My son, my son

 Matthew 27:62-66 The Tomb

⁶² The next day, the one after Preparation Day, the chief priests and the Pharisees went to Pilate. ⁶³ “Sir,” they said, “we remember that while he was still alive that deceiver said, ‘After three days I will rise again.’ ⁶⁴ So give the order for the tomb to be made secure until the third day. Otherwise, his disciples may come and steal the body and tell the people that he has been raised from the dead. This last deception will be worse than the first.”

⁶⁵ “Take a guard,” Pilate answered. “Go, make the tomb as secure as you know how.” ⁶⁶ So they went and made the tomb secure by putting a seal on the stone and posting the guard.

 

My name is Miriam, many call me Mary; I am the mother of the crucified one.   I know it is the Sabbath and the Passover, but I must go to the tomb of my son, Jeshua, the one they call Jesus. I walk alone and am glad, because my heart is so broken I just need time alone. Of course, my friends and family wanted to accompany me for safety’s sake, but I insisted, “Please, let me go to the tomb, I will be careful, I just need to be alone with my child.” 

Dear, sweet Joseph, from Arimathea, gave us the tomb for Jeshua. True to my son’s philosophy, everything he ever needed was given to him, because he trusted so deeply and so honestly that God supplied everything. As I walk to the tomb I think, “My dear son, even your burial tomb is proof that your faith was not in vain.”

It seems like yesterday we were in the temple for his consecration and Simeon said those prophetic, powerful words to me, “A sword shall pierce your soul.”  Indeed yesterday at Golgotha my heart was pierced more than I could ever have imagined thirty-three years ago. I realized years ago, my child was of God and life with him would be a challenge, a lifetime in the presence of the living God.  And that it has been. I love my son desperately and so often when I prayed I began, “O God, I come to you again about your son and mine.”  There has never been a doubt in me, since the angel came to me before Jeshua’s birth, that my child was the incarnate God.  It has been my greatest blessing and my greatest pain.  The events of this week have brought a lifetime of prayers to completion and my soul has surely been pierced by a sword so sharp I feel I will never recover. 

Yesterday, I saw him, my only son, God’s  Son, feeling abandoned, in pain, doing as always, what he knew he must, being what he has always known he is. For all of us - he was the Gate of Heaven, the Lamb of God, the Light of the World, and the name for which he died, The King….

I miss Joseph’s presence and his protection more than ever. I know from Isaiah’s Suffering Servant Song that Jeshua’s life was scripted, and it would not have made a difference, but I cannot help wondering what would have happened, what it would have been like if my husband were here with me. I hunger for his protection, his love, his constant reassurance that things would be all right. Joseph’s constant attentiveness to the angels of his dreams always guided us to know what to do and when to do it, to keep Jesus safe. I remember leaving for Bethlehem, coming back to Jerusalem, leaving the city again when there was threat of Jesus’ death and returning when the threat was over -- all of these movements, decisions Joseph made with confidence in his angels. This last week in the City, I have longed for Joseph at my side, for his confidence, for the voice of his angels. Not that I didn’t have my own, but my mother-heart stood still and fearful much of the time as I watched things get out of control, unable to change the course of events. I am comforted knowing Joseph was there to hold Jesus as he entered heaven.  It gives me peace knowing they are together again.

Still, I cannot believe in my heart that Jesus is gone, I feel him so strongly still and I know he lives.  I do not know how or where, but I do know why.  God so loved us that he sent his son and mine to the world, and God would not take him back, leaving us without salvation, for this my son lived and died, and will live again.  He promised this, he will not betray his promise. 

My son taught me so much, he taught others so much. I am so proud of him, and yet I would take every lesson back if I could just see him smile again, if I could have a quiet dinner and mother-son talk of the simple news of the day. I know he was doing what he had to, but I wanted to protect him from all that resulted from his preaching.  I knew I couldn’t, and I am sure it was God’s will that I let him do as he must, but still, the emptiness in my heart is a pain beyond any I have known.

These are trying times, difficult days and for me, I must trust as my son did, that God will not abandon us, that there is a plan, and that God will bring meaning to all this pain.  I walk and I wait for God to bring light to me, to the world, once more.

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Hail Mary, filled with grace, blessed are you among women.  Pray for us sinners, whose lack of love and commitment to the truth crucifies your son still.  Pray for us now and always as we try over and over again to live the truth of the resurrection.   Amen dear mother Amen.