The Lay Cistercian Review · Easter Season 2026 · Articles
The Spiritualizing of Mary Magdalene’s Senses
But Mary stayed outside the tomb weeping. And as she wept, she bent over into the tomb and saw two angels in white sitting there, one at the head and one at the feet where the body of Jesus had been.
And they said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping?” She said to them, “They have taken my Lord, and I don’t know where they laid him.”
When she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus there, but did not know it was Jesus. Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?” She thought it was the gardener and said to him, “Sir, if you carried him away, tell me where you laid him, and I will take him.”
Jesus said to her, “Mary!” She turned and said to him in Hebrew, “Rabbouni,” which means Teacher. Jesus said to her, “Stop holding on to me, for I have not yet ascended to the Father. But go to my brothers and tell them, ‘I am going to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’ ”
Mary of Magdala went and announced to the disciples, “I have seen the Lord,” and what he told her.
John 20:11–18
I. Introduction
In the gospel of John, the fourth evangelist mesmerizes us with Mary Magdalene’s story at the empty tomb (John 20:11–18). Standing before the gardener with her longing and despair evident, Mary asks the gardener if he has removed the body of her Lord. What ensues recounts the first vision of the Risen Lord in the fourth gospel. Three moments stand out significantly in this narrative.1
First, amidst her suffering, Mary peers through her tears into the tomb; there, Mary sees two angels sitting where Jesus had lain. This constitutes the first moment. Thereupon she turns and in her turning encounters the gardener. This turning to see the gardener comprises the second moment. Though physically facing the gardener, the narrative speaks of another turning. In this third moment or double-turning, Mary comes to see the gardener as her Risen Lord.
My interest in this narrative revolves around the conditions that allow for Mary’s vision and realization that truly He is risen. My question simply put is whether Mary’s conversion in the John 20:11–18 pericope includes physical transformation of her senses; that is, are Mary’s senses spiritualized?
A theory of symbol clarifies this question especially as it relates the body (and its senses) to the ineffable person.2 Symbols make present and perceptible what otherwise is insensible.3 Symbols allow inter-subjective relation because they make the ineffable present by bringing to expression something that otherwise could not be encountered. A person is present through his or her body; and the body, precisely in this capacity, operates as a symbol. The body then is the material substance that supports the inter-subjective experience of a person; and, more importantly, the symbolic body participates in the transcendent reality that constitutes the person.
The question then is whether the material substance that symbolizes Mary—her body—transforms as well by virtue of its participation in the reality it makes present—her personal conversion or double-turning. Does the free response to God’s invitation and the concomitant conversion of life also entail a transformation of the body and senses?
This question I locate in my ascetic approach that understands personal transformation as a process of purification and illumination propelled by passionate desire. In this approach, Gregory of Nyssa’s Commentary on the Song of Songs guides my reading of this narrative. In Commentary, Gregory develops a theology of desire and the spiritual senses where spiritual realities illuminate the bride in dialectic with her purification and affective transformation. The bride’s longing for the Bridegroom propels her into this dialectic and the Bridegroom’s incomprehensible nature unceasingly arouses her desire so she never settles but constantly seeks. The bride’s purification transforms her senses such that she perceives spiritual realities; and this dialectic of purification and illumination leads to the bride encountering (union with) the Bridegroom.4
For Gregory, this encounter is possible precisely because the bride’s senses are spiritualized.5 Therefore, the following questions direct my reading. In light of Gregory’s theology of desire and the spiritual senses, is an interpretation possible of the John text that follows Gregory’s purification–illumination dialectic? If so, how does this response relate to our living out a Lay Cistercian life responding to the Paschal Mystery? How is such a response compatible with John 20’s theological themes and spirituality?
This narrative and the larger part within which it is located (John 20:1–18) develop the Johannine theological themes of glorification and resurrection.6 These themes are pivotal to answering the key question: “Where is the Lord?”7 Further, it joins with the second part (John 20:19–29) to answer the question of how the Lord can be encountered; and this is fundamental to Johannine spirituality.
However, this narrative not only intends to develop Johannine theological themes and spirituality, it also intends to transform the reader through his or her participation in the narrative. Lectio Divina upon the text transforms us. The fourth evangelist constructs the gospel specifically to elicit this reader response. The third part (John 20:30–31) makes this eminently clear: “That you may have faith that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through this faith you may have life in his name.” Therefore, Mary’s transformation at the narrative level with its concomitant reader response provides the starting point for my reflection. Also, this starting point centers my response on the sensory events located within the larger narrative at the empty tomb.
II. The Spiritualizing of Mary’s Senses
Within the narrative stand two key sensory events. Mary peers into the tomb where she observes two angels; and Mary encounters the Risen Lord first as a gardener then for whom He truly is.
