In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Beloved brothers and sisters in Christ,
As we stand on this Fifth Sunday of Great Lent, like travellers nearing their destination but still mindful of the journey ahead, the Holy Church presents us with one of her most powerful examples of repentance and transformation in Saint Mary of Egypt. Her life, a testament to the unfathomable depths of God’s mercy, speaks directly to our hearts today, especially when viewed through the lens of our appointed readings.
In our Epistle, Saint Paul speaks of Christ as our Great High Priest, entering once and for all into the Holy of Holies, not with the blood of sacrificial animals, but with His own precious blood. This eternal redemption he speaks of is not a mere theological concept, but a living reality that transformed the life of Saint Mary and continues to transform our own lives today.
In our Gospel, we hear the poignant account of Christ foretelling His passion, while the disciples James and John, still bound by worldly thinking, seek positions of honour. This juxtaposition of divine sacrifice and human ambition sets the stage for understanding both our own struggles and the radical conversion of Saint Mary of Egypt.
In Victorian London, there lived a wealthy merchant named Thomas Blackwood, whose life in many ways paralleled that of our blessed Mary before her conversion. His magnificent house in Mayfair was a testament to worldly success—every room filled with precious objects collected from across the British Empire. Like the young Mary in Alexandria, he lived for pleasure and position, his days a constant pursuit of ever-greater luxury and social status.
In his employ was a humble housemaid named Sarah Collins, whose quiet faith illuminated the spiritual darkness of that house like the paschal candle piercing the darkness of Holy Saturday. Each morning, before the house stirred, she would kneel in prayer in the servants’ quarters, her worn prayer rope moving through her fingers as she repeated, “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.”
Sarah kept a small icon of Saint Mary of Egypt in her room, painted by a Russian immigrant she had helped when others turned him away. The icon showed Mary not in her years of youthful sin, but in her desert transformation, her face gaunt but illuminated with an inner light that the artist had somehow captured in egg tempera and gold leaf.
One grey London morning, Blackwood found Sarah praying before this icon. The scene struck him as both fascinating and foolish. “Why do you waste your time with such things?” he asked, gesturing to the icon. “Look around you, these are real treasures. That painted board couldn’t feed you for a day, yet my collections could keep you comfortable for life.”
Sarah looked up, her face bearing something of the same light the artist had captured in Saint Mary’s icon. “Sir,” she said softly, “Saint Mary had all the pleasures Alexandria could offer—more than I could imagine. But she discovered what you yourself may one day learn—that all these treasures are like the blood of goats and calves Saint Paul speaks of in today’s Epistle. They can never truly cleanse us or bring us peace.”
“Peace?” Blackwood laughed, but there was uncertainty in his voice. “I have everything I could want. What need have I of peace?”
“Yet you walk these rooms at night, sir,” Sarah replied gently. “I hear your footsteps when I rise for morning prayers. You collect beautiful things, but like James and John in today’s Gospel, perhaps you’re seeking the wrong kind of glory.”
That evening, Blackwood hosted another of his famous dinner parties. As he watched his guests jockeying for the best seats, laughing too loudly at his jokes, he suddenly saw them through new eyes. They were all like James and John, seeking places of honour, while Christ spoke of His coming sacrifice. He remembered Sarah’s words about Saint Mary finding peace in emptiness rather than abundance.
Saint John Chrysostom tells us, “Wealth is not forbidden, but pride is.” The merchant began to understand that his collections, his social position, his very way of life, were like those temporary sacrifices Saint Paul described, they could never cleanse the soul.
He began to spend more time in conversation with Sarah, learning about the desert mothers and fathers. He was particularly struck by the account of Saint Mary living forty-seven years in the desert with just three loaves of bread. “How could anyone give up so much?” he wondered aloud.
“She would say she gave up nothing and gained everything,” Sarah answered. “The desert stripped away all that was false until only the true remained. Her story teaches us that Christ’s sacrifice makes our transformation possible, but we must be willing to enter our own desert.”
As told by Saint Sophronios of Jerusalem, Mary’s life shows us that repentance is not a moment but a journey. Like Christ carrying His cross to Golgotha, each step is both an ending and a beginning. The merchant’s transformation, like Saint Mary’s, didn’t happen overnight. It was a gradual emptying of self to make room for Christ.
Over months and years, Blackwood began to change. His house remained filled with beautiful things, but now they were shared with others. His dinner parties continued, but the guest list changed—now including those who could never repay his hospitality. He learned, as our Gospel teaches, that true greatness comes through serving others.
In his private prayers, he often reflected on how Christ entered the Holy of Holies once and for all, opening the way for all who would follow. Saint Mary entered the desert of Egypt; he had entered the desert of his own heart. Both journeys were made possible by the precious blood of Christ that Saint Paul speaks of in our Epistle.
As we prepare to enter Holy Week, let us remember that Christ’s sacrifice opened the way not just for Saint Mary’s transformation, but for our own. Whether we are like Blackwood surrounded by wealth, like Sarah in her humble service, or like Saint Mary in her radical repentance, the path to Christ remains the same through humility, repentance, and love.
Let us ask ourselves: What are our own precious collections that we need to release? What positions of honour do we seek? Can we, like Saint Mary, allow Christ to lead us into the desert of our hearts where true transformation becomes possible?
Saint Mary’s life teaches us that no one is beyond redemption, that Christ’s sacrifice is sufficient for all who turn to Him in repentance. As we approach the Great and Holy Week, may we find courage in her example and hope in Christ’s eternal sacrifice.
May God grant us the wisdom to seek not the highest places but the lowest, and to allow Christ’s precious blood to transform us from vessels of earthly glory into vessels of His grace.
Through the prayers of our holy mother Mary of Egypt, and of all the saints, Lord Jesus Christ our God, have mercy on us and save us. Amen.
In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Copyright © 2025 The Rev. Adrian Augustus. The Russian Orthodox Church of the Archangel Michael, Blacktown, NSW
