him: “Here is Jesus, ‘the Christ’ King of the Jews.”
The soldier replaced the hammer into his sack, and pulled from his pouch a small clay bottle and a reed. He uncorked the bottle, inserted the reed and held it toward Jesus’ lips. Surely this was an apothecary’s blend of herbs to aid unconsciousness – intended to alleviate some of the suffering of death. Grateful for this act of compassion shown toward my beloved, I looked on in sadness as Jesus shook his head in refusal. The soldier shrugged his shoulders in resignation and descended the ladder. After this was all accomplished, another soldier stepped forward with trumpet in hand. He blew the trumpet and proclaimed loudly, “Here hangs Jesus bar Joseph, found guilty of being a traitor for proclaiming himself to be king – a crime against Caesar, against Rome and punishable by death.” He blew the trumpet again. The time was twelve o’clock noon.
As the last note of the trumpet rang, the sky darkened, thunder cracked and the earth began to shake. The “gods” were not pleased with this act of treachery. The Romans, who still worshipped the gods of earth and sky were visibly shaken by the elements’ response. They shifted their feet and whispered to each other in questioning tones. All the while, I smiled in silent knowing of Abwoon’s displeasure. The guard who held us at bay now invited us to approach, “You may go nearer to the cross.” We ran to the foot of the cross and stood in prayerful support for our beloved. The soldiers prevented us from getting close enough to touch Jesus, but we stood within an arm’s length.
“My beloved,” I whispered, “You are not alone. We shall be here praying with you until you draw your final breath.” As I uttered these words, I felt Jesus’ heart open in search of mine and when our hearts met, I felt his heart tear in two as mine had when John had given me Jesus’ scarlet cloak. “My God, my God. Why have you forsaken me?” my beloved begged in heart breaking agony. At that moment, the impact of Jesus’ pain reached the hearts of the Romans, the others criminals who hung on either side of him, and any of the curious onlookers who remained. In unison, they fell to their knees in sorrowful penitence.
The soldier nearest us shouted, “We have killed a prophet, a Son of God, we are
doomed.” In the midst of his own pain, Jesus uttered a prayer of absolution, “Abwoon,
forgive them they know not what they do.” I wept in wonder over Jesus’
compassion as I began to chant the Aramaic formula of forgiveness:
For three hours we stood and wept, kneeling or lying prostrate in prayer as our beloved’s life breath was slowly squeezed from him under the weight of his body as it hung on the cross. We listened to his pain. He wept tears of loss, moaned in agony and in moments of fear, yelled out in anger toward his god. We rode the waves of Jesus’ final spiritual journey as he moved from pain and fear, remorse and loss, doubt and rage to resolution, compassion, surrender, peace and back again. For three hours this went on as the Romans stood in their own form of prayer beside us. As time went on other curious on-lookers began to join us in our prayer. At three o’clock in the afternoon, one of the Roman guards came forward with spear in hand and in one swift and final act of mercy, plunged the spear into Jesus’ side. Jesus’ head flew back in the face of this new-found pain, but instead of the grimace of agony, a peaceful smile played upon his lips and he whispered, “Abwoon, into your hands I commend my Spirit. It is finished,” and his head fell forward and released his final breath as blood and water poured out of his side.
As Jesus released his final breath, my resolve gave way and the grief and horror that I had contained erupted into wailing and screaming. I tore at my hair and at my garments wanting to be freed of anything that might stand in the way of release. It was finished. Jesus was dead. As we poured out our grief, some of the Roman soldiers who had been moved by Jesus’ love drew toward us, knelt on the ground and offered their own prayers. I, in turn, was moved by their compassion and in awe over the ability of Jesus’ love to transcend even the perceived separations of culture, belief and rank. Lazarus, Martha, Judas, Nicodemus, Joanna and Mary’s brother Joseph who had joined them after the noon hour soon joined us at the top of the hill. After a time, the commanding officer came and said, “We must take him down from the cross so you have time to entomb him before the sun sets.” We nodded in our assent.
