Medition for Good Friday: Was she there?

John - 19:25 Meanwhile, standing near the cross of Jesus were his mother, and his mother's sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. 
                                                            

In two weeks I will celebrate the twentieth anniversary of my ordination to the Diaconate in the Episcopal Church.  In preparation for that event, I was in the formation program for three years, and as part of that program did some study of both Old and New Testaments. I remember one class in particular when we were reviewing the passion Gospels where I was struggling mightily with the written texts. “ I just can’t relate to this as it is written”, I told the instructor, a female priest of this diocese. “Why not?”, was her question.  “I don’t see myself in this.  It is too masculine.” She smiled and said,   ”Okay; go with that.” And that was the beginning. I began to look at the Gospel text through two lenses: a diaconal one and a feminine one.

This was a personal revelation for me, but one that sort of made sense in my own life.  I already felt a cosmic connection to Mary, the mother of Jesus, the patron of this beautiful church.  Both she and I gave birth to children on December 25^th.  Now I know that to be historically accurate, it is probable that Jesus was not born in December, but my eldest child was born two blocks from here in what was St Vincent’s hospital at that time. I will never forget that one of the elderly nuns who came by to visit all new mothers shared with me that “Only special people are born on Jesus’ birthday”, and then went on to explain that in the Dark Ages, the French would often kill children born on Christmas because they believed one of them could be the anti-Christ…. thank you, sister, for that image.

So looking at this Gospel passage, I wonder where the women are, and I find them in two places.

When Jesus is taken away to the house of Annas, there was a woman at the gate, in some translations she is a servant girl, in others she appears to be some sort of gatekeeper, but she is certainly a person of keen observation because she recognizes Peter as a follower of Jesus, and calls him as such. She says,” You are not also one of this man's disciples, are you?” and he claims not to be a follower of Jesus…a pattern he will follow two more times. She is a vessel of fulfillment; she has set the stage for the prophesy of Christ to come to fruition. In her small role in this unfolding saga of salvation, she has framed for us all Peter’s denial…an act that can be linked to our very human instinct for survival. Then she disappears and is seen no more in the story.  She has served her purpose; she has pointed out the fragility of human nature, our primitive instincts that allow us to hastily switch stories to save our own skin standing in contrast to the ultimate sacrifice Christ makes in his death on the cross.

The next time we encounter the feminine in this Gospel passage is close to the end.  And this one gets a bit confusing, and intriguing. At the foot of the cross three women with the same or similar names are holding vigil. As well as their common name, they share a special relationship with the crucified Christ: a mother, an aunt and a companion in the way. I would dare say that many, if not most, of the women here present have shared one or more of these roles with important people in their lives.  I know I have, and looking at the crucifixion through these eyes gives us a really different perspective.

Mary, the mother of Jesus has been given many names and titles: Blessed Virgin, Queen of Heaven ( Regina Coeli), Our Lady of Sorrows, Our Lady of Good Counsel, Immaculate Mary: these are some of the names she is called, the one that resonates the most with me is the Greek: Theotokos: “God bearer”. We have heard it said that the most difficult thing for any parent is to live through the death of a child.  I believe this is very true. Whether one loses a child to miscarriage, fatal accident, drug overdose, self-inflicted suicide, disease or any other event, it is something one carries to the grave.  A scar that opens and closes many times in your life that merely scars and scabs over and over again. And to be a witness to the unthinkable suffering that crucifixion brings to one’s offspring must be among the most unbearable moments of one’s life as a parent. I can remember the first time I saw Michelangelo’s Pieta as a student when it came to NY for a World’s Fair, and later on a trip to Rome. It depicts in stone a moment that is both tender and sorrowful, a mother’s final embrace of the child she brought into the world knowing the suffering he endured was something she could not stop.

Mary, the wife of Clopus, has been long thought to be a relation of Jesus, an aunt, perhaps. She may also be one of the women who will later go to the tomb to anoint the body only to find the it empty. She stands in support of her friend who is losing her son to a horrific death.  She stands as so many other folks have stood by in witness to the personal suffering of many, a role many of us have played in our lives.

And finally Mary Magdalene, one of the most enigmatic personas in the Gospel stories. She is one of the mystery women in Scripture, misrepresented and maligned for many millennials and underappreciated, but that is for another day, not this one. In this version of the Passion she serves as a sort of “everyman”.  Our eyes and ears and thoughts at that troubling time.  She stands firm; she does not run away; she watches the whole event and it is seared in her memory. Her steadfast determination and faith in her Lord is tested on that day and does not fail.  She represents the best in us: true companion and witness to the end.  Her reward is to be one of the first witnesses to encounter the Risen Lord.  She represents our eternal hope, hope in new life and resurrection.

