“Seeking to fly after the odor of the ointment of its Beloved, it begins to live more where it loves, than where it lives.” —Ven. Mary of Jesus of Agreda

The fragrance of the Resurrection has enveloped our wearied and broken world. Life will never be the same. The children of men – poor banished children of Eve – now have a way back to paradise and to the heart of the Father. Jesus is Risen! Alleluia!

That first Easter morning, while still darkness covered the earth, Mary Magdalen, sick with love and grief – the common, yet amazing lot of mortals – went to the tomb. She found it empty. She was so used to death and graves; the stench of death had become familiar, even if it was a religious taboo. Her heart had been contaminated, she would settle for a tomb as a source of consolation.

Yes, the tomb was empty.

What else could she have concluded? Someone must have taken the body. She inquires the first person she sees. Her name is spoken by Love. Her heart is purified. Jesus is Risen! The perfumed aroma of new life quickens her heart. She wants to hold on, to retain. But, she must remain in exile, the journey for her is not yet finished. She is to live where she loves. She must follow the “odor of the ointment” of her Beloved. She is to give witness to the Resurrection — an Apostle to the Apostles. Her mission is in Galilee, this Valley of tears, where Jesus will forever meet his disciples until the consummation of time, when history unfolds into eternity.

This is the time of the Church on earth. The time of testifying to a love stronger than death. Mary Magdalen, Peter, John; you and I. Pilgrims with hearts burning, wounded by love, guided by the waft of the fragrances of God, a real presence but not fully embraced. Only heaven is real enough, large enough for the ultimate union of vision.

Jesus is Risen!

We remain. To live where we love. To witness. To serve.