It is through service that understanding will come.
Ann: Please talk to me about hate, misery, and despair.
Mother Mary: Yes, I have been waiting to do so.
You have perhaps heard much about my life, but much more is largely unknown. I have been assumed to be a beatific spirit rising above all challenges no matter how grievous the insult or devastating the blow.
The truth is much more complicated. First of all, I was never completely well after the birth of my son Jesus, and my health was further aggravated by the pregnancies and subsequent births of my other children. It is very well to talk and theorize about grace, love, and unending forgiveness, but in the midst of chronic illness, physical torture, and relentless persecution, it is hard to summon the strength to be a saint.
I was not a saint. I railed at the Romans, at my son Jesus and, indeed, my other children most of whom did not follow the path I thought most beneficial for them. When Jesus said to me, “I am not your son, and you are not my mother,”* I was both devastated and illumined, forced to accept that his path was his own, larger than any I could imagine for him, that neither I nor anyone else could sway him from the purpose for which he had been born, and that this was infinitely larger than the incidence of his birth. Then under great duress, I was forced to look at my life, my family, and my first son’s journey from an expanded point of view.
This is the only way. If you stay mired in your own miseries, you will never escape the grasping tentacles of hate and despair. It is only through service, commitment to a larger purpose, even a purpose so small as to escape notice on the cosmic plain, that relief and understanding will come. It need not be a grandiose mission; simply caring for a dog or a patch of grass, even if they’re not your own, can lift you to a place of vision.
This is what I wish for all of you. Everyone has misery in their life, some much more than others. Do what you can to elevate your spirits by caring for yourself and others. Make a meal for a friend, or simply offer them your hand in companionship. Solidarity in distress Is the work of Jesus, and more importantly, the work of the Divine.
December 4, 2004
Free Image Credit: Pixabay, Artur Gorecki.
*Matthew 12:46-50, King James Version
46 While he yet talked to the people, behold, his mother and his brethren stood without, desiring to speak with him.
47 Then one said unto him, Behold, thy mother and thy brethren stand without, desiring to speak with thee.
48 But he answered and said unto him that told him, Who is my mother? and who are my brethren?
49 And he stretched forth his hand toward his disciples, and said, Behold my mother and my brethren!
50 For whosoever shall do the will of my Father which is in heaven, the same is my brother, and sister, and mother.
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Candidly, I never bought into any of the Bible's depiction of Mary, nor any other character, including Jesus.
Not even you, Pete.
We come into this incarnation as mere humans, not Gods, not saints, not gurus.
We are born as human.
We leave as a human.
Yet we are all of our Creator; that is our commonality.
I still can not profess to comprehend why I chose this life, this existence, on this planet.
Thus far, it's been brutal and it sucks.
But here we are.
I've no words of wisdom to proffer.
No false words to provide comfort.
Yet, here we are.
Thank you, Ann.
Mary, glad you thought it timely and appropriate to dispel those idiotic biblical myt…