In the first sensory event, Mary perceived angels through the veil of her tears when she peered into the tomb. Significantly, her weeping and peering into the tomb form a narrative antecedent to her encounter with the angels. In Greek patristic thought, shedding tears were symbolic of ascetic purification. In Ladder of Divine Ascent, John Climacus offers the clearest articulation of this doctrine: “Like the fire that consumes the straw, so do real tears consume impurity of body and soul.”8 In Mary’s case, her tears (purification) enable her to see the angels (spiritual realities) in the tomb. This resonates with Gregory’s Fourth Homily in Commentary where the bride experiences a process of purification much like the refining of gold. This purification allows the bride to perceive spiritual realities transcending the mundane and prepares her for union with the Bridegroom.
Mary’s story continues with her mistaking Jesus for the gardener; that is, until Jesus calls her by name whereupon she sees Jesus for whom He is. In Written That You May Believe, Schneiders observes that Mary recognizes Jesus after Jesus calls her by name. Mary’s turning to the Risen Lord—her second turning—occurs because of divine initiative. Again, this resonates with Gregory’s understanding of personal transformation where union occurs because of divine initiative. Returning to Gregory’s Fourth Homily, he sees divine initiative leading to the bridal bed and the union it represents. Gregory understands the Bridegroom’s overshadowing of the bridal bed as His divine initiative that allows the bride to unite with Him (Song of Songs 1:16). This union is a personal encounter with the divine that results in ontological transformation of the bride.
In Mary’s narrative this echoes her encounter with the Risen Lord that transforms her into the Easter Apostle. Schneiders identifies Johannine eschatology as “exaltation eschatology.” This exaltation eschatology “would be essentially a manifestation of the meaning for the whole person of life in God now lived in all its fullness.”9 In Johannine realized eschatology, then, the Johannine person proleptically participates in the mystery of the Risen Lord and, even in this world, is situated in eternal life; i.e., exists united to the Risen Lord in a real, ontological way. As Gregory’s Fourth Homily eloquently attests, “How could a mortal, perishable nature be joined with an imperishable, inaccessible nature unless the shadow of [H]is body acted as mediator of the light for us who live in darkness?”10 The bride’s humanity proleptically participates in the Bridegroom’s imperishable nature. The life-giving power of the Holy Spirit uniting our humanity to Christ’s humanity makes this possible. What happens to Christ by nature happens to us by grace, through the power of the Holy Spirit.
Initially, then, Mary’s story seems to exhibit a similar pattern of purification–illumination leading to a divine–human encounter that aligns with personal transformation in Gregory’s theology of desire and the spiritual senses. John 20:11–18 read through this lens leads me to believe that Mary’s experience at the tomb narrates the spiritualizing of her senses leading to spiritual illumination and a profound divine–human encounter—seeing the Risen Lord.
In The Johannine Resurrection Narrative, Schneiders notes that the angels serve a theological and literary function.11 More importantly, within the structure of this narrative the angels’ presence leaves Mary unmoved. My understanding of Mary’s encounter with the angels also assigns an important function to this event. This not only constitutes a key sensory event in the narrative, it also draws out the intensity of Mary’s desire and her unwillingness to settle for anything less than her Lord. Mary does not end her search upon seeing something so sublime as the angels seated in the tomb. Unlike Peter and the Beloved Disciple, Mary did not return home. In fact, Mary’s desire propels her so that she moves beyond the symbolic world to the actual divine–human encounter with the Risen Lord.
This unceasing search and ardent longing expressed in passionate desire fulfills the transformative model of Gregory’s Commentary on the Song of Songs. Finally, Schneiders offers a compelling argument that the fourth evangelist uses the Song of Songs to construct the Mary Magdalene episode as a symbolic presentation of Jesus and the New Israel. Consequently, this response fits not only into the socio-historical context of the Johannine community and its exaltation eschatology, but acknowledges the fourth evangelist’s use of the Song of Songs as a model for the Mary Magdalene episode.
In summary, the Mary Magdalene episode can be interpreted through Gregory’s theology of desire and the spiritual senses developed in his Commentary on the Song of Songs. What is more, this model for Mary’s transformation would necessitate not only a faith conversion but require that her senses be spiritualized to receive the necessary illumination that enables the divine–human encounter.
III. A Practical Reflection
From the beginning, my questions come from a specific context. First, my interest in Gregory of Nyssa’s ascetic and mystical theology shapes my world and the type of questions I pursue. Second, the interplay of subjectivity and tradition—that is, the interplay of my experience and the beauty of the Cistercian charism—informs my reading of the gospel of John. Lastly, the role spiritualized senses play in the Lay Cistercian vocation, especially when looked at through its influence on everyday life. However, this last point haunts me and drives much of my theological inquiry, as a contemplative, father, and husband.
