FINDING MARY MAGDALENE BLOG SERIES.

“Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer, Part 3: Saint Sara’s Final Procession to the Sea”

Originally Published: June 9, 2014

Sunday I awoke feeling as if the day before had all been a dream. Celice and I had a LUXURIOUS breakfast complete with freshly baked croissant, creamy yogurt, fresh juice, and house-made cappuccino topped with whipped cream. The proprietor of our family-run hotel was more than willing to make our stay memorable. He even offered to drive us into town, saying for him, it is only a “promenade.”

Having experienced the grand procession the previous day, I walked into town feeling light, and free of expectation. As it turned out, Saint Sara granted us the privilege to re-witness the procession, from beginning to end.

This time, we came face-to-face with the same head priest who had led the procession the previous day. As before, he was blessing the pilgrims along his processional route. Once again, he was followed by men riding atop those same beautiful white horses. The men on horseback parted the crowds, allowing the statue of the Two Marys to pass through, toward the sea. I thought this curious that the third Mary, Our Lady Mary Magdalene, was not represented as well.

Quickly, Celice and I ran ahead, cutting through town, in an attempt to beat the head of the procession to the sea. In a matter of moments, we made it to the shore to witness the sea-bound processional ceremony unfold before our eyes.

Along their route, the priests chanted over blow horns, “Long Live Les Saintes Maries!” and “Long Live Saint Sara!” The crowd soulfully repeated the chant.

Suddenly, a waive of an other-worldly spirit took over the crowd. Time and space seemed to expand, taking me and my fellow pilgrims back to the moment the Three Marys landed upon the shores of French Gaul, greeted by our lady of honor, Saint Sara.

Entranced, I watched as the pilgrims steadily processed the Two Marys, followed by Saint Sara, into the sea. Moments later, the procession turned face, and began its march back toward the town. I turned to see that Celice and I, just as the day before, were surrounded on all sides by the riders and white horses. To me, this double experience was a clear sign that the spirit of Saint Sara was taking special care of us.

The next moments passed like a blur: Saint Sara approached me, flanked on all sides by pilgrims willing to carry her load. My body filled with the chanting of her name and my heart ached to embrace her. Suddenly, I rushed toward her and reached out my hand. One of the young women carrying Saint Sara grabbed my outstretched hand and placed it upon Saint Sara’s dress. Tears flooded my eyes as I gently backed away, feeling into the immensity of the moment.

Time stood still as I watched the procession disappear into the streets of Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer. In a moment of clarity, I took a tiny glass bottle, and dug it into the sand, collecting a bit of the earth that once welcomed “The Three Marys of the Sea.”

Trying to catch my breath, I turned to Celice with tears in my eyes. She pulled my hand, and off we went in the direction of the basilica.

Once there, I took myself down to the crypt. I wanted to see Saint Sara one last time. I quickly made my way to the front of the line and looked Her in the eye. She spoke words of love to my heart for having completed another piece of my soul’s journey.

Before leaving the church, I noticed numerous rose garlands descending from the ceiling. They seemed to point to a large wooden box, placed high upon the altar, delicately painted with the story of the Marys. Following the motions of others around me, I gently placed my hand upon the box, thanking the women one final time for their great love and courage.

Later, I learned the box is said to contain the remains of Mary Jacobe and Mary Salome. This led me to deduce that the reason Mary Magdalene was not “physically” included in the procession is because her journey did not end at Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer. Rather, it is believed she was guided by angels to the cave of La Sainte-Baume, where she continued to pray and work in the name of Love.

Celice and I made our way to the Arles train station, the place in which we had met three days earlier. We hugged goodbye, knowing in our hearts that our time together had been a reconnection, rather than an introduction. She left for her final pilgrim site, Rennes-le-Chateau, while I remained in Arles, the city that would quickly steal my heart.