Apres Ski Meditations on the Holy Family: Mary at the Cross

Preached at All Saints, Collingwood, Anglican Diocese of Toronto, on Saturday, February 22nd.

Meanwhile, standing near the cross of Jesus were his mother, and his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing beside her, he said to his mother, ‘Woman, here is your son.’ Then he said to the disciple, ‘Here is your mother.’ And from that hour the disciple took her into his own home. (Jn 19:25-27)

Two weeks ago, if you've been following our series of Apres Ski meditations on the Holy Family, we were standing with Mary and Joseph in the Temple, and we listened as the aged Simeon took the infant Jesus into his arms and thanked God that he could now die having seen his Saviour.   We heard Simeon pray, "Lord, now lettest thy servant depart in peace, according to your word" as the old King James Bible and the Prayer Book beautifully phrase it, but in the words that followed, Simeon would offer no peace to Mary.

The old man then turns to the young mother and says this:  "This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed ³⁵so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed—and a sword will pierce your own soul too" (Lk 2.34-45).

Scripture tells us that Mary was a thoughtful person, and so we might well wonder, as the years went by and Jesus grew, how often Mary would recall these words and ponder these things in her heart.  After his first sermon in Nazareth, and its hostile reception, Mary would have seen first hand that some were hostile to Jesus.  As that hostility grew over the time of his ministry, Mary doubtless remembered Simeon's prophecy about "the falling and rising of many in Israel", and she would have feared for her son.  And now we find her at the foot of the cross, staring up at Jesus' broken body.  Now the last part of Simeon's prophecy has unfolded, and the sword of grief has pierced her heart.  

Michaelangelo famously captured Mary's sorrow in his sculpture the Pietà (the word means "compassion"), which shows a Mary holding Jesus' dead body after it has been removed from the cross.   In the sculpture, Mary is depicted as youthful and beautiful, presumably on the grounds that she has a moral beauty that comes from her closeness to God.

While Michaelangelo created a beautiful image, it seems likely to me that Mary would have been considerably less composed as she watched her son tortured and degraded on the cross.  Did she weep?  Did she plead with God?  Did she despair?  Did she miss Joseph's comforting strength and wish he was still alive and there for her? If she was at all like us, she would certainly have done all these things.   If the Holy Family is an icon of God in Christ embracing our humanity, then the icon contains the full range of human emotion and experience.  Mary's suffering is our suffering, her grief is our grief, her mourning is our mourning.

But in John's account there is a particular moment of compassion.  In the other gospels the compassion is writ large as Jesus forgives his enemies.   Only in John's account is Mary present, and the compassion is focused and intimate.  In his pain, struggling to speak as his body hangs heavy, Jesus sees Mary and his beloved disciple (traditionally thought to be John), and speaks to them.   Jesus gives Mary into the disciple's care, forming them as a new family, a new household.

It's worth remembering that houses and families have always been a part of the gospel stories.  We think about Jesus curing Peter's mother-in-law and how she then cared for Jesus and the disciples, or we think about the household of Mary, Martha, and Lazarus which seems to have been haven for Jesus in his travels.  Likewise there is the household and family of the Roman soldier Cornelius in Acts 10, who come to faith through Peter thanks to the Holy Spirit and     Houses and families in the gospels reflect the work of Jesus in that they are places of love and shelter, where people minister to one another.    

As we think about Mary at the cross, we also see her surrounded by supporters:  Mary the wife of Clops and Mary Magdalene.   They remind us that family can take many forms besides those of marriage and birth.  How often do we speak of our church family and give thanks for the love we find in our Christian community?  Any church, if it is indeed a true church, is a place where we can find family to comfort us and walk alongside us, and this can be a particular blessing to those who did not find comfort and love in their own families.  Any community where Christ is present and central to its life and values is a holy family.

This week a few of us in our reading group finished a book by the 14th century mystic, Julian of Norwich.  Towards the end of her writings, Julian writes that we see three faces of Christ.  The first face is the face of his Passion, the suffering that Mary looked up at.  The suffering face of Christ is the face of Jesus sharing our own hardships and sufferings.  The second face of Jesus, Julian writes, is the face of compassion, the face of the empathy and love that led Jesus to go to the cross for us.  The final face, she writes, is the blessed face of Jesus which we will see in the world to come.

Of the three Marys at the foot of the cross, it was Mary Magdalene who met Jesus in the garden after his resurrection.   We can imagine how Mary the mother would have taken this news - did she doubt at first, or did she remember Simeon's words that there would be falling and rising?  No gospel describes Mary's encounter with her risen son, but it is pleasant and wonderful to imagine her joy, and that reunion is something we can ponder in own hearts.  When our griefs and sorrows overtake us, we can imagine our own moment when we will see Christ face to face, for as Julian of Norwich famously said, "all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well".    In such moments, when we need consolation and hope, we might also imagine another statue that Michaelangelo might have carved, that of Mary embracing and being comforted by her risen son.