What greater sorrow is there than to witness a child die? How much greater that sorrow, when it is your own child that dies? Heaven forbid this sort of tragedy ever befall on any of us. However, the reality is that it has, it does, and it will again. These are the results of the broken world we are part of.
Who of us, though, could suffer on par with Mary, mother of Jesus Christ? Regardless of your religious persuasion (or no religion at all), this suffering seems unique and unmatched. We can respect the story and its attributes regardless of our placement in life. According to one eyewitness account, Mary was standing right by her son as he gave up his final breath.
For her, she had nothing else to support her. Her husband had already passed away and she had no other children (you’d think that if she did, they would have the courtesy to be next to their mom while she watched their “eldest brother” being tortured). In this ancient middle eastern culture the social security for women was their husband, and/or male children. Woe to the women who were young widows, or to women without male children. Because, when they were old they would have no one to care for them. They had no bread-winner to care for them and the widows would be left to beg for their survival.
Was this the plight of Mary? Her blessed husband had always done his job of protecting his wife: through the desert when kings were trying to kill her infant son, he led them to safety. Using his network of contacts as best he could, he would scrounge for carpentry and stone cutting work in a foreign land, so that he could feed the family placed in his care. But as any tradesman knows, finding work without contacts is a difficult task to do - especially when you are in a foreign country. Yet, Joseph held fast, even though he wanted to leave this young fiancé early on (because that actually was the right thing in the eyes of the law). But, he never left her. He stayed with her, protected her, and provided for all her needs. As Jesus grew up he naturally learned his fathers trade and began jobs himself. With Joseph having been passed away, it was Jesus who cared for Mary. He was that bread winner; this was his religious, cultural and socially expected position.
So what now? Mary has no husband and her only son is being murdered through excruciating torture - as she watches and unable to do anything about it. It is as if a sword is slowly, painfully, and millimeter-by-millimeter is piercing her heart. And in one breath, her love, her life, the very thing she gave herself in entirety to, goes limp and dies a humiliating death. He’s dead; a criminals death no less. The end has come for her. Perhaps doubt creeps in. Was that story Gabriel wove together 33 years ago, just a dream? What about those mystics from the east that showed up on her doorstep so long ago? Did that really happen? What did they mean by her son being a king - and where are they now? Or the wedding feast, when she asked her son to help the wedding coordinator with the wine? How about all the miracles…Lazarus, the thousands of hungry people he fed with a few fish and bread? All that….did it really happen? If so, then for what purpose? Why? No really, why?
Indeed, a sword was piercing her heart, her soul, her very being, as had been revealed to her many moons ago (Luke 2:34-35). However, she was not left alone. She wasn’t left to
beg for alms. Among her sons final words, Jesus includes a very special provision that he shared with a “disciple that he loved”: “Behold your mother”. And then, this disciple takes his new Mother into his home that same hour (John 19:26-27). Mary stays with this loved disciple, whom we understand to be the Apostle John. Though, John calls himself the “disciple whom Christ loved” as a way of saying that Christ loves each and every one of his disciples - including those in the 21st century of Christianity. In a letter that John writes later on, also known as his Revelation, he further drives home this motherhood of Mary by explaining how the great enemy of Christianity (depicted as a great dragon) goes on to make war against all the rest of [Mary’s] offspring, which are those who keep the commandments of God, and bear testimony to Jesus (Revelation 12:17).
Today is special, because the ancient church remembers this position of Mary. It is called the feast of Our Lady, of Sorrows. Mary is the woman who, more than any other, knows suffering and sorrow. We know that Mary devoted herself to Jesus in every way possible.
Paraphrasing the 16th Century Christian, Martin Luther, Mary gave birth to God, nursed God, rocked God to sleep, made soup for God, helped God with his homework, watched God fascinate the community, saw God do miraculous things. She saw God suffer deeply for those whom he loves (which is all of creation). She saw God die. And, she saw God come into glory. Who better a teacher to learn about God, than humble, pious, meek, caring, gentle and loving Mother Mary?
We remember her more often at the awe and joy filled season of Christmas. But here is a lesser known side of Mary, who can do a wonderful job relating to so many of us in our own suffering, because she was filled with a certain sorrow and blessed Hope that only Mary could have experienced. And now, Jesus gives us (the disciples whom he loves), his very own mother - to be our mother. That she may mother us, and tell us the fascinating stories of Jesus, the kind that only a mother knows of her son. And we, these same disciples, can now care for our Mother and bring her into our home, our heart. And, Mary asks just one thing of us: “Do whatever [Jesus] tells you” (John 2:5).
