The Feast of St. Mary Magdalene, Tuesday, July 22, 2025

For the feast of today’s saint, I thought we might do something a little different by way of reflection.  I have translated the first section of a Life of St. Mary Magdalene written by a Benedictine monk and abbot named Rabanus Maurus (d. 856).  It is a beautiful work and while perhaps not strictly historical, what it does offer us today is the love the people of this and earlier ages had for this Saint, and the lessons they derived from what they knew or surmised of her life.  This is only the first section.  If anyone is interested, I could post more of it.

(My health is about the same but it is not worse, and I hope to feel better soon.  Thank you for all your prayers).

The Life of the Blessed Mary Magdalene and of her Sister Martha

Where and from what lineage were born the friends of the Savior, Mary and Lazarus and Martha. In the territory of Jerusalem, on the Mount of Olives, fifteen stadia from the holy city, towards the rising of the sun, is situated Bethany, the most famous of the Jewish towns, the village of Mary Magdalene, Lazarus and Martha, the most noble in bodily attendance of the Lord Saviour (John 11, 4) dedicated to hospitality, celebrated at feasts, illustrious in miracles, memorable in tears, magnificent in procession, distinguished in footsteps, spectacular in ascension. From this municipality arose the venerable hostess and most devoted minister of the Son of God, our Lord Jesus Christ.  the most blessed Martha. Her most noble mother, named Eucharia, descended from a royal lineage of the Jewish nation to an illustrious family. Her father Theophilus, a Syrian by nation, not only distinguished by lineage, but also by a distinguished title and most illustrious by administration, descended from a line of nobility. Indeed, holding the primacy among the Satraps of the province, which the children of this world consider great, he was the illustrious leader and prince of all Syria and the entire maritime region. Later, however, as many others did, he became a disciple of Christ and for the preaching of Christ, left behind the falsities  of the world, and humbly followed the footsteps of Christ. 

Now blessed Martha had a sister by her mother of wonderful beauty, named Mary, and a brother of excellent character and flourishing youth, named Lazarus. In these three there flourished genius, together with good industry, and a full knowledge of Hebrew letters acquired in childhood. Honesty was added to the good nature and industry of the arts; for in each of them was found a wonderful beauty of body, and a most acceptable grace of manners, and a most pleasing lucidity of speech; so much so that they seemed to compete with each other in appearance, manners, and grace, excelling each other in probity, a wonderful beauty of body, a most pleasing charm, a honey-flushed mind; whose beauty and grace of mouth (Prov. xxii, 14) were like the whiteness of lilies mixed with roses. Finally, the grace of form and beauty shone so brightly that it was said to be a unique and wonderful workman of God. She shone forth, with a befitting conduct of her limbs, a beautiful face, wondrous hair, most charming in her beauty, with honeyed speech;  the charm of her mouth and the grace of her lips (cf. Proverbs 22, 11) were like the whiteness of lilies mixed with the blush of roses. The beauty and form of her figure shone with such charm that she was admired by all as a marvel of the handiwork of God, and said to be a masterpiece of the divine Craftsman.

But because beauty rarely remains uncorrupted by lust, and prosperity is usually an enemy to self-restraint, the young girl—abounding in delights (cf. Song of Songs 8:5)— as her age inclined her, began to delight in nobility of soul, yet also to be drawn to bodily pleasures. Youthful age, attractive form, and a wealth of possessions are able to corrupt good morals. The beautiful body, a wanton spirit, a sweet but poisonous charm, a love for display—all these can uproot the modesty of the heart. The heat of youth, the provocations of the flesh, the weakness of sex, and the frailty of the body can completely overturn chastity. Alas, how great the sorrow! “The gold has become dim” (Lamentations 4, 1), the highest of her goods was darkened by love of earthly things. “The finest color is changed”—the excellence of her diligence was spoiled by the stench of carnal desires. Swayed by seductive passions, she drifted in spirit toward unlawful acts, and turned to the enticements of a dissolute life everything God had given her for virtue and honor. The sweetness of her spirit was abused, the charm of her body and soul’s dignity became tools of destruction to her virginity. “All her beauty is gone out from the daughter of Zion” (cf. Lamentations 1, 6) — all that divine generosity had given her. And she offended her Lord the more grievously as her sins became graver. 

But did He delay long in His mercy? Did the soul of this young woman wander far? She wandered in heart, she was deceived by the fleeting goods of the world, and she returned (cf. “she departed into a far country”) to the land of unlikeness— far from God she had journeyed, becoming the prodigal daughter (Luke 15, 13), squandering in a short time the natural and industrious goods she had been given. But soon, as she found herself suddenly deprived of divine virtues, remembering how precious were the things she had lost, and from whom she had received such great gifts, she hastened quickly to return to grace.

Indeed, already the time of grace had come, already the Virgin had given birth, already Emmanuel had descended from heaven, that he might accomplish His work upon earth. But that work was to be a strange work — “His work is a strange work, his act a strange act” (Isaiah 28:21) — for He came to be wounded that He might heal, and to die that we might live.

