🌹 The Chapel, the Wound, and the Woman Who Waited
How St. Francis of Assisi Walked the Magdalene Path—and Why That Matters Now
In the wake of Pope Francis’s passing on Easter Monday, many are reflecting on his legacy. But few are seeing the deeper story unfolding. Because this wasn’t just the death of a pope—it was the closing of a chapter. A sacred signal. And for those of us walking the path of Magdalene, it was the next step in a lineage long buried and now being resurrected.
Pope Francis, the first to take the name of St. Francis of Assisi, also became the first to formally restore Mary Magdalene’s rightful place in Church history. In 2016, he issued a decree elevating her feast day to equal status with the male apostles and officially declared her “Apostle to the Apostles.” He redefined her not as the Church’s favorite sinner, but as the first witness to the resurrection—a revolutionary act, quietly done.
But what if there’s more to this than meets the eye? What if Pope Francis’s devotion to Mary Magdalene didn’t start with him, but with the saint whose name he carried?
What if St. Francis himself walked the Magdalene path?
A Chapel in the Mountains and a Saint’s Transformation
In 1224, toward the end of his life, St. Francis of Assisi retreated to Mount La Verna, a sacred mountain in Tuscany gifted to him years earlier by Count Orlando of Chiusi. Francis was sick, nearly blind, and deeply immersed in prayer, longing to understand Christ’s suffering not just intellectually, but embodimentally—through the body, through experience.
It was on this mountain that something extraordinary happened. While in a state of deep devotion and fasting, St. Francis received a vision of a six-winged Seraph, appearing to him as Christ crucified. When the vision faded, the stigmata appeared on Francis’s body—the same wounds Christ bore on the cross, burned into his hands, feet, and side.
What most people don’t realize is that during this time, Francis was living in a chapel dedicated to Mary Magdalene. The Chapel of La Maddalena was small, quiet, and tucked away on the mountainside—his hermitage of choice. This was not coincidence.
It was in this chapel that he had a vision of Christ sitting on a stone, and afterward, he asked his companion, Brother Leo, to gather four sacred elements: water, wine, oil, and balm. Francis then poured them over the rock where Christ had appeared, creating a holy anointing.
This act—a simple offering of the sacred—mirrored Mary Magdalene’s own anointing of Christ, not once but in multiple Gospel accounts. Magdalene poured expensive nard onto his feet. She wept. She wiped them with her hair. She prepared him for burial, anointing him in a way no one else had the courage or presence to do.
Francis, too, anointed the place of divine presence. And then, like Magdalene, he bore the marks of the Passion. She watched the crucifixion. He lived it.
Magdalene in the Franciscan Imagination
Magdalene was not a stranger to the early Franciscans. In fact, many of them viewed her not as the fallen woman depicted in medieval sermons, but as a model of transformation—the one who moved from grief and despair to deep spiritual authority. She was seen as a mystic, a contemplative, and a mirror of Christ’s inner teachings.
St. Francis himself wrote a little-known guideline for his brothers who wished to live in solitude and prayer. It’s called the “Rule for Hermitages.” In it, Francis instructs that each small community of brothers should divide themselves into two roles: one living as Martha (the doer, who tends to the physical needs), and one as Mary (the contemplative, who sits at the feet of the divine).
Though many today assume this refers to Mary of Bethany, the early Franciscans often used Magdalene as the archetype of the contemplative—the one who listens, who waits, who weeps, who knows. In Franciscan circles, she was associated with the inner path, the feminine current, and the heart of devotion.
The Magdalene was not erased from Francis’s teachings. She was encoded in them.
The Power of Place: La Verna and the Sacred Feminine
It’s not just the writings and rituals that suggest this connection—it’s the landscape itself. La Verna remains steeped in Magdalene’s presence. Pilgrims today still visit the Chapel of Mary Magdalene, where a plaque commemorates her patronage. The rock that Francis anointed is still there. And the red stains on the chapel wall, once believed to be Francis’s blood, are said to appear and disappear with mystical timing.
The symbolism here is stunning. On a mountain high above the world, in the presence of silence and shadow, a man sought union with God—and did so in the house of a woman who had done the same.
He didn't just follow Christ.
He followed the woman who followed Him.
Why This Story Matters Now
So why does this matter—now, in 2025?
Because the Church is crumbling. Not just institutionally, but energetically. The old patriarchal structures, the gatekeeping of truth, the fear of feminine power—it’s all breaking apart.
And in the cracks, roses are blooming.
We are being invited back into a deeper spiritual memory. One that honors embodiment, emotion, wisdom, and sacred presence. One that remembers that resurrection was first witnessed not by Peter, not by Paul—but by her.
And if Francis saw her not as threat, but as teacher… then maybe we’re finally ready to do the same.
A Living Thread, A Calling Reawakened
As I’ve been researching these stories, I realized something personal—I was called to this before I had the words.
When I traveled to Assisi, I felt drawn to St. Francis without knowing why. I kept looking for Mary Magdalene. Not in the grand cathedrals, but in the corners. In the silence. In the places no one mentioned.
And now I know why.
Because they were never separate.
Because she was there all along.
Francis bore the wounds.
Magdalene bore the witness.
And both are now bearing the truth we are ready to remember.
P.S. Ready to remember what they tried to make you forget?
Download my free guide:
✨ 7 Lies We Were Told About Mary Magdalene
…And the sacred truths that are rising now.
They called her a prostitute.
They silenced her gospel.
But what if the truth is… she was the first priestess of resurrection?
This isn’t just about history — it’s about you.
🌹 Grab the free guide here and begin remembering what was buried — not just in scripture, but in your soul.