Here is your mother.
There are words in our common vocabulary which name our station in life when we lose a spouse (widow, widower), or our parents (orphan).
But we have no name for a parent who has lost a child. It is like they do not exist. It is an existance so terrible we do not name it.
Poor Mary.
Her grief in seeing her life's work coming undone so violently around her, the flesh of her flesh mortally wounded and suffering so.
And even in his suffering, Our Lord offers her and those around her community. He called them together, even as they scattered like broken pot sherds.
"I have forsaken you. You do not forsake me. I have wandered far from you. You set out in search of me." (Isaac of Nineveh)
Oh Lord, your wounding has become our salvation.
Even in His death pains, He took care of others.
"...he said to his mother, "Woman, here is your son." Then he said to the disciple, "Here is your mother."
We don't know the identity of this disciple. We do know that all the other disciples were in hiding and afraid.
His mother, a woman He loved greatly and a single 'beloved' man are all he has standing as witness before Him.
They alone are fearless in their love and devotion to Him.
"Son, behold your mother."
Stabat Mater
At the cross her station keeping, Stood the mournful Mother weeping, Close to Jesus to the last: Through her heart, His sorrow sharing, All His bitter anguish bearing, Lo! the piercing sword had passed! O how sad, and sore distressed, Now was she, that Mother Blessed Of the Sole-begotten One; Woe-begone, with heart's prostration, Mother meek, the bitter Passion Saw she of her glorious son Who could mark, from tears refraining, Christ's dear Mother uncomplaining, In so great a sorrow bowed? Who, unmoved, behold her languish Underneath His Cross of anguish, 'Mid the fierce, unpitying crowd? For His people's sins rejected,
She herJesus, unprotected, Saw with thorns, with scourges rent; Saw her Son from judgment taken, Her beloved in death forsaken, Till His Spirit forth He sent. Fount of love and holy sorrow, Mother! may my spirit borrow
Somewhat of thy woe profound; Unto Christ, with pure emotion, Raise my contrite heart's devotion, Love to read in every Wound. Those five Wounds on Jesus smitten, Mother! in my heart be written, Deep as in thine won they be: Thou, my Savior's cross who bearest, Thou, thy Son's rebuke who sharest, Let me share them both with thee! In the Passion of my Maker
Be my sinful soul partaker, Weep till death, and weep with thee; Mine with thee be that sad station, There to watch the great Salvation Wrought upon the atoning Tree. Virgin thou of virgins fairest, May the bitter woe thou sharest Make on me impression deep: Thus Christ's dying may I carry,
With Him in His Passion tarry, And His wounds in memory keep. May His Wounds transfix me wholly, May His Cross and Life Blood holy Ebriate my heart and mind; Thus inflamed with pure affection, In the Virgin's Son protection May I at the judgment find.
When in death my limbs are failing, Let Thy Mother's prayer prevailing Lift me, Jesus! to Thy throne; To my parting soul be given Entrance through the gate of Heaven, There confess me for Thine own.Amen
I'm 58 years old and I miss my mom.
Here is your mother.
This points us to Mary, the mother of Jesus, the mother of the faithful, and mother of priests.
It's possible to find feminist problems with the old Irenaean typologies of Mary as Second Eve. But Eve is the mother of all living. So, too, Mary is both our sister and our Mother. (Not that God isn't both Mother and Father and more).
The Church too is our mother. And there are potential problems with gendered language here. Mary is a type of the Church, in her prophetic witness, in her nourishment of the fragile, fleshly Word, in her openness to God, and her willing yes.
With John, the Beloved Disciple, we are called to nourish this mother, so that the Word might be born among us as a brother. We are called to care for her, even when she is less than perfect. We are called to come to an adult relationship with her and her Son.
On the cross, blood and water flow from the side of Jesus, the afterbirth of the new creation, filling the sacraments with their life-giving power. He too is our mother. He feeds us from his own body, and would die for us, like any good parent would. He nourishes us with milk--his own body and blood.
Every statement about Mary that has theological significance points us to her Son.
I believe the text is calling me personally to renew my commitment to care for and find my life in holy mother church (where it is want provide for it, etc.), born from the side of Jesus. And to contemplate the ways in which the first and second persons of the Trinity are my mother as well.
