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Pastor's Corner

Sadie's Sabbatical Update #1: Mary Magdalene

Pastor Sadie shares about her time on sabbatical!


Looking down over the town of Nans-les-Pins
Looking down over the town of Nans-les-Pins

Hello Harbor!


It’s been a minute, hasn’t it? After eight full years of ministry, I am still struggling with what it means to be at rest, in sabbath, on sabbatical! How interesting that the third commandment to keep the sabbath is so difficult for us humans. And yet, as I make my way up the coast of California, I find myself sinking more deeply into what it means to be at rest. I’m writing to you from my room at Apple Farm Inn that is located in San Luis Obispo. My room is charming and has a little writing desk, but in keeping with sabbath, I’m actually laying in the soft bed and typing with my thumbs on my phone! As I’m writing, I’m thinking of all that I’ve experienced in the last month and a half and realizing I still have a thing or two to learn about sabbatical. So much has transpired, so much has opened, collapsed, died, and some things are beginning to resurrect in my life and in my vision for the next phase of ministry.


One of the most profound learnings has been around what has been missing in my life, and its parallel to what is missing in our rich faith—and my experiences in France have helped me to name it. So, this first of two blogs that I’ll be sharing with you from sabbatical will be about what I discovered on my journey to the grotto of Mary Magdalene and what it showed me about our faith, about myself, and about the journey ahead.


For our last full day in the south of France, my dear friend and colleague Rev. Courtney Armento and I made our way to Mary Magdalene’s grotto at Sainte-Baume, that is located in the stunning hills above a small town called Nans-les-Pins. Driving through the countryside was an experience of healing on its own. Courtney chose the music and she put on a Spotify mix of rare takes of Stevie Nicks and Fleetwood Mac. She knows how much I love Stevie’s voice, and somehow it felt appropriate to listen to one mystical woman, as we made our way to visit another mystical woman. When my favorite Stevie Nicks song came on, the tears welled in my eyes. The song is called Crystal, and here are the lyrics and a Spotify link if you’d like to take a listen.

Crystal


Do you always trust your first initial feeling?

Special knowledge holds true, bears believing

I turned around and the water was closing all around like a glove

Like the love that had finally, finally found me

And I knew in the crystalline knowledge of you

Drove me through the mountains

Through the crystal-like clear water fountain

Drove me like a magnet

To the sea

To the sea

To the sea, yeah

How the faces of love have changed, turning the pages

And I have changed, oh, but you, you remain ageless

I turned around and the water was closing all around like a glove

Like the love that had finally, finally found me

And I knew in the crystalline knowledge of you

Drove me through the mountains

Through the crystal-like clear water fountain

Drove me like a magnet

To the sea

To the sea

To the sea, yeah

To the sea, yeah


My tears welled up from the deep. I rolled my window down and I let the grief and the hurt of disconnection fly out the window as we sang along to Stevie. And I committed to trusting myself, my feelings, my knowings. I committed to falling back into the crystalline knowledge of the sacred that pulses through all of us. We forget that part. We pull the sacred out of ourselves, we cast it away into the heavens and name it divine, separate, other than ourselves.


But it’s in us too, that’s the real message of Jesus and his co-equal teacher, Mary Magdalene. When the Roman Empire got wind of this powerful new spirituality popping up in all kinds of diverse and beautiful ways, empire felt threatened. If people can find connection within themselves and within their unique communities, how can empire maintain control? So empire did what empire does: voted on the canon and on truth, deciding that women didn’t belong. And just like that, so much depth and breadth was lost and squeezed out of the people, replaced with rules and creeds, with power outsourced to the leaders of empire.


My pilgrimage to Mary’s cave was about reclaiming what was taken from us centuries ago. It was about reclaiming the truth that is within us, all of us, the kingdom of heaven within. It was about seeing the sacredness of our humanity, our earthiness: our need for soil stuck under fingernails and caves that envelop us like a womb; our desire to be received, cleansed and held by water; our surrender to the air that breathes us; and our hypnotic draw to fire that reminds us of the passion within—our own private kingdom of heaven.


