STUDENTS of the Christian Science text-book have noted that its author, Mrs. Eddy, chose for the introduction to that wonderful chapter entitled, "Christian Science Practice," the narrative of the loving service rendered by Mary Magdalene to the Master in her gift of the alabaster box of ointment, as told in the seventh chapter of Luke. In its expression of loving gratitude, steadfast loyalty, and fruitful endeavor for the Master, this story enshrines a living message. When, in the noonday of his prosperity, Jesus was the guest of honor at the home of Simon the Pharisee, she poured forth her gratitude in the gift of precious ointment. At the midnight hour when hate was exultant, because it had nailed innocence to a cruel cross, she was an unwearied watcher, and when dawned the world's new, glad day, she was first to find an open tomb, first to greet the risen Christ, first to herald the good news of the resurrection.
There is little said of Mary Magdalene previous to her visit to anoint the feet of the Master. Reared in a Hebrew family, the child must have often heard the sacred story of the long-expected Messiah. In the thought of her people he was to be the great king who would throw off the cruel yoke of bondage to a foreign foe and make her nation free. He would rebuild the fallen temples and restore the departed glory of her nation. He was to be Immanuel, God with us. He would "heal the broken-hearted," recover the sight of the blind, "set at liberty them that are bruised," and "preach the acceptable year of the Lord." No doubt she shared the common faith that his coming was nigh at hand, and with the devout, the little maid thought much of his glorious manhood. It may be that her silent prayer was to be worthy to look upon his face and at least touch the hem of his garment. These were the fair dreams of childhood. The world into which womanhood ushered her had little of the Christ spirit. There were few to heal; there were many to break and lacerate the tender-hearted. There were few to set at liberty the bruised; there were many to take them captive. Mary Magdalene became the victim of those who, like wolves, stand waiting to destroy the weak and hold high carnival upon the ruin of innocency. Those who might have saved, visited upon her their bitter hatred and cruel scorn.
There were moments, doubtless, when pictures of the dear old home came back to her. There were, perhaps, memories of youthful dreams of the glorious Messiah who was to redeem the lost and restore the fallen. But no longer was she the fair flower of her childhood home; she was but a bruised reed by the dusty roadside. The bright flames of faith and hope had long since died out, but there was still the spark of that holy fire which nothing could wholly quench. The world of her day preached of the Saviour who was to lift up the fallen; but it remained for the coming Messiah to put in practice the prophecy, "A bruised reed shall he not break, and smoking flax shall he not quench."
