There is sometimes a cup left on the counter after someone has gone.

You know it should be washed. You know they will not return to use it. Yet your hand pauses before picking it up.

The heart has its own memory.

In the Song of Songs, a woman rises in the night and walks through the city searching for the one she loves. Mary Magdalene also goes out while it is still dark, drawn toward the last place she saw Jesus.

The others have gone home. Mary remains.

Perhaps she is not expecting a miracle. Grief rarely expects much. Once, she wanted his company, his voice, his laughter, his presence. Now she would be grateful simply to find his body. Sorrow has a way of teaching us to ask for less.

She mistakes Jesus for the gardener. It is an understandable mistake. Tears alter the landscape. We can stand very close to something new and see only what we have lost.

Then Jesus speaks her name.

“Mary.”

Something in his voice reaches the place in her that grief had closed. She recognizes him not because she has understood resurrection, but because she knows what it is to be known by him.

Mary Magdalene is the saint of those who remain near what they have loved, even when there seems to be nothing left to hope for. She does not arrive with answers. She arrives with an aching heart and stays long enough for dawn.

The world often tells grieving people to move on. Mary shows us another way. She does not move on from love. She allows love to lead her through the darkness until it takes on a form she could never have imagined.

What absence are you still standing beside, hoping to hear Jesus call your name?

#gospelechoes #midweekreflection #gospel #stpaulofthecrossretreatcenter