Herewith a Mothers Day present: a story I've created to fill in, fairly plausibly, some of the yawning gaps in our knowledge about a leader of the earliest Christian community: Mary, the mother of John Mark. I invite you now into this mother's home.
It's 44 A.D., the third year of the reign of the Emperor Claudius. Here in Jerusalem, where Herod Agrippa rules on Rome's behalf, the home of Mary is a place where we followers of Jesus frequently gather. It's in the upper part of the city, where the wealthy live, high above our Lower Jerusalem, with its close-packed shops, overcrowded houses, and constant din. And although there's a certain daytime bustle to the broad street outside Mary's home, that can easily be left behind simply by entering the gate in the high outer wall that abuts the street and passing through into the gracious courtyard lying inside—an atrium open to the sky and bounded on its three interior sides by the porticoes and spacious rooms of the two-storied living quarters.
Mary's steward, gardener, and cook, plus her maid—a sprightly teenager named Rhoda—help keep this household running in something approaching an orderly fashion despite the steady stream of visitors, representing every station and condition in life—the steady stream who are welcomed here at every hour of the day and night by Mary, together with her son, John Mark, a youth who's now of marriageable age.
I've learned that Mary hasn't always lived here in Jerusalem. Although she comes from a family of Jewish Levites—a family destined by birth to attend to various sacred duties in Jerusalem's temple—she was born far away, on the Mediterranean island of Cyprus, where her extended family had lived for several generations. And even though they'd maintained their strong Jewish identity, they'd nonetheless adapted to the Greek culture and civilization of that island. So the mother tongue of Mary and her son John Mark is Greek. Still, having arrived in Jerusalem some fifteen years ago, during the reign of the Emperor Tiberius and his procurator Pontius Pilate, they've become fluent as well in the language of our city, their own family's ancestral tongue—Aramaic.
Late in Mary's teenage years, back there on Cyprus, she'd done what young women were expected to do. She'd married a young man from another family of Levites. And shortly thereafter she'd conceived and then borne a son. In good Jewish fashion, she and her husband had given him the name Yochanan—John. But also, in good Greek fashion, they'd given him the name Markos—Mark.
Now, John Mark was just a child when his father died. And as was the custom when a young son lost his father, the extended paternal family offered its protection to that son and his widowed mother.
It was an older cousin, Joseph, who was ready, willing, and able to take on this responsibility. (cf. Acts 4:36; Colossians 4:10) You see, Joseph himself had recently suffered a great personal tragedy. His wife had died during her first childbirth, and the daughter she was bearing had also been lost. And as a childless widower, Joseph was eager to take responsibility for this boy John Mark, and he was happy to extend his protection to the boy's mother as well.
I'm told it was because Joseph and Mary were both so filled with fresh grief that the three soon left Cyprus, with all its recent unhappy memories, and joined the wave of Greek-speaking Jews who've in recent decades been steadily migrating back here to Jerusalem.
Joseph was well-to-do, and John Mark had inherited his father's estate. So Joseph was able to buy two homes in Upper Jerusalem—one for himself and the other for Mary and John Mark—plus a beautiful vineyard, down toward Caesarea, in the coastal plain.
Soon thereafter, just as the three were beginning to get settled in, a great excitement swept through Jerusalem. And reports reached even the upper city about the Galilean teacher and prophet named Jesus who'd come to the temple to celebrate the Passover festival and whom many Jews were proclaiming to be the long-awaited Messiah. Then quicker than you can blink an eye Jesus had been arrested, tried, and crucified. Mary, John Mark, and Joseph found this quite a disillusioning ending for the life of one who'd been so heartily hailed. So it seemed to them obvious that Jesus couldn't really have been the Messiah!
Four, five, six, nearly seven weeks passed, and Mary hadn't thought anything more about this Jesus. Then that next Sunday morning, while she and her son, and cousin Joseph, were strolling leisurely through the temple grounds and marketplace, observing our Festival of Weeks—that next Sunday morning a loud sound like the rush of a violent wind suddenly filled the streets all around them. Startled out of their wits, the three huddled together for safety, along with many other residents and tourists who'd been out enjoying the holiday. Then, quite dramatically, a group of twelve men suddenly appeared in the midst of the crowd, and these men were exuding such an unbelievable zeal and fervor that those there, including Mary, initially took them to be, well, drunk.