We stood in silence as the soldiers worked together to remove Jesus from the instrument of his torture and death. They removed the spikes from his feet, and then lowered the crossbar as Joseph, Lazarus, Nicodemus, Judas and John bore the weight of his lifeless body. They laid him out on the ground as they removed the spikes from his wrists and the crown of thorns from his head. The men gathered about Jesus’ lifeless body as Mother Mary and I laid out the red cloak – the only thing we had in which to wrap his body. As they laid his body upon the cloak, I fell upon him, wrapping myself around his lifeless body. I held him to my heart as I cried and I rocked him as I would a child. My heart was broken, my soul torn in two. But as I held him to me, I was more and more certain that this body had been just a shell and that my beloved, no longer dwelled within it. And I heard my beloved’s voice as I had all those many times before, “Mary, do not be afraid. I am with you always, even to the end of time.” These words gave me the strength I needed to release his body. I stepped back and allowed the men to gather him up to be carried to the place of his entombment.
During the evening and into the morning, Joseph had accomplished the preparations for Jesus’ burial. First he returned to Bethany to retrieve the burial nard that had been set aside for Martha’s dowry, along with the burial cloths that were all housed in the wedding chest beneath her bed. He located a humble tomb near Jerusalem since their family tomb was several days’ journey to Capernaum. The tomb he had procured was in the potter’s field just outside the city walls in the hillside caves usually reserved for the poor. We took up Jesus’ beaten, broken and lifeless body and walked in procession the short distance to the potter’s field intoning the Kaddish, the Hebrew song of mourning. Three Roman soldiers followed us at a respectful distance, having been ordered to see that Jesus was properly buried and to stand guard at the tomb until three days had passed. The High Priests wanted to make sure that no one was able to fake a resurrection, thereby confirming Jesus’ prediction that he would be raised from the dead. We arrived at the tomb, a small cave hollowed out in the limestone. The space was large enough for us to enter and stand upright. The men lay Jesus upon the floor of the cave while Mother Mary and I prepared the burial cloths. The burial cloths were strips of linen which we first covered in the burial nard – a mixture of resin, oils and spices which were to mask the stench of death while deterring insects, vermin and other animals from feasting on our dead. We soaked each strip and carefully bound his body from foot to head. A separate cloth was used for the head which we first covered in nard, then draped over his face from neck to crown, then over the back of his head to his shoulders. This was wrapped in strips of linen as the rest of the body had been. After his body was anointed and bound, we said our final prayers, our individual goodbyes and departed the tomb.
I waited outside the tomb as John, Lazarus, Nicodemus, Joseph and Judas, along with three of the Roman soldiers rolled the stone in front of the tomb. Mary, Martha, Salome and I held each other as we waited. After the tomb was safely sealed, the men returned to us, John holding in his arms, Jesus’ scarlet cloak. He came toward me and gently laid it into my arms. I wept at his thoughtful generosity. We said our goodbyes as Mary, Judas, Joseph and John turned toward Jerusalem to deliver the news to the Galilean disciples waiting in the Upper Room. Lazarus, Salome, Martha and I turned toward the road to Bethany. As we turned toward home, I heard my beloved’s voice for what I was sure would be the final time, “Mary I am with you always, even unto the end of time.” This time, I found no comfort in these words, only the finality of death.
There has been some discussion about Mary Magdalene and her role in the ascension process. Below is a brief reflection on the role of the Magdalene in our collective consciousness revolution.
“Six days before the Passover, Jesus came to Bethany, where Lazarus lived, whom Jesus had raised from the dead. Here a dinner was given in Jesus’ honor. Martha served, while Lazarus was among those reclining at the table with him. Then Mary took about a pint of pure nard, an expensive perfume; she poured it on Jesus’ feet and wiped his feet with her hair. And the house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume.” John 12: 1-7
“When one of the Pharisees invited Jesus to have dinner with him, he went to the Pharisee’s house and reclined at the table. A woman in that town who lived a sinful life learned that Jesus was eating at the Pharisee’s house, so she came there with an alabaster jar of perfume. As she stood behind him at his feet weeping, she began to wet his feet with her tears. Then she wiped them with her hair, kissed them and poured perfume on them.” Luke 7: 36-40
The woman in both scripture readings above has been thought to be Mary Magdalene. Mary Magdalene was Jesus’ most devoted disciple, the one who “got” his teachings, became his co-minister, accompanied and supported him through his suffering, trial, crucifixion and death. She was the first witness to the resurrection (perhaps even facilitating his resurrection) and the one Jesus commissioned to complete his mission. Mary was rejected by most of the male disciples and went off on her own to complete the work of Love. Mary is the woman who wipes the Master’s feet with her hair and represents the rejected and maligned feminine. The Church rejected her, called her a whore and with her, rejected and maligned all women. Mary has been with us these 2000+ years, working in the shadows, awakening women and men to the inner journey of self-actualization (ascension). Previously her effect has been felt only minimally, but now she is calling for a resurrection en-masse! In resurrecting the Magdalene, we resurrect the Divine Feminine in all women, and the place of the Divine Feminine within all of us. She is calling us to bring her forth into the world, to make her truth known, and to embrace her truth as our own. The truth of LOVE. We are made of love and for the purpose of love. When we know this truth we have ascended. When we have brought this truth into our physical form, embodying it fully, we have become “The Bride” and we know the kingdom of God of which Jesus spoke – not in some heaven light years away, but right here, right now in the midst of our human experience.
