Mary Magdalene: A Woman Reclaimed, Reflection for her Feast Day

I had the great honor of sharing these reflections at Epiphany Catholic Church on July 23, 2023 for their Feast of Mary Magdalene celebration (her actual feast day is July 22).

Feast Day of Mary Magdalene; Epiphany Catholic Church, Joan Chittister excerpt, A Passion for Life; Luke 24:1-12

---

Good evening. What a joy it is to be with you all celebrating the Feast of Mary Magdalene.

Yesterday the Resonant Peaceful Cities Project began for the 2nd of 3 years in Louisville. This study measures the effect of synchronized meditation on violence in a city or area of a city; this year the focus area is in Old Louisville. Last year with the participation of a few hundred ordinary folks like you and me, there was a 13% reduction in violent crime in Louisville during the time of the study. This year there are at least three times more people participating and it is expected that there will be a greater reduction in violence in Louisville, and particularly in the focus area, during the study period.

A few weeks ago I was telling a scientist about the project and last year’s results. The best way I can describe his response is that it was filled with contempt and derision. I won’t go into the particulars of his objections, but I will say that it was disappointing that a scientist, who I’d hope would exercise a healthy curiosity, was unwilling to even look at the data because it didn’t fit his preconceived ideas.

We just heard in Luke’s gospel that when Mary Magdalene, Joanna, and Mary told the male apostles of Jesus’ resurrection, the men did not believe them. I wonder if the male apostles’ responses were also filled with contempt and derision. I hope not. If I put myself in their shoes, it’s easier to give them the benefit of the doubt because I can imagine being hesitant to believe. Maybe I’d be like Peter, wanting to check things out myself.  

I also imagine myself in Mary Magdalene’s shoes. I’m grieving my friend’s death, expecting to see and anoint his body, and he’s gone. I’m unsettled by that and even more so by the appearance of the two men in gleaming white who tell me Jesus is risen. Even though Jesus had told us it was going to happen, it’s pretty discombobulating to actually experience it. When I go to tell the others, I’m trying to process what’s just happened and I really need some care and understanding. Not only do I not get care and understanding, I’m met with disbelief. 

How was that for Mary? Was she expecting that reaction from her friends? Did the experience feel familiar? I wonder how many other times, even as a part of Jesus’ inner circle, Mary had spoken up among the men and been ignored, silenced, or told she was wrong. I am thankful that, whatever her previous experience, she chose to use her voice, to claim and proclaim what she had witnessed.

If you are a woman, I suspect speaking up and not being listened to is familiar. I suspect that speaking and not being taken into account until a man repeats what you’ve said is also familiar. Mary told the male apostles, but it was the men who spread the word wider.

Two thousand years later we women still have the experience of speaking truth and not being believed. We have the experience of stepping into leadership, whether in the church, the business world or in other contexts, and only being able to get so far.

In 2016 Pope Francis raised the celebration of Mary Magdalene from a memorial to a feast day. He recognized her as “the apostle to the apostles,” and noted that, “The decision is situated in the current ecclesial context, which calls upon us to reflect more deeply on the dignity of women, the new evangelisation and the greatness of the mystery of divine mercy.” 

We can celebrate this recognition, this reclamation of Mary Magdalene’s importance in our Catholic heritage. But, I, like Joan Chittister, am frustrated that “it is two thousand years later and little or nothing has changed.”

I am frustrated that there is a need to “reflect more deeply on the dignity of women.”  We are all made in the image and likeness of God; this alone endows us with inherent dignity. When I was teaching theology at Trinity, I remember talking about women’s experiences and women’s rights to my students. In their reflections, more than one of my students wrote, “I now realize that women are people, too.” I am frustrated that somehow the humanity of women is still in question.

As I was writing this, I considered whether I’ve heard men referred to as less than human. I have, in the context of men who do harm to others, and in the context of men who are part of the global majority – black, brown, indigenous – or part of some other marginalized group. But in a general sense, I don’t hear men’s humanity and dignity questioned.   