Standing at the foot of the Cross and being "cared about" by the man named Jesus who had been betrayed, tortured, demoralized, is dying, denyed/discarded and demeaned...that is, he was discarded and left for dead, except by a few others of the beloved and his Mother who are lovingly vigilant until the end...it could be a everyday story about the near death of anyones Son except that it isn't, he is The Son and his concerned words and thoughts for the well being of others live on everyday right up until today.
I feel his concern.
It's quiet in the village. I hear the sound of many birds churping as I visit you at Jake's Place...all is silent on another brilliant and sunny Friday afternoon in a place where people await a death that happened over 2,000 years ago.
Many feel safe and "cared for" up to this minute/day again today.
Jesus, his mother, his aunt, Mary Magdelene about whom there is so much speculation, and the disiple he loves. What a horrible mess they are in.
Yet in the midst of excruciating pain and the worst possible public humiliation, Jesus *finally* succeeds in gathering the new intimate family - the new intimate family he has worked so hard to gather with his disciples, who still don't get it and won't get it for a little while longer.
Many times at a death bed, when all pretense is gone both for the dying and those ministering to her, I have known just a brief moment of that kind of intimacy, the intimacy of Jesus' new family, born of horrible messes.
Lord Jesus, when I make my own messes, help me to trust the message of this day and its vindication to come - "it's all good" - and help me bear witness to that message whenever other people make horrible messes.
"Were you there when Mary lost her Son?/Oh! Sometimes it causes me to tremble, tremble." As the fleshed Word of God is fulfilled above them, through an outpouring of grace from the emptied outstretched arms, the Church is born: "Woman, behold thy Son. Behold thy mother."
All I can think of is Naomi's mother, Sandra. Naomi is not yet 25; Sandra is not yet 50. And yet these two (plus father and five siblings) are walking the unknown road of cancer. I am anxiously awaiting the results of the biopsy Naomi underwent today on her Good Friday... if the cancer has spread, the doctors 'cannot do anything more for her' (as they told her Monday) -- at least with the known protocols. They would have to enter her into a trial. Her cancer, Ewings, is rare at her age. Who takes care of Sandra? Who takes care of Naomi? We're all trying and commending all of them to God. But meanwhile we weep and pray with sighs too deep for words.
FWIW I have contemplated this passage before and this is my conclusion.
We have Mary of "my spirt rejoices and my soul doth magnify the Lord." I think she will be cared for no matter what. She has other children. Most notably James, Jesus's brother as well as other brothers and sisters of Jesus. Jesus does not specifically need to appoint someone to take care of "mom."
We really don't know if John is the disciple whom Jesus loves but I tend toward this theory. My husband believes that Mary Magdalene is the disciple whom Jesus loves. And really it doesn't matter. We have John, a disciple chosen, and Mary, a woman chosen. I think this whole passage is about a model. Beloved of Jesus--men and women--chosen, special. Love and nurture.
P.S.--Friends to the end is part of the message.
just wondering | 03.21.08 - 2:43 pm |
I think it's not a good idea to comment on someone else's post this week, but, I just want to say "thank you", just wondering, for an extraordinarily beautiful one. You come darned close to making me cry.
Blessings,
Today I attended (participated in via music) the 111th annual Good Friday ecumenical noon service in out town. It was very interesting in that it was mostly silence. The readings were from "The Message" and that really gave the story a fresh hearing.
Having just finished "The man Jesus loved," I listened to the 'disciple whom Jesus loved' section in a completely different way.
What I still don't 'get' about this day is, "Why." I will never understand it. This hymn says it so well:
I stand all amazed at the love Jesus offers me
Confused at the grace that so fully he proffers me
I tremble to know that for me he was crucified
That for me, a sinner, he suffered, he bled and died
I marvel that he would descend from his throne divine
To rescue a soul so rebellious and proud as mine
That he should extend his great love unto such as I
Sufficient to own, to redeem and to justify
I think of his hands, pierced and bleeding to pay my debt
Such mercy, such love and devotion can I forget?