Then one of the men, named Peter, began proclaiming in Aramaic—although it seemed to our threesome that they were hearing him in their native Greek—Peter began proclaiming that what was occurring right then was nothing less than the outpouring of God's spirit promised of old by the prophet Joel. And Peter went on to testify that, although Jesus had been crucified, God had in fact raised Jesus up from the dead on the third day and that this was the sure and certain sign that Jesus is indeed the Messiah and that good has indeed triumphed over evil.
Peter then closed his speech by challenging all those assembled there to repent, to believe in this good news, and to receive baptism. And Mary, young John Mark, and Joseph were so caught up by the full force of God's Holy Spirit that they, too, came to believe that what Peter was proclaiming was the truth. So all three of them—along with ever so many others—were baptized by the apostles that very day. (cf. Acts 2:14-41)
Still, Mary's subsequent journey of discipleship wasn't so easy as that. When she and John Mark first learned from Peter some of the actual teachings of Jesus—well, she became pretty angry and even wondered if she'd done the right thing to be baptized.
For instance, Peter had told a group in their hearing that Jesus often shared his meals and table fellowship with tax collectors and sinners as well as with those regarded by the community as righteous (cf. Mark 2:15-17). Mary at first couldn't imagine herself allowing reprobates like these into her home.
Then, too, Peter had told another group of which she and John Mark were a part that Jesus believed that the ties binding disciples are stronger than those binding kin, that when Jesus was informed once that his mother and siblings were waiting outside, he had replied, "Who are my mother and my brothers?... Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother." (Mark 3:31-35) Mary couldn't at first imagine any bonds stronger than those between her and her son, or between her and cousin Joseph.
And then on another occasion, Peter had in the hearing of Mary and John Mark recounted that Jesus had once challenged a man who'd been quite faithful to God's commandments, saying to him that before he could come and follow Jesus he needed to go, and sell what he owned, and give all that money to the poor. (Mark 10:17-27) Well, that good man had responded by walking away sorrowfully, Peter reported; and Mary realized that she at that point was feeling more sympathy for the man than admiration for Jesus. Did everyone really need to sell everything? Did she really need to give up the home she was sharing with John Mark?
Now, cousin Joseph had been fully convinced by all these teachings, even that last one. Indeed, in response to the lifestyle of equality and sharing that the followers of the risen Christ here in Jerusalem were adopting for themselves (Acts 2:44; 4:32-35), Joseph went right out and sold his prize vineyard and shared all his proceeds with the rest of the group. And in gratitude for that act, the twelve apostles had given Joseph a new name. Barnabas, they'd called him—which means "son of encouragement." (Acts 4:36-37) And later Barnabas had even gone on to sell his home.
Now, Mary, as a widow with a dependent child, didn't feel she could sell her home, especially after her protector, cousin Barnabas, had shared all of his resources with the wider community. Anyway, Mary took Jesus's main point to be that a follower of his needed to give selflessly and unstintingly. And little by little, as Mary came to accept pretty fully the rest of Jesus's teachings, she came to see that the unstinting gift that she could offer her community would be to open the gate of her spacious home at all hours of the day and night to all of us who wanted to gather there either for sharing a meal and receiving refreshment of body and soul or for learning and praying and worshiping God. To open the gate of her home to all of us, whether rich or poor, sick or healthy, clean or unclean, sinful or righteous—this would be her gift.
That was 13 years ago, she tells me. And ever since then, her home has been quite full. Early on, Barnabas introduced the apostle Peter to the gathering of Jesus's followers in Mary's home, and ever since then whenever Peter is in Jerusalem he returns to offer instruction to those there. And also early on, Barnabas brought to Mary's home a guest who, like them, had been born a Greek-speaking Jew but who, unlike them, had become a zealous persecutor of Jesus's followers until he later had his own experience of the risen Christ and changed his life's direction by becoming a follower himself. This man comes from Tarsus, in Asia Minor. His Jewish name is Saul, and his Greek name is Paul (Acts 13:9). Indeed, it was at Mary's home that Barnabas first introduced this former persecutor to many of the suspicious apostles. (cf. Acts 9:26-27)
Saul was away from Jerusalem for many, many years. And a little over a year ago, Barnabas also left for foreign parts, traveling to Antioch in Syria on a missionary trip sponsored by Jesus's followers right here in Jerusalem. And to help him there, Barnabas enlisted the assistance of Saul. (cf. Acts 11:22-26) Then the Christian community in Antioch decided to send an offering to support us poor here in Jerusalem, and Barnabas, along with Saul, was sent back to Jerusalem to carry it. (cf. Acts 11:29; 12:25, reading "from Jerusalem," with the NIV and the NRSV's alternative translation).
