During the first two Sundays of Advent, I have been preaching on Mary of Nazareth. I’ve suggested ways to see Mary, the mother of Jesus, that are quite different from the traditional Christian view of her – as meek, mild, obedient, and even submissive. I’ve suggested that we see her as possessing those traits – but also as the model of liberated womanhood and as a prophet.
There are additional ways in which tradition has seen her. One of the traditional images of Mary is the woman of sorrows. In Latin, she’s called the Mater Dolorosa, the Sorrowing Mother.
While living in Europe, I had the privilege of seeing Michelangelo’s Madonna and Child in Bruges, Belgium – so lifelike, the cloth and skin seem to have texture and appear soft. You’d never know its marble! (This was the only Michelangelo to leave Italy during his lifetime!)
Another great treasure of western art is Michelangelo’s Pieta, an emotionally wrenching sculpture of Mary cradling the lifeless body of her crucified son Jesus in her arms.
Mary is, in many ways, a model of female humanity. Female humanity is full humanity, and full humanity means all the experiences of life, including pain, loss, grief and death. The Biblical image of Mary includes this aspect of Mary’s humanity in all its fullness and all its pain.
Immediately following Jesus’ birth, Luke’s account tells us that God has greatly blessed Mary and has lifted her up from her lowliness. However, he goes on to tell us that this doesn’t mean she will be spared the human experience of grief and loss. Luke makes this point by introducing into his story of the beginning of Jesus’ life, a man named Simeon. Simeon first recognizes the infant Jesus as the Messiah. Then he addresses Mary with these haunting words, “And a sword will pierce your own soul too.”
The reference is clear. A sword will pierce the body of Jesus. He will die a violent and unjust death upon a cross. But, says Simeon, his death will be a sword through Mary’s heart too.
We can hardly imagine the anguish, anger and despair which she felt as a mother. On the cross, Jesus endured the worst that human sin can inflict on another human being, and I think we can be sure that if she could have, Mary would gladly have traded places with him. Most mothers would, such is the depth of true motherly love for a child.
But Mary had to stand helplessly by, and suffer her own unspeakable pain. Not physical pain but emotional and spiritual pain. Those of us who have experienced real grief know that such emotional pain is every bit as painful as physical pain – or worse.
Mary, so joyous at the Annunciation, is at the crucifixion – a woman of sorrows. In her, we see the profound truth that God’s blessing in this life doesn’t mean freedom from suffering. We are blessed in many ways, and, yet, we suffer too. So maybe you’re tempted to ask: If God’s blessing doesn’t mean that we don’t suffer, what good is it to us? Is it really a blessing at all? It’s a good question, a serious question, and a question that deserves a serious answer.
For the Christian, that answer is found in the person of the child whom Mary bore, and in that horrible event which ended his earthly life. And that event was a sword which pierced Mary’s heart too, the crucifixion of Jesus.
Going back to Matthew’s story of the Annunciation, the angel says to Joseph that the child Mary is carrying will fulfill an ancient prophecy from Isaiah. The prophecy says that a child shall be born to be called Emmanuel. More importantly, we see him as Emmanuel, for the name Emmanuel in Hebrew means “God is with us.” To the Christian, the child Mary bore is God with us.
As Rev. T. Sorenson puts it, in Jesus Christ we see God with us in his life and in his teachings, but perhaps, even more importantly, we see God with us in Jesus on the cross. There, we see God in the person of Jesus, whom we confess to be the Son of God Incarnate, entering into the worst that human life can offer. We see God entering into physical suffering. We see God entering into the human experience of betrayal and abandonment, the human experience of injustice, and even the human experience of the absence of God.
In Jesus, we see God entering into all of those profoundly human experiences and sharing them with us. In Jesus, we see in the most real way possible, God’s promise that none of these things, that nothing in all creation, can separate us from the love of God. In Jesus on the cross, we see God standing in unshakable solidarity with all of humanity – in everything that happens to us.
We also see God standing in unshakable solidarity with Jesus as he cries out in despair at the human experience of God-forsakenness when he cries, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” And we see God standing in unshakable solidarity with Mary as that sword pierces her heart, as she feels her own unfathomable despair, her own inconsolable anguish.
This, after all, is why we remember Mary at all. In the Christian tradition, she is remembered as the mother of Emmanuel, of God with us. She’s remembered because through her, God came into our world. Through her, God came to us as one of us, to demonstrate the nature and will of God to us in the fullest measure that we humans are capable of receiving.
In early Christian centuries there was a great argument about whether it was appropriate to call Mary “Theotokos,” which means the God Bearer or, more commonly known as, the Mother of God.
Maybe, like many of the ancient Christians, you wonder how can anyone be the mother of God? And yet the Christian tradition declares that is exactly who Mary is. She is the Mother of God. More importantly, and beautifully, the Mother of God With Us. Through the son whom she brought into the world, we see and know that God is with us always, in everything, especially in our most profoundly human times, our times of pain, sorrow and grief. Mary felt all of those things.
We will never know if she understood her son the way we understand him. What we do know, however, is that in her experience of grief and pain and loss, she is a model of humanity. Mary was indeed, the woman of sorrow. And we too, are often people of sorrow. But through the child whom she brought into the world, we know that we are not alone in our sorrow and that Mary was not alone in hers. God was with her. God is with us. God is with you. For that we give thanks to God. And we give thanks to Mary, through whom the Good News of Jesus, the Good News of God’s unshakable solidarity with all of humanity, in everything that happens, came into the world.
When we look at the Biblical accounts of her, we see a remarkable woman. We see a strong, liberated, free woman who reaches for the stars and says yes to God. We see a prophet proclaiming God’s word of justice just as other prophets did before her and just as her son would do in his short life.
So with the angel we say, Ave Maria, Hail Mary … full of grace. As we repeat those words, let us remember that God is with us. God is with you, wherever you are in your life. Whether it be in your pain and suffering and grief … or joy, triumph and victory.
Rev. Dan Koeshall is the senior pastor at The Metropolitan Community Church (The Met), 2633 Denver Street, San Diego, California, themetchurch.org. Services every Sunday at 9 and 11 a.m.
