When news of the terrorist attack in Brussels broke, it seemed to me that public response, especially on social media, was much less shocked by it, than by the attack on Paris last November.
People were still complaining about the snow and posting pictures of flowers in hopes that Easter really does bring spring. I’m not judging the response; it’s just an observation.
I felt numb. There is too much pain, too much terror in this world. I suppose there always has been, but now because we are connected by the internet, we see the pain around the world. Sometimes, it’s too much to take in and maybe that’s why we look away.
It was in this daze that I went to sing at a church service which has become an integral part of my Holy Week observance. It’s called “The Passion of Mary.” Three years ago, one of our priests put together this service on the passion of Christ, through the eyes of his mother. Combined with scripture readings, songs, devotional prayers and a narration, this service gives a poignant view of the passion of Christ.
For the past three years, I’ve been the reader for the part of Mary at the foot of the cross. It’s not an easy read. The narration is a vivid description of the wounds of Christ, expressed with horrifying details that only a mother could fully comprehend.
I was choking back the tears as I read the description of bloodied wounds on Christ’s body and head, the stench of dried blood mixed with sweat and the agony of each breath. As I read, a montage of pictures and smells came to mind, reminding me of my daughter’s suffering with multiple surgeries since birth. In many ways I could relate to the pain in Mary’s heart.
That night the priest talked about how we can become immune to the pain and suffering of this world, especially when these attacks become more common. We are also in danger of relegating the gift of God’s son on the cross as simply a precursor to the celebration of Easter.
But, as he also reminded us, a mother’s perspective can help us comprehend the pain and grieve the loss. A mother’s pain and her willingness to forgive the betrayal, gives us hope for a Resurrection. He noted that although we can become immune to tragedy and terror, when a mother is interviewed about the death of a child involved in the tragedy or the attack, our hearts experience a deeper level of grief. A mother’s broken heart causes us to see the pain with new eyes and to respond in love.
This past summer, my sister died of a debilitating disease at the very young age of 56. It shook me and my five other siblings to our core. But, in our immediate family, it was my mother who felt the deepest wound and it changed her forever.
Already in her 90s, my mother lost one daughter over 20 years ago to a drunk driving accident and buried my father eight years ago when he lost his battle to cancer. Immediately following my sister’s funeral, my Mom began to express fear that she would lose another child.
One of the greatest testimonies my sister left behind, was her undying faith. Though she struggled throughout her life with various trials and the last three years of her life from a horrible debilitating disease, she left us all with a gift of hope.
From their infancy, my sister proclaimed this one phrase to her children: “We believe.” It was her solution to every trial, her shout of encouragement to her children from the sidelines of every sporting event. She whispered it in her own pain and shouted it in all their joys.
My Mom, just months after my sister’s death, spent the holidays in the hospital recovering from multiple strokes. When I went to visit her the day after Christmas, I brought her a large wooden wall hanging that reads, “Believe.” It’s hanging in a prominent place on the wall in her apartment.
Mom, struggling with grief and pain, looks up at the sign and remembers the witness of her deceased daughter’s life as she proclaims, “Believe! I just have to believe!”
Over the past six months, these strokes have drastically changed Mom’s abilities to live independently and caused some confusion on the details of life. I see Mom every two weeks and I cherish the moments we share. We share laughter and tears with spoken and unspoken words.
As the filters of proper words fail my Mom, the pearls of wisdom in grief are exposed. Through it all, the one thing that remains clear is her grief and her longing for heaven- to be reunited with those we’ve lost and to rest in the arms of the Lord.
As my mother journeys closer to heaven, I have reflected on Mary’s presence on the road to Calvary and at the resurrection. This past week, I brought Mom to a shrine near her house. I wheeled her around the grounds as we prayed for our family.
We spoke openly about life and death and the hope of reunions in heaven, as we walked this holy place. Surrounded by statues and images of Jesus’ Passion, I couldn’t help but notice Mary’s presence and consider how my own mother buried two of her children and yet continued to live her life thankful for the gifts she had received.
Very little is said of Mary, the mother of Jesus, in the Gospels, especially in the accounts of Christ’s passion. Mary meets her son on the road to Calvary (John 19:25-27), and she remains with him at the foot of the cross.
“When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple there whom He loved, He said, “Woman, behold your son.’ Then He said to his disciple, ‘Behold your mother.’ And from that hour the disciple took her into his home.’” (John 19:25)
Those of us who have grown up attending services for Holy Week and Easter can be indifferent to the suffering, death and resurrection of Jesus, in much the same way we are conditioned to violence and atrocities in our society and in the world.
It takes the broken heart of a mother to remind us of the depth of pain and grief and just how much our indifference can cost. When we see a mother grieving the loss of her child, we can be moved to mercy and compassion.
Over the past 20 years of raising a child with disabilities and a life-threatening disease, I have a deeper appreciation of Mary’s role at the foot of Jesus’ Cross. There is an intense grief revealed in the heart of a mother who watches her child suffer. It melts even the coldest hearts and wakes us up from our indifference.
Mary, like all grieving mothers, remains vigilant at the foot of the cross, in hope. Scripture tells us she was there when they removed the body of her Son. She was there at the empty tomb and there in the upper room, awaiting the power of the Holy Spirit.
This Holy Week, I walked the road to Calvary with Mary, in grief and in the hope of resurrection. While caring for my daughter, comforting my mom, I remember Mary’s station at the foot of the cross and her witness to the resurrection, as my sister’s words echo in my heart, “We Believe.”
Eileen Benthal is a writer, speaker and wellness coach with a B.A. in Theology from Franciscan University. She is the author of Breathing Underwater: A Caregiver’s Journey of Hope.
Eileen and her husband Steve live in Jamesport and have four young adult children. Their youngest, Johanna, is a teenager with special needs.
Eileen can be reached at CareforaCaregiver.com.