The Magdalene Priest/Priestess Trainingwas given to Lauri Ann Lumby as a tool for supporting the awakening of human consciousness and to support participants in their own journey of ascension and self-actualization. Learn more and take the FREE preview course by clicking on the icon below:
There has been much discussion lately in the www universe on the topic of ascension. Below is a channeled response to the question about how Jesus fits into the topic of ascension:
Death is the atonement. Resurrection is the result. When we give our life for the all, as we have done so diligently, we transcend the perceived separation of human consciousness. This is what Jesus did. In his human flesh he came to know his Oneness with God, with himself, with humanity and with all of creation. In this, he Re-membered his true Divine nature, and then learned how to fully embody this in human form. Attaining Oneness was the ascension, and then he allowed that consciousness to descend fully into his human form…becoming the “new Adam.” This is the “ascending and descending” of angels reference in scripture and the fulfillment of the Tree of Life. When Jesus died on the cross, he journeyed through the seven fears of the human experience, and at the final moment, remembered his Oneness again “Into your hands I commend my spirit.” While he lay in the tomb for three days, with the help of Mary Magdalene, the man who was Jesus was transformed into the Christ. He “descended” into hell….meaning his consciousness once again felt the sharp sting of separation. And then he was reborn – not in flesh – but as the Light Being that is known as The Christ. In his Light body, there is no more pain, no more suffering, etc. He simply bears witness to the suffering of humanity …..from a place of objective witness, infinite knowing, compassion and love. And he stands as a source of ongoing support….first as the model of perfection (of the potential that resides within all of humanity), then as a guide, teacher, source of healing and comfort.
The difference between what Jesus went through and what we are currently facilitating is that he had to die a physical death (that is assuming we believe the literal truth of Jesus’ death and not the alternative that the Gospels are merely a metaphor for the journey along the Tree of Life) …..so that a great Divine intervention for the sake of humanity might take place. We no longer have to die the physical death….because of what Jesus (and others before him) did, we have the opportunity to attain our own Christhood in physical form….fully embodying our True Divine/Christed nature for the sake of our own “salvation” and so that a great Divine intervention might take place on behalf of the whole human race……and all of creation. We live this from the perspective of our 5D perch….supporting, guiding, loving. Once we have died and then rise from the dead, there is no more suffering….only understanding, compassion and love as we continue to serve humanity and its great unfolding.
– Lauri Ann Lumby
The Magdalene Priest/Priestess Training was given to Lauri Ann Lumby as a tool for supporting the awakening of human consciousness and to support participants in their own journey of ascension and self-actualization. Learn more and take the FREE preview course by clicking on the icon below:
For centuries human beings have argued over who killed my beloved, Jesus. Some have argued that it was the Jews….and many Jews have perished as a result of this accusation. Many argue that it was the Romans and that Jesus, like Gandhi and Martin Luther King, Jr. was killed for political reasons. Many of my brothers in Christ suffered and then perished as a result of this perceived conflict. The truth is it was neither the Jews nor the Romans who killed my Beloved. It was human beings.
Standing in the crowd as Jesus was being tried before Pilate in the company of the Chief Priests of the Temple, it was not Pilate who condemned Jesus to death. It was not the jealousy or insecurity of the Chief Priests that signed his death sentence. It was the crowd. Even when given the chance to free Jesus, the crowd refused. Why? Because it was easier to sign Jesus’ death warrant than to live the life he called them to live. People killed Jesus because they were afraid – afraid that if what he spoke was truth, then the world they had come to know might come to an end.