No, no, I will praise and adore at the mercy seat
Until at the glorified throne I kneel at his feet
I stand all amazed at the love Jesus offers me
Secure in the promise of life in his victory
Thus ransomed from death I will live to my Savior's praise
And sing of his goodness and mercy through endless days
Oh, it is wonderful that he should care for me enough to die for me
Oh, it is wonderful
Wonderful to me
You're welcome, Scott Hankins. Blessings to you also!
Wherever he goes, and to the end, Jesus is the relational savior. He saves us, by relating to us---and relating us to each other.
At the end, he creates a "family of choice"...
...and he still does! "How Great Thou Art!"
[JCF, snowed-under in Michigan: GF services were cancelled at St. James (as Ash Wednesday services were, too! Thus has been our Endless Winter :-/). Pray, y'all, we're able to have GVofE tomorrow night?]
"Here is your mother"
First, today's reading led me to pray the Hail Mary. I cannot imagine what it must have been like to have been in her shoes at any point, but most especially at this point in her life and the life of her son.
The word mother has a new meaning for me now that I am one. I sometimes have trouble believing that I am someone's mother.
I have been focusing my thoughts on this off and on all afternoon and evening. A song came on the radio last night that somehow ties into this. It is one that brings tears to my eyes every time.
Bringing it all together...
When my son was two months old, we went for a regularly scheduled doctor's appointment. He weighed less than he ever had. Not only had he not gained, but he had lost weight. I got people praying right away. We would have a follow-up appointment a few days later.
At that appointment, we were instructed to start supplementing with formula and blood work was ordered. "I don't think there's anything wrong, but we'll do these tests just to be sure," the doctor said.
The next day, we had the blood drawn. The tests were run right away. That afternoon, we got a call, "you have to take the baby to the hospital right now," a voice said. His liver functions were off the charts. And so, our nightmare began. My happy son cried a new cry as he was poked and prodded. His blood was so thick, they had trouble with the blood draws. I could do nothing more than try to soothe him and pray. And pray and pray and pray.
As I read and meditate on the passage today with MOTHER being my focal point, I am back in that moment only this time thinking, "how did Mary do it?"
The song I referred to above is called "Held." The first verse is about the death of a two--month-old baby boy. There is this line:
"To Think That Providence
Would take a child from his mother
While she prays, is appalling"
And yet, it happened to Mary, Mother of God. I admire her strength.
As we now prepare for the celebration of the baptism of our son (he is now 10-months-old), I rejoice. I give thanks. I am more thankful than words can express. I believe a miracle happened with him and in him by the grace of God. There were things that happened at that time that were absolutely of God. His liver functions improved, he gained weight. And tomorrow we will celebrate!
Also from "Held":
"If hope is born of suffering
If this is only the beginning
Can we not wait, for one hour
Watching for our Savior"
Hail Mary, full of grace
The Lord is with you
Blessed art thou among women
And blessed in the fruit of thy womb Jesus
Holy Mary, Mother of God
Pray for us sinners now and the hour of our death
Amen.
"Woman, here is your son"
...
"Here is your mother"
***
From the first song my son and I danced to just three days before he went into the hospital (it will forever hold a special meaning to me):
"Wrapped in Your mercy I want to live and never leave
I am held by how humble
Yet overwhelmed by Your majesty
Captured by grace and now I'm finding
I am free
You are marvelous God
And knowing You is everything"
Now that I have read the comments, I see there were some very beautiful thoughts posted. All affected me in different ways. I am glad I wait until after I get my thoughts written down to read the others. I gain from them without allowing them to influence my meditation on the passage for the day.
I have done various fasts in my life. I tend to lead toward modified fasts or short fasts. I did a 24 hour fast from dinner Thursday night to dinner tonight and I felt GREAT! Today was a very different Good Friday for me. I was disappointed that I missed church tonight. But, I believe everything happens for a reason. And, I gained so much here at the end of my day. Thank you all for the thoughts you shared.
And, JCF -- praying for improved weather so that your Great Vigil of Easter service will take place. May God bless and keep you during this holiest of holy times.
it says to me, community.
mmm. i love that!
you are in the family of my God, you are God's child, my brother/sister (taken a step farther).
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