I am frustrated that women’s wisdom and leadership is nearly always absent from the pulpit. I am frustrated that we’re told that we are equal to men in the church, but that we cannot be deacons or priests. I also grieve this, since I know women who feel called to minister in this way and cannot follow that call in the Catholic Church. I am frustrated that someone like Roy Bourgeois, who supports women priests in this institution can be laicized and excommunicated for his solidarity and advocacy. I am frustrated that the many ways women weave our church communities together are often overlooked, taken for granted, or minimized.

Mary Magdalene was named twelve times in the gospels, second only to Jesus’ mother Mary. Mary Magdalene is one of the few followers who was explicitly named as witness to Jesus’ death and burial. She did not shy away from what must have been the gut-wrenching grief of watching her beloved friend die a horrible death. She was present at his burial and she was prepared to do the sacred work of anointing his lifeless, brutalized body.

Mary Magdalene, who was healed by Jesus and faithfully followed and supported him, was strong. She is, as Joan Chittister says, an icon for our century.

Chittister says, “She calls women to listen to the call of the Christ over the call of the church.” In a church that speaks of honoring women, but not does not, in fact, fully embrace us, we instead heed the call of the universal Christ, the spirit of all-embracing love. Dear women, this Christ of wholeness and interconnection lives in each of us. Mary Magdalene calls on us to trust ourselves.  

Chittister says, “She calls men to listen for the call of the Christ in the messages of women.” Patriarchy hurts us all. In the patriarchal paradigm, men are expected to have all the answers and lead with certainty, even when they are not certain and lack information, like the scientist who wouldn’t look at the data that challenged what he thought he knew. When men don’t listen to women, it is to the detriment of women and men. Dear men, we women are half of the global population. Our words, our experiences, our gifts, our truths do not diminish the value of your words, your experiences, your gifts, your truths. In fact, we enrich each other when we share them. When you, when we, bring curiosity and a sense of wonder to all people’s realities, when we honor both our commonalities and our uniqueness, we piece our fragmented world back into holy wholeness. Mary Magdalene calls on men to trust women.  

Chittister says, “Mary Magdalene is a shining light of hope, a disciple of Christ, a model of the wholeness of life, in a world whose name is despair and in a church whose vision is yet, still, even now, partial.”

We celebrate Mary Magdalene today in our world whose name is despair and our church whose vision is still partial. As we do so, we reflect upon her legacy and her lessons.

The theme of tonight’s celebration is “A Woman Reclaimed.” Reclaiming is often preceded by letting go of something to make space for what we choose to claim again. In that spirit, I offer these questions first for quiet reflection and then sharing.

Chittister says, “[Mary Magdalene] calls women to courage and men to humility.”

For women: When have you practiced courage? What would you like to release and reclaim to practice humble courage now? 

For men: When have you practiced humility? What would you like to release and reclaim to practice courageous humility now?

If those questions don’t resonate for you, I offer this simple question: How do this evening’s readings and reflection touch you?

Women Claiming Our Wisdom: Reimagining Ourselves

I've been reading Cassandra Speaks by Elizabeth Lesser and participating in a book study through Spirit of Sophia.

Throughout the book, Lesser invites us to examine stories, particularly the stories about women: the stories we're told and the stories that go untold, or get buried, denied, disparaged. She discusses how the women's stories we know often come to us filtered through a male lens, rather than through women themselves. She notes that in dominant culture "masculine" qualities and expressions of power are valued more than "feminine" qualities and expressions of power (or empowerment, since for some of us the word "power" is so linked to its ugly expressions that we don't want to claim it).

She encourages us to tell a multiplicity of stories from a multiplicity of viewpoints, to honor a multiplicity of expressions and contributions, rather than favoring what is considered masculine over what is considered feminine. She encourages us to think more expansively, to reimagine how we think about and participate in our families, our workplaces, our communities, our world. She notes that denying, ignoring, and skewing women's stories (and the full expression of men's stories, too, to be honest) has not served us well. None of us are whole until all of us are whole in this interconnected world. None of us are free until all of us are free.

