Sometimes Tears

"Sometimes tears are the glasses we need to see Jesus."  ~Pope Francis

My all-time favorite bible scene is that of Mary Magdalene sobbing at Christ's feet and drying her tears and the ointment with her hair. I love to think about Jesus gently reaching down to hold her and bless her with His forgiveness. It must have been an amazing scene, especially since from that day forward, she never sinned again. I don't know about you, but no matter how many times I am forgiven, I always seem to fall back into those same old patterns that sent me seeking forgiveness in the first place. Maybe the next time I go to confession, I should bring an alabaster jar of aromatic nard with me!

Think of that alabaster jar, smashed and broken open, releasing not only fragrance, but extravagant love and sorrow for sin.  Once that jar which represented her life was broken, it was impossible for Mary Magdalene to put back the pieces of her former way of living; she had to change!  And as she peered through her tears, her liquid prayer freely spilling from her soul-windows, how clearly she could see the beauty of Jesus and how deeply she longed to make amends for all of the sorrow she had caused Him.  The joy she felt at his loving response surely must have caused those tears of repentance to turn to tears of joy.  And from that day on, she remained close to Him,  hanging onto His every word, watching His every movement, loving Him with all her heart and wanting nothing more than to model her life after His example.  Perhaps for the short time that she was with Him during His ministry she was so joyful that she cried no more. 

And then she endured Good Friday.  And of course she cried.

But outside the empty tomb what should have been an occasion for joy was instead confusing and tearful.  Where was He, the One she loved?  And when she finally saw Him through those tear-filled eyes, He said "touch me not."  Touch me not.  Those three words make me cry every time I think of them.  But did she continue to cry as He spoke those words?  Or did she understand that her touch was now meant to be lovingly shared with others; that He intended to work through her instead of simply for her?  Did she revel in His resurrection as a joy beyond comprehension and no longer needed to have the ability to physically touch Him?

Sweet Mary Magdalene,

Did it break your heart when you heard "touch me not"?  Did you continue to shed sometimes tears after His resurrection?  As you faithfully served Him by spreading the fragrance of your deep love to others, were the only tears you sometimes shed those of joy?  Or did your sometimes tears fall out of love for all of humanity who suffer through sin as you did?  Teach me to be like you and not to be afraid to shed sometimes tears  for those who suffer.   Help me to understand that those drops of liquid prayer can reveal the loving and tender Heart of Jesus to myself and to the world around me, and through them the sweet fragrance of love will perfume the air like aromatic nard released from my often hard and sinful heart, making it soft and holy like His and like yours.

Amen.

Mary Magdalene from Rogier van der Weyden's Descent from the Cross

Ascension

She stands outside the tomb of death
crushed by loneliness
and desire; selfishly
clinging to a memory.

He speaks-
"Touch me not.
I have not yet ascended
to my Father."

And in a mixture of
loving anguish and joy
she backs away
and watches Him
as He leaves her side.

How can she begin to fathom
that her patient waiting-
her surrender to His plan-
will result in unimaginable
joy for not only herself
but for all?

Without fully understanding
His words, the saint accepts them
and lets go of her loved One.
She surrenders to His divine will,
bravely sets aside her grief
and embraces a greater love
for the common good.

She lets go...
and He ascends.

Saint Mary Magdalene

(Magdalene by Antonio Veneziano from Magnifacat Magazine)

Her feast day rapidly approaches; my favorite saint, Mary Magdalene, with her jar of alabaster whom we honor on July 22nd, and I have found the most lovely poem written in her honor. Today I snuck away to one of my favorite places, the Salzmann Library at St. Francis de Sales Seminary where three treasures were waiting for me to indulge my spiritual avarice-three books written by or about Fr. Gerald Fitzgerald, the holy founder of the Handmaids of the Precious Blood, a cloistered order who devote themselves to praying for priests. Fr. Fitzgerald wrote poetry and had it published under the pseudonym of A. Page, CSC, and it was in his book titled Paths from Bethlehem where I found this delicious poem:

To Saint Mary Magdalene

You claimed
the false
until you found
the True;
your beauty
wounded
until Beauty
wounded you,
and plunged your soul
into a spring so sweet
your tears
fell as chaste pearls
at Mercy's
feet.

St. Mary Magdalene, pray for us!

At His Feet

The fragrant oil was poured
upon His feet so sore and tired,
and she knelt down and washed them
with tears of salt and sorrow,
and dried them, oh so tenderly
with her undone tresses for a towel.

He in turn passed on the gift
of service to His friends.
He washed the dust and dirt
from weary, aching feet
before the dinner.

Such gentle gifts of love and service
for the body's lowest part;
why, oh why couldn't
the tenderness last, why must it turn
to pain unimaginable?

The burly solder took the spike and
drove it through his feet.
Ring of hammer could not mask
the screams of pain
this tortuous act had caused.
Blood and tissue, pain untold,
no washing could assuage.

And there they stood,
the ones He loved,
just below those precious feet
that once had been
anointed so fragrantly.
Helplessly they watched the blood
pulse out from the holes in His extremities.

Oh Jesus Christ my Savior,
how I long to ease your pain!
My own tears of distress
I will use to wash away the stain
of blood and hurt inflicted
upon Your feet so bruised and broken,
until the pain exists no more
with only love remaining.