Already at that time, Jesus, advancing by natural growth, had reached His youthful years. Already baptized through the ministry of His forerunner, He had fasted for forty days, and afterwards was hungry (cf. Matthew 3, 16); for He did not bear our sufferings in appearance only, or in illusion, or as a phantom, but truly He Himself bore our infirmities (Isaiah 53, 4). Already he had chosen many disciples for himself from the surrounding province; already, being more than thirty years of age,he had changed water into wine. By these signs and miracles, as befitted the Son of God, he was most nobly made known; acting diligently in that for which He had come: to heal the sick, and to save sinners. “For I did not come,” He says, “to call the righteous, but sinners” (Mark 2, 17). “The healthy do not need a physician, but those who are ill” (Matthew 9, 12). “For the Son of Man came to seek and to save what was lost” (Luke 19, 10). And His fame went out through all Syria, and through both Galilees, and as far as the coastland, and Tyre and Sidon (cf. Matthew 4, 24). And so it happened that on one of those days, while He was preaching the kingdom of God in Galilee, He compared the Jews to those about whom the children playing in the marketplace cry out: “We played the pipe for you, and you did not dance; we mourned for you, and you did not weep” (Matthew 11, 17). Then, explaining why He said this, He added: “John the Baptist came neither eating nor drinking, and they say, ‘He has a demon’; the Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say, ‘Behold a gluttonous man and a wine-drinker, a friend of tax collectors and sinners’” (Luke 7, 32–34).

Then behold, the Savior was invited to dinner by a certain Pharisee, whom our Evangelist names Simon (Luke 7:36). I believe he was a citizen of Magdala, closely united to the blessed Martha by great affection and by blood relation. In his house, as Jesus reclined at table with many who had come together, the report of his arrival immediately filled the whole city.  His reputation was this: that he was a holy and kind man, gentle and modest, devout and merciful; moreover, friendly to the humble, approachable to sinners, dear to penitents, a supporter of sobriety, a lover of chastity— and, as some believed, the Son of God and the Christ.

This saving rumor also came to the ears of the young woman previously mentioned—Mary, who, from Magdala, her own estate (which means “Tower”), was called the Towered Woman. She—who, as I said, had lost her own chastity through the exceptional beauty of her body, and had overthrown the chastity of others as well — with her attractive form, youthful age, and overflowing wealth, had waged war against good morals on every side. So much so, that due to the multitude of her vices, she was said to be possessed by seven demons.But she, drawing faith from the report she had heard about Him who was said to have come—this most gentle Prophet— turned inward upon herself, and fixing her inner eyes upon herself, placed herself before her own judgment. She recalled the transgressions of all her past pleasures — “all the desirable things which she had from the days of her youth” (Lamentations 1, 7) — that is, her natural and industrious gifts. Pondering all this in her heart (Lamentations 3, 21), she found that she was far from God, and alienated even from herself. She was very far from God — and began to weep. She drank the wine of compunction (cf. Mark 14, 72). God, as He always does, opened the path of mercy and said, “Unless you are converted,” He says, “He will brandish His sword, bend His bow, and prepare His instruments of death” (Psalm 7, 13–14).

Then, freely and suddenly, by the instinct of the Holy Spirit — who blows where He wills and when He wills (cf. John 3, 8) — she was inspired to speak to herself: “Know yourself,” she says, “Mary — remember who you were, and what you are now, and what you are to be.” She blushed at having so shamefully degenerated, she grieved that she had lost her chastity, and she mourned the scandal she had given to others. “Weep, for you have long offended the Lord! Be ashamed of your wicked thoughts, because you responded badly to God’s gifts. You’ve done nothing worthwhile. What is life but a moment? Death is certain, the hour unknown. False beauty and empty charm— a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised” (cf. Proverbs 31, 30–31). “So you, Mary, while you still have time, consider the judgment to come, anticipate the accusation of the Lord, and hate your former self so that you may become better. So then: ‘Through wisdom the winged ones take flight, spreading their wings toward the south’” (cf. Job 39, 26).

Rising quickly, Mary took aromatic ointment in an alabaster jar — alabaster being a kind of marble, white, translucent, and veined — and she filled it with choice ointment, carefully selected and of marvelous fragrance, very costly, to anoint the feet of Jesus, whom she believed to be the one praised by report, whom she longed for in her heart, and whom she thought worthy of being honored with the most precious of offerings. She gathered there not only spikenard but other spices too: balsam, and all manner of fragrant oils. From her infancy she had been surrounded by sensual perfumes and abundant fleshly indulgences, but now she brought those things in her hands as a burnt offering. She had read that no one should appear before the Lord empty-handed (cf. Exodus 23:15 and elsewhere). She opened her heart, and the more she thought of her sins, the more her heart was pierced with sorrow and inflamed with repentance. She heard gently within herself the words: “Have mercy on me, O Lord, for I am wretched.”Wretched indeed was that young woman, corrupted by her adolescence. “Lord, Lord, remember how I have been utterly ruined,” she cried (cf. Lamentations 1, 11). “My God, all that I have done until now has been vile.” She renounced all pleasures of the flesh and delights of the senses, and shunned worldly pomp. She resolved firmly to amend her life. 

Tormented by her conscience and stirred by grace, she entered the banquet where Jesus was reclining and secretly loved by her heart. The Latin Church sings of her: “No one approached Him in secret, except the woman drawn by the Spirit of the tomb,” who came “from the place of blessing and holiness” (cf. Psalm 65, 5), and drew near to Him reverently. She was already disturbed by seven demons — but now, pierced with holy compunction, and utterly withdrawn from worldly things, she was filled with the sevenfold gifts of the Holy Spirit. Being made fruitful in faith, she conceived a new spirit of love and bore forth a devout flame of charity. The ointment she poured out was the outward sign of an inward offering: a burnt offering of deep compunction. With a conscience full of grace, through perfect repentance, and weighted with the heaviest gifts of God’s mercy, her soul now full of hope for pardon, she came to the banquet of the Savior.