Earlier this month I participated in a weeklong art class at Arrowmont School of Arts and Crafts. The class focused on drawing and collage and stretched me artistically and personally. During the class, I became aware of ways I've limited my artistic practices and I was so grateful to the teacher who encouraged us to practice and to experiment and experiment and experiment as she gave us ideas of things to try. She reminded us of a mantra I've delivered to others many times: Never a failure, always a lesson. The things that go "wrong" are opportunities to learn from. I was also grateful for my classmates as we shared affirmations, ideas, and questions with each other in a beautifully collaborative way.

In my compassionate communication work, I so often tell people "It's all practice. It's all experiment. Curiosity is our primary tool." Before taking the art class I thought I was practicing what I preached well. The truth is that in some areas of life I am practicing well. In other areas I still need the reminders our teacher gave.

Learning often isn't across-the-board or linear. In one context I may practice my compassionate communication skills the way I aspire to and in another struggle to do so. I may have integrated some learning well in communicating, but not in art-making. The deep learning happens spirals. We cycle through lessons over and over, going deeper and integrating more fully as we encounter (not-always-welcome) opportunities to learn anew.

Approach with curiosity.

Practice.

Experiment.

Recognize the learning, sometimes with celebration, sometimes with mourning.

Repeat.

And do it all with other people if you can.

Though some of our work is solo work, it is more easily done with others. It's helpful to have co-journeyers who can offer affirmations, ideas, and questions, and simply to remind us that we’re not alone. Together we can witness wisdom, experience, and truth in and through ourselves and one another. Together we can shed limiting stories and ways, so that together we can imagine in expansive ways what is possible within us, among us, and around us.

This is why I created my 12-week program Reimagining ME: Mindful Explorations and offered it for the first time in early 2021. This is why I am so excited to offer it a second time. This is why, if you are a woman, I hope you'll join me as we dive or gently step (you get to decide which!) into ourselves in order to rediscover forgotten, lost and cut-off parts and reclaim our wisdom.

Our stories are needed.

Our voices are needs.

Our joy is needed.

Our imagination is needed.

Our conscious mending of interconnection is needed in our fractured world.

This 12-week program starts on September 13. Early bird rates are available through August 31.

To learn more about the program, a partial description is below. For the full description, visit the webpage. If you have questions, please reach out to me at cory@corylockhart.com or schedule a phone call.

Whether this program is or isn't for you, if you know of others who would benefit, please share this information with them! Thank you so much.

Blessings,
Cory

Pretty, Part 2

I was walking down the street, a few blocks from reaching my home. After sitting at my computer most of the morning, I knew getting outside, even on a hotter-than-I like day, to move my body in the steady rhythm of a walk, would do me good.

I saw him approaching, stiffly, as if walking weren’t so easy these days, an older white man, cropped white hair, blue shorts pulled just under his exposed bellybutton, white T-shirt riding just above it, something in his arm, maybe a wrinkled-up sheet- I didn’t look at long enough to know for sure. I had planned to greet him with a friendly, “Hi, how are you?” but he spoke first.

With a smile on his face, “You better get you a really big dog. When they get pretty like you, you need a big dog to defend yourself.”

“I don’t need a dog. I can defend myself,” I said casually, not stopping, past him by this point.

“What’d you do? What’d you learn?” He had stopped and was turned toward me, still smiling.

I turned his way, still moving, “I know how to talk to people.” I waved and kept walking, a tornado whirling in my head.

The conversation lasted no more than 15 seconds.

 I know how to talk to people? Does that protect me?

Short answer: Yes. I've been in situations where my use of clear, calm words has diffused what could have become a violent situation, either for myself or others. When I have been in Palestine, I have more than once used words, or even simple body language, to protect myself or others from people, most often Israeli soldiers, with weapons held in hands.

Long answer:  Unlike the last recent encounter where my “prettiness” was a wasted commodity for someone else’s pleasure, today it was a detriment to my safety.

In both cases, these statements were offered as compliments, or at least I assume so from the smiles on their faces. In neither case was my body assumed to be my own. Instead it was something that someone else (presumably a man) should “have,” and my own dominion over it rendered it either worthless or subject to violence.  

