“I have seen the Lord.” These five quiet words, spoken by Mary Magdalene outside a still, early morning tomb, changed the course of history forever.
She was not delivering a sermon. She was not standing in a synagogue, nor addressing a crowd. She spoke to friends whose hearts were heavy with loss, her words emerging not from certainty but from devotion, grief, and holy wonder. In that fragile, sacred moment, Mary became more than a witness—she became the first to carry resurrection into the world.
As the Church celebrates her today, we are invited to look again more closely, more gently, and with renewed understanding. For too long, Mary Magdalene has been mistaken or misunderstood: unfairly labelled as a reformed sinner or confused with other women in the Gospels. But when we peel back those layers, what remains is something far more powerful: a disciple of unwavering loyalty. She was a follower whose love never wavered, a disciple whose courage never failed even in the face of despair.
She followed Jesus not only in the light of His ministry but into the darkness of His Passion. When others ran, she stayed. While many fell silent, she stood near the Cross. And when the tomb was sealed and the world fell still, she returned—bearing sorrow, yes, but also the kind of love that lingers, even when all hope seems lost. There, in the hush of morning, she heard her name spoken. And she knew the voice.
Mary’s story does not depend on grand gestures or signs. Her holiness came through presence. She remained. She waited. And because she did, she was the first to behold the risen Christ and to be sent forth by Him.
There is something deeply human in her tears, and something quietly luminous in her joy. Her sorrow echoes our own moments of silence and struggle. And in her voice, we hear the cry of those who keep hoping, even when everything around them has gone quiet.
Mary Magdalene shows us that sainthood is often quiet. It is found in faithful returning, in tender courage, and in love that stays. Her life reminds us that no past can outweigh the love Christ offers. He did not speak to her of mistakes or failures. He simply spoke her name, and that was enough.
And she answered.
This is not only her story. It belongs to all of us. In our seasons of confusion, silence or pain, we too are invited to remain, to listen closely. Like Mary, we are called by name and sent to share what we have seen and known deep within our hearts.
On this day, may we not just honour her with words, but follow her quiet strength. And with full hearts, may we too say:
“I have seen the Lord.”
