Breathing Love at the Cross: Mary Magdalene, Jesus, and the Shared Practice of Tonglen

Inspired by Cynthia Bourgeault’s “Through Holy Week with Mary Magdalene,” this reflection explores how both Jesus and Mary breathed through the Passion in a sacred exchange—taking in the world’s pain,

Introduction

In the final hours of Jesus’ life, two people stood in a current of love stronger than death. One was nailed to wood; the other was rooted in place beside him. Their breaths moved in the same rhythm—breathing in the world’s pain, breathing out love.

Mary Magdalene wasn’t simply witnessing the crucifixion. She was engaging in a way of holding suffering that would, centuries later, be recognized and named in the Mahayana Buddhist tradition as Tonglen. No one absorbed more raw pain than she did at the foot of the cross. No one tasted greater joy than she did in the garden when he called her name.

Tonglen is the alchemy of an open heart—the willingness to take in the world’s agony without being destroyed, and to return it transformed. When we see the crucifixion through this lens, Jesus’ final breaths become the great Tonglen, and Mary’s vigil emerges as the living mirror of that same exchange. His inhalations drew in the pain of the world; her breathing matched his, sending love into the same dark.

This insight first opened for me through

Cynthia Bourgeault

’s Through Holy Week with Mary Magdalene, where she frames the crucifixion as Jesus’ great Tonglen. Here, we’ll also follow the breath of the woman who never left his side—tracing how her vigil mirrored his practice, and how we can learn to breathe the same way.

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The Heart of Tonglen

Tonglen is deceptively simple. You breathe in suffering—yours, others’, or the world’s—without resistance. You breathe out relief, love, peace, or blessing without holding back. The breath becomes a channel, a two-way flow of sacred exchange.

The practice is intentionally non-retentive. You don’t pause between the inhale and exhale to evaluate, judge, or cling to what you’ve just taken in. Holding onto it is how suffering turns into bitterness.

Mary didn’t need a Tibetan instruction manual. As she stood by the cross, her whole being was already doing it. The Roman soldiers’ cruelty? Inhale. The jeers of the crowd? Inhale. The exhale—silent but steady—was her offering of presence, loyalty, and love that refused to abandon him.

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Breathing Together at the Cross

Look at the crucifixion not as a frozen icon, but as two people breathing through it together.

From Jesus:

• “Father, forgive them…” (love out).

• “Today you will be with me in paradise” (comfort out).

• “Woman, behold your son… behold your mother” (connection out).

From Mary:

• Inhale the shock of seeing nails driven in.

• Inhale the helplessness of not being able to take his place.

• Exhale a steady gaze that tells him: You are not alone.

Even when Jesus cries, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” she inhales that abandonment with him, holding the emptiness in her own chest. And when he steadies himself—“Into your hands I commend my spirit”—her breath steadies with his, sending love into the same hands.

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Conscious Suffering, Shared

The common Good Friday narrative puts Jesus in the spotlight and leaves Mary as a bystander. But through the lens of Tonglen, she is his partner in the work.

Jesus is not passively suffering; neither is Mary. They are engaged in a mutual act of conscious suffering—breathing in the concentrated anguish of human estrangement from love and breathing out blessing. His pain is physical and cosmic; hers is relational and unflinching. Together, they hold the field.

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Why Closing the Heart Was Not an Option

If you’ve ever lived with an open heart, you know the sickening collapse of closing it. On that hill, both Jesus and Mary had every reason to shut down—betrayal, fear, public humiliation.

Yet both refused. For Jesus, closing would have cut the current of divine love mid-flow. For Mary, closing would have meant severing the living bond between them before the work was finished. They each kept breathing—not because they knew a happy ending was around the corner, but because an open heart had become their only way to live.

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Breath as the Meeting Place of Traditions

The Bible has been saying it for centuries: ruach, pneuma—breath is spirit. God breathing life into humanity. Jesus breathing peace onto his disciples.

Buddhism sees breath as the vehicle for compassion. Put the two together, and you can see why Mary’s vigil was more than just emotional stamina. Her breathing with Jesus was not metaphor. It was her way of joining the work he was doing. The two of them became a single, continuous offering: one crucified, one keeping watch, both sending love into the world with each exhale.

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Practicing Tonglen in Their Footsteps

If you want to imitate this—not just Jesus, but Mary too—you start here:

Pick a situation—a tense conversation, a headline, a personal grief.

Inhale the pain without analyzing it.

Exhale blessing into it.

Keep the rhythm.

If your heart starts to close, open it again.

Do this daily and you’ll start to sense what Mary must have felt: the heartbreak doesn’t go away, but it stops owning you. You become a participant in love’s work, not just an observer of the world’s pain.

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Holy Week as a School for Two Hearts

Holy Week isn’t just about tracing Jesus’ path; it’s also about tracing Mary’s alongside him:

• Anointing at Bethany: She breathes in the whispers and criticism, breathes out devotion.

• Gethsemane: While he sweats blood, she prays and steadies her breath for what’s coming.

• Trial and Beatings: She breathes in the mockery, breathes out dignity.

• Crucifixion: They breathe together—pain in, love out.

• Resurrection: Her inhale catches the shock of hearing her name; her exhale is pure joy.

Mary isn’t simply “there” at the cross. She is actively working, just as Jesus is, in the sacred exchange of Tonglen.

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Why This Matters Now

We live in an age of reflexive outrage. Everyone’s breathing in offense and exhaling retaliation. Tonglen is a refusal to play that game.

On the cross, Jesus didn’t return violence for violence, and Mary didn’t answer cruelty with despair. They stayed in the exchange—pain in, love out. Together, they model a way of living that isn’t crushed by the world’s pain.

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Closing Reflection

Picture it:
Two breathing in sync.
One nailed to wood, one rooted in place.
Inhale—the hatred, grief, betrayal, the stench of fear.
Exhale—love, blessing, presence.

This is Tonglen at the cross.

Our own crucifixions are smaller—traffic jams, hard diagnoses, fractured relationships—but the practice is the same. Keep breathing. Refuse to close.

Learn what Jesus and Mary both knew: the open heart is not the prize at the end of the suffering. The open heart is the victory.

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