So, as I said, it's now 44 A.D., during the reign of Herod Agrippa, and Mary's home is the place where Barnabas and Saul have been staying, and where Peter and many other apostles and followers of Jesus continue to come as regular participants in her house church.
It's once again Passover, and Agrippa has come to Jerusalem from his palace on the seacoast, in Caesarea. A startling report reaches the home of Mary. Agrippa, in order to cement his support among the majority population, has launched a persecution of the Christian community. Indeed, he's had the apostle James summarily beheaded, and he's put Peter in prison, to wait out the end of the Passover season before he, too, is executed.
Hearing this report, about a hundred of Jesus's followers head to Mary's home, to take refuge inside its sheltering walls. Fear grips them all. Yet into the wee hours of the morning, they pray without ceasing for Peter and all the others affected by this latest persecution.
Then suddenly, there comes a loud knocking at the gate. Is it Agrippa's troops? Have they somehow managed to track these Christians down to Mary's home?
Rhoda the maid trembles her way to the gate, and quakes out the words, "Who's there?" And a hushed yet insistent voice replies, "It's Peter!"
Well, Rhoda can't believe her ears. Peter—not in jail but at the gate! But flustered and overjoyed, she somehow neglects to open the gate, and instead dashes back to shout out to the guests, "It's Peter; it's Peter who's at the gate." Astonished they snap back at her, "You're out of your mind." But again that loud pounding at the gate, and this time they all rush forward to find out who it is. Rhoda wins the race and throws open the gate. It is Peter!
He hurries in, quickly closes the gate behind him, and begins to recount excitedly to Mary and all her guests how the angel of God has miraculously rescued him from prison, and death. Then, after urging the assembly to share this news with the other followers of Jesus in Jerusalem, Peter slips back outside into the dark street and soon passes through the city gate on his way out to some safe place far away.
When morning finally dawns, one of those gathered in Mary's home is sent out to learn what response Agrippa is making to Peter's escape. Those inside have to wait nervously until late that night for the man's return and the news that Agrippa has spent most of the day searching for Peter, but in vain. And when he can't find Peter, he first has the guards killed and then storms back to Caesarea in a great fury. (cf. Acts 12:18-19) But with his departure, the immediate danger to Christians in Jerusalem is now past.
Mary and her family and all those who've found refuge in her home rejoice, following which almost all disperse outward into the night.
Left inside, Mary, John Mark, Barnabas, Saul, and the servants resume their vigil of prayer, offering to God great thanksgiving.
The next morning, Barnabas and Saul decide they should leave, so as to first go back to Antioch and then go on from there to extend their missionary work to the island of Cyprus (cf. Acts 12:25 [NIV and alternate NRSV reading] - 13:5). When Mary hears their plan, she suggests to Barnabas that John Mark is now of an age to be able to accompany and assist them. And Barnabas gladly agrees to take this young cousin of his along.
Two days later, after Mary has successfully overseen preparations for the men's trip, she kisses her beloved son goodbye and sends them all on their way to carry her warmest greetings to all those in her native Cyprus whom they will soon be encountering.
Rhoda closes the gate after the three men have left, and Mary returns to her room. But barely ten minutes pass before a knock is once again heard at the gate. Rhoda goes and soon returns to the courtyard, where she introduces to Mary yet two more who've come to seek her help—a blind woman and I, a leper. Mary hugs both of us warmly.
Let us pray:
O God, help us to recall, and to retell, and to embody the stories of the mothers of the church. And create in us a spirit like that found in Mary, the mother of John Mark—a spirit open to Your word, eager to receive and act upon Your good news, and decisive in implementing here on earth a full measure of Your truth and love. In the name of the risen Christ, we pray this. Amen.