In this, they were absolutely correct. Being healed of the fears that plague the human experience would have changed them, and through them, it would have changed their world. What they failed to see and believe, however, was that if they had chosen to live as Jesus had called them to live, their lives would have become better. They would be happier, more content, their needs would be met. They would know love and the world could finally live in peace.
But alas, it was not to be so. 2000 years later, the love and peace that Jesus embodied and sought to share with humanity is still denied. Humanity, it seems, is incapable of seeing past their fears, their tribal beliefs, their cultural norms, the religious/political doctrines to which they cling, to witness the peaceful kingdom that is already present within and among them, if they would only bother to lay down their swords long enough to learn how to LOVE. Instead, humanity continues to languish in the “sins” of separation – racism, prejudice, sexism, nationalism, the desire for power, greed, gluttony, sloth, avarice, jealousy and pride. As humanity clings to its separation, millions of people are dying, afraid, starving, homeless, abused, beaten, oppressed, imprisoned, made to fight wars that are not their own. For every person who dies unnecessarily another part of humanity’s soul dies along with them…..and Jesus dies again.
Jesus described this in the parable reported by our brother Matthew:
The King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’
“Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’
“The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’
This is how it is with Christ. Each and every human being is a reflection of Christ. Each and every human being has a spark of the Christ light (love) within them. Every single person is a living, breathing, child of God. So when you (especially those who call themselves Christian) harm another human being, when you deprive them of their basic needs, when you support programs and policies that strip them of basic human dignity, when you deny them what the need, not only to live, but also to thrive, you are saying NO to the man you claim as your teacher and savior. Whatsoever you do to your fellow human beings, you are doing to Jesus. And when you cause your brother harm, or deprive your sister of what she needs to survive, then you are killing Jesus again.
Humanity killed Jesus and continues to kill him every time they choose fear over love, hate over compassion, greed over generosity, gluttony over sharing, pride over humility, sloth over action, etc. etc. etc.
Humanity killed Jesus and every day kills him again.
My whole entire life, there is only one thing I have ever wanted from you…and that was to be heard.
To have my needs heard so they could be met.
Not just the basic needs for food, clothing and shelter…
But the deeper needs:
The need to feel loved.
The need to feel safe.
The need to feel seen and accepted for who I really am…..all of me.
The need to feel supported in all I hoped and dreamed for…especially my vision for the world.
To be heard beyond the physical hearing to the deepest levels and to feel held and supported there:
when I was afraid but too afraid to speak it.
when I was feeling alone but dared not admit it.
when I felt abandoned, rejected, condemned but thought I might die for revealing it.
When I was puzzled because I didn’t fit in, for the simple “infraction” of daring to speak the truth.
To be heard beyond that which is carried by sound:
when I felt the excruciating pain of being an outsider and the loneliness of always having to find my place in another new world.
when I was poor and in need of help.
when I was excruciatingly alone in those years of abuse, where I was silenced and scorned …and when it frightened me to death.
during the many nights I cried myself to sleep knowing I was completely and utterly alone with not one soul to help me, but myself.
during the decades of existing in this world only by the sheer force of will.
during the dark days when it took every force of that will to pull myself out of bed to face another dark day.
when I found the courage to choose another path, but was terrified nonetheless.
In those fleeting moments of joy when the world stood still and for just that single moment all was right in the world and I could shout to the world that the words he spoke really were true and that everything was indeed made of love.
During the excruciating heartache and loss that nearly broke me a second time…but which against all odds I survived….and after that loss, having to find a new path with absolutely no map to guide me, in a world that was unable to hear the voice of a woman who spoke only the words given to her which were the words of love.
But now, centuries have past and I find that my desire still remains. In a world that is deaf to the call of love, seeking only words that flatter and praise, in a world that has turned its back on the intuitive sensibilities of women, preferring the warring talk of men, in a world that seeks after the material, condemning anything that might speak of sacrifice so that the needs of all might be met, I find still all I really want is to be heard:
To be heard for who I am.
To be heard for the gifts I bring into the world
And to be heard for the message of love that was once shown to me and that I was asked, in the most painful moment of my life, to carry forth into the world.
Will it be in this lifetime that I am finally heard or will humanity perish because of its inability to hear?