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I’m not much of a text-messager. I mostly use my mobile
phone’s text-messaging service to make sure my best
friend David (who works the late shift at a television
station) is awake before I call him. I’m all thumbs when
it comes to texting; it takes me about two minutes to
compose a single-sentence message.
There are, however, two text
messages in my out-box. Both were sent to David, and
both begin with the phrase “Guess who ...."

I don’t want to be overheard
spreading juicy tidbits about friends and acquaintances.
Nor do I want to wake up David just to tell him that I
saw so-and-so out with so-and-so. Rather, I’ll take two
minutes to write the message, then wait expectantly for
the “ping” that means David has received my message and
his curiosity is piqued.
Better yet, he’ll call and
start guessing to whom my juicy tidbit refers.
If I had good news to share,
I’d call. If I were sad, I’d call. But if I’m only
spreading gossip, well, that’s hardly worth a phone
call, right? I could wait until morning to call. But….
my news might not be quite so interesting in the
morning or I might not be feeling quite so scandalized. Or
vindicated. Or full of righteous anger.
By morning, I might have put
things in perspective.
These two bits of tasty
gossip — as far as I know — went only as far as David. He
lives 1,500 miles from me (and the subjects of my
messages). It’s unlikely my rumor-mongering will ever be
discovered by anyone who cares. Although, if for some
reason, my mobile phone is the only artifact uncovered
in a future century’s archeological dig, then all that
remains of so-and-so is that I saw him out with
so-and-so. It would be a pathetic addition to the
historic record.
Then again, quite a few of
our ancestors in the faith have found themselves the
victims of unfounded gossip.
Take Mary Magdalene, for
example.
A woman with a past
She was dead some 500 years
before unsavory rumors about her
even started. Yet today, reading her name fills us
with a little subversive thrill. Ah, yes, Mary
Magdalene. She’s an interesting character, we think.
During different periods of
church history, Mary has been pegged as a sort of lowest
common denominator. She ranked about as well as tax
collectors. Just a few pegs above Judas Iscariot.
What are the words that come
to mind when we hear her name? Saint? Apostle? Friend of
Jesus? Not likely. Those are the adjectives that come to
mind only after we’ve dispensed with "prostitute" and
"woman from whom seven demons had gone out"
(Luke 8).
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