April 2nd - Mary of Egypt, Hermit (RM)
(also known as Maria Aegyptica)
Died c. 500; feast day is sometimes kept on April 9 or 10. The story of
Mary the
penitent was known throughout Christendom in the Middle Ages. The story is
told
in Cyril of Scythopolis's life of Saint Cyriacus, according to John
Moschus. He
tells of a woman named Mary found by Cyriacus and his companions living as
a
hermit in the desert beyond the Jordan. She told him that she had been a
famous
singer and actress who had sinned and was doing penance in the desert;
when they
returned, she was dead. Around this core, the following story was
elaborated and
popularly retold in the Middle Ages:
Mary began her life in Egypt. Her parents adored her, which was already a
bad
start! She was the center of her family's world. Everything revolved, or
had to
revolve around her: papa, the sun, her cat.
Mary was not an unhappy child. On the contrary, everything was given to
her,
everyone gave in to her. So much so that one day, annoyed because her
parents
chanced to oppose one of her whims, she ran away from home-at age 12-to
the
metropolis of Alexandria.
At that time, a girl of 12 was a woman. Mary was beautiful. She was not
adventurous or ambitious or she might not have hurled herself into the
wickedness of prostitution for 17 sad years. She had no center, nothing on
which
to orient herself; she had no faith in anything, she hoped for nothing.
She was
cynical and disenchanted, at once wor****pping and detesting money. There
is only
one explanation for her life: She loved nothing. Dignity is the premise
for any
love.
When she first tried to find her way in the city, she thought of a friend
of her
father's who lived there. He welcomed her, understood her, offered her
refuge,
and amused her. He destroyed all modesty, all remorse, all childhood in
her. She
went along with his debaucheries until she became attracted to another man
and
his stables, so she dropped the former for the latter, without notice. She
was
trapped. She lived like a glittering coin that is passed from pocket to
pocket;
she made her morality consist in not having any, indeed in losing sight of
its
very meaning. Nothing restrained her, nothing could.
Out of curiosity, not piety, Mary joined a group of pilgrims who were
setting
out for Jerusalem. She paid for her passage by offering herself to the
sailors.
In Jerusalem, an irresistible force prevented her from entering the church
with
the other pilgrims. In front of an icon depicting the Blessed Virgin or,
according to another version, at the Holy Sepulchre, she was overcome by
the
enormity of her sinfulness. Interiorly, she was told to cross the Jordan,
where
she would find rest.
Immediately, Mary set out for the desert, unrecognizing and unrecognized,
afraid
of the world. All that she took with her were three wretchedly small
loaves of
bread to provide for her immediate needs, to provide her with time to
develop
the strength to beg. Thus, completely worn out, she arrived at the bank of
the
Jordan River. She had no desire to return to her parents' home.
She made her confession and took communion at the monastery of Saint John
the
Baptist, but did not tarry there. She left the monks to their
mortifications.
She had not seen any of them, because she had kept her eyes closed. She
climbed
the sandy hills to where the desert begins. Her life continued to be
marked by
excesses. Mary was to let herself dry out like a prune, for this was the
remedy
that she herself devised against her moral rot and decay.
We can't conceive of all she endured, what she was seeking, what she
experienced
during 47 years in an absolute solitude. During these years she suffered
from
drought and cold. She lived on berries and dates. Her clothes wore out.
Sometimes she had been tempted to return to her life of sin, but always
she
prayed to the Virgin Mary for strength to resist the temptation. She could
not
read, but she was divinely instructed in the Christian faith.
There was a monk called Zosimus, who tells us certain things about Mary.
He was
an old man. About 430, after having lived in a monastery in Palestine for
53
years decided to join a community with stricter rules near the River
Jordan.
Thus, he came into a new area.
Like his companions, every year, on the first Sunday of Lent, he ate after
Mass;
then with his head bowed in deep meditation, he set out by himself for the
desert. Each year he advanced further into the solitude of the sandy
wastes by
adding an extra day's walking. This time he had to walk for 20 days before
coming to a rest. He sat on the ground and immediately began to pray. He
knew
noon had arrived because his shadow contracted around him. Distractedly,
he saw
someone walking in front of him. If it was the devil, he would protect
himself
against it in the name of Jesus Christ.
