Mary, Mary

With Christmas upon us, I've been thinking about Mary, the mother of Jesus, lately. In addition, I've generally thought about her more since having Weston. The song "Breath of Heaven", which discusses her fear of carrying, giving birth to, and raising the man who would save humanity from its sins, became my mantra while Weston's lungs were struggling so much those last few days.

We played the song at Weston's memorial service, which was held in the chapel of a funeral home. Caroline now calls it the "chapel song." It has become a routine to sing the refrain to her at naptime now. So, Mary is a daily presence.

There is also a Christmas song called "Mary Did You Know." The lyrics are beautiful...and positive: "Mary...did you know that your baby boy has come to make you new? This child that you delivered will soon deliver you...will give sight to a blind man, calm a storm with his hand, make the blind see, is Lord of all creation," etc.

But think about what the song doesn't ask: Mary, do you know that your baby boy will be mocked and disrespected? Spat upon? Sentenced to death for no reason? Brutally tortured? Slowly crucified like a criminal? And that he will die completely alone, for his own father in heaven will turn his back? Sure, it will be the ultimate sacrifice for humankind, and he will rise again, but DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOUR BABY IS IN FOR?? If so, how do you feel about that? As a mother, will any amount of redemption make it worth the unspeakable agony he is going to experience? The agony YOU are going to experience?

Recently, I read a book called The Testament of Mary that addresses these questions. I can't remember where I initially heard about it, but the New York Times designated it as one of the top books of 2012. I caught the tail end of the author, Colm Toibin's, interview on NPR. Some reviews said that traditional, evangelical Christians would be offended and characterize the book as blasphemous.

But I am not a "traditional" Christian, at least in the way they are generally portrayed in American culture. And, like Mary, I am also a mother whose son died. So I was intrigued.

Mary herself narrates the book and is unable to mention her son's name. She is close to death and is reflecting back on her life, specifically around the time that Jesus died. The resurrection of Jesus is not mentioned in the book, and this could be where the accusations of blasphemy come in. However, whether Jesus revealed himself to his mother Mary after the resurrection is contested among biblical scholars.

In the weeks before Jesus was crucified, he was gaining followers at an exponential rate. However, there was also talk that people wanted him dead. Naturally, Mary was afraid for Jesus; instead of enthusiastically following him and listening to his teachings, she was watching his back and trying to convince him to run away with her to safety.

As someone removed from the situation, and as a Christian, one might gasp, "How dare she interfere with God's plan for the world? Where is her faith?" Well, think back to the birth of Jesus. Mary, a virgin, became pregnant via the Immaculate Conception and carried the pregnancy at a time when out-of-wedlock pregnancy and childbirth was quite scandalous, to say the least. That is the very definition of faith.

Mothers have a primal, biological instinct to protect their children. In humans, this instinct extends to the heart, soul, and spirit. Although Mary gave birth to the Son of God, she was still human, and she was still a mother. I don't care who you are, or who your child is: it would never sit well with a mother to watch her son be tortured and killed, no matter what the reason. Indeed, she says, "And what was strange about the power he exuded was that it made me love him and seek to protect him even more than I did when he had no power." Toibin, Colm, The Testament of Mary at 41.

Try as she may, Mary cannot see the bigger picture. Her son is going to die, of course; she cannot think of anything else, even the "something new [that] would happen which would make such judgments and predictions meaningless, that the world's time had come and [that] these days would be the last days and the days of the beginning." Id. at p. 49. (Sorry for the nerdy citations. Lawyer habits die hard.)

Here is what Mary had to say about her grief: "I did not think that the cursed shadow of what had happened would ever lift. It came like something in my heart that pumped darkness through me at the same rate as it pumped blood. Or it was my companion, my strange friend who woke me in the night and again in the morning and who stayed close all day. It was a heaviness in me that often became a weight which I could not carry. It eased sometimes but it never lifted." Id. at pp. 8-9.

Although I clearly am not Mary, and Weston clearly is not Jesus, I feel like I could have written this book myself. (And the English major in me is impressed that an author could so beautifully and accurately capture something that he will, with certainty, never experience.) If Mary, the MOTHER of Jesus, cannot see beyond her pain at losing her son to the bigger picture of his redemption of humanity, then why should I be expected to see the bigger picture of Weston's death? It is NOT acceptable that Weston is dead. I do NOT feel better knowing he is in a better place. I will NEVER come to terms with Weston's death, and absolutely NOTHING will make his death worth it. It only comforts me very slightly to know that I will see Weston again someday.

Because I am human. And I cannot fathom what is out there. I know that it IS out there and that it's better than what is here, but right now...I DON'T CARE. And honestly, I never will care until it's my time to join Weston again.

Like Mary, I can and do have faith. But I don't have to like it.