Let’s break it down a little more:

A man I’ve never seen before thinks that the best way to engage with me is by telling me that the way I look is so much of a danger that someone (I assume, a man) might hurt me to possess it.

Saying that I need a dog to protect myself IS NOT A COMPLIMENT. It is not a compliment to me and it doesn’t exactly paint a glowing image of men. It is, rather, a threat. “You should be afraid, even in the middle of the day, of men,” (smile on the face) “who will naturally want to forcibly take you because of the way you look.”  

Women are attacked and abused and raped at alarming rates regardless of their looks. Men who are attacking, abusing, and raping women may use “pretty” or “not pretty enough” or “you in some way don’t meet my standards of pretty” or “someone else might be attracted to your pretty” or “you’re using your pretty to attract someone else” as an excuse for their misplaced anger, an outlet for their rage. But let’s be clear: a woman’s looks, whether “pretty” or “ugly” or something else, are not the problem. A woman can present herself however the hell she wants. No man (or other woman, for that matter) gets to decide that. No one gets to attack her for her decisions.

I remember most vividly a time many years ago in which I feared for my own safety. I was dating the man who threatened me. He happened to do so when I was taking care of a large dog. The dog was no deterrent. I don’t know if it was my words or the fact that I was able to move us somewhere where we were visible to others that protected me from harm. But I got away, in the moment and for good.

Violence, or the threat of it, is the problem.

The problem is men who thinks it’s OK to offer unsolicited “advice” to women. The problem is men who think they have the right to any woman’s body, regardless of her feelings on the matter. The problem is men who think they have the right to attack her, verbally or otherwise, if she dares to refuse his advances, however polite or grotesque they may be. The problem is blaming and shaming women for violence done to them (“What was she wearing when she got raped?” as if the rape happened without someone actively doing it to her). The problem is not holding men accountable for their actions. The problem is young men like Brock Turner who brutally rape a woman and, rather than taking responsibility for his actions, blames them on “alcohol and sexual promiscuity.” Hint: rape ≠ sexual promiscuity. Hint: Alcohol is no excuse for rape. The problem is men like Turner’s father who think that punishment for “20 minutes of action” should be lenient or nonexistent. I wonder if he’d feel the same way if someone spent a similar “20 minutes of action” with his wife or daughter. I fervently hope he, they, never have to find out.

I had a student once who wrote a heartbreaking personal story of being held back, held back, at a party as another guy raped his friend. The problem is that that happens.

The problem is that from a very young age, girls receive messages that their primary asset is the way they look. And very rarely does the way they look conform with the images they see, thus setting them up for constant striving towards the impossible. The problem is that from a very young age, girls learn to be passive, to question their instincts rather than trust them, to keep their emotions in check. The problem is that from a very young age, boys learn that certain expressions of emotion, the “soft” ones, are not acceptable. The problem is that from a very young age, boys receive message that aggression and toughness are what define their masculinity. 

The problem is that not enough men who agree with everything I’m saying hold other men accountable when they do or say things that promote rape culture and misogyny. The problem is anyone, man or woman, who teaches girls and women that it is up to them to keep from getting raped or attacked or abused or killed, but doesn’t teach boys and men not to rape or attack or abuse or kill women.

The problem is that we don’t emphasize enough the power and the necessity of mutually respectful relationships. We must teach boys and girls, men and women, most probably ourselves included, how to be in relationships that honor the fullness of expression that each of us has to offer. We need not look too far in our world to see this.     

I don’t plan to get a big dog.

I know how to talk to people, or at least I’m trying. I’m learning. I want to talk to people. I want to reach out to their hearts, to your heart, with mine.

I do not put my trust in fear. I put my trust in the belief that most of the time most people I meet will treat me like a person if I treat them like a person, even if the encounter starts with something other than respect. I know it is so hard to offer respect in the face of animosity. So I will practice. Practice. PRACTICE. I know that if that doesn’t work, walking away is usually an option. Or walking towards another good soul.

And so I will keep walking, forward when possible, backward when necessary, head held high.