Voices of the Passion and Easter - Mary, Mother


I have imagined the reactions and thought processes of those people involved in the Good Friday and Easter narrative.

I hope that it will assist you to meditate on these events with fresh thoughts.

I remember….

I remember that wonderful time more than thirty years ago when my son was born. There was the brilliance of the angel which shook my very heart, but he comforted me in the news that I was to be a mother even though I was yet a virgin. I was very scared, yet his words comforted me. He informed me that God had entered my womb so that the boy who was to be born was going to save His people.

When my son was born, there was the visit by the shepherds. They were so excited that they rushed and fell down in adoration before Jesus, a gurgling new born. I forgot about how they were social outcasts in their love and enthusiasm for their Lord.

Next came the wise men with their priceless gifts and amazing wealth – and I still remember those events with such clarity as though they occurred yesterday.

I recall when Jesus was about thirteen and we took Him to the temple. We had lost Him and discovered that He was debating with the religious leaders. Joseph (my husband) and I were so proud that He could hold His own and ask such profound questions.

And yet, and yet, it was those same religious authorities in Jerusalem who wanted Him dead about twenty years later. Was it their own inadequacies? Was it their own blindness to the truths that Jesus presented?

I can close my eyes and remember the horrible disfigurement of my son, the Son of God, who was cruelly beaten and then pinned without mercy to the wooden beams of the cross on the prominent place outside the city walls. Simeon was right when he prophesied at Jesus’ dedication that a sword would pierce my heart. It was the lonely agony, the unquenchable hurt, that only a mother can feel when she sees her son being killed.

After His dead body was taken down from the cross, I had a few precious moments of cradling the One who I had nursed as an infant. People pitied me as the mother of an outcast, but they did not realise that this was the reason for His mission.

But now I remember that He was the One who came to save His people for His body is no longer in the grave and He is risen from the dead. I recall how the mournfulness of preparing His body for burial was turned into jubilation as He appeared on the third day.

I can remember these events with agony, but also with adoration to the Most Holy One who has conquered death.

Oh yes, I will remember!

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