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Today I just want answer the smaller question of "How can we endure suffering?" Because sometimes we waste too much time asking difficult "why" questions. It's more useful to ask "What do I do about it?"
In her hand, she holds a bottle which pours out ointment like more tears.
(In the original Gospel, this is a precious alabaster jar, but I've taken the liberty of making it green instead. The green serves as a sort of fulcrum or focal point in the picture, catching your eye and moving it downward.)
Below the bottle is a portrait of Christ. He takes Mary's hand as she cradles His head, and solemnly considers the future. The ointment trickles down His forehead and cheeks like more tears.
On His hand is one more drop, a red one of blood, signifying the wounds that will someday pierce Him.
Outside, the whole world mourns with the Son of God. Rain splashes on the windowpane and echoes the teardrops elsewhere in the picture.
As Christians, we shouldn't be surprised to turn on the news and see sorrows all over the world. After all, God Himself suffered in this life when He incarnated and came to live in a mortal body. If even God couldn't escape suffering, how can we?
I would even go further and say that God the Father probably suffers even now, when He sees how we live our lives apart from Him. And of course, the Devil must be in constant agony, though he wouldn't admit it if you found a way to ask him.
So if everyone suffers, what are we to do with that knowledge?
Jesus points the way and provides us with an example for times of trial. Instead of trying to escape His fate (which He could have done) He was obedient to the will of God the Father all the way through the agonies of the cross.
And Mary Magdalene shows us how to support others in their grief. She doesn't hold back or pretend it's not real. She doesn't just shrug and say, "It is what it is."
She takes concrete action to comfort her Friend in real life. Her anointment of Christ says, "Yes, I know it hurts. I love you. I am here for you. I will care for your body after your death. I will miss you when you're gone."
She weeps.
I had the original painting hanging in a niche in my bedroom for awhile after I finished it. It lends itself to private contemplation.