THE GARDENER OF OUR HEARTS

 

                                                            

                                                           Br. Mickey McGrath, OSFS

A favorite theme  for the Easter season throughout the ages in art, is that of Mary Magdalene meeting the resurrected Jesus, mistaking Him for a gardener.  Of all the images, one wonders why this is so appealing?

The portrayal of Jesus as a gardener isn’t meant to suggest that Jesus was literally gardening that day, but rather, it alludes to His role as one who “plants” us and grows us. He gets His hands dirty in the soil of our hearts, bringing us to life and cultivating us with care so that we flourish.

 In a 2009 article for America magazine, Franco Mormando (US historian) writes,

“Mary’s misidentification was meant to remind us, so the pre-modern exegetes taught, of a spiritual reality: Jesus is the gardener of the human soul, eradicating evil, noxious vegetation and planting, as St. Gregory the Great says, “the flourishing seeds of virtue.”

Poem by the American poet Andrew Hudgins Christ the Gardener

The boxwoods planted in the park spelled LIVE.
I never noticed it until they died.
Before, the entwined green had smudged the word
unreadable. And when they take their own advice
again—come spring, come Easter—no one will know
a word is buried in the leaves. I love the way
that Mary thought her resurrected Lord
a gardener. It wasn’t just the broad-brimmed hat
and muddy robe that fooled her: He was that changed.
He looks across the unturned field, the riot
of unscythed grass, the smattering of wildflowers.
Before he can stop himself, he’s on his knees.
He roots up stubborn weeds, pinches the suckers,
deciding order here—what lives, what dies,
and how. But it goes deeper even than that.
His hands burn and his bare feet smolder. He longs
to lie down inside the long, dew-moist furrows
and press his pierced side and his broken forehead
into the dirt. But he’s already done it—
passed through one death and out the other side.
He laughs. He kicks his bright spade in the earth
and turns it over. Spring flashes by, then harvest.
Beneath his feet, seeds dance into the air.
They rise, and he, not noticing, ascends
on midair steppingstones of dandelion,
of milkweed, thistle, cattail, and goldenrod.

Images:  Left  Irene & Rowan LeCompte

        Resurrection Chapel   WA Natl. Cathedral    

Right:  David Jones,  British (d. 1974)