And now, as we come to the time of memorializing Jesus’ death on the cross, a death he suffered for you and me and the servant girl, and his Mother, and his companions and all the other “Marys”  his life has touched over the ages, let us, gathered here this afternoon, remember in humility and awe, that the Son of Man, came down to be among us and sacrificed himself for each of us, the ultimate gift, to free us from our sins and make us worthy to truly be Children of God and heirs of His Kingdom.

New Beginnings

Fifth Sunday in Lent

“ Jesus began to weep.” John 11:35    

It may be a surprise to some of you, but not to my family members, I love Trivia Contests.  Back in the day my spouse and I were a killer Trivial Pursuit team to such an extent that several friends refused to play with us because we, in their words, “Just knew too much.”  It mattered not the subject chosen: I whizzed through history and literature, my husband tackled math and sports…together we aced science and current events.

Now much of it was useless information (for example, did you know that Coca Cola was invented in 1886 and was originally green?? Or that goldfish have a life expectancy of ten years and are subject to motion sickness?), but on a recent cruise, and you all know how much I love cruising, my crackerjack team made up of my two travelling companions (to whom I refer as part of my cadre of Lutheran cousins) and newly met trivia compadres, a married couple from Michigan…a college recruiter and electrical engineer, either won or placed in every trivia game we showed up for. But here was one question that really stumped us.  I wrote it down so I will never forget it: “What is ‘lacrymophobia’?”  Anyone want to hazard an educated guess.  If you studied Italian or Latin at some point in your life…I have four years of it, you might be able to figure out the root word.  In my case, I could identify the root word, but could not pull the meaning up out of my memory.  So for those of you still in the dark, “Lacrymophobia” is the fear of shedding tears or crying.

And, by the way, in case you did not know, there are three types of tears we humans shed. Basel tears are basically eye lubrication. They keep our eyes in good working order. Some medication may cause us to have “dry eyes”, which can easily be treated with a solution of artificial tears that mimic those naturally secreted by our own bodies. Reflex tears are the body’s reaction to irritants like dust, smoke or even cold; they help to clear out these foreign bodies from our systems. And finally “psychic tears” are those that flow as a reaction to emotional stress. These are the tears we learn that Jesus shed when he was confronted by the realization that his friend, Lazarus, was indeed dead.

Jesus is not the only one shedding tears at the tomb of Lazarus.  His two sisters, who we know from prior Gospel Readings, are inconsolable.  Martha has, of course, uttered the words that we hear echoed in hymn 355 when she said, “Yes, Lord I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God who is coming into the world.” The younger sister Mary greets him at the tomb with the words that if he were present earlier, her brother would not have died, and the other witnesses to this event are moved by Jesus’ tears proving his affection for his friend.  As humans we can definitely relate to those psychic tears Mary Martha the crowd and Jesus are shedding. 

Many tears have been shed in this place as well.  I arrived at Christ Church in the fall of 2010 at the invitation of Father Chuck.  He had just struggled through a difficult physical time battling mononucleosis. I remember that I had met him at the Soup Kitchen at Trinity Lutheran and he turned to me and bluntly said, “So, when are you coming to Christ Church to be my deacon?”  I was taken aback, but that opened the conversation.  That evening my husband kept saying, “You should go.  You should go.”  And I did, and it has been really wonderful being here.  But thing have shifted, as they always do.  As I look around this space I have thought about all the times we have shed some very sad psychic tears.  I look at our choir and see some holes where at least six of our senior members are no longer here, but probably singing in larger celestial choir.

I have stood as witness and often as a liturgical participant to times of great communal sorrow as we all shed more of our mutual psychic tears as we laid to eternal rest leaders and faithful members of our congregation who have run the race with great courage and dignity.

And yet there have been other times that our psychic tears are those that sprung from joy filled emotions and not sorrow filled ones. Weddings, baptisms, graduations, homecomings, new beginnings, many, many moments of joy filled and happy celebrations.  The vast number of times our children and those of our larger Christ Church Community have entertained and enchanted us and others with their developing musical skills; these are times that bring smiles to our faces and happy tears to our eyes in the mere act of conjuring up the memory. Christmas pageants and All Saint processions that seem to miraculously come to fruition out of utter chaos have given us a plethora of remembrances that cannot be removed.

These are the memories that I will take with me from this place. A place that will ever hold in the words of Janis Joplin, a rather large “piece of my heart”.

And there is one more thing that we can all hang tight to: Jesus cried.  His humanity broke through, and he shared a very human reaction with those around him and with us. In this Sunday’s passage his tears were those that rose from emotional sorrow, but if he could cry with grief, he could also cry with joy.  And the thought of Jesus joyfully crying is an image I want to hold onto when I think of you all and my time in this sacred space.