I wish I could hear Mary’s side of the story. Jesus’ mother and I share a sorrow that no mother should ever have to feel - losing your precious child, watching them die and knowing that you can do absolutely nothing about it.
We think about the miraculous visit of Gabriel and how amazing the immaculate conception would have been. But what about Mary? She was a Jew. She knew that a saviour, her son, would come into the world and ultimately have to give his life. In that moment, was she feeling joy? Or was she suddenly hit with the weight of desperately loving a child, yet knowing each day that she would have to watch him die?
“I am the Lord’s servant,” Mary answered. “May your word to me be fulfilled.”
I am no theologian. Perhaps what I am saying is completely blasphemous. But in these words, I don’t hear joy. I don’t hear the elation that a woman feels knowing she is pregnant and going to become a mother. I hear heartbreak. I hear consent to living with sorrow each and every day of her life. I hear a woman after my own heart.
|Altar of Annunciation, Meinrad Guggenbichler. |
Mondsee Kirsch, Mondsee, Austria
|Our Lady of the Seven Sorrows, Adriaen Isenbrant|
Church of Our Lady, Bruges, Belgium