When the soldier thrust his sword into Jesus’ side and water and blood flowed down, Mary reached to bind the body whole again. But the soldier blocked her and she fell in a swoon, not because she was unprepared for grief but because she had seen it coming for over thirty years and had found no way to stop it.
John held her and as she fell she thought, looking at the soldier, you made this wound for me, so that I can put all my suffering into the cave of his body, still alive, still warm. O wound! O Holy Door!