Showing posts with label Holy Family. Show all posts

Sunday, May 10, 2015

Learning Motherhood From Mary

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It probably shouldn’t be so shocking to me that our toddler daughter is interested in books.  After all, nearly every wall in our small apartment is lined with bookshelves.  We have daily read-aloud sessions, and if she hears a line or two from a particular book that I recite from memory, she trots across the room looking to retrieve it.

One such line that has come to mind as we begin the month of May, dedicated to mothers, and in a particular way to the Blessed Mother, is from a little board book about saints.  “Mary teaches us about loving mothers,” the book declares, with a picture of Mary being crowned by a smiling angel.  

The words aren’t just for children.  This month is a fitting time to reflect on what the Blessed Mother can teach all mothers about how to love the children entrusted to us.

At first glance it can seem overwhelming to look to Mary – a woman without sin – to grow in our own mothering.  We look around at piles of dirty dishes, smell another diaper in need of changing, take a glance at the quickly filling calendar and figure that the Blessed Mother – a perfect woman raising a perfect Son – has so little in common with our 21st century American lifestyle that we’re better off looking elsewhere for guidance.

But as we reflect on the mysteries of the Rosary, there are many life lessons we can learn from Mary.  We see, too, that her life was not a blissful ride on easy street.  Sure, there are no mysteries centered on smelly diapers or work-life balance, but the graces present in Mary’s life can help us to embrace the struggles and joys of our own family life.  Let’s take a look at a couple of lessons of motherhood we glimpse in the fifth sorrowful mystery, Jesus Dies on the Cross.  

It’s tempting to think that Mary knew exactly what would happen at every moment of her and her Son’s life.  We sometimes have an image of Mary giving her “yes” to Gabriel at the annunciation, knowing exactly what that “yes” would mean.  In reality, the archangel did not hand Mary a 33-year calendar to inform her of the everyday “yesses” her fiat to becoming the Mother of God entailed.  St. John Paul II, for example, wrote that Mary’s yes to God at the foot of the cross was perhaps the “deepest kenosis (self-emptying) of faith.”  Standing at the foot of the cross, she did not know how God would be victorious through the death of her Son, but she knew and trusted that good would come from evil.  
Pieta, Michelangelo - artwork in the public domain

There are many crosses in motherhood – miscarriages, children who are sick or bullied or ostracized, teenage or adult children who leave the faith, and so many more.  Yet, with Mary, every mother is called to have faith that God’s love will pour forth even amidst the most painful situations.  There is no resurrection without the cross, and Mary reminds us to trust God’s plan.

There is another poignant lesson for mothers from the crucifixion subtly portrayed in Michelangelo’s “Pieta.”  Most viewers of the statue focus on Mary’s arms embracing her Son, but a closer look also reveals her left hand open in an act of surrender.  Mary reveals the art – and perhaps the biggest challenge – of motherhood: to embrace and to be detached.  

On the one hand, a mother is called to love, cherish and care for the child(ren) entrusted to her.  At the same time, these children are not ultimately hers, nor her husband’s.  Ultimately, each child is a gift from God.  Mothers must care without being possessive. Mothers can look to Mary as an example and as an intercessor in striking this delicate balance.

In his encyclical, Redemptoris Mater, St. John Paul II summarized the way in which the Blessed Mother reveals the call of all women: 

It can be said that women, by looking to Mary, find in her the secret of living their femininity with dignity and of achieving their own true advancement.  In the light of Mary, the Church sees in the face of women the reflection of a beauty which mirrors the loftiest sentiments of which the human heart is capable: the self-offering totality of love; the strength that is capable of bearing the greatest sorrows; limitless fidelity and tireless devotion to work; the ability to combine penetrating intuition with words of support and encouragement (#46).

At first glance it might seem that only women with biological or adoptive children have something to learn from the motherhood of Mary, but St. John Paul II would challenge us to think differently.  All women, by virtue of their femininity, are called to be mothers.  All women are called to be spiritual mothers whether or not any children call them, “Mom.”  

The human person is entrusted to women in a unique way.  It’s not that men do not love or care for people, but rather that women are able, in a particular way, to notice the needs of others and to meet them, offering empathy, a listening ear and the unique care that a particular person needs.  Men and women both love, but they love differently.  Women love as mothers.  


Whether joyful, sorrowful, luminous or glorious, the mysteries of the rosary offer us a glimpse into how Mary loved and lived as a mother, becoming both guide and intercessor for us as we seek to more fully love as a spiritual or physical mother.


