Magdala is not just a physical place. For me, it has been an inner space, a moment in my life where God spoke to me in many ways: through people, through circumstances… but above all, in the silence.  

Being in the Holy Land, especially this past month with the recent escalation of the armed conflict in the Middle East, where there is so much external noise —from the news, cultural differences, the different perspectives— but at the same time living in Magdala, with the absence of pilgrims and lack of constant movement, inevitably led me to look inward. And, paradoxically, while everything outside was tense, inside a space of silence began to form.  

As a volunteer, this experience impacted me in a very different way from what was usually lived in Magdala before. For example, I’ve heard from other volunteers that in the past, about 2,000 pilgrims would come each day, filling the place with life and constant activity. However, in the midst of the current silence and absence, I learned that silence is not always synonymous with emptiness; often, it’s the deepest and clearest language God uses to communicate with us. It was in that stillness, amidst uncertainty and unrest, that I felt He spoke to me personally and deeply—not through the noise of everyday life, but from what is hidden and intimate… just as He did with Mary Magdalene, calling me by name.  

The story of Mary Magdalene moves me deeply because it reflects a universal human experience: the internal struggle between sin and redemption, between darkness and light. Many of us identify with her because, at some point, we have all been captive to pleasures, wrong choices, or circumstances that pulled us away from what truly gives life: Jesus.  

Jesus shows us that our past doesn’t matter, but rather the openness of our hearts to receive His love and grace. Mary Magdalene, through her transformation, is an example that no one is beyond the reach of that mercy. That’s why, walking in this place, I feel invited to live with a heart ready to serve and love as He did.  

When I see the beauty of the synagogue, I imagine Jesus walking through the streets of the first century with the intention of entering the synagogue, healing and restoring souls hungry and thirsty for Him. That motivated me to come to Magdala and seek the Spirit of God and service. Though I’m not serving crowds of pilgrims, I believe that in everyday life, alongside the few fellow volunteers, workers, and priests, there is the opportunity to see every person around me with eyes of love. As Mother Teresa expressed:  

“Not all of us can do great things, but we can do small things with great love.”

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