You've guessed it-before him stood Mary the penitent, but only a truly
sharp
person would have been able to distinguish her from a man in that state.
She was
entirely ****d but this did not make him uneasy for her skin, roasted by
the
sun, was black and dry as an old scrap of wood. Her white hair fell down
her
back. The monk went up to her, but she backed away, crying out, "Throw me
your
mantle to cover me, for I have no clothes."
He pursued her up to a clump of bushes behind which she took cover.
"Answer me, for the love of God, what are you doing here? Why and for how
long?"
"Zosimus, please hand me your mantle, bless me, forgive my sins, and I
will come
out. . . ."
It was thus that he learned about her life, and all that has been said and
written about her since then. Her temptations and penances Zosimus drew
out of
her in great detail. Mary the Egyptian spoke only through the Bible whose
meaning she found again spontaneously at the end of her long spiritual
quest.
Zosimus was impressed by her spiritual knowledge and wisdom.
Mary said to Zosimus, "Leave me your mantle; come to see me next year at
Easter,
with the Eucharist, and don't breathe a word!"
As he promised, Zosimus returned the following Holy Thursday to give her
Holy
Communion. He also brought figs, dates, and lentils with him. But after
Mary had
received the sacrament, she would take from him only three lentils. She
thanked
him and begged him to return the following year.
According to one rendition (no, legends are not always logical), Saint
Mary died
suddenly in the night after having left a message for the monk, her
friend,
which she traced out in the sand and which he was to read a year later:
"Father Zosimus, bury the body of lowly Mary the sinner here. Render unto
the
earth what is the earth's, and pray for me."
This is how he learned her name. He had forgotten to ask her what it was.
Zosimus, with the help of a lion, buried her body. He took back his cloak,
which
he cherished for the rest of his life, and then he reverently buried Mary
the
Egyptian. She had lived for 78 years. Sixteen centuries later there are
perhaps
no greater deserts than the hearts of great cities. Mary the Egyptian,
pray for
us!
In actuality her body was found dead by two disciples of Saint Cyriacus, a
6th-century hermit, and became the center of these elaborate and popular
stories
(Attwater, Attwater2, Benedictines, Bentley, Delaney, Encyclopedia,
Farmer,
Gill).
In art, Saint Mary is generally ****trayed clad only in her long hair with
her
emblem, three loaves of bread. She may also be shown (1) with Mary
Magdalene
(with whom she is often confused. The Magdalene often has a jar of
ointment and
crucifix, while Aegyptica has three loaves); (2) sitting under a palm tree
and
looking across the Jordan; (3) wa****ng her hair in the Jordan; (4) chased
from
the church by an angel with a sword; or (5) receiving Holy Communion from
Saint
Zosimus (Roeder). Saint Mary was most popular in the East but also had a
Western
cultus. Her image was used by artists from the 12th century on carved
capitals,
in stained glass in the cathedrals of Chartres, Bourges, and Auxerre (13th
c.),
and in paintings and sculptures of the later Middle Ages (Farmer).
Saint Quote:
The missionaries will have to understand that they are stones hid under
the
earth, which will perhaps never come to light, but which will become part
of the
foundations of a vast, new building.
-Saint Daniel Comboni
Bible Quote:
34 And Jesus said: Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.
But
they, dividing his garments, cast lots. (Luke 23:34)
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Jesu Dulcis Amor Meus,
a hymn in honor of the Holy Wounds of Christ:
Jesus! As though Thyself wert here I draw in trembling sorrow
near; And hanging o'er Thy form divine, Kneel down to kiss
these wounds of Thine.
How pitifully Thou art laid! Bloodstained, distended, cold and
dead! Joy of my soul, my Saviour sweet, Upon this sacred
winding-sheet.
Hail, awful brow! Hail, t***** wreath! Hail, countenance now
pale in death! Whose glance but late so brightly blazed, That
angels trembled as they gazed.
And hail to thee, my Saviour's side; And hail to thee, thou
wound so wide: Thou would more ruddy than the rose, True
antidote of all our woes!
Oh, by those sacred hands and feet, For me so mangled!
I entreat, My Jesus, turn me not away, But let me here
forever stay.
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