About the Book

Woman Redeemed by Christine Blake

Woman Redeemed is the Every(wo)man story that embraces the feminine influence on history and celebrates the strength of women in community with one another. Mary Magdalene is a product of a multi-cultural region: empowered by the tales of Roman women and grounded by Jewish heroines of traditional stories. She is a universal symbol of renewal and redemption. As such, Mary Magdalene transcends Judeo-Christian tradition and personifies femininity at its most enduring and inspiring.

Tracing her decline through the temptations of this multifaceted world and her attempt to deny her femininity to succeed in a male-dominated society, we explore her difficult, yet familiar, cycle of sin, forgiveness, and reawakening. Finally, as she witnesses the Resurrection, she gains an awareness of the divine in the world and the beauty of women, including herself.

How Does Woman Redeemed Differ From Other Stories About Mary Magdalene?

Agreeably, there are a lot of books written about the mysterious figure of Mary Magdalene. Most of these books, whether published under the genre of fiction or nonfiction, pose an argument for whom Mary Magdalene was.

In the realm of fiction, Dan Brown’s The DiVinci Code casts her as the secret bride of Christ while The Passion of Mary Magdalene by Elizabeth Cunningham cashes in on the rumors of her being a whore and depicts Mary as serving the Egyptian Goddess Isis. In the nonfiction genre with the discoveries of the Gospels of THomas and of Mary Magdalene, her role in the founding of Christianity has been declared “major” by some scholars such as Marvin Meyer and Esther A. De Boer and “minor” by others who dismiss the gospels as frauds. No matter what stand one takes on the reality of whom she was, she sparks controversy and debate. However, these texts are limited in that, once a writer chooses a side to prove, they must stress if not solely rely on, a narrow selection of the available legends, texts, records, etc. about Mary Magdalene.

This is where my novel, Woman Redeemed, differs from all of these. I believe the true spirit of Mary Magdalene that can be inspirational to women around the world is in ALL of the legends about her. It is in her tenacity, her passion, her womanhood, whether she is bride or prostitute, student or teacher, mortal or immortal. Mary’s person is larger than these identifiers and that is what I celebrate in Woman Redeemed.

In preparation for this novel I researched and remain historically accurate to both Roman and Jewish records as far as places, events, practices, policies, traditions, etc. I also drew from texts that are embraced by the Jewish and Catholic faiths but rejected by the Protestants, and those texts embraced by the Protestants but rejected by Catholics; I reference legends stemming from Pagan tradition and even those recently discovered texts that no one knows how to label yet. As I read I realized how much everyone embraces Mary Magdalene; she is an Everywoman as she struggles with life's pains and temptations, worries and triumphs by redefining her self and her world through Jesus Christ.

Mine is not another argument from one tradition in the attempt to claim the patent on who Mary Magdalene was. Rather, Woman Redeemed intertwines the best of all the traditions to bring to life a realistic woman of the first century.

Sample from Chapter 3:

I remember the year with my mother...

Mother and I had not spent much time together during my childhood and I resented this sudden requirement to fulfill my duties. So, most of our days were quiet and she often excused herself from my training and allowed Martha to take over. Martha was much more patient, and so I welcomed my sister’s coaching.

Each morning we began by going to the well to fetch water for the day. It seemed a long journey and I wished we had the aqueducts I had seen in Caesarea, but it did allow me a short visit in town before my arduous day at home. I was surprised to find that Martha had journeyed here on her own all these years. I truly had not pictured her out of the house and I was so busy avoiding chores that I had not noticed her absence each morning.

Dawn is a beautiful time to see the well. In the early morning, the road to town is cool and the splash of the sea the only sound we heard until we neared our goal. At the well there were hoards of women, talking and laughing, grasping hands and leaning in for warm welcoming hugs. As we found our way through the crowds Martha nodded greetings and shared quick embraces with several women I had never seen before. What had I been missing? I am a woman, but this whole society seemed foreign to me. I wanted to be a part of it and looked forward to fitting in. Much to my disappointment, however, when Martha introduced me to a small group at the edge of the well they smiled in recognition. Evidently, she had mentioned me in this circle. Wonderment mixed with disapproval haunted their welcomes and they stood to giggle as Martha explained to me how to raise the filled bucket without knocking against the stones and spilling it. At once I felt I was an outsider. But I was determined to fit in and studied carefully as women before me successfully and gracefully filled their buckets and were on their way.

My turn came and I strode forward thinking, “this cannot be difficult”. I tied on our bucket and let the rope slide smoothly through my hand. Smiling with pride I looked to Martha who nodded at my quick study. Now, to pull it up. No problem, I was sure. I leaned over a bit to center the now full and surprisingly heavy load and started to pull. With the impatience she had warned me against, I tugged at the rope and we all heard the echo of the crack! Wood against rock followed by the full splash from the water base. My first day of chores and I had humiliated myself. I turned and looked to Martha for help.

As always my steady sister was there, patient and kind. She quieted her spiteful friends and simply took my hand and held it in hers as together we slowly pulled the bucket up and carefully untied it from the well rope. I humbly followed her home a few steps behind looking back to the women who, like a herd slowly grazing, drifted off in separate directions from the well.

Thankfully, women are a forgiving community, and the next day I was given a full audience as I attempted to fill the bucket alone again. As my day’s water came up without a lost drop, my success was cheered with sincere encouragement as they decided to welcome me in after all. I soon found the joy that carried Martha through her day. It was rooted in this early morning meeting at the well. Here we shared our triumphs and our sorrows. We prayed together for missing boats after storms and we kissed new babies as they joined young mothers at the well. We teased each other about failed recipes and we traded secrets for successful marriages.

These were the women of Magdala. There were new brides with little experience and wise grandmothers whose experience shown in their tired eyes. There was a woman of great strength who could lift two buckets at one time and a woman of greater strength whose fragile arms could comfort a weeping widow. There was a woman who smelled of the earth and seemed to be connected to its every whim, forewarning us of storms to come or promising healthy crops at harvest. There was a woman whose beauty and grace stopped even small children in their steps to gaze at her as she floated by. There was a simple woman who found God in small things like the greeting of an old friend and a philosopher who sought God in the depths of the human spirit. These were the women of Magdala, and now, I was one of them. Even with my thick fingers that could not slide along the wool without tangling it at the loom and my wondering dreams of travel upon the sea, I was one of them. With my bony arms that had just recently begun to take on the soft roundedness of womanhood and my prominent nose that seemed to point my way through life, I was one of them. We were one in that we were women, and yet, not a one of us was the same. Beauty in each and together, beautiful.

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