Friday, March 6, 2012

Good Friday

I thought I would have to tackle the perspective of the Queen of Heaven today. I have noticeably avoided doing so, mostly because I can't even begin, and secondly because the Virgin Mary, Mother of God, Queen of Heaven and Earth...really shouldn't be someone I imitate when I'm tired and trying not be cranky after a long day (yes, I'm aware it's ironic - at best - to complain today).

So I'm going to punt and write from her sister's point of view. All we know is that Mary and her sister were there when Jesus was crucified according to John's gospel.

MARY'S SISTER

I am supposed to say that it was hard to be Mary's sister. I suppose it's hard to be anybody's sister from time to time. I am supposed to say that it was hard to be Jesus Christ's aunt. I suppose it's hard to be anybody's aunt every once and awhile. They were no great exception to the rule in either direction.

It was hard to be Jesus Christ's aunt the day my sister realized she had left her child in Jerusalem and was beside herself with worry. It was hard to be Jesus Christ's aunt on the day an angry mob in our hometown tried to throw Him off a cliff. It was hard to be Jesus Christ's aunt on the day He walked to Calvary, carrying His cross, and was hung from it on Golgotha.

It was hard to be Mary's sister the day she came back from our cousin Elizabeth's visibly pregnant and gave confused, ridiculous answers to our parents' demands to know the father. It was hard to be Mary's sister the day we went to see Jesus while He was preaching and He turned us away. It was hard to be Mary's sister when she followed Him as He walked the long march to His suffering and death.

Most of the time, it was a blessing to be a part of their lives. Even that day, the strength and love of my sister was something breathtaking and soul-affirming in the midst of such ugliness and pain and the stink of suffering and death. They were like that - the ray of light, the tearing of the veil, on the worst day. They were the beauty in the blood and tears. They were impossible people. The kind of people we almost can't bear to admit exist in the world, because we will never be like them. So we don't like to admit that being like them is possible.

No, it was more blessing than curse to be Mary's sister. But, on that day on Calvary's hill, I did not envy John. My nephew turned to His beloved friend and said, "Woman, here is your son. Here is your mother." Now those are sandals I would never want to try to fill. But then, there was more blessing the more either of them were in your life. And Mary and John were beautiful in the years to come.

So what do I know, for all that?