So much was lost when the sacred was relegated to the sky, causing us to forget our roots, to forget the womb of creation, to forget the blood and the birth waters. So much was lost, but the good news is that it is within us, waiting for reclamation.


Reclamation is the word I would use to describe my pilgrimage to the grotto—reclamation of parts of myself I have lost or forgotten or ignored and hidden; and reclamation of the divine feminine that birthed it all and yet has been hidden and dismissed by empire.


So as we wound our way through the hills singing Stevie Nicks, I knew that this pilgrimage would be special, I just didn’t know quite how special.


As we approached the mountain where her cave lies, I told Courtney, “There it is! That has to be it—way up on the hill!” And sure enough, as we got closer, I could make out the rock cathedral from the pictures I had studied leading up to our trip. My heart started to beat, not faster, just deeper. More tears came that I wiped away so as not to blur my vision of the narrow curving roads.


The hike to her grotto was through a forest that felt ancient and holy and I imagined her walking where my feet fell, wondering how her heart must have been beating too, remembering what she had left behind in the holy land, where her dear one was crucified. As I made my way up the steep path, I let the air breathe me and I stopped to notice moss on trees and flowers whose names I did not know.


It was getting later in the day and I began to panic that maybe the church would be closed when I finally got there. Maybe I would miss it! And then, a knowing came from within, telling me to “be still and know.” So, I stilled my racing mind and let myself know that I am always right on time (God’s time, never mine). The closer I got to Mary’s cave, there were fewer and fewer people on the path. Even Courtney opted to chat with some lovely ladies who were seated on a wooden bench for weary pilgrims. I was alone, and yet very much accompanied by the spirit of the wild and wondrous woman who walked with Jesus.


After a 45 minute uphill hike, I reached the base of a seemingly endless staircase leading to her cave. I took a moment and breathed it all through me. I thought, “I’m here, how can it be? I’m here! I’m walking in her footsteps.” I touched the crosses on the way up the staircase, imagining how the memory of the cross must have haunted Mary as she lived her days on this holy mountain.


And then, as I arrived at the top, I was moved to tears once again by the view of the valley below. The light played across the endless green and I breathed it through me, giving thanks for this holy moment. I paused at the statue of Mother Mary and Mary Magdalene holding Jesus after his death. I could feel their love that held his broken body. And more tears spilled out of my eyes. Why do we break beautiful things? Somehow the love of these two women held me in that moment as they whispered through me, “be still and know.”


And then I made my way towards the opening of the cave, grateful that it was still open. I laughed at my earlier anxiety. And as I crossed the threshold of the cave, the air changed. I breathed it through me and watched my breath, like spirit come out of my mouth, reminding me of my own sacredness. Without me, this air would not have formed mist as I breathed it through me. I smiled at my misty breath, and I turned just as the priest began the evening vespers song service. I marveled at how I was not only “not late” but “right on time.” I didn’t know that there was a vespers service, and yet here I was, arriving just as it began. It felt like Mary whispered to me, “You see, right on time, all for you!” The music echoed through the cave and mixed with the sound of water drips, and tiny echoes. I had to sit down because my knees gave way to the beauty of it all.


After vespers closed, I wandered the cave and found parts that I hadn’t noticed at first. As I made my way down a stairwell, desiring to light a candle I realized that I had forgotten my euros in the rental car. But as I pushed my arms through the gate that blocked me from the cave waters, I decided to f@$k empire and light a candle anyways! So I took two candles and lit them. How very sacrilegious of me! And I smiled when I felt Mary approve. She would have done it too! And she would have pushed her arm through the gate to touch that water too!!! (Sorry for the F bomb, but sometimes it’s the only word that will do!)