Thursday, March 19, 2015

Throwback Thursday

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"St. Joseph was called by God to serve the person and mission of Jesus directly through the exercise of his fatherhood. It is precisely in this way that, as the Church's Liturgy teaches, he 'cooperated in the fullness of time in the great mystery of salvation" and is truly a "minister of salvation.' His fatherhood is expressed concretely 'in his having made his life a service, a sacrifice to the mystery of the Incarnation and to the redemptive mission connected with it; in having used the legal authority which was his over the Holy Family in order to make a total gift of self, of his life and work; in having turned his human vocation to domestic love into a superhuman oblation of self, an oblation of his heart and all his abilities into love placed at the service of the Messiah growing up in his house.'

"Georges de La Tour. St. Joseph, the Carpenter" by Georges de La Tour.
Licensed under Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons.
"In recalling that 'the beginnings of our redemption' were entrusted 'to the faithful care of Joseph,' the Liturgy specifies that 'God placed him at the head of his family, as a faithful and prudent servant, so that with fatherly care he might watch over his only begotten Son.' Leo XIII emphasized the sublime nature of this mission: 'He among all stands out in his august dignity, since by divine disposition he was guardian, and according to human opinion, father of God's Son. Whence it followed that the Word of God was subjected to Joseph, he obeyed him and rendered to him that honor and reverence that children owe to their father.'
Since it is inconceivable that such a sublime task would not be matched by the necessary qualities to adequately fulfill it, we must recognize that Joseph showed Jesus 'by a special gift from heaven, all the natural love, all the affectionate solicitude that a father's heart can know.'

"Besides fatherly authority over Jesus, God also gave Joseph a share in the corresponding love, the love that has its origin in the Father 'from whom every family in heaven and on earth is named' (Eph 3:15).

"The Gospels clearly describe the fatherly responsibility of Joseph toward Jesus. For salvation-which comes through the humanity of Jesus-is realized in actions which are an everyday part of family life, in keeping with that 'condescension' which is inherent in the economy of the Incarnation. The gospel writers carefully show how in the life of Jesus nothing was left to chance, but how everything took place according to God's predetermined plan. The oft-repeated formula, 'This happened, so that there might be fulfilled...,' in reference to a particular event in the Old Testament serves to emphasize the unity and continuity of the plan which is fulfilled in Christ."

-- St. John Paul II, "Redemptoris custos" #8

Wednesday, March 18, 2015

Thank you, St. Joseph

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Recently, my fiancé and I took a dance break while preparing dinner to sample out a potential first dance song, “Then,” by Brad Paisley. Romantic swaying quickly turned into ridiculous laughter as Paisley reminisced about his early encounters with his now wife...

I remember trying not to stare
The night that I first met you
You had me mesmerized
And three weeks later
In the front porch light
Taking 45 minutes to kiss goodnight
I hadn't told you yet
I thought I loved you then

Our first few weeks of dating were certainly lovely – and as love goes they also contained their taste of the cross that Christ guarantees when we follow Him. The lyrics hit a nerve because to be perfectly honest, many of our early evenings were not capped with passionate kissing but with passionate tears – on my part. I was a hot mess.

My twenties were ripe with constant flip-flopping; one moment I was able to trust and hope in God’s goodness only to shortly thereafter give into doubt and despair. I followed all the rules, listened to every Catholic talk, and gave my plethora of fiats and still, I found myself alone, heart-broken and fearful as I passed into my 30s. I admittedly was simultaneously struggling with resentment over the past and anxiety over the future.

And so, those first few weeks…err months…of dating my now fiancé will forever be characterized (and thus cherished) by a different kind of expression of love. After years of praying, hoping and waiting, God in His perfect (though still challenging) timing sent me my St. Joseph – my patient fiancé who, in those moments when I was most vulnerable and weak, chose to love and comfort me with a grace-fueled and grace-giving gentle strength. I am sure that I will never know how difficult it was for him to pour himself out to me only to be met time and again with tears of pain and uncertainty.

I take solace in the idea that I am sure St. Joseph had his fair share of difficulties in loving his beautiful bride Mary. Being married to literally the only perfect woman on earth was likely filled with moments of unparalleled grace and unparalleled struggle.

All too often, we feminize both Jesus Christ and his earthly father, St. Joseph. We ignore the perhaps smelly sweat, the bloody bodily scars, and the sheer will power that they embodied and outright owned while walking the earth.
 
"Joseph with Infant Christ" by Murillo is in the Public Domain


St. Joseph is known as the quiet spouse of Mary, perfectly content with being her most chaste spouse, wholly accepting of his place as the only imperfect being in the holy family. We rob him of his manliness when we forget his nature and how he must have fought to be the leader, provider and protector we call on.

In an essay on “Becoming a Real Man of God,” Fr. Roger J. Landry lists ten traits of a good soldier. Included among them are:

·         He is rooted in discipline and strength.
·         He may be tender and compassionate but never soft.
·         He sees sacrifice as an opportunity to show his character and demonstrate love.


As we remember St. Joseph on his feast day (March 19), let us praise him for who he really was and is – a true lover and a fighter. And let us thank all of the men in our lives who follow his example.