Contemplative prayer broadens and deepens our awareness. This seems to be a fundamental pretext to the deepening experience of divine–human encounter. Lectio Divina seems to layer meaning onto the experience that is otherwise not superficially present to our senses. Both come together, seemingly interwoven, and penetrating everyday life. My practice of Lectio Divina on the gospel of John, my reading of Gregory of Nyssa’s ascetic and mystical theology, and contemplative prayer affect my senses as much as my sensibilities. Allow me to illustrate with a story from my past. A story that takes shape through a moment in everyday life, informed by Gregory of Nyssa’s ascetic theology, and brought to fruition in the Cistercian charism.
One Spring morning in 2012, my now sixteen-year-old daughter is three. We leave the house hand in hand; I take her to preschool every morning. Before we get in the car, we stop a moment to look, to listen. Now space and place become critical to the story. We live in a small house, on a wee bit of land. Behind us, residential construction thrives. Before us, lie homesteads lived in multi-generationally, tied to the land. Alongside us, a barren field that once boasted a thriving homestead, now empty wild, barren; great for childhood adventures.
It’s not as idyllic as it sounds. Underneath the empty field two pits hide, used as makeshift trash dumps by the old homesteaders. The residential construction thoughtlessly bulldozes the native trees, then churns them into wood chip. It’s more cost effective when building in the Southern United States. The homesteaders live in a cycle of poverty. Both oppressed and wanting someone to be more oppressed than them, they sell off their land to the real estate developer driving the residential construction. They do this to make ends meet. The cycle goes on. But there’s another cycle at work in this place.
On a tree limb outside the front door, a tiny sparrow chirps. Further afield, a massive oak tree reaches its branches to a vibrant blue sky. Puffy white clouds drift across the blue canvas. And my hand enfolds my daughter’s tiny, three-year-old hand. From the side entrance to my parked car, no more than a hundred paces, if I’m attentive, the supernatural might take hold. Mind you, these are three-year-old paces. We pause halfway, father and daughter, to say good morning to God’s creation.
“Good morning tree,” a tiny voice.
“Good morning sky,” two voices together.
“Good morning clouds,” sometimes eliciting a giggle.
“Good morning bird,” the litany goes on.
Before too long, I crouch down beside my daughter. “You hear the bird, yes?” A small voice answers, “Yes.” I continue: “Listen closely. You might hear all of creation singing of God’s glory in the birdsong—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, One God, forever and ever.”
“Really!?” “Yes.” “Sometimes it’s more. Sometimes, I sense the presence of the life-giving power of the Holy Spirit.” “Will the bird disappear?” The tiny voice a little worried. “No, sensing the presence of God won’t take away the bird. Sometimes, the birds can help us to see what’s there. Like a book we can read. If we listen and attend.”
“Really!?” “Yes.” “That’s what papa does when he sits in his chair with eyes closed. I listen, I attend. Then, sometimes I hear, sometimes I see. More often, I don’t. That makes me just a little sad.” “Don’t be sad papa.”
Maybe I smile, maybe I chuckle. What my daughter sees with her wide-open gaze, and total faith in her father’s words, I must work to see—once again. In those rare, beautiful moments when I do sense the presence of the life-giving power of the Holy Spirit in creation, maybe, just maybe, I’ve had my own double turning.
1 Sandra M. Schneiders, Written That You May Believe: Encountering Jesus in the Fourth Gospel (New York: Crossroad Publishing, 1999; reprint, 2003), 211–223.
2 Sandra M. Schneiders, The Revelatory Text: Interpreting the New Testament as Sacred Scripture, 2nd ed. (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 1999), 35.
3 Ibid., 36.
4 Gregory of Nyssa, Commentarius in Canticum canticorum, trans. Casimir McCambley (Brookline: Hellenic College Press, 1987), 93ff.
5 Ibid., 93.
6 See for instance Schneiders, Written That You May Believe, chs. 12 and 13.
7 Sandra M. Schneiders, “The Resurrection (of the Body) in the Fourth Gospel,” in Life For Abundance, ed. John R. Donahue (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 2005), 182.
8 John Climacus, Scala paradisi, trans. Colm Luibheid and Norman Russell (Mahwah: Paulist Press, 1982), Step 7.
9 Schneiders, “The Resurrection (of the Body) in the Fourth Gospel,” 182.
10 Gregory of Nyssa, Commentarius in Canticum canticorum, Fourth Homily.
11 Sandra M. Schneiders, The Johannine Resurrection Narrative, 2 vols. (Ann Arbor: University Microfilms, 1983).
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How to cite this article
Hodgman, Scott W.. “The Spiritualizing of Mary Magdalene’s Senses.” The Lay Cistercian Review 1, no. 2 (Easter Season 2026). DOI: https://doi.org/10.XXXXX/lcr.v1i2.hodgman