Dr. Mary C. McDonald
There is a church in Rome, a city of churches that is truly unique in the entire world. It is the oldest church in Rome dedicated to the Blessed Mother. It is not the age, or the architecture of Santa Maria in Trastervere, however, that makes it so special to me. It is the 750-year old mosaic in the apse behind the main altar. The gold-flecked tiles depict the risen Christ, on His throne of glory, surrounded by St. Peter and by the early Popes who ministered at the church. Seated at His right hand, on the same throne, at His side, is His mother, Mary, a gold crown on her head. Christ's arm, in a gesture of gratitude and recognition, is around Mary’s shoulders.
It is a familiar pose in a family album. It is the gesture of an adult to an adult, of close cooperation, of equality, not of their natures, but of their commitment and realized hopes. I have many pictures with my arm resting around my mother’s shoulders taken at those milestone events in my life. I have pictures of my children’s arms on my shoulders at graduations, weddings and family reunions. The gesture always seems to have the same meaning regardless of the event, “Thanks Mom”. I have been in a lot of churches, and I have seen hundreds of pictures of Jesus with His mother. Most depicted an infant, sweet and dependent, nestled in His mother’s arms. Some portrayed the agony of a man, dying on a cross while His mother stood watch. Only this one mosaic shows a grown man, acknowledging His mother as a woman of influence and strength. He’s thanking her for recognizing that His would be a hard and lonely journey and for understanding His need for her love and support as He carried out His mission of sacrifice and redemption. But then, isn’t that just like a mother?
Mary was a woman of insight, patience, and strength. She was a mother who was on an assignment from God to teach her son God’s word and wisdom. She was a woman after God’s own heart, ready to do His will. Like most mothers, she instinctively knew when to ponder and when to act. When her Son was twelve, she reined in His youthful spirit of adventure. When Her Son was thirty, she gently, but firmly, nudged Him into his mission at the wedding feast of Canaan. When He was thirty-three she stood keeping a brave watch at the foot the cross, determined to remain with Him, encouraging Him by her presence. With His dying breath, Jesus acknowledged her witness of faith as an example for us all. But then, isn’t that just like a mother?
A mother has the ability to see what lies beyond the present circumstance of her child, no matter how old her child, no matter how long it takes. A mother sees what lies beyond for the newborn, the late-bloomer, or the rebellious teen. A mother sees what lies beyond the indecision and fear of the college-bound, the job seeker, and the one on the brink of a lifetime commitment. A mother keeps a brave watch for her distant child, her addicted child, and her confused child. A mother remains at the side of her dying child, her condemned child, her child in crisis. A mother cradles her child in her love forever, and her heart encourages the gifts of her gift to the world. But then, isn’t that just like a mother?
It is no coincidence that Jesus’ ministry grew out of His family life, and His relationship with His mother. It is no coincidence that our own journey does the same. Mary taught us that all things are possible with God. She showed us how to follow the inspirations of grace with a purity of intention. She exemplified a reliance on faith in the face of doubt. She bore misunderstandings, trials, and anguish in humble silence. She linked humanity with divinity and made us aware of Christ’s presence within us. She loved faithfully and joyfully. But then, isn’t that just like a mother?
5/1/10
