On the first day of the week, Mary of Magdala came to the tomb early in the morning, while it was still dark, and saw the stone removed from the tomb.
So she ran and went to Simon Peter and to the other disciple whom Jesus loved, and told them, “They have taken the Lord from the tomb, and we don’t know where they put him.”
But Mary stayed outside the tomb weeping. And as she wept, she bent over into the tomb
and saw two angels in white sitting there, one at the head and one at the feet where the body of Jesus had been.
And they said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping?” She said to them, “They have taken my Lord, and I don’t know where they laid him.”
When she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus there, but did not know it was Jesus.
Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?” She thought it was the gardener and said to him, “Sir, if you carried him away, tell me where you laid him, and I will take him.”
Jesus said to her, “Mary!” She turned and said to him in Hebrew, “Rabbouni,” which means Teacher.
Jesus said to her, “Stop holding on to me, for I have not yet ascended to the Father. But go to my brothers and tell them, ‘I am going to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.'”
Mary of Magdala went and announced to the disciples, “I have seen the Lord,” and what he told her.
Copyright © Confraternity of Christian Doctrine, USCCB
Commentary of the day :
Saint Francis de Sales (1567-1622), Bishop of Geneva and Doctor of the Church
Treatise on the love of God, 5, 7 (trans. Vincent Kerns)
“Jesus said to her: Mary! She turned and said to him… Teacher!”
The true lover’s delight is centred on his beloved: that is why St Paul treated everything else as “refuse” compared with the high privilege of knowing his Saviour (Phil 3,8). That is why the bride in the Song of Songs thinks only of her beloved: “All mine, my true love, and I all his… Have you seen him whom my soul loves?” (2,16; 3,3)…
That illustrious lover, Mary Magdalene, encountered angels at the tomb; surely they addressed her angelically (gently, I mean), anxious to allay her sorrow. Utterly disconsolate as she was, however, she could take no comfort from their kindly greeting, their shining garments, their heavenly bearing, or the wondrous beauty of their features; still weeping, “They have carried away my Lord,” she said, “and I cannot tell where they have taken him.” Turning round, she saw her sweet Savior; but he looked like a gardener, so she was not interested. Loving thoughts of her Master’s death filled her heart; what need had she of flowers, of gardeners? Cross, nails and thorns occupied her thoughts; she was looking for her crucified lover. “If it is you, sir,” she said to the gardener, “if it is you who have carried off my beloved Lord’s body, tell me quickly where you have put him, and I will take him away.”
But no sooner did he breathe her name than her grief dissolved into delight: “Rabboni,” she said, “Master!”… To magnify her royal lover still further, the soul must have eyes only for him; in other words, with an ever-growing, anxiously eager attentiveness the soul must study all the details of his beauty, his perfections, must keep on discovering motives for finding ever-increasing gratification in the ineffable Beauty with which it is in love.
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