For Mary on Good Friday

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It’s never been hard for me to accept Jesus as divine – I’ve always had an affinity for the fantastic, the unexplainable.

But Jesus as a person stops me in my tracks. A real human, who walked real human steps on this real physical earth in real human cities we can actually visit today. This blows my mind.

On Good Friday, this earthly Jesus is the one that worries me.

Because real human men have real human mothers, and on Good Friday, Jesus’s real human mom stood and witnessed her baby’s suffering and death, and somehow kept breathing.

Tonight I’m thinking about Mary and all of the moms who have lost and kept doing the work of living anyway.

I’m thinking about the Parkland moms and the Newtown moms, the moms with kids in the service and the moms with kids in the hospital, the moms whose children have been unjustly gunned down and unfairly jailed, the moms whose babies happened to be in a Brooklyn crosswalk at the wrong time and the moms whose babies never even got to draw breath.

These moms are countless in number and awe-inspiring in their strength. They are sometimes hard to look at, because we’d all like to keep that kind of loss at arm’s length, lest we fall into the abyss ourselves. But on Good Friday in particular, I make it a point to look and to acknowledge and to respect.

God, please bless the moms who have continued moving through unimaginable loss. I can’t begin to fathom who I would be in their shoes, but I have faith that you can.

 

Tell me what you think!