Each year we remember the story of Mary Magdalene. For countless Christians throughout the ages, hers is a supreme example of the transformative power of the Gospel. It is also one of rich literary beauty.
For the story of Mary Magdalene is simply charged with the brilliancy of the Gospel exchange: “My Life for yours.” The examples are copious:
Christ meets her in her shame; she, in turn, meets Him in His Agony on the Cross.
He lifts her up when she was bowed down with guilt; she, in turn, bows down before Him and prepares Him to be ‘lifted-up’ on Calvary.
He comes to her when she is surrounded by enemies and rescues her from death; and, in turn, she comes to him at Simon the Leper’s house, as He is surrounded by his ‘enemies’ to prepare him for death.
She breaks and shatters her jar of nard just as He in turn would be “broken” and shattered on the Cross.
She pours out the oil of her love for Him, He pours out the blood of His love for her.
She looked for Him in grief. He called her in name with Joy.
She looked for a gardener with answers for her worry but He came as the Gardener to show her mysteries more satisfying than the answers she had thought would comfort.
She was looking for closure and an end, but He instead sent her to proclaim the opening of paradise and the dawn of a new Beginning.
Her story, you see, is the Church’s Story. It is also archetypal of each of our smaller little stories.
On the day of her feast we gather to feast and celebrate that we have been washed and that our shame has been put away. Not because it never existed, not because we really aren’t as bad as we thought we were, not because ‘sin’ is just a social construct. Rather, we celebrate because something stronger than shame has laid claim to us. Sin has not been excused, it’s been forgiven. For love is stronger than death, and deeper than the grave.