Mary, Mother of Jesus

Like several other recent HI bloggers, I found myself on my blog's eve without a blog. But as you know, a writer is never without words, new or old. So I share here one of the first person stories from my book, Women of the Last Supper (4th edition, 2012). At this time of year when we joyfully celebrate the glories of Christmas, it seems appropriate to remember the story of Mary, Jesus' amazing mother. . . . Enjoy and Christmas Blessings!

This is my photo of a magnificent in-laid wood portrayal
hanging on the wall of the Air Force Academy Chapel
in Colorado Springs which I visited during Thanksgiving.
See my Facebook cover photo for the whole portrayal.

 Mary, Mother of Jesus

I am Mary of Nazareth, the mother of Jesus. Yes, I was a mother uniquely blessed, but also one acquainted with deepest grief.

           My soul still magnifies the Lord when I recall the extraordinary events of my life. For whoever would have thought on that first Christmas that Yahweh would choose someone from Nazareth to bring into the world the Messiah – Jesus, our Savior and Redeemer!

Joseph’s family and mine were from the Tribe of Judah. We were both descendants of the royal line of David. Had we lived before the terrible wars and captivities of the Jewish people, we would have been called Prince Joseph and Princess Mary.

Ponder that a moment – makes the title Prince of Peace for my son Jesus more meaningful, doesn’t it?

Ah yes, because of Jesus, our family life was divinely blessed, with never a dull moment. Looking back, I can see that for years he practiced telling parables and working miracles on us – and on other people and even animals.

So it’s not surprising that in time, Jesus’ woodworking skills surpassed even Joseph’s. I remember the day he told his disciples that his “yoke was easy.”  I couldn’t help smiling as I thought of the Galilean men who waited months to purchase yokes carved by Jesus. He was famous for his yokes that made burden bearing so much easier for oxen, as well as humans.

While life with Jesus was wonderful, I’d be wrong to give the impression it was stress-free. Remember the time he stayed in Jerusalem at the Holy Temple, and frightened Joseph and me so? Nor was that the last time I didn’t know where he was for days or even weeks at a time. But I learned not to worry, and to commit him to God, his true Father in heaven.

Like everyone else, I wasn’t sure how Jesus’ divine calling to deliver his people would be manifested. I kept waiting and watching and wondering. Then one day at a wedding reception feast in Cana, I felt something within compelling me to urge Jesus to reveal his heavenly purpose.

If you aren’t familiar with the story, review it in my nephew John’s Gospel. The wording is somewhat puzzling, but the outcome is clear. In spite of his reluctance, Jesus’ divine ministry began publicly with that miraculous water-to-wine wedding event.

From then on, the few years left to Jesus on earth passed so quickly.

As you might expect, right from the beginning of Jesus’ ministry, I was his most loyal follower – and one of his first women disciples. Yes, Jesus had his band of twelve men disciples. But as the Gospels state, there were many others who were also his close disciples, including numerous women.

When you read the Gospels carefully, you will note that many of us women were with Jesus right before his last Passover supper with the Twelve. And we were there right after the Last Supper, as well as throughout the dreadful events that followed. So where were we women disciples during the Last Supper?

Don’t you suppose we were there then too, together with the men and Jesus? Don’t you suppose we prepared the Passover and served it as we had served countless other meals?

Of course, we were there, as ancient paintings of the Last Supper in Europe portray so magnificently. We just weren’t there in da Vinci’s famous mural on the wall of the monastery dining hall in Milan – the artwork that has dominated perceptions for far too long.

On that unforgettable Passover night, in my heart I sensed Jesus would not become our Messiah in the way we had expected. He would not become a human King of the Jews. When he was put on trial for blasphemy, and then so cruelly tortured and crucified, my soul was pierced. Ah, what agony! Just as Simeon had prophesied decades before.

But I never stopped trusting. I knew Yahweh would  keep His promise to me and to all the world. And God did, through His Holy Son, who was also my beloved son – my precious baby born on the first Christmas who became the risen Lord and Savior of all who believe.
Yes, I was an ordinary person transformed by God's power. You, too, can experience this transformation, and live or die for the glory of the Kingdom!