After a long time, I made my way to the mouth of the cave back into the light, and marveled once more at the valley below. Reluctant to leave, I picked my way down the staircase, and I cried. The tears just flowed, and I didn’t stop them. It felt as though they baptized me, cleansed me, held me like womb waters. I don’t know all that I cried for: myself, my ancestry, my world, my earth, all the women who’ve been lost to history and yet continued birthing us forward, cherishing all of it.


And then I arrived at the water source of the town below, the same water that pooled in Mary’s cave behind the iron gate. While I had forgotten my euros, somehow I had managed to bring not one but two aluminum water bottles. I filled them at the Source de Nans-les-Pins. I brought this sacred water home in my checked baggage and I will find something special to do with it, to honor a piece of Mary in my part of the world.


The journey down the mountain went fast and before I knew it, my dear friend was in front of me, smiling and wanting to hear what I had seen and experienced. We chatted and laughed our way back to the car, slowly returning to human time, leaving behind the time apart from time. I felt a bit sad, but I also knew that what I had experienced would remain with me, all I have to do is “be still and know” that the kingdom of heaven is within.


Our return to human time was sacred too and quite hilarious. Upon igniting our French Citroen rental, a very loud and unfamiliar sound blared from the car. Courtney was concerned about the winding drive down to Nans-Les-Pins, where we hoped to find dinner. Me and my nonsense would have just kept driving, hoping for the best, but I respected her desire to get it checked out. So, we turned around and returned to a visitor center near the parking lot. No luck! It was closed, but across the street a man and woman were getting into their car, so we drove over to ask if they knew what the sound was.


The man graciously came to our car window to hear the sound. He chuckled and pointed to Courtney’s torso, making a motion across his body. Seatbelt! Courtney didn’t have her seatbelt on! She did, however have a cross body bag that looked and felt like a seatbelt. We thanked the French man and drove off laughing so hard!!! What a delight!!! To laugh like that with a dear friend and to feel Mary laughing right along with us! This time as my eyes welled with tears, it was pure joy!


By the time we arrived in Nans-Les-Pins, it was almost dark and there was only one restaurant open! On the way down the hill, I had said that I hoped we could find pizza. Sure enough, this lovely little restaurant had pizza! Our tired bodies needed food so badly, but we had to patiently wait as the server passed the single menu, drawn on a chalkboard, around to the people who had arrived before us. After ordering the “burratina” pizza and a salad, we waited, hoping for the best. When the food arrived, we couldn’t believe how incredible it looked and smelled—it was the best pizza I have ever eaten! And the salad was amazing! We chatted about the cave and I showed Courtney pictures as we devoured the pizza and salad and gave thanks for the delight and joy of food and the fire that alchemizes it into a whole new creation.

I still tear up when I think of that holy day where I allowed myself to be elementally held—earth, water, air, and fire. Sometimes change comes slow, takes decades, even many centuries. But the things that moved in me that day moved fast, cut deep and gentle.


And I felt the words of Stevie Nicks well up in me as we drive home:


Do you always trust your first initial feeling?

Special knowledge holds true, bears believing

I turned around and the water was closing all around like a glove

Like the love that had finally, finally found me

And I knew in the crystalline knowledge of you

Drove me through the mountains

Through the crystal-like and clear water fountain

Drove me like a magnet

To the sea

To the sea


I drove us home through the mountains, back to the sea, more alive in the love that had finally found me, the love that has always been and will always be ageless because it is the love of the womb of creation. The womb that we forget once we leave it. I won’t forget it, never again. It held me that day and it has held us all from the beginning of time. We are loved. We are whole. We are sacred. We are the kingdom of heaven. It’s time to wake up to this knowing. It’s time to “be still and know.”


I miss you all. I love you all. And I look so very forward to our reunion. Thank you for being you. Thank you for being community. Community is the blessing, the eternally good news! And I’m honored to walk this path with you all.


In pilgrimage and love,


Pastor Sadie


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