My dear brothers and sisters, may the Lord give you peace.
“I have seen the Lord.”
Mary Magdalene speaks these words with trembling joy, not only as the first witness to the resurrection, but as someone whose life had been utterly transformed by Jesus. Today, the Church celebrates her not merely as a figure of the past, but as a sign of what Christ’s love can do for every one of us.
In today’s Gospel from John, we find Mary weeping outside the tomb. Her grief is not just sorrow for a lost friend. It’s the broken-hearted pain of someone who has known darkness and been pulled into the light. Her transformation is the story of the human soul’s thirst for God — expressed by the psalmist in today’s psalm: “My soul is thirsting for you, O Lord my God.”
But who is Mary Magdalene, exactly? Tradition has debated this deeply. Today, the Latin Church celebrates her as a composite figure: the woman from whom seven demons were cast out (Luke 8:2), the sinner who anointed Jesus’ feet with her tears (Luke 7), and — crucially — the sister of Martha and Lazarus (John 11). While the Greek Fathers tended to separate these figures, the Latin Fathers — such as Pope Gregory the Great — confidently held them to be one and the same.
To the Latin mind, this unity of identity is theologically powerful. Mary Magdalene becomes a full icon of redemption. She is the penitent sinner. She is the contemplative at Jesus’ feet. She is the grieving sister at the tomb of Lazarus. And, today, she is the apostle to the apostles — the first to see and proclaim the Risen Christ.
This Latin tradition sees her story as a movement:
From estrangement to intimacy.
From darkness to light.
From sinner to saint.
From the margins of society to the heart of the Gospel proclamation.
This theological synthesis gives us a powerful lens for reading our own journey. As Saint Paul says in today’s reading from 2 Corinthians: “So whoever is in Christ is a new creation: the old things have passed away; behold, new things have come.” This is Mary Magdalene’s story. And if we allow it, it can be ours too.
What happens in the garden on Easter morning is not simply an emotional reunion. It is the moment when the old self — the woman haunted by her past — dies forever, and the new self — a beloved disciple of the Lord — steps forth. Her weeping turns to wonder. She sees Him not with her eyes alone, but with the fullness of her heart: “Rabbouni!” she cries. And in that moment, she is sent.
She becomes apostola apostolorum — “the apostle to the apostles.” The Church gives her this title not because of rank or office, but because of witness. She is the first to proclaim the Resurrection. And notice what Jesus tells her: “Go to my brothers…” — He sends her not with doctrine or theology, but with a relationship. “Tell them: I am going to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.”
That’s the Gospel she preaches. That’s the good news: that we are no longer separated from God — no longer bound by our past. God is not just His Father — but ours.
Dear friends, today Mary Magdalene shows us what happens when the love of Christ, as Paul says, impels us. When we allow ourselves to be seen, forgiven, and called by name — “Mary!” — we too become new. Her feast reminds us that holiness is not for the perfect, but for the forgiven. Not for the always-faithful, but for the ones who return again and again, clinging to Jesus in the garden of grace.
In Canada today, as we navigate a world where people often feel unseen or dismissed by their past, Mary Magdalene stands as a witness to the transforming power of mercy. In her, we find hope — that the one who weeps outside the tomb can be the same one who announces resurrection.
Let us take her words into our hearts today:
“I have seen the Lord.”
Let that be our proclamation too.
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